Okere Falls (or Kaituna Falls), is situated around twenty minutes from Rotorua. It’s a place which offers not only shade from the summer’s heat and a native bush walk, but a series of white waterfalls that funnel a fast-moving flow of water.

by Cate

After a good rainfall, the current is swift creating volumes of white, like a cake with tips of white frosting.

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Each waterfall has a character of its own.

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And, all are raft and kayak friendly — if you could call it that.

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I walked this track twice on different days. On both occasions there were kayakers making their way downstream and over the falls. And on both occasions, I missed photographing them.

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So, the plan is to came back to this area in a few weeks time – when I return to Rotorua — and spend a few hours there, photographing kayaks and rafts coming down these beautiful falls.

But if I don’t, I’ve found a clip for you to see what I’m talking about.

Okere Falls is a historical area and a sacred place to the local Maori. You do need a vehicle to reach this place.

Caffeinated Traveller

There was a certain kind of air surrounding the wooden building I was staring at — a presence, an aura — something I could feel but couldn’t express in words.

Maori would call this ethereal quality Mana, or respect, something or someone who is held in high regard, a word that simply cannot, even in the best possible way, be explained in English.

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I inched forward taking in the building – the lines, the colours, the wood paneling, and the carved facades. Closing my eyes, I listened carefully for the karanga, a call of welcome sung by a kuia – respected lady. She stood in the courtyard, proudly wearing an ornately carved greenstone around her neck, and a tattooed chin fading with age. Like the building she too had presence. She opened her arms and began her karanga — Haere Mai, Haere Mai, Haere Mai – Welcome, Welcome, Welcome.

I responded by calling my own greeting and waited for the kuia to call me forward. But her voice caught by the wind slowly drifted away — and then stopped. Only the wind continued, wailing its eerie tune.

Opening my eyes I looked around searching for the voice and the old woman. There was nothing but empty buildings, and steam wafting through the air like mist. I was alone.

On a cool early morning in summer I stood in front of one of Rotorua’s sacred Marae’s, not as an honoured guest but simply as a curious tourist.

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Rotorua is where several Maori groups – iwi – continue to live on ancestral lands scattered around the geothermal region. Ohinemutu is one such place in the region. A small village set among steaming pools, and a nose smacking parfum de sulphur fragrance, on the shores of Lake Rotorua. It is home to Ngati Whakaue, one of the first iwi to settle in this area.

A first impression of this small quiet village is deceptive. There is a patina of poverty covering the village – a result of governmental policies – and an endless battle for Maori. But there is also richness in this tribal land, where Ngati Whakaue clans unite as one, where decision-making means consensus; and where the tribe’s Mana is felt throughout the area.

In Maoridom, the Marae – meeting place – lays at the centre of the community and its people. It’s a combination of tangible and intangible properties. The meeting-house dominates the complex with its size and scale, indicators of buildings importance. Intricately carved poles and panels depict ancestral gods and chiefs, tribal lineage and tribal lore.

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Ohinemutu is a small village within Rotorua town, but it’s pace of life differs to the rest of the urban area. While tour buses pull up along the lake front, letting out groups of tourists, packing the walkways, Ohinemutu welcomes smaller groups. The older couple driving through New Zealand in a rental, backpackers who want to get away from tour buses, and travellers interested in indigenous art and cultures.

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Around the complex lies other buildings of special interest – arts and crafts workshop and St Faith’s Church. This church’s exquisitely designed interior depicts Ngati Whakaue’s religious journey.

Access to Ohinemutu is very easy, walk past the Lakeside café and behind through the carpark and follow the signs.

Note: to translate Maori words into English click here: Maori dictionary

Caffeinated Traveller

Film director Peter Jackson is synonymous with visually stimulating movies like the Lord Of The Rings  trilogy, King Kong and the more recent Lovely Bones — but  he is also known amongst a small group of people as helping to kick start the large scale renovations of an aging historic lady in Wellington – the Embassy Theatre.

