A Prison Cell in Hamilton

I’m not sure how I feel about Hamilton. The best-rated hostel there looked truly like a prison. I even had my own cell. Everything was sterile—white bricks, white, run-down furniture—and it looked anything but inviting. There were no proper common areas, and everything there seemed designed to make sure you’d never commit a crime, just to avoid being sent to a real prison (which might be more comfortable, depending on the country).

After about a week and a half of traveling together, Shuan and I parted ways the next morning.

I went to see the lake in Hamilton—Lake Rotoroa (not to be confused with the island Rotoroa I’ve been to before). Apart from having some fun with ducks, it was not at all spectacular. I was looking forward to visiting the gardens in Hamilton, though. However, the 10-minute walk back to the car from the lake was enough for the weather to switch from "partly cloudy with sunshine" to "torrential rain for miles," making it difficult to even see the car in front of me on the highway. I decided it was in the best interest of both me and my cheap teddy bear umbrella from Bali to stay in the car and drive on to Tauranga.

In short, I’m sure Hamilton might have more to offer, but I just didn’t get the chance to see it.もっと詳しく