Hobbiton
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit….
In between stuffing clothes into my backpack and frantically backing up computer files in preparation for New Zealand, I watched through the Lord of the Rings movies again. I hadn't seen them in years, and the story swept me away even more than I'd remembered. By the time Sam and Frodo are collapsed on the edge of Mount Doom as lava closes in around them, I couldn’t hold back the tears.
I was paying special attention to the scenery this time through as well, for obvious reasons. It did not disappoint. Sometimes the films seem like a demo reel for New Zealand with all the dramatic aerial shots panning around just to show us how breathtaking the country can be.
And one of my favorite places in all of Middle Earth has always been the Shire. The place where the journey begins, where everything is still at peace. It will always evoke memories of blissful sunshine and the comforts of home, when war and violence are no more than a distant echo. So needless to say, stepping onto a tour bus with Hobbiton emblazoned on its side and being whisked away into the rolling countryside where the Shire came to life was a dream come true. I’m a nerd. I don’t care.
On the bus, it already felt like we were being immersed in a hobbit’s world: green grassy hills dotted with cotton ball sheep as far as you could see. Trees sprawling beside perfectly clear streams. (New Zealand trees rarely grow straight up. They twist and tumble and reach in many directions at once. It’s like they’re made for being written into a storybook.) On the bus they played film clips and interviews with creators of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, as well as actors who had something to say about the location. Then they played the music. The Shire music. You know the song I’m talking about – I bet that melody is already playing in your head and giving you chills. And in that moment on the bus, it all felt real and wonderful and my excitement was skyrocketing.
Stepping out of the bus, there’s a simple wooden sign directing you down a dirt path toward Hobbiton. And so the tour begins!
There are 44 hobbit holes, each one immaculately cared for with a huge variety of flowering plants and every little detail considered, from the carvings around the windows to the folk art birds hand-painted on the mailboxes. The sets are gorgeous. They left it exactly how it was set up for the Hobbit so there are a couple of instances when you’re walking through and you catch a familiar scene, like you’ve been there before. Really helps with the nostalgia factor! But you can tell this was a movie set because every detail is considered. It doesn’t matter where you point your lens: a perfectly composed shot will bounce back at you. The landscape practically does the work for you. Flowers and shrubs rising above the fence in the foreground, leaves perfectly framing the hobbit hole doors, color palettes that harmonize with each other.
The tour guide was on a tight schedule. She took us through each section of Hobbiton, explaining things along the way. It was all very fast and felt rushed at times. That was my one disappointment. I wanted to take time to soak it all in, but even with my best efforts to keep up with the group, I missed most of the tour guide’s commentary because I was chronically falling behind. But they had so many lovely benches placed along the pathway and in the cozy front yards of the hobbit holes, perfectly situated for settling back, admiring the view, and contemplating life for an hour or two. It’s like they were teasing you with an invitation you couldn’t accept. Ah, well. Small price to pay to be able to visit such a magical place!
Right after we stopped at Bilbo’s house, I ducked down a path out to the side and came across probably my favorite view of all: a view of The Green Dragon pub and the mill across the pond with all that green in the foreground. Again, a very enticing bench behind me was calling my name. But at that point I’d completely lost sight of the group ahead and I jogged on ahead, on a path which wound on wooden planks through a picture-perfect little forest, with clusters of tall spindly trees and ferns.
On the other end of the trees, everyone was gathering around the mill. Which was pretty damn beautiful.
Our tour guide invited into The Green Dragon for a drink and were given 15 minutes to linger and take in everything. Outside was the town centre. Lots of lovely thatched-roof buildings and cheery music did a great job of setting the mood.
Inside the pub was warm and inviting. It was fully furnished, so you could feel like you were hobbit-sized as you walked through circular doorways and meandered through the interior. Wooden beams and little glass vases with sprigs of yellow flowers on the tables. Framed pen and ink drawings and signage with medieval calligraphy advertising minstrels coming to town.
Emerging back out into the sunshine and with a view of the lake, I wanted to stay. I’d happily claim a hobbit hole and make a simple life of gardening and painting for the rest of my days, living among friends, throwing away concerns of the modern world. That sounds like a good life to me.
Hobbiton felt like coming home after a long journey.
"Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo?"