Part 5

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15.—At 10 o’clock this morning we left for a trip on the lake. There were about a dozen other passengers in the motor boat, and in half an hour most of them were seasick, as the wind was blowing a gale. Our destination was a famous spring eight miles away. This spring heads a river so large that we sailed in it in a boat. The water gushes up from a great hole, and with such force that a coin will not sink in it. The flow is twelve million gallons in twenty-four hours, and the water as cold as ice. From the wonderful spring, we went through a wonderful river to a wonderful fall. Three other boats accompanied us; tourists are as common here as they are in Egypt. At the wonderful fall, we ate lunch. The Grand Hotel sent a hamper along, and we ate while sitting on a cliff overlooking the mighty rush of water. At the fall we left the boat, and took a stage back to Rotorua, stopping on the way at a thermal center of great interest: Tikitere. An Irishman married a Maori woman who owns the place, and he insists upon charging fifty cents admission. This is the only sight in the district for which a charge is made; the Irishman is smarter than the New Zealand government, and every visitor is compelled to pay two shillings, or miss one of the best sights in the district. Tikitere covers several acres, and is mainly devoted to boiling mud springs. There are thousands of these springs, some of them not much larger than your hand, and some of them big enough to float a ship. Imagine a loblolly of mud boiling violently, and you have the main idea. At one place there are cold and hot springs within five feet of each other. Near them is a fall of hot water from two boiling lakes. Then we drove to Blue Lake, an extinct crater filled with water of a perfect blue, and returned to the hotel at 6 P. M., badly sunburned as a result of our trip on the lake and in the stage-coach.... When I tell people I had no sleep on the “Maheno” because of snoring gentlemen, they say, “Let me tell you what they did to me.” And then they relate inconveniences suffered on different ships. But in spite of these uncomfortable incidents of travel, nothing can keep the people at home.... The stage in which we traveled today was pulled by five horses: two wheelers, and three hitched side by side ahead of them. The roads were so dusty that the driver was frequently compelled to stop, and wait until he could see his way.... Speaking of differences in the English language at home and abroad: opposite my room at the Grand Hotel is a livery and bait stable. Rotorua is a great place for livery and bait stables, owing to the tourist trade. From my window early in the morning, I see men and women coming from the different bath-houses, with towels over their arms. Frequently stages drive up in front of the hotel, and passengers depart for sights quite distant from the town. There are a good many automobiles, also, and we shall travel in these quite extensively when we leave Rotorua to see the other sights in the district. On an average, there are fifteen hundred visitors in Rotorua, and a resident population of 2,500. The great watering-places in Europe are insignificant compared with this place, because of the variety of natural baths procurable here. The government has spent $200,000 on a bathhouse, and surrounded it with a very beautiful garden in which sweet peas are now in bloom. This is also the home of the gladioli; I see these flowers everywhere in splendid profusion. In the park surrounding the government bathhouse are several spouting geysers, steam whistlers, sulphur springs, etc. Outside the park grounds may be seen many sanitariums, with invalids on the porches. There is nothing as effective in restoring health as natural hot springs, and the variety is so great here that I wonder the visiting population is not much larger than fifteen hundred.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 16.—The Maoris, or native inhabitants of New Zealand, look very much like our Indians, and have most of their characteristics. They are lazy and shiftless, but good fighters, which will be generally recognized as a trait of the North-American Indians. At the photograph galleries we see pictures of beautiful Maori girls, but none are to be seen in the native villages, two of which are located near Rotorua. In both of these are hot springs, and the natives use them for cooking, heating their houses, and for bathing. In the hot springs are placed pots containing meat and vegetables, and the springs are then covered over with old gunny-sacks until the cooking is complete. The women also do their washing in the same way; the clothes are boiled in a hot spring, and then soaped and rubbed in a stream of cooler water. While the women are washing, their children are bathing in warm pools near by. The houses are built over hot springs, and in cool weather the warmth is found very agreeable. A few feet away from the hot springs may be found a geyser in constant eruption, or which erupts every ten minutes, every hour, every day, or every month. Yesterday all the geysers were going, but most of them were quiet today. The district where I saw the native village covers many acres, in a depression between mountains, and is marked by white patches which look like old lime-kilns. These white patches were made by the geysers; the water is strongly impregnated with lime, and the steam and spray give everything touched a coating of white. We saw great holes in the earth filled with blue water, and the bottom as white as snow. Not far away would be found another geyser; a great loblolly of mud, boiling lazily. Beside a rushing stream of cold water we saw a hot spring, and heard the old story that a man might stand in one spot, catch a trout, and boil it. A Maori woman was our guide, and we greatly admired her beautiful voice. She was elderly, and ugly, but her voice was soft and musical. She took us to a native Maori fort, and pointed out a sort of bird-box situated on top of a pole. This was a Spirit House; a spirit lived in it, and, when danger threatened, the spirit would speak in a loud voice, and tell the people what the danger was, and when it would appear.

“Most ladies and gentlemen do not believe it,” the Maori woman said.

