Rarotonga – Some Enchanted Evening
“South Pacific” is one of my favourite movies. Many a time at home after a bad day in work (something that I only vaguely remember the concept of right now), I would sit down, put SP in the DVD player, open up a bottle of champagne – because I’m worth it – and sing all my troubles away. OK, you have to overlook the casual racism (and even that gets its comeuppance in the song “You have to be taught”), but apart from that, what’s not to love? Sailors, War, beautiful girls, great songs (“There is nothing like a dame”? “I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair”? Come on, people!), including one that was covered in my youth by Captain Sensible, it’s a delight from start to finish. Best of all, though, is the gorgeous scenery of the South Pacific Island where it was filmed. (It was actually shot in Kauai in Hawaii, fact fans, but it looks much the same as other SP islands).
So with a great deal of anticipation, I boarded the plane headed for Rarotonga, capital of the Cook Islands, smack in the middle of the South Pacific. It was my treat to myself, a holiday within a holiday. I took about a million books, my ipod was fully charged, I just wanted to switch off and not do much, nor think about anything much, apart from the sort of navel-gazing that comes so much easier in a bikini rather than a few thermal layers, as was proving necessary in New Zealand. And for the most part, this is exactly what I did. So, apologies in advance because these reports from the Cook Islands won’t be the most riveting! Expect lots of “and then I lay about on the beach for the day”, and similarly lazy notions.
I arrived late at night – actually, early morning, about 23 hours BEFORE I had taken off from New Zealand. The Cooks are just the other side of the dateline, meaning they see today later than just about anywhere else in the world. Now, I know technically how the dateline works, but it still doesn’t stop it messing with my head. I mean, HOW?! And what if it was your birthday that you missed, and does that make me younger than when I set off? These and other such questions were troubling me as we landed on a balmy tropical night in Rarotonga. Most flights actually arrive there at night – the locals say it’s because it’s such a short runway, it’s to stop the passengers panicking. Due to the speed at which the pilot slammed on the brakes, and then executed what felt like a handbrake turn, I’ve got to say, the locals have got a point.
I was collected by lovely Lily, from Varas where I would be staying, and pointed, in the darkness, towards my bed. I slept soundly and deeply, waking later than usual. But oh my, what a sight awaited me! Sitting up in bed, I could look out of the patio windows, and see the sea, not 20 feet from where I was sleeping. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, except on Bounty adverts and South Pacific.
And so, as predicted, I settled into a lazy existence for the next week of meandering walks along the beautiful white beach, lolling around topping up my tan, and tentative swims (yes, swims!). Rarotonga is completely surrounded by a lagoon, making swimming safe as there are no sharks or other nasties. Or, not many. One of the guys from my hostel was walking in the ocean, wearing reef shoes as recommended, stepped on a stonefish, and ended up being quite badly hurt. Apparently the pain was so bad he was begging the doctors to remove his leg, so it was pretty serious stuff, and saw the end of my swimming career.
The nights were fairly quiet as well. For some of the younger ones (how old do I sound?!) at my hostel, Raro was a party island, but this wasn’t why I’d gone – so I deliberately shied away from that, instead revelling in the solitude of early-morning peaceful sunrises, with the luxury of complete solitude that comes with being an early riser. It was so refreshing.
The one night I did go out, though, was so much fun. It was to one of the many Island Nights they hold not only in Rarotonga but throughout the Cook Islands. It’s a chance to show off their cooking (traditional cooking here is done in an Umu, a pit dug in the ground where the food is cooked using hot rocks), their music, and their dancing. Cook Islanders are known as being probably the best dancers in the Cook Islands, and it was easy to see why. The guys were amazing – energetic, lively, and joyful, but the girls were just mesmerising. They have a special way of moving their hips, keeping their shoulders entirely still so just their hips move. And at what speeds! They were absolutely hypnotic. Needless to say, all us Westerners, emboldened by cheap cocktails, gave it a go later on, but with pretty shambolic effects.
Apart from this, the only time I ever left my sunlounger was to go and see the Rarotonga-famous Piri’s show. I met Piri the day before in the supermarket, and he invited me along as his guest the next day. He puts on shows of coconut climbing, fire making, Umu cooking, and 101 ways with a coconut (I chose not to share with him the fact that I hate coconuts!). He informed me he would come and pick me up early, and I would help him gather leaves for the Umu. Hey, I was getting a free meal, so I wasn’t going to complain at doing a bit of leaf-gathering!
The day, though, was strange, more than anything else. As nice as Piri was, I got the impression he was a bit lonely. The kind of lonely that could only be solved by spending quality time with a 30 year old English lass. As fun and interesting as the day was, I spent most of it slipping out of Piri’s clutches as he came up behind me and tried to massage me. He’s in his mid-60s, so it was a bit icky more than anything else. And awkward, obviously. There’s only so many times before you can say “no thanks Piri, I don’t want you to massage me” before you end up shouting it. Ah, maybe I”m doing him an injustice, but that’s how I felt. Still, at least I was on the Cook Islands, where it’s completely safe – just about no harm can come to you there. Like I said, I think he was more lonely than anything. And the coconut tree climing was very impressive, he shimmied up it in seconds. The Umu as well, was just delicious. Juicy chicken, tasty spinach, potatoes – wow, I was in heaven.
So after all this excitement, I was more than happy to take up my old position next to the beach, ready to return to doing not very much at all.
Tags: Cook Islands, Travel
Suzanne
Glad to hear you had a good time. You did anticpate the secret of the Cook Islands … absolutely nothing to do. Great. Makes it easy to get all the sights in.
Piri, by the way, is a philanderer from way back … he was making passes at my wife 15 years ago when she was 50. People put up with him thought, and he does have a lot of traditional skills. Philandering may be one of these as well.
Ooh – it sounds soooo much warmer than here!
xxx
Hi Suze, glad you are back on track again, i must agreewith you, the South Pacific is verynrbeautiful, even though i have only seen it on nrmy favourite film too. you did right by just relaxing. i am off to Perth on Monday 13thnrwe arrive Tuesday–looking forward to it, even though all in all the weather in England has not been too bad for the time of the yearnri believe they had good weather in Windermere which makes the Lakes even more beautiful– take care God bless love Angela xxx
Glad all is well Suze, thanks for the long awaited blog!! Maybe a suggestion to go to the Cook Islands for next years reunion- warmer and much more relaxing!! Only kidding, the lakes was great just completely shattered after- and we were the earlybirds leaving at a decent hour each night with Gabi!! I’m sure after all the hectic travelling that just taking in the beautiful scenery and reading will be bliss for you. Take care. x x