Raro Culture Shock

Everywhere I look something or someone is in action, the noise from the traffic is constant, there is music, electricity, pavement and even air conditioning. I cannot believe the number of people or the cheapness of fresh groceries. There were two cafes, open and with people inside. There are shops selling non-essential items. There is wireless internet.

Atiu is so silent in comparison it is unbelievable. It was hot and dry and magical and now that we are back to civilization (aka a place with some semblance of a cafe culture and a nightlife and a local newspaper and fresh veggies) I understand the slogan used to advertise the island: Atiu - Get Away From It All. Before we left I wondered get away from what? Now I know. Get away from everything.

My farewell 'ei is hanging in my room making it smell of beautiful gardenias.

Jen out.

Jen's Top 10 Items for Survival on a Deserted Tropical Island

January 28, 2007 - Atiu

1. Mosquito repellant - tonight I tease them by sitting by a screened window and they are almost deafening.
2. Reliable can opener - because we assume your island has one store that gets canned cargo on average once every two or three months.
3. Something to trade for cheese - grow local fruit and ship it to someone in the next biggest country in exchange for quality/any cheese.
4. Stationery - meaning nice paper, sturdy envelopes, sharpie markers and very nice pens.
5. Sturdy hiking boots - for navigating makatea forests, caves, sandy beaches and roads.
6. Sunscreen/big hats - It's darn hot. Really darn hot.
7. Veggie seeds - grow your own or you won't ever see them fresh.
8. Shipping contract with Silk Soy beverages - not only is there no soy drink on the island, the next nearest one tastes rather bad and curdles in tea and coffee. The alternative is UHT longlife milk, a well preserved dairy that seems to be able to withstand extreme outside heat without refrigeration. This should not be possible.
9. Egg laying chickens - will save you a small fortune in eggs and can be amusing when it is so hot there is nothing to do but watch the chickens.
10. Breadmaker - this applies only if you do not live on Atiu. If you live on Atiu, there is an excellent bakery that creates amazing bread. If you live on Atiu, the number ten item is a French Press. The island's amazing coffee is homegrown but there is no other way to have it other than at home.

Rare Birds, Bush Beer and Fresh Bread

January 27, 2007 - Atiu

Gear safely stowed in the back of the truck, we headed off down the road. We parked the truck where the road almost ended, and hiked further into the bush. Bush slowly gave way to makatea, or coral forest (yes, that does mean coral growing a decent distance from the ocean with forest around and on top of it) and as the path became more treacherous, we came across walking sticks. We met birds, hermit crabs, lizards.
A short descent down a ladder and we lit our headlamps at the mouth of the cave.
Inside we heard legends and saw a naked beehive. We saw evidence of coconut crabs and when we went further into the cave, we were shown a very tiny nest. Then we heard it - a series of clicks and in flew a Kopeka, a rare bird native only to Atiu.
Outside the cave, the bird relies on sight for navigation. It has a beautiful song. Inside the cave it uses clicks to navigate in total darkness to its nest. When it alights on the nest, it returns to its beautiful birdsong.
We spent a fair bit of time in the cave with the bird, then retreated to more middle ground where we left most of our gear. Marshall went on ahead of us, lighting candles and leaving them in strategic places in the cave. Slight change of clothes later and we were having a very brisk swim in a mineral pool in a candle lit cave.
Post-cave we were left to fend for ourselves at the tumunu. This is a bush beer drinking gathering unique to Atiu. Its history is steeped in hiding from the missionaries, but today it is a much more open gathering. The bush beer is a local homebrew. I am a bit lost trying to describe it. The first sip tasted of sake, then it was malty, then it had a sweet, almost orange finish. It had a fairly light body, was quite sweet, tasted nothing like beer as we know it and is very powerful. The man pouring the drink had a small coconut shell that he would dip into the bucket of tumunu and pass to each person in the circle in turn. The men discussed things mostly in Maori, occasionally breaking into English to explain things to us. I was the only woman in the circle, and apparently it is only in recent time that women have even been allowed to join in.
After the tumunu was time for a nap. This was important because it was not to be an early night. The island's bakery is run by Seventh Day Adventists. Their sabbath is from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. Every Saturday night about 11 p.m. they re-open the bakery and bake fresh bread. The event has become a bit of a gathering for the island's young people who show up at the bakery and sit on the lawn, talking.
The owner's son and one of the bakery workers approached us in the dark and introduced themselves, inviting us to watch from the back of the large mudbrick oven. Soon we could smell bread baking.
We left with four long and skinny loaves - a gift from the baker's son. We tried to tear into them as we were leaving but they were simply too hot. When we finally could get a piece off, we were pleased to discover it is perhaps the best bread we'd ever had. Two loaves disappeared on the way home.

