Kia Orana,
A three hour flight on Air New Zealand brought me to the island of Rarotonga, the main island of the Cook Islands. Unfortunately, Air New Zealand has developed the idea that late night flights are a good idea, so after crossing back over the Date Line (just barely) and then another two hour time change, I arrived at 10:40 pm, the day before I left, and I didn't even use the flux capacitor - take that Doc Brown. (Come on, this is an easy reference...so easy...you'll be embarrassed that you didn't get it) I had emailed a hostel on the island and asked for a transfer from the airport, but I never heard back from them, but I still had hope that they might just show up, as this is a laid-back island culture. Cook Islands Time. Hahaha. Cute. As we exited the plane and entered the tiny airport, an old man in a straw hat and Hawaiian shirt greeted us with his guitar, drum machine and a few typical songs as we waited to get through customs. (They also had a group of three musicians welcoming us to Fiji in a similar manner when I arrived there.) After customs, there were a few booths for the hotels/hostels, and I saw the name of my potential place, yet that booth was empty. So, as the other tour buses were leaving, I quickly joined another group and went blindly to their hostel. When I awoke, I got a better view of the hostel, situated on the foothills of the main mountain on the island. It has a few rooms built on different levels and circled around a swimming pool with various wooden platforms, patios and such thrown together, creating a very interesting look, all overlooking some thick vegetation of mostly banana trees and offering a distant view of the Pacific. At about $15 a night, it wasn't a bad deal at all. Also, the spastic kitten kept me company by attacking me, my book, the overhanging plants, the railing on the stairs and anything that moved or appeared to move. As with most of the hostels, there is no A/C, so windows and doors are left open, meaning that mosquito bites are pretty common on any legs that happen to sneak out from under the covers during the night. Quite a dilemma - to stay a little hot and under the sheet or cool off and risk the onslaught that you may regret in the morning.
After a few of the free bananas, I went down to the main road to hitchhike my way to Muri Beach, what sounded like a nice beach with a few offshore islands (motu). After a long wait and missing a bus during the 1.5 minutes that I went to talk to a gardener, a teacher from NZ gave me a ride halfway. The 32km road around the island hugs the palm-lined coast and has some magnificent views of the beautiful water. After another 20 minute wait, I caught a ride with a retired Aussie who began travelling at age 24 and never returned. (anyone see any parallels here?) He dropped me at the beach, and I helped him carry his boat to the water before looking for some lunch. I quickly found a restaurant with a covered patio overlooking the surreal lagoon, white sand and surround palm covered islands. After lunch, I wandered around the beach, taking pictures every couple of minutes, as each view seemed to be the perfect one, and I stayed at the beach until a little before dusk, when it was time to catch the bus back to the airport. Accompanying/entertaining me along the way was a middle-aged American couple that epitomized over-packing and bickering. Upon boarding the bus, they literally had to make three trips to get all of their bags (6 large ones, I believe), and they sauntered down the aisles, banging knees and elbows as they went, complaining and responding with the short, irritated "Yes, dear. I know." Watching them made me really glad that I had arranged to leave most of my bags and cold weather clothes at the hostel in Fiji, so hopefully that's still there when I get back. And, yes, despite laughing at them on the inside, I did help them with their baggage when we got off.
Despite only being there one day on a stopover, I was very impressed with the Cook Islands, both the beauty and laid-back attitude, which was a nice change from the Fijian city that can seem a little pushy. Following French Polynesia, I'm back here for two more days, taking a trip to one of the outer islands that surrounds what is described as the most beautiful lagoon in the world. I just hope it doesn't rain. It is the rainy season here in the South Pacific, but I've been lucky to feel nothing more than a very slight sprinkle. Hopefully my luck will continue. The other good part of that means that the hotels aren't overbooked and the beaches aren't crowded, though the temperature and humidity are higher, and the bugs are all around.
