How Great Thou Art (Cook Islands)

Well, my dedicated reader I'll bet you weren't expecting a hymn for the title of any of my blog posts. Neither was I actually, Jayne suggested it. I was going for something more esoteric like Under the Milkyway by The Church. Why, you ask? Well, all will soon be apparent. Read on McDuff.

And as day 4 melts towards dinner dear reader we have developed a pattern, as I suspected we would. It became apparent this morning as we organised events for tomorrow.

The air conditioning was deployed last night to aid sleep and worked quite effectively until the wedding guests began their stagger towards their rooms at top volume. The cooler conditions encouraged sleeping a little later and put some pressure on us being ready for the day's activity. Today was church. Yep, you read correctly. It was even the activity recommended by the resort. It is Sunday, so why not?

The chicken superhighway

I am really going to miss my breakfast of fresh tropical fruit. Their egg fixation, not so much. There are chickens everywhere, did I mention that before? Free range, everywhere you look. I refer to the hedge outside the dining room as the chicken super highway. You can't see them but you can hear them clucking their way to and fro most times of the day. The cooked breakfast is an array of egg dishes, bacon is listed as a side dish. Today's dish: omelette and sausage. I'll pass.

Time for a dust bath

Bathing the kids

The church is hiding behind the poinciana tree

The target church in question is about a 15-20 minute walk back towards town. It's not the Catholic church, the Catholic church and the Cathedral are way too far to access on foot and it would be a risk to rely on the island bus service - if you want to get there on time. So we walked. The church is a big, stone, whitewashed building. It is traditional in shape with a high ceiling section down the middle and two lower ceilinged wings on either side. The central ceiling is pressed metal.

Due to the omnipotent heat, the doors were open front and back, and the windows were also open. There was very limited use of stained glass, some of which had been replaced by painted wood courtesy of a visiting cyclone. Every pillar in the church was adorned by electric fans spinning at full tilt.

This is the type of flower used to make a lei

It identified itself as a Christian community church - whatever that means. There were none of the statues that you might see in a Catholic or Anglican church. Aside from the flowers, the only decoration was a single wooden cross behind the very significantly raised pulpit, behind which the pastor disappeared when he sat down. But, there were flowers, everywhere, on heads, behind ears, across the front of the pulpit. I counted 12 flower decorations, but there could have been more.

The service was conducted in the local language, Cook Island Maori, with occasional translations in English. It commenced at 10am-ish and concluded at 11:15 - we scored a 15 minute early mark. Why would the resort recommend we attend church? Maybe they were trying to save my heathen soul. Actually, no, it was to hear the singing, which was truly incredible. The harmonies, sung in part, all wonderful. However, for us this was nothing so special - we have been involved in two parishes where there was a significant islander population and they often treated the congregation to such a spectacle. We did have one surprise though, part of the way through the service the pastor asked all visitors to stand up. He then explained the importance of singing to the community and told us we would have to sing then for them. It was so Glee-like, a sing-off to decide the champion. We were toast. Anyway, at least they chose an old hymn in a reasonable key, How Great Thou Art. I'm glad they hadn't told me about it before, otherwise I may not have gone. It was pretty cool.

Morning activity over, we declined the offer of morning tea and commenced our walk back to the resort. Not five minutes down the road, a car stopped and offered us a lift. The people are just so generous. We thanked our benefactor but declared we would prefer to walk - you get to see more of the country side that way.

Picture postcard shots everywhere you look

Then it was time for the lagoon. This time we grabbed a snorkel and goggles and splashed around for an hour or so, disturbing the fish and sea slugs. There were more fish than I thought and another swimmer suggested a better spot to snorkel. Apparently there is more coral, plenty of fish and the water is clearer. That will be for tomorrow, I don't want to overdo the sun.

