One Kiddie Cone, Please
Trip Start Jan 15, 2011
38Trip End Mar 19, 2011
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Where I stayed
National Park Backpackers
What I did
Before leaving the city we had to make one final stop. It was a bit out of the way, but being the full-fledged nerds that we are we had no choice but to take this detour. Weta Workshop rests on the outskirts of the city, and in an attempt to appease the insatiable appetite of its fans, they’ve set up the Weta Cave as a sort of visitor center. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, Weta Workshop is a special effects company that Peter Jackson developed. They did all the effects (practical and otherwise) for "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy. So, as you can see, we had to go
The Weta Cave was small but fed the geek in me quite nicely. There was a full sized Uruk-hai on display as well as a scrawny Gollum. The Dark Lord Sauron himself was standing ominously behind a pane of glass. Displayed upon the wall was “the blade that cut the ring” and Frodo’s sword, Sting, which I imagine will be making an appearance in the upcoming film adaptation of The Hobbit. Katie and I watched a short film about Weta Workshop and then continued through the gift shop. It was hard to resist buying some memorabilia, but the bloated prices helped make up my mind. On reflection, we both think this side trip was totally worth it, if not for the pictures alone.
While on the road to National Park, Katie read in the guidebook that a place called Lindale was on the way and that it had (wait for it…) ice cream tasting! (She had me at ice cream) Well, as it turned out, Lindale was…I don’t actually know what it was. A town? A village? A rest stop? It was a parking lot with small shops and a farm (you had to pay to see the latter). Thanks, but I think we’ll pass.
When we arrived we saw a few cars and a gigantic wooden wedge of cheese. Hmmmm…they lured me here with promises of ice cream and now I see a giant wedge of cheese. Am I going to be dropped into a maze soon? I think I smell a rat.
Lindale had us scratching our heads. We glanced at a couple boutique art galleries and had a look over the “farm” fence, which didn’t seem worth any price of admission
Katie couldn’t finish all her ice cream so I obliged. No problemo. That made a kiddie cone and half of a regular for me, but even after those sweets I was still hungry. Now, in order to choose my pear flavor I hadn’t chosen the chocolate hazelnut – that had been a tough decision! So this got me thinking… I’m on vacation, right? Why on earth should I not have a second kiddie cone?! I found my logic to be sound, so I marched back inside and ordered the chocolate hazelnut. I embraced my own gluttony and the ladies serving up the ice cream were quite amused.
While reveling in my overindulgence, Katie and I started joking about the possibility of my going in and ordering a third kiddie cone
That joke had us giggling as we set out on the road again. In the car we listened to more “This American Life,” motoring along, not a care in the world, until we nearly experienced a catastrophic accident involving an enormous big rig, a tiny vintage automobile, and us. We were innocent bystanders forced to watch a semi-truck barreling down on a tiny vintage car. It pulled off the road in fear, only to find the truck was still impatient. That monster squeezed passed, barely slowing its speed, nearly running us down in the process. All I could do was sit behind the steering wheel in shocked silence. Once the incident was over I turned my head toward Katie. Her jaw had dropped, face awash in perplexed terror. We stared at one another and burst out laughing. I know it doesn’t make sense that we laughed, but we did. Maybe because it was just another example of the crazy New Zealand one lane roads. Or maybe it was because we were happy to be alive.
Eventually we reached National Park. This was a very small town whose main purpose is to put up travelers interested in hiking the Tongariro Crossing. We were two of those travelers. The hostel we stayed at, National Park Backpackers, was pretty good. Wait, I should say the room was pretty good. The kitchen? Not so much. It was a friggin’ fly convention! Little was being done to eradicate the mass of flies that had set up shop. With all the people coming and going, eating and drinking, leaving a mess, I imagine the files had found their ultimate utopia. They enjoyed their smorgasbord while us humans felt like pieces of crap – not emotionally, literally. Flies swerving, dipping, diving, and bopping us in the head. But the flies, the room, the grungy facilities, none of that really mattered. We weren’t there to stay, we were there to hop a ride over to the Tongariro Crossing. And on the following day that’s exactly what we did.