Not as well-heeled as Cambridge but just as horsey, Matamata was one of those pleasant country towns you drove through until Peter Jackson’s epic film trilogy Lord of the Rings put it on the map. The residents seem to have adjusted to life in Hobbiton with wry bemusement: ‘Strewth mate, all that elf nonsense doesn’t real- ly rattle my chains but it was nice to see the old Kaimais on the silver screen’.
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Along with resisting cultural annihilation this fishing village has avoided large-scale development, retaining its sleepy feel despite its considerable natural attractions. It’s basically Raglan and Hot Water Beach rolled into one, but without the tourists. There’s not much here except for the general store/post office, a couple of takeaways and a petrol station. Even Captain Cook blinked and missed the narrow entrance to the large harbour when he sailed past in 1770.
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Landlocked cities in an island nation are never going to have the glamorous appeal of their coastal sisters. Rotorua compensates with boiling mud while Taupo has its lake – but Hamilton and Palmerston North, despite their majestic rivers, are left clutching the short straws.
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The name says it all. Despite the rambunctious Waikato River looking nothing like the Cam, the good burghers of Cambridge have done all they can to assume an air of English gentility. There are village greens, avenues lined with magnificent exotic trees and an indecent number of faux-Tudor houses. Even the Superloo looks like a Victorian cottage.
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