To the many modes of transport I've taken, which include a milk truck in Ecuador and a horse-drawn gari in Ethiopia, I can now finally add the bane of all other motorists, i.e. a campervan. I joined Sinéad, Audrey and Laura in the campervan that they had driven over the past three weeks up from Queenstown and we headed north of Auckland to the Bay of Islands. We were not alone in this plan; the car park in Paihia where we spent two nights was full of Irish-occupied vehicles. I'm getting used to being surrounded by Irish people (and to hearing the Fields of Athenry sung on repeat), but I think it is a bit of a shock for the unprepared locals (the bar we drank in our first night ran out of beer; such an unheard of occurrence happened to us again later in the week in Rotorua). It was a nice couple of days, which included getting the ferry to historic Russel, walking along the coastal path, and doing a short hike up for a view of the scenic bay.
Following a very welcome night in beds in a friend's holiday home in Waipu (much appreciated after two nights in a campervan in a car park), the girls returned the van and I hit for Rotorua for that weekend's game against Russia. From our big family trip to New Zealand to visit our relations when I was five, one of the things that I always remembered were the bubbling mud pools in Rotorua. It was nice to see that they are still as mesmerising and smelly as ever.
Then the Irish began rolling into town: the three girls arrived the day after me and we stayed in a ten-bed dorm (with six other Irish people); I went to a Maori cultural performance and meal with two friends from Bishopstown, Jen and Patrick; and I went to the match with a friend from UCC, Colm. The stadium, with its single stand and grassy terraces, was a big change from last week in Eden Park in Auckland, but the atmosphere was jovial, Ireland won and there were lots of tries, so there were plenty of reasons to party that evening (not that many reasons were needed).
The next day I took a bus south to Wellington for a few relaxing, recuperative days staying with my aunt Jacqueline before flying to Dunedin for the crucial game against Italy.
We hit back south, stopping in Whangarei to soak up the atmosphere for the Tonga-Japan match that was happening there that evening. It wasn't quite the same buzz as when Ireland are in town, but we did see a flash-mob haka (although to be fair it wasn't as good as this haka in the centre of Auckland).
Following a very welcome night in beds in a friend's holiday home in Waipu (much appreciated after two nights in a campervan in a car park), the girls returned the van and I hit for Rotorua for that weekend's game against Russia. From our big family trip to New Zealand to visit our relations when I was five, one of the things that I always remembered were the bubbling mud pools in Rotorua. It was nice to see that they are still as mesmerising and smelly as ever.
Then the Irish began rolling into town: the three girls arrived the day after me and we stayed in a ten-bed dorm (with six other Irish people); I went to a Maori cultural performance and meal with two friends from Bishopstown, Jen and Patrick; and I went to the match with a friend from UCC, Colm. The stadium, with its single stand and grassy terraces, was a big change from last week in Eden Park in Auckland, but the atmosphere was jovial, Ireland won and there were lots of tries, so there were plenty of reasons to party that evening (not that many reasons were needed).
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