I asked her if she believed it, and she replied in her broken English: “I used to did.” She said that when she was a child, her people always put food in the spirit house for the spirit, but that lately the custom is going out of fashion. In the village are Catholic and Episcopal churches; the Catholic priest is a native Maori, and the church is heated in cool weather from a hot spring beneath it.... The Maoris were originally cannibals, but the guide said they ate each other, and did not bother the whites much. In one place we visited here, we saw forks made of human bones.... We called at the guide’s home, and saw one of the tin fireplaces which are seen in seven-tenths of the poorer houses. They cost about $8 put up, and are used for cooking purposes, as well as for heating. They burn out, after a time, but a tinner will rivet in a patch for a small charge. They are certainly very much cheaper than the stone and brick fireplaces we have. A native Maori village looks much like a negro suburb in an American town, but the Maoris are not black; they look like Indians and have straight hair. Some of the women have their lips tattooed, to indicate submission to their husbands, but there is a Suffragette movement on here, as elsewhere, and the Maori woman who showed us about laughed scornfully at the notion that woman is inferior to man.... Just then we came to a place called the Frog Pond: a mud lake, and there is just enough steam below to cause particles of mud to jump like frogs. Near by, in a hole in the earth, the escaping steam made a sound like the croaking of frogs. The Maori woman described these things, and then walked on in silence, with a mean look in her eyes; she was evidently still thinking of the foolish women of her race who tattoo their lips to indicate submission to their husbands. I didn’t have a very good time after the woman suffrage question came up, and was glad that we soon after reached the last sight on the list. When women look at me in that funny way indicating that I impose on them, I am thoroughly uncomfortable. So we walked back to the entrance to the geyser field, and took a carriage to Rotorua. On the way, we met dozens of other carriages containing visitors; here people are always departing for a trip, or returning from one, and when the sights are exhausted they go on to Wairakei, where there is another collection of geysers, hot springs, etc. Between trips, they take baths, and there is a great variety to choose from; no other place in the world has as many different baths as Rotorua, but the town is not easily reached, and it doesn’t attract as many people as Hot Springs, Arkansas, which has only simple hot springs; no chain of lakes, no wonderful fishing, no oil baths, no geysers, and no mud baths, as has Rotorua.... There are only two geyser fields in the world; the other is in Yellowstone Park, in the United States. So far as I am able to judge, the geysers in Yellowstone Park are much finer. There are no terraces here, as in the Yellowstone, and in every way the Yellowstone district seems superior. But in a way, they are much alike. The geysers here are undoubtedly losing their force; citizens tell me they can see a difference from year to year. I have not seen a geyser so far more than ten or twelve feet high, but I saw many big ones in the Yellowstone. All the geysers were going yesterday, and it is said some of them shot steam and hot water into the air to a height of forty feet, but I was on the lake trip yesterday, and did not see the big geyser display which everyone is talking about today. But in the Yellowstone you can see a big geyser display any day; indeed, Old Faithful goes off every hour, and shoots steam and hot water 150 to 200 feet into the air. Here soap is frequently put into the geysers, to make them show off for visitors, but this is not necessary in the Yellowstone. This district had terraces until a few years ago, when they blew up, and now there are no others like those in Yellowstone Park. Besides, the Yellowstone district is much wilder and grander than the Hot Lake district of New Zealand. This is a wonderful place, but the Yellowstone is much more wonderful, it seems to me.... We are the only Americans at the hotel, and, except that a St. Paul man was here two months ago, we are the only Americans who have been here in a long time, the manager says.... In the fine park surrounding the government bathhouse, this afternoon, we saw dozens of games going. There was bowling, tennis, archery, cricket, and croquet, but principally bowling. In this game a good many elderly men participated; it is an old man’s game, but lately young men are playing it. The lawn was as smooth as a floor, and the game seemed to be to roll wooden balls to a goal. The men over here carry the wooden balls, when traveling, and engage in the game at different places. I had never seen the game before, and watched it for an hour. The players were very polite and genteel, but all had the pronunciation which seems so queer to us. I have seen no golf here, but I am rarely out of sight of a tennis court; that seems to be the universal game.... The New Zealand government has been so successful in business that it is now branching out; it is operating a tourist agency in opposition to Thos. Cook & Son, who have offices all over the world. People living off the main lines of travel cannot realize how valuable travelers are. In Europe, many cities devote millions of dollars to securing tourist travel, and find that it pays. Paris spends millions annually in this way, and rival cities are lately doing a good deal in the same direction; it is generally said that Berlin is now a rival of Paris in attractions for travelers. At this little town of Rotorua, a train-load of tourists arrives every day, and without them the town would not amount to much.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 17.