In the morning we went to the Rotorua farmer’s market, which turned out a disappointment, perhaps because it is so close to Christmas. Only about 6 stalls, of which three sold prepared food. The greengrocer’s stall was nearly out – they sold their last courgette to the person in front of us – and the mushroom stall was manned by a breathtakingly unpleasant gentleman. A very large man who clearly thought he was funny but simply lacked any humour, warmth or sense of timing. On hearing the Gentleman Friend was from the UK he immediately started poking at him, calling him a pasty pom and advising him to take off his shirt, which brought to mind the bullying the GF had experienced from students and teachers alike as a child visiting New Zealand. It’s a funny old place, can’t say I am taken with the people. We had a Mexican meal (surprisingly adequate) and then returned. In the afternoon we went for coffee and cake, and then made our way to the park hoping to dip our toes into the hot mineral springs, but were surprised to find they were cold and stagnant. Then we parted ways – I returned to do some work and the GF went off to rent a bicycle to ride in the redwood forest.
He returned a few hours later a little wobbly on his feet. It turned out to have been mountain biking, which he had not tried before and which he wasn’t expecting, so was quite bumped and bruised, with adrenaline still pumping from the jumps and nosedives, though he’d managed to stay on throughout. He did get soaked as it started raining hard. He seems to have enjoyed it, though, and I made him a cup of tea, only to find hat the living room was festooned wqith dog diarrhoea from the Airbnb owner’s pet. This immediately put paid to any slight temptation we might have had to ever get an indoor pet, and we went and hid in our room for the rest of the day. I worked, he read, we listed to The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, emerging only to go out for a very good pizza.
Alarming days in the US these days. I do find it amazing that Americans don’t seem to come out on the streets. Interesting to think how protest relates to culture, and I would guess most Americans, with their national self-image of individualistic anti-institution types, do not think of themselves as the sorts to submit to a Caligula lightly. Yet here we are.