Cherries and Peaberries

January 26, 2007 - Atiu

Today was coffee tour day. Jurgen picked us up after breakfast and took us out to one of the places on the island where the coffee trees grow. His trees come from Kenya, the Antigua region of Guatemala, and somehow he managed to get a handful of Jamaica Blue Mountain seeds. His coffee is a blend of Arabica beans from all three trees. I'm not going to spend a lot of time here going into the history of coffee - I will assume you know it and if you're one of the rare few I haven't sat down with to share the location of the Great Rift Valley, well, I guess we'll have to have coffee one day and discuss it.
From the plantation we went to the processing facility. Coffee cherries are picked ripe and de-pulped with the help of something looking like a rotary cheese grater. It takes away the fruit, leaving you with a slimy coffee bean. The coffee is then fermented in water overnight. This serves two purposes - firstly it gets the cherry slime off the coffee bean, but perhaps more importantly, it allows the bad beans to float to the surface where they are picked off and chucked.
The fermented beans are left in drying trays out in the sun for at least 150 hours. When the coffee is sufficiently dry, it is taken to the machine that takes off the parchment - the thin papery covering left on the beans. Once that is done, they are roasted and packed either ground or whole bean.
At the end of the tour we stuck it out for a coffee tasting in town. It was fantastic. The coffee has floral notes characteristic of Kenya, coco texture characteristic of Guatemala Antigua, and the earthy green body of Jamaica Blue Mountain, as well as the very unique flavour of having been grown on Atiu. Kudos to Jurgen - what I promised when I said I'd bring back coffee for everyone at home was that I'd only bring back the good stuff. Jurgen grows good coffee.

Welcome to Paradise

January 25, 2007 - Atiu - 11:45 am

Atiu is visible out the side windows of the cockpit and they are removing the sun shield and beginning preparations for landing. The airstrip was on the opposite side of the island from our approach, necessitating a U turn over the ocean before we could land. As we approached the airstrip I was thankful for the small size of the aircraft, especially when I realized it was unpaved.
The airport at Atiu isn't more than a small shed with a roof and two walls. There is a notice on the inside about a voluntary security check. Everyone was milling around with flower 'eis, greeting and sending off. Marshall found us, handing off two gardenia 'eis which smelled phenomenal. Properly greeted we obtained our luggage such as it was. Marshall kept looking, saying he was expecting a package. He was surprised when I told him I had it in my bag already. His daughter spotted us at the airport and asked us if we would take a package of cheese to her father.
Before being given a brief tour of the island, we were shown the harbour. The harbour is where all the excitement happens. The day before, the cargo ship had finally arrived. This was cause for great excitement because sometimes there is no cargo for a few months. Food here is expensive and unless you grow your own vegetables or raise your own meat, your diet won't be greatly varied and will consist mostly of canned goods. Even then you are limited to peas, creamed corn, tomatoes, spaghetti, beans, kidney beans, tuna, pink salmon, mackerel and the local "corned beef" which is really spam in a can. You also have noodles, rice and if you get lucky like we did yesterday, fresh potatoes. I also made the discovery of fabulous plain donuts, which I assume come from the bakery.
In the meantime, we were shown to the cafe where we were given grilled tomato and onion and cheese sandwiches - the only thing on the menu as it was the only thing in stock. The lady who runs the cafe sat out and talked with us, giving us all kinds of information on the island. The conversation was fabulous and I wouldn't hesitate in recommending the cafe to anyone who is here.
Marshall Humphreys is our host - Atiu homestays is where we currently call home. He and his wife raised their kids here and now that they've all moved to either Rarotonga or Australia or New Zealand, the house is vacant. Marshall is the ex-hotelier who introduced fine dining to New Zealand way back in the day. His wife is an artist from Atiu. The house is huge and beautiful and tied down. It is cyclone season. The lady who runs the cafe tells us that because of cyclone season, there won't be any dances. Apparently Friday night is dance night down at the local community hall - except during cyclone season.

