The Grand Chateau

May 2010

A misty rain filled the air as we approached Chateau Tongariro. Built 1125 metres up Mount Ruapehu, the yellow, red and blue of the stately old mansion contrasted with the dark colours of the dormant volcano. My eyes were transfixed during our approach and, even though he was driving, I’m sure Chris’s were too.

From the curved gravel path of the driveway and around to the polished stone of the portico, the yellow of the stone walls and columns gave a spring feel to the late autumn afternoon as we drove up to the front doors. The dream of staying in a hotel had been a distant one and something I believed could only be achieved by the rich and famous with the money to spend on a great location.

Our car was nothing like the Jag parked out front and our clothing didn’t advertise more than a middle-class income. However, parked outside the main doors and knowing that we were going to stay the night, I felt like I was a celebrity.

As we stepped out of the car, I was somewhat disappointed that no porter or valet came out to assist us. I was prone to flights of fancy back then so I kept checking hoping that at least a porter would come out through the double glass doors as we unpacked our luggage from the back seat.

After receiving instructions from my boyfriend Chris to stay put while he parked the car, I carried the luggage next to the front door and took the chance to look around. Next to the entrance was a long narrow balcony and on it were two sets of old, Victorian-like metal tables each with two matching white chairs. They looked to be out of the 1800s.

I could imagine the two of us sitting at the tables dipping biscuits into a mug of hot tea or chocolate. Even getting the chance to sit out in our layered clothing and enjoy the sun tomorrow morning would be enough, that is, if it was available to those who were staying in the cheaper rooms.

Chris returned from the car park and picked up his bag. ‘What do you think? Did you guess I was bringing you here?’
‘No. I thought we were going to stay in one of the huts we saw on the way up, or even in one of those houses a bit further up.’

He laughed. ‘We should stay in a hut next time.’ Watching me carefully, he laughed again when I screwed up my nose. ‘Maybe it can be your next surprise,’ he said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth because back then he used to take me out to mystery locations whenever he got the weekend off. In the week leading up to each trip, I was given minimal or no clues to guess where he was taking me. In this case, I hadn’t been able to guess he was taking me to the chateau because I didn’t know it existed. It wasn’t my first time in the area, but I was only young and was too busy fussing over seeing the snow for the first time to remember.

I took the extended handle of my suitcase and followed Chris inside. I stood back as he went to the counter to check-in and noticed the reception doubled as a gift shop. It was selling all sorts of Kiwiana from scarves, gloves and jackets that bore the silver fern to snow globes with sheep or kiwis in them. I took a special interest in the snow globes because I had always wanted one. I didn’t have any money to buy one and I could have asked Chris to get one for me, but I felt that he was already spending enough money driving me to the chateau.

‘Oh yup! I won’t say no to that,’ Chris enthused, bringing me out of my gift shop daydream.
He placed his wallet and the key card for the room into his back pocket and collected the e-ticket back from the receptionist.

‘Great! Do you know how to get there?’ she asked. He said that he did. ‘Enjoy your stay and have a great weekend.’
I followed Chris into the Ruahepu Lounge. ‘What were you excited about?’

He turned back and grinned. ‘We just got upgraded to the Premium Room because their numbers are low this weekend.’ I squealed and jumped once. ‘It’s right next to the Te Heu Heu suite—the most expensive room.’

I felt special. Everything was coming together for our romantic weekend away I didn’t care that there was no one around to help us with our luggage. I shouldn’t have been surprised about the low numbers because the snow hadn’t blanketed the top of Mount Ruapehu yet.

We were at the pool table near the back of the Ruapehu Lounge before I snapped out of my excitement and noticed the room. The colour theme matched the outside of the building. Blue was used for the carpet, a soft yellow for the columns and walls and red for the seating and drapes. Hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room was the most impressive feature—and it starred in many of the photos we took when we returned with our cameras later that day.

Red silk hung in the shape of a puffed out circle lit up by the gold chandelier in the centre and it looked like a rose in full bloom that loved all the attention it received from unsuspecting visitors. Just off to the side and next to the large window was a polished black piano, which was fighting the centrepiece for my affections. If we didn’t have our luggage and my anticipation of seeing our upgraded room, I would have spent more time simply soaking up the beauty and imprinting it into my mind.

The lounge disappeared when we descended a ramp to the elevator. Once on the top floor, Chris used his key card to unlock our door. He let me enter first.
‘Wow...’ I said as I looked from one thing to the next.

It was just as impressive as the rest of the Chateau had been so far and carried the 1800’s elegance. I placed my suitcase near the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. The first thing I saw was the spa bath. I had been in a spa pool before, but never a spa bath and it was an experience I definitely didn’t want to miss out on.

To get my bearings and find out where the main road was, I went to the window next to the toilet. I could tell the window was facing the main road because I saw the Whakapapa ski field higher up the mountain. Across the road was an old auto-repair shop that looked like it had been there longer than the Chateau.

