It's been a while since I've had that special feeling Canadians sometimes get when they travel overseas. Americans don't give a rat's arse where anyone comes from, least of all the freeloaders to the north. My last international trip was to Sri Lanka two years ago. Sri Lankans view Canadians as supporters of terrorism largely because Toronto has the largest Tamil population outside of Sri Lanka and because our government has politely but publicly suggested that the ruling junta stop shelling its own people.
The Cook Islands are far from Sri Lanka, however, and Canada is still looked upon as an innocent, unoffensive haven here. Most of the visitors here are from New Zealand or Britain, although we've been hearing about some other countrymen all day who we "just missed." After hearing our accents I think they are simply thrilled that we are not American. Not that they have anything against the U.S. necessarily, it's just refreshing to hear that accent from someone who doesn't say y'all. New Zealanders feel a kinship with Canadians born from living on the doorsteps of regional powerhouses. Enough politics.
We are now far from home. This is the first place we've visited from which we could not get back to Yellowknife or Newfoundland in a day if we needed to. The night sky is completely different here. I haven't even been able locate the southern cross yet for even a glimpse of familiarity. When I've seen it before I wasn't this far south so it hung low on the horizon like the planets do in Canada. There's a big shiny planet lighting up the sky here and it's driving me crazy that I can't know for certain what it is. My guess is Jupiter but Ill need to confirm. The locals don't seem to take much interest in the map of their night sky.
After a fun day at Universal Studios we cabbed it out to LAX for the 10 hour flight to Rarotonga on Air New Zealand. The flight was uneventful except for the flash of panic I experienced when I saw us approaching the International Date Line on the plane's navigation system. "Jesus," I thought. "Do we lose a day on this flight?" I recall losing a complete day of my life crossing the date line on some previous trip and I immediately began to worry that we were arriving a day later than we had planned and made reservations for. Turns out we don't cross the line until our flight to Auckland next week which gives us time to change our flight, hotel and vehicle reservations to a day later. November 5, 2013 will never exist for us. Try explaining that to a 10 and 7 year old!
We were welcomed at our bungalow on Muri Beach by the hospitable owner, Terry and his dog "Yapps Alot." "Named her after the wife," says Terry in his Kiwi accent. I can't recall why we chose the Cook Islands over other possible, and more main stream stopovers en route to New Zealand like Fiji or Tahiti. Unlike Newfoundland, New Zealand, Hawaii or the west coast of B.C. (All places we have visited or will visit on this trip), Captain James Cook never charted or set foot on these islands. He made reference to a distant sighting in the log of one of his three voyages, but never took the time to land or survey, likely because of the imposing coral reefs that run right around much of the archipelago. Maybe he was in a hurry to arrive at his date with destiny on the Sandwich Islands.
In any event, here we are. Have you ever dreamed about a place for a long time and then, when you finally arrive, it's exactly like you imagined? Rarotonga has not really been like that. In terms of physical beauty it's as close to the idyllic island paradise as you can get. The beaches are powdery white and the ocean is a million hues of impossible blue. The water is bathtub warm. Like most volcanic islands, the plush green hills tower over the beaches with crystal clear streams rushing down to the sea. Palm trees sway in the warm winds and stretch out over the beach offering up blessed shade in the hot, humid afternoons. Our self-catering bungalow is perfect for a family our size. We are 30 seconds to the beach and there is a big mango tree right in the middle of the big green lawn. If you hear the thump of falling fruit in the morning you have to scramble out of bed to race the roosters to it.
Our greatest disappointment has been the food. Restaurant meals are excellent but expensive by any standard. We prefer to do most of our own cooking, however, and have found it very difficult to get our hands on local, fresh produce. Most everything is frozen and imported. We haven't even been able to get our hands on fresh fish. The supermarkets remind me of the Northern Store or Co-op in most remote communities in the NWT. Poor selection and inflated prices. The prices we can live with, but we sure are disappointed with the quality and selection of food. We've had to make due with more processed and "North American" fare than we'd planned on.
This is what a friend of mine calls a "first world problem" however, and we will not starve. The local beer is good and the tropical juice mixes well with Bacardi Rum. Our hosts are great and the people reasonably friendly. We have met several families on the local bus who are traveling the world for a year and have had fun trading road stories and knowledge with them.
The other surprising thing about Rarotonga is its rural character. Not sure why that surprises me, but it does. Our bungalow is about 500 m back from the beach and close to the main ring road that circles the island. Two buses circle the island all day long; one clockwise and one "anti-clockwise." Everyone uses these buses or little mopeds to get around. They're great fun and a good way to meet people and see the place.
There are roosters, hens and dogs roaming around everywhere. They are very tame and walk right into our yard. We've named all the dogs and most of the roosters. The roosters especially crack me up. Who knew but those little b******s make a bloody racket at the dawn of the day! We could hear the girls giggling upstairs in the loft at about 5:00 am. It's actually kind of quant and certainly ensures that we get to bed early and get an early start to our day. There's also a massive pig next door and a huge gecko that will eat our bananas if we leaving them on the kitchen counter. We can hear him crackle from somewhere in the bungalow once every so often starting at sunset. He wants us to go to bed so he can start his day. This is life in the tropics and the critters don't bother us like they did when we first experienced it years ago. I like the fact that Raro has some rough edges and is not completely gentrified for the tourists. This is not what we expected but are pleasantly surprised by it. You can feel at home here, even if you can't cook everything you might wish to.
Other than the food and the roosters, we are very much enjoying our brief and relaxing stay here. The beach is idyllic and there are sailboats and paddle boards to hire and colourful fish to swim with near the reef. The kids are already as brown as nuts and are even getting some schoolwork done. There is no wi fi here and the Internet cafes are slow and overpriced so we've stored the iPads away and are reading, walking, and soaking up the sun on the beach. This evening we walked down to the local park and listened to music and ordered food from the vendors. It felt a lot like the Tuesday market at Somba Ke park in Yellowknife. Great food for only $10 a pop. Lots of curries, barbequed kebabs and Chop Sui. Tomorrow we might rent some scooters and zip around the island a few times. Or maybe we'll just tramp back down to the beach and read under a palm tree. For some reason we have no interest in signing up for the tourist activities that abound here. We no longer feel like we are on holiday. We're simply living life differently for a year and pretending we're tourists away from home for two weeks doesn't feel right. Perhaps we are becoming indie travel snobs!??!
The kids are homesick for Yellowknife today as it is Halloween. We know exactly what we'd be doing tonight if we were home and it's hard to be somewhere where your own traditions are completely unknown. The good thing about being homesick, I tell them, is knowing that you have somewhere good to call home and miss. It's challenging to convince them not to wish their time away though. It will go so fast.
Happy Halloween from the south pacific everyone.