The Cook Islands were never on my radar as a travel destination. A last-minute change of plans led to a 10-day vacation of relaxation. As vacations tend to be for some. What I had learned through all my bookings is that many of those Polynesian Island nations are not a popular tourist destination for Americans. Ergo, an American must take a looooooonnnnnnnng path to get there. I had ventured the road less taken with my vacation in Rarotonga in the Cook Islands.
Our Airbnb host met my friend and I at the Rarotonga airport and welcomed us with homemade leis and hugs. That was just the beginning of the Cook Islander hospitality. She had drove around and pointed out places of interest, buisnesses and restaurant recommendations in the town of Avarua (which is TINY). Went to the airbnb location, which from my impression, was a standard Cook Islander house. Cement blocks and a tin roof. Lots of windows, a veranda to sit out. It had the essentials, nothing fancy yet very spacious. It contained everything we needed, and if we didn’t have it, we improvised. A house surrounded by palm trees, fruit trees, and flower bushes. And roosters.
My friend and I were met with three days of rain where we were relegated to staying indoors. I did brave the rain to get some more groceries and to find a poncho. Since wind came whipping off the ocean, rain went sideways. Umbrellas are useless. The rain was refreshing in the humid tropical weather. As much as I wanted to get out and explore, I felt like it was a sign to just stay put for a minute. Acclimate to the time difference and just rest my weary soul. Having been in mulitple planes and airports, all after a grueling few months at work, rest felt necessary. Something so cathartic with hearing rain and wind blow through the surrounding trees and no city lights to burn the sky at night. Every night, I fell asleep to those sounds (only to be woken by the local rooster welcoming committee).
Island time is such a thing – I’ll get there when I get there. Each morning at the breakfast table, my friend and I laid out some options on what to do – snorkel, food, maybe a museum, food, a drive somewhere, and probably more food. No rush, no hurry, no problems. The sense of time just seemed….. slow. Almost non-existant. As an Island, one is limited to whatever resources and activities it can offer. No trains that take you to another city. Flights are availbe for other islands, but that’s an all-day affair and we probably should have planned ahead better in order to incorporate that. However, it takes away from decision fatigue and forces one to really enjoy the time in a location.
Rarotonga is a mountainous island and people live mostly near the shoreline. The whole island felt clean and pristine. Sure, one would see the occasional bottle cap or rogue chip bag. But you can tell people take pride in this island. Through the week, I saw several smoke stacks from fires. My assumption is that the locals are cleaning up branches, coconut husks and other fruits that have been dropped from trees, and other organic items. I’d see brush piles in people’s yards as we drove past. One thing I was surprised by was that I saw hardly any boats on the ocean. I’m sure local fishermen were in specific locations not near all the tourist beaches, and some local resorts had their “party boats” for guests. Yet, I saw no barges, no cruise ships. Nothing. Just a vast sea.
The food was simply fantastic. I don’t think I had a bad meal anywhere. Seafood everyday, paired with different salsas. Fresh tropical produce. Yummy! Although it’s currently the winter months, I still gorged on bananas, kiwifruits, and passionfruits. Restaurants weren’t terribly busy at all and the serving staff were all kind and patient. It was indicative of the Cook Islander way. Everyone I had met and talked to where just kind and hospitable. Customer services at businesses were polite and helpful (except for one!). At one point, we were low on local produce so one afternoon, my friend and I stopped at a food stand for more fresh fruit. The vendor seemed more concerned about educating us on the produce and engaging in conversation rather than taking payment. Another morning, we walked to the Saturday market as two older local women stopped us along with way. “Oh! Are you headed to the market! Have a lovely time! Lots of great stuff!”. They were so sweet.
This trip was good for my soul. I felt my body release tension in my shoulders, my back, and my hips multiple times during my getaway. Humans are not meant to be machines. We’re meant to flourish. We’re meant to connect and be outside. I loved every moment of it: the views, the food, the people. I feel at peace.
