And it ends.
One week away for a break…a rest…relaxation…ends today. It has been a great week……and one that I shall remember for a long time…

Great scenery- rolling hills, dairlyland….in a way it was Ireland but with more cows…not a lot of sheep- that is found in the South Island, but friendly people, interesting combination of tourists and locals and amazingly. Many Asian…. predominantly Chinese who worked in the bigger cities. I loved the accent…the ‘e’ pronounced as an i….I managed to get quite a few words spoken right in the New Zealand accent…..sometimes you would think I was a local…..!But the scenery and roadways was enjoyable and the week was a great week away, time out, time together….rest and relaxing with each other.

Hobbiton was such a highlight and a wonderful place. The movies of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings that Marc had introduced me to (all in succession) were all so clearly to life here at the movie set. The organisation was a village in itself and as you were driven to the site, suddenly from the road and buses, you found yourself transported to another world and time. As you walked around the complex for two hours, time transformed, as you became immersed in the life of a hobbit, waiting for Bilbo and Fredo to rush out any moment now and greet you. Anytime now a hobbit was going to pop out his door and receive us with a hello and a smile as we walked by. The Green Dragon Inn was another highlight where my darling husband thought he actually was  a hobbit and dressed himself accordingly, complete with pouring refreshments behind the bar  from the large urn of alcohol in his hands! Where is the serious doctor now?

Of course, we took the obligatory photographs of standing outside Bilbo’s door…. the big green door…..and the pathway….as we echoed the words ….” I’m off to an adventure”.

And then were also the memorable ‘highlights’ of sulphur smells… that permeated your body and your skin and even now we can still smell this distinct odour in our packed bags….to the fact that we have separated the soiled clothes into a completely different bag in order to stop the smell pervading right through the interior of our luggage. (I am dreading to think what it is going to be like when we actually open the bag at home.)

Yes, I had to admit, watching the steam rise from the ground as you walked around Rotorua and hearing the bubbles of mud/ water boiling beside you on the path was amazing, seeing the different hues glowing from yellow to orange sulphur and arsenic pools was awesome, BUT the sulphur smell created a ‘lingering’ memory for our trip. Sometimes at night in the room that we stayed, the aroma of sulphur was not very strong, but oh yes, there were the times of being woken to the horrible stench of sulphur where I actually had to bury my head into my pillow that I had perfumed before I went to sleep. Now I am not quite sure if that was a correct move as I was then breathing in Chanel diffused sulphur….! Interesting combination of flavours believe me!

And then to be spoken of, was the beauty treatment…. I mean we were here to relax and invigorate ourselves so what better way than to wallow completely covered in a mud pit…or bath as they call it here – me soaking myself in this thick gooey mixture called a beauty therapy when I absolutely hate getting my fingers and hands dirty in soil.

When I was a child, I was always given the choice on a Saturday of either helping in the garden or helping in the house, re cleaning. I always chose the house. The thought of putting my fingers anywhere near soil, carrying dirt and gardening, pulling weeds out, placing my hands in actual red brown clay…in fact doing anything that puts my hand in soil or dirt did not appeal to me. So ,I simply helped mum with the housework! Oh, a much better choice! As an adult I am exactly the same. I much prefer cleaning (if you can really use the word, ‘prefer’) to doing gardening. The thought of placing my hand into anything related to dirt and soil…does not attract me one iota. I let my husband take care of all the plants, the weeding, the using of potting mix. No, I am not a ‘princess’ but for me, even when I was working for years as a primary school teacher and doing finger painting/printing with my classes, if I had to immerse my whole hand into something ‘icky’…I always used an obliging student to demonstrate. Just the thought of placing my hand into grunge of any kind, letting that get under my fingernails or into my skin really turns me off. YUK!

But here in New Zealand, I actually scooped clumps of this grey horrible mass so called beauty treatment ‘mud‘ in my hands to place first of all onto my body and then to actually coat and smooth my body with the stuff to revitalise and reinvigorate the skin…to make me feel younger, brighter….cleaner!

Cleaner?   Enjoyable? Definitely not…soaking in this muddy soggy stuff was horrible! Slimy, squishy and I hated it…Was I mad even doing it as that was not a good moment in my life…. but as they say- ‘when in Rome…do what the Romans do ’…so we were in Rotorua….and so we did what Rotoruans do!

And even with only one mud beauty puddle, I am still washing away the smell from my skin. I have only just placed back my wedding ring and jewellery as we were informed to leave them off your body for a number of days as the ‘mud’ would turn any impurities in to gold black. I can just see my diamond adorned wedding ring black on my finger…. As memoirs of my mud bath!
Oh yes, that was a ‘relaxing’ highlight.

And, of course, the highest point of the week was the pushbike ride. I mean that’s what we came here for in the first place. A pleasant ride in the country to refresh and relax ourselves from the world of patients and medicine.

Yes, I have to admit, that was a most enlightening experience, most definitely, as I look at the black, yellow, and orange colour of my skin exhibiting their bruised feelings as they glare at me between the contusions that are now covering most of my body. I reflect in my memoirs of ‘the push bike ride ‘for three days of 115 kms. I can feel the traversing on a little seat, my inner thighs bumping and grinding in and out onto my seat, (in not the way it should be thought of believe me) ….my bum going up and down, up and down, my little legs going around and around, as I rode ( grinded, puffed, ) merrily behind, in front and sometimes alongside my ever-cheerful husband, along rolling hills and gorges and rail tracks covered in thick chunky gravel. (All I can say is that I really must love him!)

And I simply cannot forget the two times that the rail trail track beckoned me to have a closer look and to lie down upon it with a thud…while the bike had a much-needed rest on top of me. I mean, I did have to check the wires of the fences we were riding beside and that had to be a close-up call! After all, you must do the job right! And yes, without a doubt, I certainly did.
But that was a proud moment in my relaxation week. Yes I can most unquestionably confirm –“ I did it!  (And in my triumphant, exalted, thoroughly exhausted moment I was informed, “you know  there is another rail trail track we could follow next time?”

So as the week has now ended, and life will return to reality, I can say Adieu …until the next time of my ‘rest and relaxation’ break! Who knows when … but I’ll be sure to let you know when we get there!

However, as I was  heading to the airport, reflecting upon the happenings of this short week, while observing the various shades of black and yellow collected in memories from this week of ‘relaxation’ and ‘rest’, somehow, I think I must have those two words definitions mixed up somewhere!

Oh, I know…they were Marc’s definition of ‘rest and relaxation’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!