“Far Out…Adventures in New Zealand, aye?!!” ~Kylie Curtis, my host mom, as I was giving her a quick rundown of the trip.
Hamilton is the fastest growing city in New Zealand and it appears new and fresh, on the verge of break out. But it has not broken out yet, which was a self-fulfilling prophecy from many local Kiwis. “Hamilton? There’s nothing to do there mate,” they all exclaimed before they heard the plans for my trip. I hope I proved them wrong, though we barely spent any time actually in Hamilton. Our primary agenda was the All Blacks game, New Zealand’s world famous rugby team, but I’ll get to that a little later after I dish out a recounting of some trials, tribulations, and Hobbit holes.
Friday was spent travelling, as usual. The 5th (and eventual 6th time) driving through the same towns, seeing the same landscapes, and eating at the same gas stations is getting fairly monotonous. Fortunately we had the best weather yet for views of Mt. Ruapahe, Mt. Tongariro (Mount Doom), and Lake Taupo on the way back down. Hamilton is two hours north of Rotorua which is roughly an hour and half north of Taupo, so we pretty much have made the trip slightly longer with each successive weekend. Speaking of long bus trips, Sunday was an adventure in its own right as the bus broke down near the beginning of the trip putting us 2 hours behind and cutting nervously close to the bus driver’s 
maximum driving time by law. It was in that moment that Kylie brought the silver lining with the quote above. Our lodging was a bit of a mess. We stayed at this really nice and friendly Christian retreat center, but it was 15 minutes outside of town in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, at least one taxi driver knew how to get there. Not so luckily, my driver on Saturday night did not and charged me an exorbitant amount of money for the fare to offset his incompetence. Nonetheless, the retreat center met our needs and offered a nice fire for some classic ghost stories and camp games Friday evening with the Globalinks crew.
Hobbiton is an amazing place, and much larger than I would have ever 
given it credit for. Peter Jackson is one of the most successful directors of all time for a reason. His scrutinous attention to detail was evident all over the set. From fake trees blocking buildings on the horizon, to finding and paying for the rights to use the ideal set location on a random farm, to smoke machines coming from the hobbit holes creating a lived in feel. Hobbiton operates as a highly profitable piece of tourism in the North Island, but it was worth every dollar spent. Our tour guide was very informative and passionate about Tolkien’s works and Jackson’s films. The hills and the pond and trees were all maintained in their fantasy beauty despite the greying skies above us. Free hobbit-style beer tastings were also a nice touch to wrap up the tour. I took a lot of pictures but here are a few for good measure.
I’ve had a lot of great memories here and it may be hard to rank them in the end, but sitting front row (well standing on the side of a hill in the General Admission section) at an All Blacks game was something else. As a deep lover of sports, and more importantly the fan experience, I was in my element surrounded by 40,000 New Zealanders and Brits who were probably more twenty times more invested in the outcome of the game than their work day on Tuesday. The face paint was out, I had my flag flying, and I even managed to start a deafening “All! Blacks!” chant when the English fans started to get rowdier than the home crowd. It was a fantastic game and we saw three tries (scores) right in front of our half of the end zone which led to a couple of distant, but all together cool shots on the Jumbo-tron.
Despite some traveling and commuting difficulties and some other “downs,” the trip to Hamilton also presented heaps of great “ups!” Whether it be climbing under hills, or playing cards beside a broken down bus at the top of a hill, or losing my voice on the side of the Hill, the Hammy was a weekend well-accomplished.
Reflections of an Urbanist 