How Rebecca and I Killed Tet with $220

I am writing this post while en route to Phnom Penh after over a week on the beautiful island of Koh Rong Saloem. We had a wonderful time and met a number of great people, but that is for another post. This one is about how easy it is to kill a holiday in a small town. Here’s the story.

Advertisement

Rotovegas, by Any Other Name, Would Still Smell… Not Sweet

For the past few days, we have been staying in Rotorua, a town about 3 hours southeast of Auckland by bus. Rotorua is famous for its sulphurous odor and plentiful geothermal activity, and is known by the locals as “Rotovegas.” Two people mentioned this to us on our way out of Auckland. Intrigued by the consistency, we asked why they thought it was like Las Vegas. We didn’t get much of an answer. We assumed that none of the people who called it Rotovegas had ever been to Las Vegas, but as it turned out, the girl at the sausage cart in the harbor had lived in Vegas for a few months. She didn’t clarify the slogan much except to say, “Don’t get your hopes up.” Which I think sums up Vegas pretty well.