Channel Your Inner Bilbo and Frodo Baggins at Hobbiton Movie Set, New Zealand

“No thank you, we don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers or distant relations!”

“And what about very old friends?”

“…Gandalf?”

While en route to Buckland Road, Hinuera, Matamata, our jovial Hobbiton Movie Set tour operator played this video snippet of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings — the meeting of Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf the Grey. Immediately nostalgia washed over me like waves breaking on rocks. It was only fifteen years ago when I was a small-eyed wide-eyed teenager catching one of my first movies in the cinema, sitting on the edge of my seat as the Nazgûl hunted the hobbits and feeling the bite of a thousand emotions when Gandalf fell into the abyss. So many years I had spent imitating the characters, especially Gandalf. So many years of seeking solace in the movies when everything else was not right. And of course, the movie franchise led me to discover my God: J R R Tolkien. The experience was so transcendent tears welled up in my eyes.

Long has been my desire to visit Hobbiton Movie Set since its opening. Before it was transformed into a movie set, the land was — still is — a sheep farm belonging to a certain Russell Alexander. Hence, sightings of sheep grazing are common.

“For all hobbits share a love for things that grow” — this theme percolates throughout Hobbiton Movie Set. Lush trees and grass abound in this bucolic landscape. Undulating hills and verdant medaows stretch as far as the eye can see. The dichotomy of natural and manmade blurs here, as crop props look so deceivingly lifelike they almost seem palatable and esculent.  A towering oak tree juts out of Bag End — fake though it is, it is still very majestic in stature.

And then there are the distinctive bright-coloured houses, stippling the land with their blue, red and yellow hues. Lamp posts and gates front the entrance; filled sacks are left on wheelbarrows; and seasonal flowers decorate the surroundings. Rustic fences are mottled with lichen. The movie set is almost habitable, if not for the fact that the interior is just a tight airy space of nothing.

After a most terrible uphill climb to reach Bag End — I had just days earlier conquered the Tongariro Alpine Crossing so my body was still in residual shock — we made our way to the famed Green Dragon. I had a mug of pale ale and then an apple cider, courtesy of the inn, which were enough to knock me out.  I couldn’t help recall Pippin’s proclamation at Isengard: “I feel like I’m back at the Green Dragon. A mug of ale in my hand, putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day’s work.”

Indeed, the familiarity of Hobbiton felt like home, and I was fifteen again.