Atiu - Get Away From It All

Morning. A new day, a new way, a new place. Soon to be a new place. Between now and then only time to kill. The papers say we only have to check in half an hour before the flight. This seems a bit unusual to me - won't it take almost that long to go through security and board the aircraft? To my surprise, no. We fight with returning wheels to the rental place, then head across the road to the airport in search of the very closed cafe.
The airport is relatively bustling and the crew are efficient. Security does not exist for domestic flights here. In fact, they didn't even check our ID. We were welcomed onto the aircraft and given the fabulous front row seats. The pilot was on when we got there. The first officer closed the doors, told us to keep our seatbelts on, that the weather was fine, and to enjoy the flight. Apparently with Air Rarotonga we had two choices for aircraft - a small Saab, or the Bandit made by Embraer out of Brazil. We flew in the Bandit.
As soon as we were in the clear above the clouds, the pilots put a sun shield across the windscreen. The first officer proceeded to open and shut the window several times throughout the flight, which was as smooth as could be.

Airplanes and cyclones and scootcars, oh my!

A sigh of relief comes from me - Zita passed without incident nowhere near here yesterday and it looks like Arthur is going to follow a path so far from here that our flight to Atiu shouldn't be affected. This is a good thing. The Cooks are still forecasted to have another two or three cyclones hit this year, and for all of you who don't know, yes, yes, it is Cyclone Season!
In other news, we rented a scootcar today.... imagine a tuk tuk without the rear seat attachment and you have the modern scootcar. Slow, noisy and a very fun fun fun way to see the sites - including an ancient Marae where they blessed the Maori explorers with celebration and human sacrifice before they set out for New Zealand - coincidentally very nearby the beach from where they actually set out in the mid 1300s. A marae is a Maori meeting place, usually fairly sacred ground.
Tomorrow morning we shove off at a leisurly pace for the island of Atiu via Air Rarotonga, where Mr. Humphreys will meet us at the airport. From there we will drive almost entirely across the island to his house where we have arranged to stay with his family for four days. The purpose of the visit is to tour/taste at the Islands' two coffee farms... as well as observe the sabbath the local way. The Seventh Day Adventists run the local bakery. The Adventists have their sabbath on Saturday. In between their sabbath and the Sunday sabbath, they re-open the bakery to make bread. According to the book, the thing to do on Saturday at about midnight is go to the bakery for fresh bread.... and then catch church in the morning!
There is no internet on Atiu so the rest of the stories will have to wait until next Monday. If you are wondering where Atiu is, go to my first post and look up the linked map.... zoom in until Rarotonga is quite big. Atiu is northeast of here a tiny bit, just south and a bit east of the larger Aitutaki.
Jen out.

The Anti Clockwise Bus

January 17, 2007 - Avarua, Rarotonga

Motor scooters and vehicles pass by the window. Somewhere Over the Rainbow is being swung to a polynesian rhythm. The sun shines on the building across the road, its side the same green as moss. Jungle and hills are visible beyond.

Nothing seems to rush or be in a hurry - it would be impossible to be in a hurry in this heat.

There are two ways to get into Avarua from home. The first is the back road, the second is the main road via the airport. I live close to the airport. It is about a three minute walk if I am particularly slow. The large jets rattle my windows. By the time I leave I will know the schedule of who flies when like the back of my hand. I still have not seen United fly in - I heard they do - just Air New Zealand and Air France.

The back road is primarily residential. It is at the foot of the mountains and runs in some form or another around the whole island. Places are given as being on the back road or the main road. The walk into town is not long - surprisingly it feels shorter to walk by the airport than along the back road, although the back road is much better lit at night.

The jungle is amazing. I cannot think of how to describe the flora other than to use other places - it reminds me of the Caymans and Hawai'i with a handful of bushes and trees I've seen on the north island of New Zealand.

