We were going on an adventure!
The hills rolled by us creating all different and unusual shapes and we made up stories of how giants lived under the soil, the grass acting as their blanket, their sleeping bodies creating the hills, mountains and valleys before us. A story to tell our children one day perhaps?
On we went, travelling up and up and as we turned around the bend there it was - Hobbiton. Tiny little hobbit holes lay in the hills, dirt paths joining them all together. Their doors were painted in vibrants reds, blues and yellows and their windows were adorned with flowers. It was a movie set but it wasn't fake. The trees were real, the vegetables were real. I was half expecting Gandalf to come trotting along on his horse and buggy, lighting fireworks as he passed.
We walked around in our tour group and stopped at every little door as we learnt about the making of the Lord of the Rings films and tested our own knowledge on the subject. We joked that this little town was made for me - a small village for a small person. I didn't mind the joke at all. I would live here in a heartbeat.
Our tour ended at the Green Dragon Pub, where we indulged ourselves to apple cider in front of the warm and crackling fire. We felt like we were in a different time, a different world. Everything was at peace and peace was within us and we were sad at the idea that we had to leave.
But leave we did, and we continued to quote Bilbo, Legolas and Aragorn as we made our way to the beautiful (yet smelly!) Rotorua.