Cocktail time. Jayne is in a rut - she had another Piña Colada. I had a Mango Colada and ordered some bar food while we dried off and watched the local dogs and chickens and children. Yes, dear reader, it may well be an over 18s resort, but they don't own the beach (sadly). It is a great spot for families and they utilise it every day. Post cocktails it was time for the usual desalination in the pool before we retire for an afternoon of reading and blogging. Who knows, I may depart from protocol and pop out with the camera.

Didn't happen; I grabbed a couple of shots from the balcony of the local dogs. They are all owned, but are free range like the chickens and can turn up anywhere. They like the resort. There is company, water is left out for them and they can swim. Or snooze.

Come and play with me!

Shhh! I'm tired.

The rest of the day proceeded as usual. Dinner, Peter Morgan was playing again tonight and the wedding guests were here for dinner looking far more demure than when we last heard them. It is always interesting to watch guests at such a function. Especially the awkward teen boy who is of no interest to the girls his age - they are after an older catch, but he is not interested in hanging with the younger children. Mum to the rescue to try and kick start the conversation with the girls. I'm not sure how it finished up for him because we retired for the evening. And unlike the previous night dear reader, we didn't hear from them again. The end.

Until tomorrow

Wedding Song (Cook Islands)

Coconut palms are everywhere

We bravely decided to forgo the air conditioning overnight. After all dear reader, we are on a lagoon near the reef with constant sea breeze. Perhaps not so constant. Certainly not as constant as Bright Star. There were some sticky moments but we survived the heat and vowed never to be so environmentally sensible again. When we retire tonight the air con will be on. Mind you, a simple ceiling fan would have done the trick.

Saturday is market day so we needed to be up early anyway. Well, early for Jayne, 7am. She does not acknowledge an hour like this when on holiday. The best thing about our accommodation is that it faces east and I get to watch the sunrise from my bed. About this Jayne is not thrilled. There will be accompanying photos later in the week - of the sunrise, not Jayne's unhappiness. That would be a quick way to end an enduring relationship.

The breakfast here is great. Fresh fruit forever: watermelon, paw paw, pineapple, passionfruit and fruit or coconut yoghurt accompanied by the usual range of toast. The hot part of breakfast is based around eggs. Unsurprisingly. Everywhere you look there are chickens, travelling singly or in groups. Hens just hanging out together or mother hens with numerous chicks. There are plenty of roosters strutting their stuff too. Thankfully, the sound of the waves crashing on the reef drowns the crowing of a morning. A good thing too, it saves me drowning them.

Breakfast over, we walked down the drive to the main road to catch the bus into the markets. We were sitting, waiting, wondering which bus would arrive first. There are two buses constantly circumnavigating the island, one clockwise and the other duped by Melbourne. (You don't get it? Seriously? Not explaining.) While we were waiting, a car came from the resort and they offered us a lift. It's like that over here, everyone is friendly. It turned out to be Peter (the singer from last night) and his wife Catherine. They spend a lot of time here, as you would expect, with Peter singing three nights a week at the resort during January and they provided us with lots of interesting information that we will use in the next week.

Watch your head. They make great wedding decorations.

It was very hot this morning so a lift was most welcome although it delayed our first ride on the island bus. The markets were large and sprawling and defied any attempt at logical navigation, although I'm sure we saw everything. There was food, fresh fruit and produce as well as cooked offerings to sustain the shopper. There were handicrafts, dresses, sarongs, jewellery (lots of black pearls), people touting their businesses for fishing, swimming with turtles, cultural experiences and lagoon cruises. It was an eclectic mix accompanied by the usual feeling of dejá vu.

Done and dusted with nothing purchased, we headed across the road to walk down past the retail shops. Eventually we located a store that sold reef shoes and purchased a pair each and then sought directions to where the bus, clockwise or otherwise, might be found and set off in search. What we found was Bergman and Sons, the black pearl specialists. A pair of earrings later, we caught the bus.