The people are friendly, quiet, polite. Welcoming. Folks say hello on the street and in the shops. They know where I am from, slowly. They cannot imagine what -20 with a foot or two of snow would be like.

The island holds two buses - the Clockwise Bus and the Anti Clockwise Bus. Both stop at the bus stop in Avarua and a round trip around the island is about a half hour in duration. Avarua is clearly the only town of any size on the island. Muri beach is noticeable, as is Black Rock, but neither seem to have the structure of Avarua. The rest of the island is a loose collection of homes and businesses strung along the main road - much as settlements seem to be on all the small islands I have ever visited.

The beach is a bit of an enigma. It exists. But it is not particularly good for swimming due to the large numbers of sharp rock and coral in the water. The current is quite strong. It appears to be relatively consistent around the island - rocky lagoon areas, broken up by areas inaccessible due to rather large black rocks along the shore. I get the feeling this will not be a swimming trip per se - although I am reserving judgement until I have seen what 'Atiu has to offer.

There are several pubs/nightclubs in Avarua - and by several I mean there's TJ's, Banana Court and the RSA, as well as Nu Bar down by the airport. Throughout the week they rotate and each pub has a night where it is the feature pub - and it appears most of the island turns out for the fun. I have not been to TJ's - the night I arrived it was Banana Court where they held the dance competition, and last night was Banana Court again. Banana Court is frightening. They have a dance floor and a bar in the back that resembles a well-carved tiki hut (I don't think the carvings are actual tiki gods, I think they're other gods) and far too many obnoxious backpackers. I think I'll give the others a look out of curiosity, but perhaps lay the pub/club scene to rest. The movie theatre has shows three times a night, and that is about it for nightlife. Cafes and most other businesses close shop at 4 or 4:30.

On the menu for today is sorting accommodation for 'Atiu, as well as inquiring if our fine hosts need anything from the bustling supermarkets of Rarotonga. The most appealing place to stay is a homestay - the family welcomes you into their home for however long you are there. It is run by.... let's see. If memory serves, it is run by a Kiwi family who have lived there for a generation. The book says it is common courtesy to bring dried or canned goods for any visit to the outer islands because the cargo ships do not visit as frequently as they are supposed to, and canned goods are expensive here. To compare, a bag of carrots, a can of tomatoes (there are no fresh ones, apparently they don't grow tomatoes here) and five packages of instant noodles came to NZ$10. The same at home might stretch your pocket to CAD$4.00 if you picked particularly expensive carrots.

The rest of today's menu is staying out of the sun - it is scorching hot today and I managed to burn the first two days, exacerbated by my swim yesterday. A day in the shade is what I really need - good time for writing.

Prelude in G

January 16, 2007 - Rarotonga

My room mates have vanished. It is me, the cool of indoors and the glorious sounds of Rachmaninoff.

The day feels long. It began meeting Paul, then heading into town to do all manner of things.

We made a plan. It involves coffee, among other things. The plan is to fly to 'Atiu on the 25th for a few days, do a homestay and tour the two coffee farms on the island before flying back to Rarotonga. To say I am excited is a bit of an understatement.

Today was nothing if not long. We walked all over the place and back again and my sandals have given me blisters. Made a plan to go to the movies that I think we forgot about (do I have to walk back to town again?) and then walked back, getting groceries, scoping out town. We returned to the village before setting out with the intention of going for a swim by way of the airport to pay for our tickets to 'Atiu. Then, I found out later, we walked the wrong direction from the beach. All we found were rocks, sharp rocks, and more rocks. All the way... back into town.

This, of course, necessitated another stop at a cafe. Not just any cafe, The Cafe. Open for business. The Cafe is home to the in house roasted Cook Islands Coffee Company. To my surprise, their coffee isn't grown in the Cooks, but is a blend from Ethiopia, Brazil and Guatemala. The atmosphere is fun and the coffee is amazing. The espresso bar is an old one, and watching our barista pour shots gave me great envy. I would love to spend a morning working on that bar - for fun. At the end of the day, conflicts aside, I love my job. I love the part where I don't have to worry about being ten places at once and I can just concentrate on the espresso bar and making coffee. It was hard for me to not ask if I could work the first four hours of tomorrow morning for free.

