As a serious foodie, the Frenchman had been back two nights in a row to Bistro 1284
An email popped into my inbox that seemed so ridiculous I almost deleted it as spam. Then I saw it was from a friend in London.
"If a hot French guy were to contact you whilst travelling in NZ through Rotorua would you be prepared to meet up with him and go for dinner/drinks one evening?" it said.
Sigh. Offers of drinks with good-looking European men were positively flooding in that week but I reluctantly agreed. It was my duty as a proud Rotorua citizen. After all, aren't we known for our hospitality?
Having done my own four-month stint travelling solo through Central and South America, I was well aware how a drink with a friendly local could be a welcome distraction.
There were certainly times when I sat in a restaurant alone, surrounded by groups of people laughing and chattering away in Spanish. It would have been nice to tell someone about the amazing things I'd done or seen that day, or just get some advice on what to do next.
So I figured this mysterious "hot French guy" might appreciate some friendly conversation with a native Kiwi, albeit not a native Rotovegan.
Plus I'm nosy. I mean, oops, I'm interested in other people and their lives.
So it came to be on Saturday night on Eat Streat I met up with this foreign stranger. I knocked it out of the park with the initial greeting - casually breezing through the two peck European greeting with no hint of awkwardness. Those business trips to Belgium in my previous lifetime had prepared me well.
I couldn't possibly comment on whether he lived up to his "hot" billing - after all, he may somehow see this.
But it was interesting to hear his impressions on New Zealand and Rotorua so far. Which is all of the conversation I can share, as he wisely went "off the record" when responding to my nosy personal questions. Which he only answered once I assured him there wasn't a recorder down my top. Honestly people, do you think we have no ethics?
Anyway. On Rotorua - not impressed with the city itself (I restrained myself from defensively reeling off our "New Zealand's Most Beautiful City" titles) but blown away by the surrounding area's beauty.
Seriously blown away. Waimangu Volcanic Valley he rated as possibly the most stunning nature he had seen.
As a serious foodie, he had been back two nights in a row to Bistro 1284 and would happily have gone back a third were it not for the (slightly more basic but just as appetising) wedges on the pub table next to us.
When I discovered he was travelling by rental car, I jumped across the table and stole his keys. No wait, that would have been ridiculous. But I couldn't resist asking him about his driving experience and yes, he had been subjected to some good old Kiwi road rage.
And the best bit - he loved the Kiwi accent.
I did my tour guide suggestion thing - offering up the museum, mountain biking or lakes for a quiet Sunday. I told him he absolutely had to return for next year's Tarawera Ultra Marathon after discovering he was one of those mad folk that does such things.
And of course, I showed him the Rotorua nightlife, though I couldn't convince him to hit the dance floor at the Pig & Whistle. He cited an ankle injury.
As the lights came on and the bouncer tempted me out the doors with a strawberry Chupa Chup, I farewelled my new French friend. While I may not have shown him the most cultural of sights, I had shown him Rotorua on a Saturday night. And you don't get much more authentic than that.