Please don't go to the Cook Islands because I like them just they way they are and would hate to see them spoilt by hordes of tourists.
"Welcome to Paradise," said the Customs man as he waved us on through to the waiting garlands of tropical flowers. "Yeah, yeah," I thought as I as promptly got handed a health warning about Dengue Fever.
Soon I was wearing three flower leis - my son's, my wife's and my own - as we boarded the rattling bus to go to the resort.I suspect they're a way of colour-coding tourists for different destinations but can't be entirely sure.
A couple of kilometres down the road, an elderly american tourist remarked to the driver how Rarotonga reminded her of Hawaii when she was a young girl. I figured that was probably in the 1940's ... about the time that the Cooks began receiving flights that weren't just sea planes. But she's right.
The island has a wonderfully genuine and unspoilt feel about it. There seems to be a real friendliness too. I've never said hello to so many strangers in a few days and felt so comfortable doing it.
This is not a tour guide for the Cook Islands. In fact, we barely left the resort and didn't really feel the need to. We didn't venture into the amazing tropical forests of the centre of Rarotonga. Or hire a quad bike to zoom through the tree lined tracks, or ride horses down them to the golden beaches. We didn't visit Aitutaki which is meant to be one of the most beautiful islands you can imagine.
We did wade in the clear waters of the lagoon and walk and kayack over to the small unpopulated islands. We snorkled and saw octupuss and fish up close. We lay on deck chairs and enjoyed happy hour. We ate good food at tables on the beach with our bare feet in the sand.
We lapsed enjoyably into island time and thought "If we don't do it this time, we'll do it next time". That's because I'm pretty certain we'll be back. There's so much I like about it here. And because everyone used NZ money it feels somehow connected to home. It's a bit like having a distant relative that you've lost touch with but that feels part of your extended family... and you're really pleased when you reconnect.
Our one big concession to being tourists was to go to the Saturday morning market. Getting there was a bit of an adventure in itself. If you want to drive in Rarotonga you have to get a Cook Islands Driving Licence. Many tourists do and you'll see lots of people, both tourists and locals, zipping about on motor scooters. Mainly people ride around without helmets - in fact it was six days into our holiday before we saw anyone with one on. The scooters are omnipresent. However we hadn't gotten our licences (you don't need them to drive a sunlounger that doesn't go anywhere!) so decided to take the local bus.
Rarotonga is about 32k in circumference. There's fairly much one road that runs around it and two buses that do continual loops - one Clockwise and one Anti-clockwise. We got on one of those, but unfortunately it was crowded with tourists off a cruise ship that was in port. 2,000 tourists someone said - which considering Rarotonga only has a resident population of around 15,000 is a huge influx. It felt like they were all at the markets and the day was hot as hell. A couple of hats, pareu (like lavalavas) some local herbal remedy Noni juice, coconuts with straws in them... and we were off again to catch the once-an-hour bus back. This time we went anti-clockwise and saw the rest of the island.
About halfway round is the deserted shell of a Sheraton five star hotel that never was. About 1990, amid a great deal of flurry, the ground was turned on what was meant to be the saviour of the Cook Islands economy. Unesco had come out and said that tourism was the way ahead for the islands and its one great hope. The government at the time underwrote the loan of an Italian entreprenuer who was a bit dodgy by all reports and when the hotel was 80% finished (right down to plumbing and baths apparently) a bad debt from China and investigation into Mafia links sent the finances into a tailspin and the hotel into crash and burn mode. No-one ever finished it. The Sheraton never took it over. The CI government was left with a bill that now equals half the national debt. Since then various people have come in over the years, usually with a rush of press releases, planning its resurgance. But whether it's the supposed curse on the sacred land, red tape and bureaucracy, bad judment on business partners or just misfortune, nothing has happened and nearly 30 years later it still sits there, an empty shell in amongst weeds and vegetation that are starting to take it over like some ancient ruin. It's appropriate enough because it seems like a relic from another time - the early bouyant nineties with their big international hotel chains colonising the world - and quite removed and inappropriate for today.
On Rarotonga, you can spend anywhere from $18 a night to well over a thousand, depending on what you choose as a resort and accommodation style. There are some very nice resorts that would rank right up there, like the stunning Pacific Resort on Muri Beach. That's where we stayed. We found it on the internet and checked it out on tripadvisor.com
It's tempting not to do much when you're in Rarotonga but I decided to walk down Muri Beach for a stretch and was soon joined by a local who walked beside me and ocassionally dashed into the water to play with the fish that teem in the shallows of the warm waters. It was one of the pet dogs that run free (along with countless chickens) over the island.
I now think I know where they get some of those idyllic island shots they use as computer wallpapers for office workers stuck in drab grey cubicles. It's a stunning beach with the light creamy sands, teal waters of the lagoon, blue ocean beyond... it's no wonder people fall in love with the place.
After a couple of kilometres I decided to walk back on the road, but didn't get far before two different dogs came running out and joined me for the return journey. I was concerned at the way they'd meander all over the road, but decided they must know the traffic conditions better than I. Although when they lay down in the middle of the road and rolled around on what looked like the remains of a not-quite-quick-enough chicken, it did give me cause for concern. They didn't seem worried and no cars came past, so I chilled.
I guess that's one of the things I really like is that it's very relaxing. No worries. No pressure. (Sometimes that means it takes half an hour to get a drink or that if you order the same meal twice it can be different on different days ... but that's part of the charm!)
The buildings are often brightly coloured. It's not just locals dressed up for tourists that wear flowers in their hair. It's got a special feel about it. It's like a different time and place. Going home is going to be a shock.
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