We decided to catch the anti-clockwise bus back to the village, and on the way I stopped to pick up some frangipani hair oil. My hair has tripled in size due to the humidity. I didn't think my hair knew what frizz was, but apparently it is quite expert at it. Luckily for me, the islands are known for their hair oil.

Tonight, right away soon, I am going to eat mangoes. Hurray for supermarkets.

Dance me to the end of time....

January 16, 2007 - Rarotonga

My introduction to night life in Avarua was nothing if not memorable. Imagine you have been stuck on the same deserted island for 20 years. Over those years you have accumulated a stash of bad hip hop and dance music, as well as some surprisingly good local stuff. You play DJ for a night and mash it all together and you'd get a close approximation of what I heard last night.

The Banana Court is not a particularly esthetically pleasing bar. The dance floor is at the front and the bar is done up like a tiki hut, complete with wooden gods carved into the posts, and it reminds me entirely too much of Everybar in Anysmalltown I've ever been to. The crowd was a mixed bag - a handful of backpackers acting in ways that made me feel old and a whole lot of islanders. It was a dance in the way small town bars have dances. Except this one had a dance competition thrown in.

To my surprise, once the brave few had taken their places on the dancefloor, what came out of the speakers was not bad early 90s hip hop, but Island drum music. Music you can only move a certain way to. Watching the locals I had the distinct feeling that I could have probably held my own with them, more than that, that I want to learn from them. I don't even know where to start asking for that one. Ripe mangoes I can probably find an answer for. It's probably at the market as we speak. But dancing lessons? They'll either be impressed and think I'm brave or laugh at me until I go away.

I have acquired a few of the triangular shaped coins. Turns out they are worth 2 Cook Islands Dollars. I have also acquired enough foreign coins to keep my collection happy. After the Tahitian coins, more money here: a scalloped piece, I forget how much it is worth, along with new and old NZ$0.20 pieces. The new ones are quite small, about the size of our nickle. The old ones are huge and bulky. Now all I need is a $3 bill and my life will be complete. Question for readers: who else has heard the expression queer as a $3 bill? I was throwing it around friends from work who said they'd never heard it and I wondered if it was that unique or if it was yet another age difference. (I love working with 18 to 21-year-olds. They make me feel out of the loop and very grown up.) I ask the question because I was thinking about bringing one back as a souvenir for a friend who is openly queer but if the expression isn't widespread or if it is going to prove a generation gap, there really is no point. It completely loses its tongue in cheek humour if I have to explain it.

I am amazed at how quiet it is. Wind in the jungle, stream behind the chalet, infernal roosters (that is probably the real reason why I woke up) and not much else. Very little sounds of human habitation aside from the occasional motor scooter. I'm really not convinced I ever want to leave.

Plans for the day:

1. Find Paul. He is here somewhere. I want to make coffee for him and get my battery charger converter kit from him so I can keep blogging.

2. Mangoes. I feel like I could eat five of them here and now.

3. Yogurt. It would be amazing next to the mangoes.

4. Ocean. I didn't get out for a swim yesterday. I had a nap instead and the weather was pretty hit and miss and mostly miss but today is supposed to at least not rain.

4.a. Acquire board shorts. The island isn't as conservative as I thought but I 'd still feel uncomfortable wandering around in a bathing suit that shows off as much as my underwear. Maybe I just haven't worn one in a long time but the thought doesn't make me keen on going out in public. Upshot is that there are board shorts for sale everywhere in Avarua.

Bananas, mangoes, limes, coconuts, red fruits and... olives?

January 15, 2007 - Rarotonga

Knock at the door, darkness, mild disorientation, heat, smells like somewhere tropical. Voice with an accent different than mine, perhaps English. Off the top the voice sounds a lot like Eddie, a housemate from England who I met in Sydney five years ago. Five years ago. That feels like a long time to remember a voice. Voice asking me if I want to share in dinner. Why is a stranger asking me if I want dinner?

The stranger is the downstairs mystery room mate. As I arose to address the issue at the door, the lights came on. I still don't know who turned them on or how they came on, but they are on. The island's electrical supply is via a diesel generator somewhere, and I had surmised earlier the lack of lights was simply due to the astronomical cost of power.

