Nadine Toe Toe and her family run Kohutapu Lodge and Tribal Tours in Murupara, a northeastern village of about 2,000 people, about 90 percent of whom are Maori. Before the pandemic, about 98 percent of the company’s customers came from overseas.
“We wanted to create a truly truthful, genuine, cultural experience that shows our history, but also our reality,” Ms Toe Toe, 43, said. “When Covid struck and lost our business overnight, we were suddenly confronted with the reality that the local market does not make ‘cultural products’ – it is not on the priority list.”
To attract local visitors, the business had to rebrand, she said. This means we need to move away from an impressive experience of contemporary Maori culture, which many New Zealanders already believe they know well.
“Before Covid, it was always our culture that was at the forefront – that we could proudly stand there and tell the world who we are, where we come from, why it’s important to be Maoris,” she said. said. ‘We are no longer a cultural tourism experience. We are now an accommodation on the lake. ‘
Larger businesses are also struggling. ‘We are suffering, there is no doubt about it,’ says Sir John Davies, 79, a businessman who owns several ski fields, the guided hikes at the Routeburn and Milford tracks and the Hermitage Hotel in Mount Cook National Park. .
Recently, he said the Hermitage had 20 guests, up from about 600 in a typical year. He had to cut the hotel staff from 230 to less than 50. “It was $ 18,000 yesterday – the lowest I have ever seen in 25 years,” he said. “We do everything we can to get local tourists. I mean, we always did. ”
Tourist spots around the world, from New York to the Himalayas, have struggled without visible dollars. In Bali, the Indonesian holiday resort, some hospitality workers returned to farming. Some places, like Istanbul, have tried to recruit soldiers. Others, like Hawaii, reopen nervously.