The climate here in Rotorua is amazingly cold, I woke up with my feet feeling like blocks of ice. Brunch was biscuits procured from the local supermarket and instant 3 in 1 milo. Its incredible how we are still alive now, considering that we only eat two meals a day, both usually made up of Nissin chicken flavour noodles and hot milo or coffee. Only on the last day in town, we head out to some not-to-expensive eatery for a decent meal that leaves us wondering why we put ourselves through all this torture anyway. Oh well, enough complaining, I guess I'm just still hungry. The cows and sheep along the roads are starting to look really tempting though....
We couldn't decide on the day's activities, since Darryl was all for white water rafting and bungy jumping, while I was tending towards the more conventional walk around town and a nice warm bed. In the end, we decided to visit the Agrodome, where most of the leisure and adventure activities in Rotorua are located. On the shuttle bus, we met this German lady who was travelling alone, and she told us that she had done the bungy just a couple of days ago. That fired up our courage abit. But, after arriving on the site, witnessing the height of the platform and the blood-curdling screams of customers too stupid to listen to their common senses, I must say that we didn't feel so brave then. In fact, I nearly crapped in my pants after seeing people do the Swoop. We dallied around for 20min or so, trying to bolster our courage for the jump, until we finally decided that we would do the Swoop first. If we haven't died by then, we would try the bungy. The Swoop is a sport in which 2 or 3 persons are secured in a bag each, leaving your head and hands free. They are then brought up to a height of 53m, where one of them would then have to pull a ripcord that releases them from the securing pin. They then proceed to fall and swing through the air for 1min before they are lowered back on to the ground. Sounds fun doesn't it? Well I can tell you that it doesn't look as much fun hanging in the air 53m above ground. So we went ahead with the ride, jumped in and secured ourselves in our strait jackets, and waited nervously as the platform rasied us to the required height. My stomach was doing acrobatics by the time we had reached the starting point, and I had trouble tugging at the ripcord when they told us to begin. After a couple of fumbles, I managed to release the ripcord, and off we went, falling, falling and falling. And then, the momentum of the drop carried us upwards, and at the peak of the swing, we were poised in midair for half a second, before the ground came rushing towards us again. In all, it was rather like flying, though I wouldn't know much since I have not flown before. Darryl was shrieking and screaming his head off in gibberish, while I was trying to prevent my previous meal from escaping through my mouth. But it was fun, we had our adrenalin rushes, and we agreed that it was enough for a day.
Up next, we tried our hands at zorbing. Now this is an activity that looked safe enough, at least to me. In zorbing, a person enters a large rubber ball in which he may or may not be secured, depending on the type of activity he chose. The ball is then released from its starting point,and it proceeds to roll down a hill to the end point. If the zorbonaut, as what the locals call those who zorb, is secured to handstraps and stuff, he will be rolling head over heels down the hill, and if he's not, its just like a long slide. We went ahead and booked ourselves for the wet zorb, which on posters, looked like the zorbonaut was riding the ball across water. We changed to the spare clothes they provided us for a fee, and then headed up to the starting point. Once we were inside our respective balls, the attendant proceeded to fill the chambers we were in with warm spa water. At last, it was beginning to feel good. But the water keep on coming, and I thought that the guy was trying to drown me inside my ball, when he finally stopped. The water level was around knee level, comfy enough for me. The ball was then released and I rolled down the hill, tumbling and sloshing about in the chamber as though I was trapped inside a giant washing machine. Then I saw the stream ahead. Apparently that was the water body I was supposed to roll across. Wow. The whole thing was barely 1m in diameter. After hitting the end point, I got out feeling, wet, cold and dizzy. As I made my way back to the changing rooms, I saw Darryl's ball coming down the hill. I hope he drowns inside. So much for zorbing which cost me 40 bucks.
Heading back to town after our ride, we then proceeded to the Polynesian Spa. Entry to the adult mineral pools costs 9 bucks, while half hour and full hour spa therapies cost 65 and 130 dollars respectively. I opted for the half hour therapy, hoping for some extra services along the way, but sadly they were all booked for the day. Damn. So we all went on to the mineral pools, where the water was green and smelled and tasted like rotten eggs. At least it was warm. We caught sight of a couple of babes in the pool, too bad there were guys with them. We soaked ourselves in there for about an hour, and then we got out and headed to town for dinner.
Another thing I realised is that somehow, Asian females in foreign countries generally look better than their counterparts back home. Take a hint, girls. Winter clothes make guys drool. Dinner at the local chinese restaurant saw two cute and pretty chinese waitresses serving us. Darryl was an embarrassment when he tried reading out the dishes in chinese, and when the waitress confirmed the order in better english than he could ever dream of acheiving, I felt like hiding in a hole. Singaporeans are such cocksters. Oh, I just spilled my drink over my jeans. Damn.