I wish I could remember the Dutch couple's names. It is almost getting too late to ask again.

And what was I dreaming about? I don't remember that either. Something. It vanished like mist in the sun at the sound of the knock at the door, feeling of mosquito net at my fingertips.

Paul arrives tomorrow - an interesting kettle of fish to be cooked there. He is going to love it here. On the morrow I shall pretend to be tour guide in Avarua, and perhaps make some coffee. something low key.

In the meantime I mourn my failed mango endeavour. I found one low enough to reach. It smelled like mango and looked like mango and was disappointingly apple green inside and tasted far too bitter. Lesson for tomorrow: What do ripe mangoes look like?

Bienvenue et Tahiti!

January 15, 2007 - Rarotonga via Papeete

The warm welcome at Papeete, Tahiti, and eventually at Rarotonga, made the very long haul worthwhile.

The journey began in Edmonton, with a flight to Vancouver, then to Los Angeles. Then the long night flight began. Over eight bumpy hours later, we were informed of our descent into Tahiti, and told we would all have to disembark. Tahiti had been my original plan, until I read about the Cook Islands. We exited the aircraft into a warm tropical mist, the breeze bathing us in humidity. Before entering the airport, we were greeted by ladies handing out flowers. Once inside, there was no evidence of computers. The terminal was constructed to appear tropical. As we entered the waiting area, we walked by a garden with three carved wooden gods. Upstairs was a cafe that poured a gorgeous shot of espresso. I put my two bits down and received French Polynesian Francs in return. The crema of the shot tasted of earth, that same way dirt smells wet when you water the garden after a long period of time. I did not ask but assumed it was probably Tahitian coffee. I scoped out the gift shops, but decided against purchasing any coffee because it did not come in whole beans, meaning if I tried it in Rarotonga, it would be quite stale by the time I got home.

A deluge escorted us back to the aircraft, soaking everyone in the process. Wet and warm, we awaited takeoff for Rarotonga.
My seat was an aisle seat in the centre section, right at the front of the wing. The way the aircraft is configured, not only did I not have a window, I did not have any way of stealing a peek out anyone else's window. I did not see the island from the air before we hit the tarmac. My teeth jarred a little and after a familiar sense of floating, we fell back to the runway for the last time.

Kia Orana!

The greeting at Rarotonga was not as pretty as in Tahiti. The terminal building is old and shows its age, and there are no nice Polynesian design touches. Once inside we were entertained by a local with a ukulele while we endured the very slow customs lines. Again, no sign of computers. Once through customs (they confiscated the Tahitian flower I'd tucked behind my ear) I was met by Adrienne and given a lift to my fabulous new home.

Tiare Village is almost equidistant between the airport and the town of Avarua. It is made up of several A-frame self-contained chalets, the main house, and a couple of pool units. The chalets hold four people and each has its own kitchen and bathroom. I love my little chalet. I have one of the upstairs rooms, and unless I am quite mistaken, I believe the tree right outside my window is a mango tree. This guess is only supported by the ripe mango that is going to have to rot on my roof - because I don't trust the roof enough to go out there and get it. My goal for today is to find a mango for dinner. Not walk back into town and buy one, but actually find one.

The four sides of the chalet are surrounded by window-tickling jungle. I recognize frangipani, and I think I saw pohutukawa, but that is about it. All I can hear is the wind in the leaves, the sounds of exotic birds, and the gentle babble of the stream really nearby.

Adrienne took me and two other travellers for a driving tour of Avarua, dropping us where we wanted to go. It is a small town with not much going on other than retail. The Cafe is unfortunately closed for the rest of January. It had the best coffee in town, which means I am down to the rest of the cafes, none of which particularly specialize in coffee but will make some if you ask. The lady who was in the soap shop told me the Bus Stop Cafe makes one of the best espressos in town. I put it on my list for tomorrow morning.

Holy mother of god. A rather large rooster.... two rather large roosters are making their way across my back yard, mere feet from my wide open door. House lizards I can handle but not house roosters!

There are roosters and chickens all over the place and the three cows I saw did not appear to be penned in any way shape or form. There are some fences around property but mostly ti seems to be natural boundaries - hedges and the like.

