In the center of the city of Rotorua, a major summer resort on the north island of New Zealand that is centered on a large caldera lake, is a faux Maori village where we sent for an evening of authentic cultural Maori food and rituals. In the end? A questionable use of our evening and the sense of a decayed cultural landmark.
We had signed up for the local Maori cultural event with great anticipation; it promoted a traditionally cooked dinner, history and culture shared, a Huka (war dance) reenactment — all in all, being curious about the Maori culture l, it seemed like a great evening.
Well, what is on paper often falls short in reality. But while the unusual and intense rainstorm — the first in three months — put a damper on the entire evening, despite the best intentions of the Maori founder, the simple fact was it was like an artichoke: the center performance was very good but the rest was rough, lacked taste and was basically useless.
It started well with a warm and humorous introduction from the Maori owner, Wetini. It ended abruptly when we decided we’d had enough of the cheesy, cliche version of cultural experience and absconded to our car as a few hundred others scurried in the rain to get a glimpse of the famous though soggy glow worms.
How did it unfold? The owner of this 19 acre re-enactment park, Wetini, was a true showman and got the crowd of 200 or more huddled under a tent to laugh and lean-in to his long, winding welcome — which at its heart set a strong resonant theme: we were all visiting tribes from around the world come to see his tribe. But did he need to go 45 minutes?
After that, it went downhill fast. In the pouring rain, umbrellas flailing about like lethal weapons, we were shown how the Maori cooked their meals under wet burlap buried in the ground, a massive pit of potatoes, chicken, lamb and, oddly enough, the same stuffing we Americans have on Thanksgiving.
From the pit, a young woman in traditional garb took us to a long traditional canoe and tried to explain the history, meaning and use of the double-hulled boat. This was when it started to unwind. She tried her best, but clearly was over her head. She used the non/word “umm” more than any other. She quickly ran out of commentary, asked for questions, of which she could only answer a few, and devolved to suggesting we sing “Row, row, row your boat” as a way to pass the time until the warriors were ready for the canoe demonstration. We were dumbfounded.
Next, we hustled to a fake river and watched men in a canoe paddle forward and back shouting warrior chants. It was like watching a bad film clip go forward and rewind. The paddlers seemed deeply disinterested.
After that was what turned out to be a very meaningful performance of their Haku war dance, and other rituals.
Then back to the tent for a buffet of mediocre food, water, over priced beer and then amidst the strange organized chaos of the evening, a call to go group by group to see the glow worms.
Was this the only time it had ever rained here?
We’d had enough. The only good thing to say was the performance was very good and the stuffing was almost as good as what we served at Thanksgiving.
Truth be told, the owner has created a successful way to honor his and another Maori family. And the performance was good, the singing very good. (Though I did not know they had guitars back then). But something along the way had gotten decrepit, rusty around the edges, we could not quite pinpoint it.
And the next day? We went to nearby Te Puia Maori geysers and cultural center and were amazed at how incredible the same Haku was performed. Skip this Maitai event. Visit Te Puia and get the performance and so much more.
We actually felt sad about the whole thing.
#mitauvillsge #rotorura #maori #haku #newzealand
Outspoken Traveler 