In the days of classical design, an era where people dressed up to go out, buildings like the Embassy had status. Luxury was prevalent, a result of rapid growth in consumer wealth and its sidekick — frivolity. War had passed and the depression wasn’t  in sight. At that time, 1924, the Embassy made its entrance on to the theatre scene: grand, ornate and one of a kind, it took the name of the De Luxe theatre and there it stood through changes in government, world wars, international struggles against communism, hippy love; and the dot.com era. But early in the new millennium circumstances changed. Gollum, Frodo and a gold ring had come to town and the Embassy had to present herself to the world.

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My first experience at the Embassy was in the year 2000 when Julia Roberts portrayed Erin Brockovitch, and Michael Caine played the loving eccentric addict in Cider House Rules. But the real Embassy experience happened at a different time in the evening, doing something that only wild fun-loving movie buffs would do — midnight viewing of Maria and the Von Trapp family. There I sat dressed up as the old nun, singing in line with the movie, wishing I was wandering over those alps with Julie Andrews and of course the ever handsome Mr Von Trapp. The Embassy, like many other film theatres worldwide, presented its audience with a true movie viewing experience – unbeatable.

After the renovations, the Embassy took on a new persona. This grand old lady still creaks when the ground underneath moves, but she really does shine. The Embassy’s beauty can be seen at any angle, in any light, anytime of the day, being carefully outfitted with marble staircases, ceramic tiles, wrought iron banisters and mirrors usually found in ballrooms or opera houses.

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Add a jazz lounge where musicians frequent, a wine bar, coke and popcorn being sold alongside lattes and home style snacks — then you get to understand the Embassy experience.

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Want to know more?

Seat prices are competitive with other cinemas throughout Wellington — depending on the day, time and movie event. For viewings and additional information here is the link: Embassy Theatre, Wellington.

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It’s raining outside and I’m sitting at the table trying to come up with a story. Just outside in front of my window are plantings of native species – ponga trees and their wide fronds, drooping flax bushes with spears of flower buds; and other species I don’t really know much about but have heard they could possibly be food groups – cabbage trees and a native hop bush.

The plantings of ferns and ponga trees are captivating. Green fronds neatly feathered like an ostrich fan meant for display, sit atop chocolate brown poles straight and narrow. In  the centre of each plant, lies its heart with long stems of tightly wrapped coils swollen from sunlight, ready to unravel one by one, and become whole.

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To English speakers the fern frond has its place in everyday life as nothing more than a plant with a common name. In Maori the frond holds more value and is affectionately known as koru.

I have become accustomed to seeing the koru  in Maori carvings, design and tattoos; and also on the tail of New Zealand’s airline – Air New Zealand.

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But the truth is, I have never thought of  the koru as anything more than a nice design and piece of  art. Like most people including visitors to New Zealand, understanding the meaning behind the koru was something I never considered until now.

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And then I found a Maori  proverb which summed it all up:

Ka hinga atu he tete-kura ka hara mai he tete-kura

As one fern frond dies, one is born to take its place

Explanation: The koru is representative of growth, parenthood, genealogy/ancestry the frond or koru symbolises sustainability; passing on of life, stories and resources from one generation to the next.

The koru is also widely used in Maori tattoo – moko — design. To understand the meaning behind the tattoo enables people to understand the ancestry, status, strength and courage behind the tattooed face.

Here is a  video which explains the design of the moko and the significance behind each area of the face being tattooed. It is  worth looking at, and don’t worry, there is no tattooing going on.

It isn’t just Maori that use the koru. In Japan it symbolises peace and one British NGO has taken the Maori name and design as a symbol of sustainable development.

As for me? I will be visiting a jeweller for some creative koru designs on my wedding ring.

