If you want to feel fresh before going out for St Patty’s Day, go to the spa.
And so it was that three intrepid backpackers decided to treat themselves to a premium Polynesian Spa experience: 5 hot pools full of geothermal healing activity, one provided clean plush towel and a shower that came with shampoo (we would be lying if we didn’t say we did it for the shower)
It should be noted that the geothermal activity was sulfric, and hence smelled like rotten eggs.
Three hours later, we were hard boiled.
An hour after that, on our way to the bar, the smell of old breakfast eminated from our pores and slight concern lingered in the air.
However, concern was unnecessary because St Patty’s Day in Rotorua (population 20,000) is just like anywhere else: the entire population crammed into one bar, getting sweaty, singing “Sweet Home Alabama” at the top of their lungs, everyone kind of on the same page about consciously not inhaling anything.
In a town that always smells faintly of rotten eggs, humans that smell of rotten eggs was no big deal. Even in my giant man repelling green baseball cap men chose to talk to me (#thingsthatwouldnothappeninnewyork)
And now I’m scrambling on how to end this post, so I might just pull a Humpty Dumpty and crack off.