‘Hey look, you can have that bath you wanted,’ Chris said as he walked over to me. ‘It has jets too.’
Chris stood next to me and followed my line of sight. ‘See that garage there?’ He pointed to the auto-repair shop. ‘My granddad used to run that. His band used to play in this hotel on the weekends.’

‘Really? Wow. No wonder you know your way around.’
‘Sort of. You can’t really see it from here, but see that side street?’ He pointed to the dirt road that disappeared behind the auto-repair shop. ‘It leads to the house Mum grew up in.’

I wondered what it would be like growing up in the snow and seeing his grandfather, Tom, play. I learned later on that one of the instruments he played was the piano, so I have always wondered if he ever played on the grand piano in the Ruapehu Lounge. Even though Tom may not have used the same piano and his name probably meant little to the current staff working at the hotel, the family history tickled my celebrity fantasy. The weekend was well on its way to being the best weekend I had had in a long time.


*          *          *

‘Are you ready yet?’ Chris asked.
I checked my black, sleeveless dress in the mirror to make sure it was straight and then pulled on my white cotton jacket that tied at the front, both which did their best to hide my weight and pass me off as ‘acceptable’.

Makeup has never been important to me and I was especially too tomboyish to consider trying it back then. I had had too many friends paint my face that I was over the idea of going through the laborious task myself. Had it been my choice, I would have worn my favourite shorts and t-shirt to dinner. However, not only did the setting call for something formal, but by being in a relationship I was setting down a new path which required compromises. It was only one night, after all.

Adding a small amount of jewellery was no compromise. I put on the heart-shaped necklace Chris had bought me for Christmas and the silver bracelet Mum had given to me for my 21st birthday. After checking my hair was in place, I took the two wine glasses from the spa bath and boldly stepped out of the bathroom to show off my look. I blushed when Chris looked over me and whistled.

‘Wow, you look beautiful. Spin around and let me see you.’
I turned around quickly and then put the wine glasses on the writing desk near the door. Walking past the ironing board to get to my shoes, I smirked at him. It was the first time I had seen him ironing something and I hadn’t expected it. I didn’t say anything, but he saw my expression and grinned.

His black, striped suit was waiting on its jacket, which Chris was almost finished with. I sat down on the king-sized bed to put my high heels on—another compromise I was more than willing to make.

Suddenly the room flashed and the sound of a digital camera shutter echoed around the room. It was my worst nightmare. I endured the series of photos by putting my head down and pretending it wasn’t happening because I knew Chris was going to take photos no matter what I said. I don’t know how he did it, but he had even managed to talk me into posing for a few on the basis that it was for the sake of memories.

Once we were finished getting dressed, we headed for the elevator. In our outfits, we looked like celebrities who were going to eat at a fancy restaurant. I had only seen the restaurant for the briefest of moments when we were in the Ruapehu Lounge earlier, so I wasn’t entirely sure of what it was going to look like. I was sure it would look gorgeous, just like the rest of the chateau had so far.

In the lobby, the pianist played ballads for the occasional guests who sauntered through on their way to dinner. I recognised the song he played, My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion. He was lost in the music as he swayed to the rhythm and I felt a little sad that no one was outside listening. I wondered how many nights were spent playing to drifters.

We entered the Ruapehu Restaurant and chose the two-seat table towards the back. We were surprised to find that all of the guests were dressed in casual clothes. Although their clothing contrasted with the Victorian-like decor and the demands the table setting had on formality, Chris and I were the odd ones out. A part of me wanted to run back upstairs and slip into something less formal, but from their stares, the dominant part of me decided not to.

‘Do you see how they’re looking at us?’ Chris asked. ‘It’s as if they’re trying to figure out who we are and if they should recognise us.’ He leaned in and whispered. ‘I think they think we’re rich.’

My celebrity fantasy was completed.
The other guests were behind me. I turned slightly and pretended to look for a waiter as I basked in their curiosity. Four tables seated adults and children of all ages. Many of the adults were failing in their attempts to stare inconspicuously. When I turned back to Chris, I found him leaning back in his chair looking embarrassed.

‘I feel so overdressed. I read on the website that we wouldn’t be served if we weren’t in something formal.’
I shrugged. ‘Oh well, we’re here now. If you want, you can swap seats with me?’
He swept his eyes around the room a few times before they settled on me again. ‘Nah, I’ll be all right.’

With it being a long time ago, I can’t remember specifically how our dinner tasted. However, I do know that the taste and quality of the food has yet to be beaten. The steak I had for my main course was so tender and juicy that I could have cut it perfectly with a blunt knife and the white chocolate crème brulee was to die for. We had all but forgotten about the other guests because we were so focused on our food, though I do recall that even the waiter treated us with a higher degree of respect than the other guests had received. Our night at Chateau Tongariro was one of those weekends where everything fell into place. To date, it is one of my favourite experiences and certainly something I would like to do again, without the expectation of living like a celebrity this time.