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It had been a day hotter than originally forecasted and I was beginning to feel it. Mid-afternoon and the sun’s heat had long ago swept through the valley and hills, browning new growth in its wake. I stood  in the only shady part on the riverbank  busy concentrating on what should have been a simple task.  My mind was too preoccupied to notice that a  band of moisture sat across my forehead. It was hot and I was in a sweat. Like soldiers on attack, these beads had gathered in formation and were rapidly descending past my brows and, one by one, into to my eyes.

My fingers were  fumbling with a handful of black plastic buckles and clasps unable to wipe my eyes.  Patience had left me. Sucking in my breath and counting to ten, I tried to clasp the buckles together for the last time — and  failed. It was time to face  reality and show some form of intelligence —  I was never going to squeeze into a life jacket fitted for a ten-year old. I had to loosen the straps.

The decision to take a raft trip down the Rangitikei River was by a group of women — including my mother — who I had recently become acquainted with over an exercise cycle, a row machine and a series of other machines housed in a local fitness centre. It was a warm sunny morning, the first in over a week, when the idea for a short easy trip down the river came up.  Being the youngest in the group I was the last to agree – naturally.

Not to be outdone by my seventy plus mum — who, while busy striding on the treadmill, nonchalantly agreed to the raft ride — I knew I had to step up to the mark. Water was something I had successfully avoided since my last disastrous splash in Laos’s Vang Vieng  River several years earlier. But despite a few minor apprehensions I had to do it, making sure that this time it would be in calmer waters.

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Tricia, one of the owners and professional life jacket fitter, adjusted my jacket correctly before the group were given some easy to follow instructions about paddle use. Then  into the cool shallow water of the Rangitikei and onto the raft where I sat on its edge, gripping a paddle, happy about my return to the water; it had been a long time in between trips.

Like all water activities the chances of getting wet are pretty high and within minutes of setting off on the tranquil waters, I was soon initiated. It wasn’t a sweep-me-over-the-side wave but more like a dunk for old time’s sake. Big enough to douse the lower half of my body and slosh the insides my sneakers, and bring back memories of rafting the Shotover and Kawarau rivers in Queenstown.

The group quickly settled into a routine of chatter and paddle, listening for instructions from Laura our American guide, while soaking in the dramatic pale grey cliffs that dominate the river region. One hour on the river was enough to test out  my repressed adrenaline, relax with a group of new friends and cool down from the day’s heat.

This trip was unique if not special because the only people on the river were those in my raft and Tricia with her daughter Kelsey paddling along side. Rafting on New Zealand waters is a popular activity, but rafting on a river minus other commercial operators competing for business, enhanced the experience. There were no speeding jet boats or vanloads of tourists standing on the riverbanks awaiting their turn. There were no observation decks or bus loads of passengers clicking cameras. There was, however, something that can only be found in heartland New Zealand — locals being locals — camping, sitting around on camp chairs talking or reading, paddling their inflatable kayaks on the river for some fun, or maybe finding a quiet hole and fishing. But for most of the journey, there was no one around, only the sounds from the river, the occasional  sheep, and the chatter of the group sharing in the fun.

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And just when I wanted more, our  journey came to an end. Around the last bend in the river we headed to the finish line, under a bridge and onto the rocky riverbank.

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Feeling revitalised from the short burst of energy, I turned to the older and bolder bunch in the raft. I sensed they didn’t need me  to ask them about the trip, their faces said it all.

taken by Viv Eames

And I learnt something besides getting back in the raft — age doesn’t have to set  limits on how  much fun you give yourself  in a day, or in your life.

Trip Information

Mangaweka Adventure Company is located in the township of  Mangaweka, 21 kilometres  south of the  township Taihape. For more information on available trips, check out  their site here: Mangaweka Adventure Company

This trip was complimentary. My thanks to Paul and Tricia, at Mangaweka Adventure Company, Laura  for her stories while guiding me down the river, and to the group of ladies who taught me a few things about life as well as living.

Caffeinated Traveller