So much to do in Waitomo but I should move on. I've caught wind of a "cultural experience" in Rotorua, an iwa (tribe) of Maori (for those who don't know; the indigenous population) is hosting a buffet of traditional food along with a performance of traditional dances and stories. I'm wary of these types of events as they can be depressing at times, though simultaneously eager to learn a bit about local customs.
Just as expected, the grounds are overrun with tourists. An admittance ticket yields a seat at long tables, and for solo travelers such as myself, an opportunity to eat dinner with total strangers. Most are younger than me (I'm getting on in my years), some in the country to take odd jobs. One woman, from the San Francisco Bay Area claimed to have renewed a work visa annually for the last ten years. Impressive.
A young Maori woman takes the stage to offer a brief introduction to the night's proceedings. We are welcomed to traditional lands and are invited to witness a performance of indigenous folk detailing some of their cultural heritage. First, we are taken along a lighted forest path to the edge of a great, blue spring. This particular spring has been a source of freshwater for the local iwa for untold generations. It produces some exorbitant amount of freshwater on the daily, complete with a special blend of minerals that make it run an enticing blue color.
Further down stream a re-enactment raiding party paddles their way towards us. With bulging eyes and protruding tongues they hoot, grunt, and holler; brandishing their paddles menacingly, face tattoos glistening in the torchlight affixed to their waka (traditional boat, not unlike a canoe). According to tradition, they must appear as intimidating as possible as they don't yet know what threats they may face, and showing passivity at this stage could prove fatal.
Afterwards, we are sat in an auditorium and presented with some cultural dances (including the Haka, a performance for intimidating enemies while simultaneously emboldening allies) and stories. The chief (I've forgotten his proper title in his language, but essentially the de facto group leader) tells the tale of how Moko (the Maori face tattoos) came to be. Lines and whorls adorning sections of the face represent four sacred birds of special significance to the people. Fascinating.
All-in-all, a fine experience. As I said, overrun with tourists. But I can't blame the Maori for trying to accommodate as many as possible, and I can't blame tourists who are doing the exact same thing as me. I shall not tarry here. More adventure awaits, elsewhere...
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