—In Rotorua, a great deal is made of the native women who act as guides. One hears of Maggie, the guide, before reaching the town, but we did not see her; she became so famous that an Englishman married her, and she is now living unhappily in London. But there are many others here, for the profession is easily learned; after one trip through the geyser field, I am certain I would be competent to act as a guide. The native woman who accompanied us pointed out several holes where people had fallen in and lost their lives. She says that when a man falls in a hot pool, he disappears, and nothing is ever seen of him again, except his liver; in a few hours after the man disappears, his liver is seen floating on the surface, and is recovered. This is the sort of information possessed by the guides. A native woman fell into one hot crater, and the guides say her screaming can still be heard. I listened attentively, and the hissing steam made a noise at times which sounded something like a woman’s scream.... In the warm pools, boys and girls swim together, stark naked. The entrance to the geyser field is over a bridge spanning a roaring stream, and girls fourteen and fifteen years old jump from this bridge into the water, if pennies are thrown as an inducement. The jump is a high one, and I saw no boys making it. In one warm pool where naked boys and girls were in bathing we saw a little white girl, but the guide did not know her, and could not explain how she came there.... Every visitor to New Zealand soon remarks that the women do not care much about their feet or figures. Still, their waists and feet do not seem larger than they should be; perhaps women in other parts of the world unnaturally pinch themselves.... Tourists do all sorts of queer things. One woman who sits at our table carries her own tea and teapot, and another carries her own bread.... A rumor came to the hotel today that the big geysers were spouting, and there was hurrying among the guests, but the rumor proved only partly true; the spouting lasted only a few minutes, and the guests of the Grand did not see it. Last Wednesday, when we were on the lake trip, the big geysers spouted nine hours, breaking all records. A bulletin board is displayed in the hotel office, and this is used to keep the guests informed as to the doings of the geysers.... There seems to be no doubt that we look funny. In walking about, we hear people say to each other, as we pass, “They are Americans.” They say it softly, and do not think we hear it, for the people here are very polite; but we do hear it, and we remark that people stare at us when they think we are not looking. We undoubtedly look odd to them. I wonder if our talk sounds as funny to them as theirs sounds to us?... Wages are not as high here as in the United States, but we often hear the statement made that this is more than compensated for by the lower cost of living. We went into a grocery store today, and inquired prices. Potatoes sell at three cents a pound; cabbage, eight cents a head; green peas, thirty-two cents a peck; sugar, six cents a pound; flour, $3 per hundred pounds; bread, eight cents a loaf; crackers, twelve cents a pound; tomatoes and peaches, twenty-four cents per two-pound can; eggs, forty-two cents per dozen; butter, twenty-eight cents a pound. An inferior watermelon costs seventy-five cents; round steak, eighteen cents a pound; leg of mutton, twelve cents; loin of mutton, ten. But prices are higher here than in the average New Zealand town, as not much is produced in this vicinity. The grocer said freight rates were extortionate, although the railroad is owned by the government. The apples displayed were from California, but I did not know the variety, although the grocer asked me the question.... You frequently see here tin cans labeled “Pratt’s benzine;” but if you examine the label closely, you note that it is supplied by the Standard Oil Co., of New York.... Although lake trout are caught in great quantities here, it is against the law to sell them. We saw a man come in today with as many rainbow trout as he and two boys could carry. Lake trout are not particularly good fish. Brook trout are possibly the best fish in the world, but the lake trout are larger, and coarser; we have seen them here weighing twenty-two pounds, but the average is nearer three pounds. In one pool at Rotorua, thousands of trout may be seen swimming around, and children feed them with bread crumbs.... Some of the grazing land in New Zealand, after it has been cleared, manured, and seeded to grass, becomes very valuable. It is worth as high as $400 an acre. Choice land is worth an equal amount in Australia, but in both Australia and New Zealand there is plenty of land that may be had for almost nothing; but it is worth no more than is charged for it.... It is generally believed that the original New Zealanders, the original Hawaiians, and the people living in the islands between, came from the same general stock. The language was evidently the same at one time, and has been corrupted into dialects. The native New Zealanders are exactly like our American Indians, in appearance; perhaps they are all of the same original stock. The people of Samoa look like the Hawaiians, the Mexicans and the Indians; and the people of the South Sea islands were such adventurous navigators that the Samoan group is also known as the Navigator Islands, and probably many centuries ago the islands extended much nearer to the mainland of North America than at present. The surface of the earth is constantly changing; where lofty mountain ranges once existed, are now vast level plains; our present tropics were once in the frigid zone, and many islands that once existed have disappeared. No doubt the original inhabitants of North America found their way there from the westward, by means which we cannot now clearly understand.... New Zealand was originally a very poor country; it had almost no animals, and its vegetation was scanty. All the sheep, cattle, horses, hogs, fowls, deer, etc., were brought here; when Captain Cook was killed in the Hawaiian islands, by natives, he had been distributing live-stock in the islands of the South Seas, to benefit the inhabitants. Trout are now plentiful in the clear and rapid streams of New Zealand, but they were brought here. Before the American Revolution there were plenty of hogs in Australia, New Zealand, and the South Sea islands. The natives traded hogs to the sailors for knives, nails, hatchets, etc., and these hogs had been introduced by white men, at great expense and trouble. The white man has always been trying to help his more backward dark-skinned brother.