A three hour flight on Air New Zealand brought me to the island of Rarotonga, the main island of the Cook Islands. Unfortunately, Air New Zealand has developed the idea that late night flights are a good idea, so after crossing back over the Date Line (just barely) and then another two hour time change, I arrived at 10:40 pm, the day before I left, and I didn't even use the flux capacitor - take that Doc Brown. (Come on, this is an easy reference...so easy...you'll be embarrassed that you didn't get it) I had emailed a hostel on the island and asked for a transfer from the airport, but I never heard back from them, but I still had hope that they might just show up, as this is a laid-back island culture. Cook Islands Time. Hahaha. Cute. As we exited the plane and entered the tiny airport, an old man in a straw hat and Hawaiian shirt greeted us with his guitar, drum machine and a few typical songs as we waited to get through customs. (They also had a group of three musicians welcoming us to Fiji in a similar manner when I arrived there.) After customs, there were a few booths for the hotels/hostels, and I saw the name of my potential place, yet that booth was empty. So, as the other tour buses were leaving, I quickly joined another group and went blindly to their hostel. When I awoke, I got a better view of the hostel, situated on the foothills of the main mountain on the island. It has a few rooms built on different levels and circled around a swimming pool with various wooden platforms, patios and such thrown together, creating a very interesting look, all overlooking some thick vegetation of mostly banana trees and offering a distant view of the Pacific. At about $15 a night, it wasn't a bad deal at all. Also, the spastic kitten kept me company by attacking me, my book, the overhanging plants, the railing on the stairs and anything that moved or appeared to move. As with most of the hostels, there is no A/C, so windows and doors are left open, meaning that mosquito bites are pretty common on any legs that happen to sneak out from under the covers during the night. Quite a dilemma - to stay a little hot and under the sheet or cool off and risk the onslaught that you may regret in the morning.
After a few of the free bananas, I went down to the main road to hitchhike my way to Muri Beach, what sounded like a nice beach with a few offshore islands (motu). After a long wait and missing a bus during the 1.5 minutes that I went to talk to a gardener, a teacher from NZ gave me a ride halfway. The 32km road around the island hugs the palm-lined coast and has some magnificent views of the beautiful water. After another 20 minute wait, I caught a ride with a retired Aussie who began travelling at age 24 and never returned. (anyone see any parallels here?) He dropped me at the beach, and I helped him carry his boat to the water before looking for some lunch. I quickly found a restaurant with a covered patio overlooking the surreal lagoon, white sand and surround palm covered islands. After lunch, I wandered around the beach, taking pictures every couple of minutes, as each view seemed to be the perfect one, and I stayed at the beach until a little before dusk, when it was time to catch the bus back to the airport. Accompanying/entertaining me along the way was a middle-aged American couple that epitomized over-packing and bickering. Upon boarding the bus, they literally had to make three trips to get all of their bags (6 large ones, I believe), and they sauntered down the aisles, banging knees and elbows as they went, complaining and responding with the short, irritated "Yes, dear. I know." Watching them made me really glad that I had arranged to leave most of my bags and cold weather clothes at the hostel in Fiji, so hopefully that's still there when I get back. And, yes, despite laughing at them on the inside, I did help them with their baggage when we got off.
Despite only being there one day on a stopover, I was very impressed with the Cook Islands, both the beauty and laid-back attitude, which was a nice change from the Fijian city that can seem a little pushy. Following French Polynesia, I'm back here for two more days, taking a trip to one of the outer islands that surrounds what is described as the most beautiful lagoon in the world. I just hope it doesn't rain. It is the rainy season here in the South Pacific, but I've been lucky to feel nothing more than a very slight sprinkle. Hopefully my luck will continue. The other good part of that means that the hotels aren't overbooked and the beaches aren't crowded, though the temperature and humidity are higher, and the bugs are all around.
(My hostel in Rarotonga, overlooking the pool and the forest - and through a screen door)
(One of the motu and a boat off the coast of Muri Beach)
2 comments:
With all the commercials lately with Doc Brown touting Dish Network, it's hard to forget that reference..
"..that's what they said about my flux capacitor...."
Several things... Everyone should get the reference just based on flux capacitor, the Doc Brown part made it way too obvious, although Mom needed varification. Second, there is no parallel between you and the Ozzie because you are already past the age of dropping out of life (24). Hope the spastic kitten was at least cute. Continue having fun!
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