We had originally pulled up at a Spa which promised the danger signs of modern amenities. This wasn’t what we were looking for at all. I went inside to double check and one hit of the chlorinated atmosphere made me turn on my heels.
This isn’t the place. We want the Blue Baths. It’s supposed to be 1920s not a 1980s waterpark hell hole
We drove out of the parking lot and found our way to Government Gardens. Instantly we could tell we were on the right track. The gardens had that Colonial vibe – bandstand, acres of well kept green, immaculate paths, few people (most people, it seems, prefer to herd together in fun ‘attractions’ rather than seek out the select venues (thank God)).
There it was. An ochre coloured Spanish colonial style building. Our destination.
Inside we paid a small fee and went through to the pool. We were here to swim.
The changing rooms were old school. You could see that this was once a Mecca for Rotoruan society. They had the appearance of the changing rooms at the Lansdowne Club in London. Faded grandeur, once ultra-modern, now wood and marble antiquities. No plastic in sight. And all the better for that.
The pool area was open air. A cobalt blue sky blazed overhead as we all entered the main area. A half Olympic size rectangle of aquamarine, enclosed with those single line metal handrails redolent of childhood swimming lessons in pre-war public swimming baths, stretched out before us, like a 1920s Flapper girl – easy and inviting and made for good times. You could almost hear the shrieks of a century old excitement as New Zealand genteel society played in the water.
The water. Like everything in Rotorua, the water came out of the ground in its natural state. Hot, slightly sulphuric and as good for you as a Roman bath. Such a sensual pleasure.
We had the place almost to ourselves. The only other people there were two young children and their granny. The granny wasn’t getting in the water and they were nearly at the end of their swim by the time we arrived. After they went, we were in our own private paradise, and we splashed and gurgled and took in the splendid architecture of this beautiful oasis from the past. It is one of the most civilised swims I have ever enjoyed.
Once, this place would have been busy. But nowadays, it loses out to more modish entertainments. Who wants to go to an old fashioned pool when there are water parks, slides and bubbling hot jacuzzi-style baths to pay through the nose for?
Me.
Towelled, dried, refreshed and changed, we went up to the first floor where we’d learnt they served a proper, old fashioned afternoon tea. The young waitress was informally friendly, as Kiwis are, and the decor came from a bygone era where things were more civilised. From the days when tea was an art form served in bone china and with charm on the side.
As we ate our scones and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, a gentleman pianist tinkled the ivories in the background. Between songs, he engaged Emily in a bit of talk.
Do you know ‘The way you look tonight’?, I asked.
He did. The opening bars began. He played the whole song through. Just for us. I explained it was a song my mother loved ever since an ex-boyfriend, who she had known in her Oxford days, turned up as the pianist at a 1950s Leeds nightclub and, upon seeing her enter the room, broke off from what he had been playing and started to play this song. She had never forgotten that moment and the lines:
Some day, when I’m awfully low
When the world is cold
I will feel a glow just thinking of you
And the way you look tonightYes, you’re lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft
There is nothing for me but to love you
And the way you look tonightWith each word your tenderness grows
Tearin’ my fear apart
And that laugh, wrinkles your nose
Touches my foolish heartLovely, never, never change
Keep that breathless charm
Won’t you please arrange it?
‘Cause I love you
A-just the way you look tonight.And that laugh that wrinkles your nose
It touches my foolish heartLovely, don’t you ever change
Keep that breathless charm
Won’t you please arrange it?
‘Cause I love you
A-just the way you look tonightMm, mm, mm, mm,
Jerome Kern
Just the way you look tonight
All the way through the pianist’s playing, as we sipped our tea and smiled at each other in this marvellous little place that my mother would have loved, it felt as if she was with us. Soaking it all up. Since she died the year before, I had never felt so close to her. Nor she to my little band of wanderers and the grand daughter she never met, but always knew was there. It was lovely to be in her company for a while and very moving to feel her presence.