I have not yet seen either the large flying cockroaches or the giant centipedes. I believe the mosquitos more than make up for that in their tenacity. Special thanks to Mum again for the most useful birthday gift in the history of birthday gifts: my mosquito net. Without it I doubt I'd get any sleep at all. The mosquitos still buzz around even though I am covered in repellant infused with DEET that is specially formulated to last for six hours at a go. The only option there is the possibility of Dengue fever. I know little about it other than if you take Asprin to get rid of the fever, you will start to bleed internally. No thank you very much.

Rarotonga appears to be a little-inhabited paradise. I tried to look at the mountain Te Mangua, also known as The Needle, today, but its needle was obscured by rain clouds. I expect that is all the exploring I am likely to accomplish today - little sleep makes for a nice low-key, relaxing day. Hunting mangoes. I'll let you know if I get lucky.

Holy mother of god! The rooster is back. I did not see him but he was so loud I jumped. Hope he doesn't like mangoes.

That old familliar itch...

Ten days left. I didn't count the days this time until just now. It is a crazy feeling to know that my trip is happening so soon and almost everything is actually ready. I suppose it is an achievement of some sort to know that I can organize an overseas trip and be completely prepared in the span of a month.

As some fine folks will be aware, the original plan was to go to Australia. This did not pan out for reasons I will not go into now. My immediate instinct was to flippantly suggest that I was going to Tahiti to finish writing my book. That night I checked into Tahiti and accidentally stumbled across some accomodation that sounded like paradise. The hitch to the plan, of course, was that it wasn't located in Tahiti. It was, in fact, on some island called Rarotonga somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

A few hours later I had all but planned a trip to the Cook Islands (green arrow on the map). Rarotonga is the largest of the Cook Islands. Its airport is serviced from North America by only three airlines - Air Tahiti, United and Air New Zealand. The kiwis are the cheapest flight and all flights have a stop in Tahiti as it is also remote and on the way.

Upon landing at Rarotonga I have been informed the wait lines are horrendous - but to stave off boredom and cranky air travellers, there is always a local live band playing in the terminal and quite often visitors are greeted with 'ei around their neck - the Cook Islands version of the more well known Hawai'ian lei.

My little piece of paradise is called Tiare Village. The internet tells me they will kick out rowdies, which makes me happy. My guidebook tells me that there is nothing fancy about Tiare Village, but it is clean and has all the practicalities a budget traveller needs. It also has a private library for guests as well as freedom for guests to pick ripe fruit in the garden. Anyone who knows how much I love mango probably knows that this was a drawing point for me. It is down the road from the beach, a bit off the beaten track (there are two roads that run into Avarua - The Main Road, and the back road) on the back road and very nearby a supermarket and the island's only real town. It is far from the tourist centre of Muri Beach, and almost on top of the trailhead for the cross island walk. I get a discount if I rent a bicycle for a week at a time (yes, this time I am bringing my own lights, lock and helmet) and I am looking forward to riding around the island on one of the days I am there.

I do not have to worry about malaria for once, but apparently dengue fever is a concern. Thanks to mum for my NZ birthday gift of the mosquito net! The island has no deadly creatures, but apparently a bite from a giant centipede can hurt a fair bit - the local remedy is to break off a leaf from a rubber tree and rub the rubber juice over the sting or bite.

Local customs sound fairly similar to NZ Maori customs (the locals are the Cook Islands Maori) with one exception: apparently if you are heading out on the town, you are expected to wear a flower behind your ear. The right ear says you are taken, the left ear says you are single. My book did not tell me if this was a gender specific thing, or if I will see a bunch of men with flowers behind their ears.

Souvaniers of note that I will attempt to acquire are the Cook Islands 3 dollar bill, and their unique triangular coin. Cook Islands currency is apparently equal in value to NZ dollars and both will be floating about on the island.

I am not sure how well I will be able to upload photos while I am gone - I know long blocks of text are draining to read on a computer. There are a couple places on the island that have wi-fi - those who are tech savvy know that that means I can bring my laptop in and have my own personal internet. If the connection is slow I won't likely upload many photos because at $9 an hour, I figure everyone can just wait to see them until I get home.

10 days and counting!!!!!!!!!!!!!