Kia Orana - Welcome to the Cooks

It was 3.30 a.m. Boxing Day morning and the balmy breeze brushed our tired, dehydrated faces as we disembarked the aircraft and entered the thatched terminal building.

We were in Rarotonga for a few days en route to New Zealand.

Half an hour later, our taxi turned down a gravel driveway flanked by colourful crotons to our hotel. As we walked down the winding pathway through lush gardens our feet sunk into powder-like sand. We turned a corner and immediately the surf became the dominant sound above our footsteps. For a moment we hesitated – it was a moonless night and we couldn’t see the ocean, but it was telling us just where it was. Low voltage lighting bathed the swimming pool in turquoise light and, just beyond it, Christmas decorations on a Norfolk Island pine shimmered as the breeze ruffled its branches.

Falling into bed we drifted off to sleep to be awoken at dawn by a rooster crowing, accompanied by a chorus of miner birds. Coming to our senses, we lay in bed and took in our surroundings now that it was daylight. Gentle waves washed over the reef right in front of our bure, which had a sitting area and verandah facing the ocean. All the pathways leading to other bures in the resort were formed with beautiful, clean, golden sand which the village boys raked several times a day to restore that feeling of paradise.

The setting was completed by palm trees which curved seductively up to the sky. While there were many shady places to sit on the beach and around the pool, hammocks strung between the palms caught my eye. What better way to start one’s vacation than by swaying in a hammock as the mind engages in meaningless thought. The only stress that day was being mindful of the fact that coconuts are missiles - and as the periodic signage warned us to beware - occasionally I would look up at the menacing clusters of coconuts in the crown of the palms. When would gravity have its say I pondered: stress is a relative thing.

Escaping the heat of the afternoon sun we returned to our bure and noticed that all rooms had metal foot baths decorated with floating tropical flowers so that we could part company with all that stubborn sand lodged between the toes.

Dinner that night became one of those lingering tropical memories. We had taken a seat at a plastic table firmly planted in the sand to watch the sun set. Within minutes the stark plastic tables had been transformed with white tablecloth, candles, blue napkins, silverware and tropical flowers. Perfect. Kia Orana – “Welcome to the Cook Islands”.

A visit to the Cooks is not complete without a trip to Aitutaki. The stuff of travel posters, Aitutaki has brilliantly clear water in shades of royal, turquoise and azure - and proved to be a fine place to snorkel.

The sand varies in colour from pearl white to shades of yellow and gold. It was also incredibly hot. Even the locals sat in the water to keep cool – and interestingly, ate mangoes which they dipped into the salty water.

There isn’t a lot to do on Rarotonga. It isn’t commercialized, partly because land cannot be owned by anyone but locals. This was part of the appeal, but if Raro feels too busy, Aitutaki takes one down another notch.

While there is a good bus service circling Rarotonga clockwise and anti-clockwise, renting a motorcycle is cheap and an alternative with its own sense of adventure. Doug rented one from our Resort, informing me that before we set out for the day he wanted to get the “feel of it”.

There are a couple of things visitors on motorcycles need to be aware of, as we were to learn. Dogs roam freely and cross the road at will. They are savvy though and do a better job of dodging you than you them.

The other thing to avoid is acquiring a 'Rarotongan tatoo', or muffler burn. Motorcycle mufflers are mounted on the side of the bike and get hot very quickly. Getting on and off has to be accomplished nimbly.

We circled the Island a couple of times, stopping off at various resorts to view their facilities. We had lunch at one of the resorts in an outdoor café with very relaxed service. No wonder everyone moves so slowly on the Cooks – the rooster wakes them up every morning at 4 a.m.

That night our Resort put on its weekly barbeque. The food was laid out in large shell containers on a flower-decked table, while we were entertained by “fire dancers” who twirled and dodged flaming batons in the moonlight. This was truly a family affair – the dancers were all age groups, from old men to toddlers, all of whom introduced themselves after the dancing ended – except for one little boy whose big brown eyes never blinked as he gazed into the adoring audience – never missing a beat while enthusiastically sucking his thumb.

Our short stay on the Cook Islands had come to an end. The next morning we were off to New Zealand.

Leaving the Resort the way we had arrived – under an endless black sky full of stars our taxi driver drove us the short distance to the airport. We asked him how many times a week his sleep was disturbed ferrying the tourists around. He acknowledged that this was how it worked with the international flights coming into Rarotonga in the middle of the night and was pretty much routine.

We were at the airport in plenty of time for our flight to Auckland and joined a long line for the only plane leaving that morning. Many of the passengers for the flight were Cook Islanders on their way to a family reunion in New Zealand. I say it was a long line up, but I should qualify that. The line was not so much long because of the number of people in it. The line appeared long because of the large number of luggage trolleys stacked high with all sorts of interesting belongings – mostly food packaged in large Styrofoam containers.

This in itself was interesting because we knew that the restrictions on importing just about any food product into New Zealand are legendary – while increased security is a fact of life everywhere, it is the agricultural police you have to watch out for on arrival in New Zealand. Travellers are approached with a no-nonsense attitude and sniffer dogs trained to tag a cheese sandwich at a thousand paces go about their work with unbridled enthusiasm. How on earth were the Islanders going to get the food into New Zealand and why weren’t the airline staff telling them. We never did find out.

The departure lounge had a convivial atmosphere. The 60-member Cook Islander family reunion had taken on a scale that had everyone’s attention – the group ranged from babes in arms to very elderly (and correspondingly large) family members. Each family within the group was attired in a “Cook Island tartan” - colourful shirts and other accessories made of the same fabric. Young men in the party spontaneously played a happy refrain on ukuleles while the children clapped their hands and smiled. All this, and it was only 4 a.m.

An interesting anecdote about Rarotonga Airport revolves around the Singing Fireman, Jake Numanga. He is present for every incoming and outgoing flight and regales passengers with songs of the Islands while accompanying himself on a well-used ukulele. At one time Jake was one of the airport’s firemen and would sing to airport travellers to pass the time. He has retired now and made ‘feel good’ a full-time pastime.

Our flight was finally called and the mass of Cook Islanders ignored every line in the most good humoured way, moving as one to the tarmac. Above it all, Jake sang and yodeled tunes of happy travels.

Beyond the terminal it was a very short walk across the tarmac to the two portable stairways up to the doors of the 767. The flight attendants were exceedingly patient as our Island friends, some of whom had never been on an aircraft before, switched seats, climbed over one another, played their ukuleles and discovered how far their seats could recline. Offence could not be taken - all transgressions were committed with a big smile. Although there was a trace of a sense of humour failure when one individual across the aisle from us was told his ukulele had to go into the overhead bin before we could get underway.

His frown was to be short lived and soon replaced with a large beaming smile exposing perfect, pearly white teeth.