Once seated I began to survey my surroundings a little more closely. It was not a new bus. Tickets were paid for in cash and issued in paper. Novel. The bus driver stood up and said, "I'll be back in an hour" and walked down the stairs to nervous laughter. One patron suggested if he came back in an hour the bus wouldn't be there. We didn't put it to the test because he was back in a minute and we commenced the clockwise drive home. This prompted more observation. Clearly defined bus stops were in short supply. There appeared to be no method to signal the driver when you wanted to get off. Interesting. Then a woman stood and swayed her way down the aisle and the driver stopped the bus and she alighted. Ah! Old school. It was a pity that we weren't really sure where to get off. We passed the church that Peter and Catherine recommended we attend tomorrow morning, apparently it is amazing (not sure it will be for us, given the last two communities we were associated with had significantly strong Islander populations).

Exit for the bus safely navigated we changed and donned our reef shoes and walk/swam/floated across the lagoon to the island. The current was still moving quickly and we constantly needed to alter direction to make land where we had intended. There are not too many spots where it was deeper than 1.5 metres and it was mostly sandy. If there was a market for sea slug, sorry, sea cucumber, this is the place to be - they were everywhere. Big, black, slimy, sandy, ugly slugs on the lagoon floor. I've eaten them too and they taste worse than they look.

Jayne's cocktail of the day

Landfall achieved we circumnavigated the island. There is a ship wreck on the reef. On the lee side there are BBQs and tables and bush camp set ups that the lagoon cruise people use. We hear them as they beat their drums on the way over. And we hear them as they beat their drums on the way back, Sometimes there is a singing competition between barges. No I shall not be partaking of that experience, despite it being tagged, "hilarious".The swim back commenced further up from the resort so we could counteract the current and then it was off to the pool to de-sand and de-salt and have a cocktail. Piña Coladas all round. Very refreshing. As we people watched, preparations commenced for the afternoon wedding. Jayne watched one of the staff walk out with a large jar in hand with palm fronds growing out of the top. "Oh, look at that" she cried with some measure of envy. "It's a table decoration darl, not a cocktail" I mused. Much laughter.

Lunch over we sought advice from reception about a cultural experience for later in the week and enquired whether the afternoon wedding would impact on dinner arrangements.

And to Justin and Sam's wedding and the title for today, Wedding Song by Angus and Julia Stone. The benches were in place, the sand was raked, a love heart drawn around the bower, flower petals placed in bowls, the aisle was delineated by coconuts and every time everything was right, the picture was disturbed. Local dogs walked across the sand, a local child bolted from the water and walked the aisle, Herman turned up with the guests! However, he felt like he wasn't welcome, made it the edge of the aisle and turned back to the safety of his tree.

Herman beating a hasty retreat from the 'aisle"

It's fair to say that the wedding stopped everyone in proximity. Those floating in the lagoon re-focussed their attention,  guests at the Beach Club came onto balconies or went out to watch, passers-by waited for the bride to arrive. It's also fair to say that the weather stopped the wedding. Albeit briefly. A very heavy shower arrived post commitment statements that sent everyone inside. For three minutes before they re-emerged for the speeches.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, champagne, a nap, some reading and finally dinner. The guests retired from the reception around 11:30pm. If there were any dead sleeping nearby they would have been woken.

Until tomorrow

Escape or The Piña Colada Song (Cook Islands)

Sing with me: if you like Piña Colada and getting caught in the rain

Thank you for your patience dear reader. Internet access is not free in the Cook Islands and is not available everywhere. We were deciding what package to purchase when the delightfully helpful lady at reception informed us of a promotion. Buy three cocktails and you are given the equivalent of a week's internet, free. Clearly, that was an offer too attractive to bypass and also partially explains why there was no post yesterday. It also explains the title. Jayne had her first, but definitely not her last, Piña Colada. No need to mansplain today's title.

However, I digress. The last post concluded with us at the airport, yet to board the plane. We finished our pre-holiday champagne and wandered into a current of people that swept us towards our gate. It was quite crowded until the neighbouring area cleared. Then the announcement I knew was coming. "Flight delayed due to operational issues". Anyone who knows my travel history with work will be laughing now. Of course the delay was expected, I can count on one hand the number of times my planes were on time in 2018. We were pushed back, about an hour late.

