Looks good, doesn't it? Want to bathe in it, don't you? WELL YOU CAN'T IT'S A MILLION DEGREES CELSIUS
While you were all having a nice, long sleep-in after Lorne, we were getting up aaround 3 o'clock Saturday morning, having to be at the airport at 5:15. Emma didn't lose anything this time, it was quite awesome. We even found ourselves a little Peach kart to accompany us on our travels. We raced it across the airport; perhaps then was when Mrs J started to have doubts. Or perhaps it was later, when we demanded she listen to a recording of what Caitlin dubbed as "a cat being drowned by a baby." We shall never know.
Mrs J seeks refuge in a fush 'n chup store.
After a brief time looking around Auckland, we headed to Rotorua, having to deal with fitting two double basses at the back of the bus and the fact that the airport people broke Caitlin's cello case, which wasn't even hers. We did some fun stuff and laid down some funky beats and got off the bus at the Kingsgate Hotel, where we realised that New Zealand smells, and where Ash realised that being stuck in a room with both of us for 6 nights was perhaps not so great. Extend your sympathies to poor Ash, peoples, she had to put up with many a soft-toy battle.
Do New Zealanders do this often enough to warrant a sign? It would not surprise me.
On Sunday, we sight-saw (is that a verb?) around Rotorua and discovered Mrs Hewison's previously unknown love for corn, which transcended all boundaries of race and nationality. We also discovered that Western Rambo is actually a very funny movie, and that watching Sweeney Todd twice in one day can have serious consequences. Somewhere along the way we actually performed some things, but it is possible that the smell acts as a powerful drug, as I remember nothing. However, as I am Emma, this is quite normal.
Uncle Sam was right!
Monday we left Rotorua (much to the delight of all involved; the smell was something most foul) and headed for Hamilton. During the week, we'd normally have a couple of performances at schools during the day, then something fun at night, before returning to our tiny little box in the caravan park for the night, where Ash would sit outside and whittle, and we would fend off attacks from giant mosquitos, have midnight see-sawing expeditions, and freak out Swedish people by singing Wicked louder than is humanely possible. We got to see a NZ version of High School Musical, complete with a totally weak version of I See Red; we got to go bowling (where everyone was beaten by Emily, despite the severe handicap of not actually playing) and we even got to go frolicking in various parks and playgrounds. Caged children asked us for our autographs and Emma got a double bass bow to the head in the middle of a piece. It was also discovered that elevators are death traps and that pajamas tucked into boots with a beret is just about the Hot New Style; Caitlin should not be allowed to touch a musical instrument again for the safety of the entire planet, though she does make a mighty fine alarm clock - by the time you turn it off, you're laughing too hard to go back to sleep.
Rambo in the TV guide. Clearly marked in the synopsis is: "In Thailand, John Rambo joins a group of human rights missionaries." You will be pleased to know that we went through the entire guide with the hotel pen, replacing the word "John" with "Western"
By the end of the tour Emma couldn't feel her right forearm and Caitlin was having breathing difficulties, and both went home with half the other's suitcase. We watched Zac Efron in a corridor, we watched Kung Fu Hustle, we watched half an episode of The Mighty Boosh and went through the airport singing "Duhn duhn daaaaah.... Peacock Dreams." We all drank lemonaaaaaaade... The End
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