Sorry if the blog has been a tad quiet lately. Had a few tours and took a 2-day break in Rotorua – one of our NZ tourist draws.
I will be treating all my regular readers to a glass of wine. I think half a bottle should cover it. Meet me in the phone box on Sandringham Road. Bring a friend.
Anyway – Rotorua. AKA Sulphur City. AKA RotoVegas. It’s main claim to fame is the geothermal activity in the region: geysers, bubbling mud pools, hot springs, Maori culture display, and a lingering farty-eggy smell of hydrogen sulphide.
My partner had scored a 2 nights for the price of 1 deal at Heritage Hotels Rotorua. So we drove down on Tuesday night, all perky and looking forward to a getaway - in her bright yellow SLK Merc sports, arriving at about 9.00 pm. We checked in, struggled to carry our bags by ourselves and eagerly opened the door to our promised ‘superior quality’ room.
First off - freezing bloody cold. Nobody bothered to warm up the room. Also no electric blankets. And two double beds. (Two?)
Green sulphur stains in the toilet bowl, and rust on the shower rail. Plus a tired 20-year old décor and a Samsung flat screen that picked up only free-to-air TV.
Whatever – we were tired after a four-hour drive, so we cranked up the heat, watched some TV and crashed into bed. Next morning we went downstairs for the breakfast buffet. OK - usual brekkie suspects: eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, some rice and nori for the Asian market. I like muesli and fruit normally, and they had some on hand – but sadly the soaked Bircher Muesli was so old that it had fermented and fizzed on the tongue. The fruit salad was tired and had been obviously served before. It was begging to be given a decent burial – dull, dry and limp. Table service for our coffee was perfunctory – one cup liberally spilled onto the tablecloth.
Sooooooo – not generally given to complaining, we did however register a certain degree of surprise to the duty manager, of the condition of our ‘superior room’. We met with a blank faced denial that anything was amiss – and told there was nothing more that could be done, and that if we had any complaints, that we should fill in the customer feedback card prior to departure. (Thank God we didn’t get the ‘inferior’ room.) I didn’t even mention the dismal breakfast fare.
That evening – a senior manager who had been informed of our discomfort contacted us. And after a short discussion she agreed that we could have a new room. Surprise. New décor, large double bed, good quality linens, multi channel TV, sparkling new bathroom.
As a New Zealander, I have a degree of tolerance for less than perfect service and facilities, but this was really a way below par experience. I am embarrassed if this is the standard for overseas visitors with cash to spare.
I’ll write some more about the whole Rotorua thing – but essentially the whole town trades heavily on its unique geothermal and Maori culture angle, with customer service and attention to detail an afterthought. Sadly a half-arsed, near enough is good enough attitude pervades the township in general. Not remotely good enough, or worthy of international tourists.
I will be treating all my regular readers to a glass of wine. I think half a bottle should cover it. Meet me in the phone box on Sandringham Road. Bring a friend.
Anyway – Rotorua. AKA Sulphur City. AKA RotoVegas. It’s main claim to fame is the geothermal activity in the region: geysers, bubbling mud pools, hot springs, Maori culture display, and a lingering farty-eggy smell of hydrogen sulphide.
My partner had scored a 2 nights for the price of 1 deal at Heritage Hotels Rotorua. So we drove down on Tuesday night, all perky and looking forward to a getaway - in her bright yellow SLK Merc sports, arriving at about 9.00 pm. We checked in, struggled to carry our bags by ourselves and eagerly opened the door to our promised ‘superior quality’ room.
First off - freezing bloody cold. Nobody bothered to warm up the room. Also no electric blankets. And two double beds. (Two?)
Green sulphur stains in the toilet bowl, and rust on the shower rail. Plus a tired 20-year old décor and a Samsung flat screen that picked up only free-to-air TV.
Whatever – we were tired after a four-hour drive, so we cranked up the heat, watched some TV and crashed into bed. Next morning we went downstairs for the breakfast buffet. OK - usual brekkie suspects: eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, some rice and nori for the Asian market. I like muesli and fruit normally, and they had some on hand – but sadly the soaked Bircher Muesli was so old that it had fermented and fizzed on the tongue. The fruit salad was tired and had been obviously served before. It was begging to be given a decent burial – dull, dry and limp. Table service for our coffee was perfunctory – one cup liberally spilled onto the tablecloth.
Sooooooo – not generally given to complaining, we did however register a certain degree of surprise to the duty manager, of the condition of our ‘superior room’. We met with a blank faced denial that anything was amiss – and told there was nothing more that could be done, and that if we had any complaints, that we should fill in the customer feedback card prior to departure. (Thank God we didn’t get the ‘inferior’ room.) I didn’t even mention the dismal breakfast fare.
That evening – a senior manager who had been informed of our discomfort contacted us. And after a short discussion she agreed that we could have a new room. Surprise. New décor, large double bed, good quality linens, multi channel TV, sparkling new bathroom.
As a New Zealander, I have a degree of tolerance for less than perfect service and facilities, but this was really a way below par experience. I am embarrassed if this is the standard for overseas visitors with cash to spare.
I’ll write some more about the whole Rotorua thing – but essentially the whole town trades heavily on its unique geothermal and Maori culture angle, with customer service and attention to detail an afterthought. Sadly a half-arsed, near enough is good enough attitude pervades the township in general. Not remotely good enough, or worthy of international tourists.
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