The plane we finally boarded, was staffed by Air New Zealand, but bore the colours of Singapore Airlines - without the logo. Apparently there were maintenance issues with our original plane. Sadly, the ratio of children to adults was too high and the ratio of screaming children to quiet children even higher. Thank God for noise cancelling headphones, but even they struggled at times.

Flight time is 6 hours and was relatively uneventful. I watched two more movies that I would never pay to see. Had some dodgy food and a couple glasses of wine and tried unsuccessfully to sleep. Our first day in Rarotonga would be interesting, if not dreamy.

Immigration was an interesting experience. The locals and Business class passengers had their own dedicated line. The rest of us riff-raff lined up in the sheep run and slowly shuffled our way toward the front of the queue. It moved imperceptibly, with some people seemingly standing at the same counter forever. Once through we were greeted by our transport and I scored my first lei (but not last) on the island. It was made from flowers similar to that of the gardenia and the perfume was incredibly sweet.

There were other passengers travelling with us who were still drifting towards the immigration counter. This gave us the opportunity to watch the passing parade and make some observations about Raro. WHS as an industry has yet to arrive. Almost no-one, but tourists, wear helmets on motorbikes/scooters, seatbelts in cars are also superfluous. It is still cool, 60s style, to travel in the back of the ute, unrestrained. Thongs or flip flops are the preferred footwear - at work as well. The scene that left me amazed was the young guy in the back of the work ute. They had run a series of pieces of timber from the top roof bar through the table and over the tray at the back of the ute. This was tied off in one place, the middle of the tray. There was no flag signalling the end of the timber. Hmmm, not very secure, you're thinking. Incorrect. The apprentice was perched astride the cargo on top of the roof bar to ensure the wind didn't get underneath the load and lift it as they drove. His work flip flops clearly visible as they drove away.

About 30 minutes later we arrived at Muri Beachclub Resort (over 18s only). What to say? The room, the pool, the view, the lagoon? I'll let the pictures do the talking.

The lagoon from the balcony

The island across the lagoon

The view from bed

I'm sure we will develop a routine in time but today is about getting settled and having a look around. And dodging the rain showers that suddenly appear from nowhere and disappear just as quickly. Unpacked, we thought we'd walk the length of the lagoon towards the reef. This passes you by the edge of many other resorts, each of which is clinging to the shore in the shade of coconut palms. The water is warm and laps our feet to land's end and back again. The breeze is constant and much appreciated. Back at the resort it was time for a swim in the lagoon.

The current was moving very swiftly and easily took your feet out from under you and swept you away. Some people were getting into the water allowing the current to take them downstream and then having travelled far enough, would get out and walk back to where they got in and repeat. One woman we watched did this for hours on end. In fact her floating transcended our impromptu nap. Following our swim, we repaired to the pool to rinse the salt and sand away. Swimming pools at an adults  only resort are such calm, peaceful places. We had the pool to ourselves.

Herman the hermit crab

And with that we suddenly both very tired and broke one of our travel rules: no naps on the first day in a new time zone. Neither of us slept on the plane and had been awake for over 24 hours. Nap time. Awakening much refreshed, we went back downstairs to the bar overlooking the lagoon and began the difficult work of acquiring free internet access. While we were burning the hours, not the calories, we made a friend. A very determined hermit crab emerged from the shrubbery and made his way across the sand towards the water. The timber platform proved no challenge as he hauled himself up one side and gently let himself down the other.

Jayne suggested I should assist Herman  but I declined to interfere with nature and besides, he provided entertainment while we drank our cocktail of the day - a mango concoction, made by Ti the Fijian bar tender, who chatted about all the Campbells he had come across in life, both here and in Fiji.  More importantly, he made really good cocktails at happy hour prices which qualified us for the internet in our room - winners all around!  Luckily, Herman's slow progress to safety meant there was time for a second cocktail - the aforementioned Piña Colada for Jayne and a chilled Rosé for me.

After the pre-dinner drinks, it was time to go for dinner. Tonight's menu was entitled, "Pig and Prawn" with a selection of 2 sized rib dishes and barbecued prawns cooked with a choice of four sauces, accompanied by a diverse selection of side dishes.  It was a day of firsts - Jayne's first Piña Colada and I was coerced into trying ribs for the first time.  Not sure I see what all the fuss is about - I prefer a rare steak any day. The evening was very pleasant, accompanied by live entertainment provided by a self-accompanied male singer, Peter Morgan, whose repertoire was reminiscent in style of Stylus, one of the most underrated bands in Australian music history (IMHO).  Looking forward to hearing him perform again.

Day One on Raro concluded with French champagne on the balcony, Stylus playing on the computer in the background and then sleep.

Until tomorrow

My island home (Cook Islands)

And with the click of a button on the keyboard we are back dear reader. We are momentarily leaving our island home (thanks Chrissie Anu) to spend time on another. We are flying to the Cook Islands, specifically Rarotonga. Uncharacteristically we are not flying Qantas, a decision we have regretted in the past (I am looking at you China Southern), but we believe the national airline of the 7th state, New Zealand, should be OK. The clincher was the direct flight from Sydney. Whether I will regret sacrificing the status points will become apparent later in the year. However, at this stage with all the flying I do for work, the concept of a direct 6 hour flight has much appeal. (I did have a picture of the island inserted here but the dodgy wifi at the airport dropped it so you'll have to resort to Google)

Of course the other issue in being unfaithful to Qantas is that we forgo Lounge access and must spend our time with the great unwashed hoi polloi in the meandering corridors and sterile halls of the airport. Well, we will have do that, but first we need to find a place to sit, rest and ponder our forthcoming holiday over the obligatory pre-departure bottle of champagne.

The cab trip to the airport was remarkably event free for a Friday night. There was next to no queue in customs and security was passable except they had a thing for men. Every guy had to go through the body scanner and they only selected males for the explosives test. There were four of us tested for explosives - with the one tape. It's akin to using the same mouth piece to breath test four people.

Once through it was straight to the duty free to buy some alcohol to take with us. "Duty free". Bullshit. The alcohol is cheaper on the way back into the country and it is certainly cheaper at Dan Murphy's. For example, a bottle of Penfolds 389 was a bargain at $100. Mind you, it costs $70 at Dan Murphy's. We also picked up two Handpicked reds for the super price of $39.95 each. A true bargain at the Handpicked cellar door in Chippendale where they retail for $24.99 - and that is without our 25% member discount. I will NEVER purchase here again.

If you haven't been to Handpicked I highly recommend them. Excellent wine and cheese, wonderful friendly staff, it's a great way to while away a lazy Sunday afternoon. and they have wines from all over Australia as well as some other international places.

What an absolute rip off. I'm banking on the wine being pricey at Rarotonga. if not I'll have to drink more to drown my sorrows. Just think about it - if the wine is that expensive here, duty free, imagine what it will cost in a spec in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Fear not dear reader, I shall keep you well informed. The lesson however, is NOT to buy anything at duty free at the airport on your way out of Sydney - it is cheaper at the retail outlet.

Currently we are drinking a sub-standard champagne in some bar area being serenaded by someone's badly behaved screaming brat. Hopefully they will move on soon and will not be on our flight. I have become ambivalent to life in the Qantas Lounge but that is rapidly being reviewed. The crowds and the noise ... not my scene. That could have been the blog title.

So dear reader, our flight is at night. We depart on Friday at 9:15pm, if we are on time and fly across the magical International Date Line and arrive at 6:30am on the same day we left, Friday.  Time travel is not so hard, just confusing. I mean if Bill and Ted can do it. Hopefully we will get a little sleep on the plane. If not, I predict snoozing by the lagoon when we arrive. Actually, I predict that anyway.

That's about all for now. I will pick the narrative tomorrow in Rarotonga and provide you with any news worthy events that occur between now and then.

Until tomorrow,