We moved to the the
cheaper hostel and although the price is less, we now share our
living space with mice, large cockroaches and ants. The service is
bad and the people who work here are grumpy and less than helpful.
But the location of the hostel is amazing! It is located just by the
beach where the lagoon is the widest and where there are two islands
wish are beautiful to snorkel by (they say, I have not yet tried it).
The beach, called Muri beach, has got a lot of activities going was
well, like windsurfing, canoe hire, glass boat trips etc, and a few
restaurants on the seafront. The place is small and apparently it is
low season now, so the place is fairly quiet, which suite us just
fine. The hostel is quite social as well, and we have met some nice
people, on of them is a blond Anja from Sweden – strange...
After a few rainy days
(too many if you ask me), the sun returned to us yesterday and I took
a walk along the beach. To my delight I was immediately accompanied
by the happy and friendly beach dogs that run around here, charming
tourists and playing. It was such a delight to hang out with the dogs
and being a member of their pack for about an hour. I was amazed by
the fact that they where actually fishing in the shallow water,
ruining around trying to spot the shawls of small fish. They made me
laugh a lot.
The other night we went on
a n “Island night” with a traditional cook island meal and
traditional dancing. There are some pictures of the dancing in one of
the photo albums. The quality of the dancing was higher than I
expected and I understood that being a dancer is quite a prestige
thing in this culture. The girls could wiggle their hips more than
anyone I have ever seen and it was all very feminine and seductive.
The guys where the warriors and where performing masculine movements
of power and strength, beautiful to watch. Each dance had a theme
describing some of the culture's ancient legends and myths. It was a
great experience that gave us a deeper insight in the culture of the
Cooks.
On my birthday, the 12th
of December, we took our little scooter and went to the weekly market
in town. There we saw more dancing, and Roy bought me a beautiful
black pearl that will be my most valuable souvenir from this island.
Before we got here I had never seen black pearls and I believe they
are quite rare, but it is a part of the local industry to farm them
here, so I am proud to own one. In the evening Roy took me to a posh
restaurant in our little bay and we had a great dinner. It was a
strange birthday, no one but Roy knew about it and there was no
family and friends to celebrate with (this was before we hooked up
with people in the hostel). It all felt unreal, just like the coming
up of Christmas... But I can think of worse ways of to spend a
birthday...
The other day a group of
us from the hostel went on a cross island walk. The walk was from the
north to the south of the island, thought the jungle and a very steep
climb up to one of the peaks called “the needle” and then down a
few hours on a path nearly as steep as on the way up. The
recommendation form the hostel was to go with a guide, but the guide
wanted far too much money and we where told by other hostel guests
that it is absolutely possible to make it without a guide. The tricky
bit was that there is no map (to keep the guide's business going) and
we were told horror stories about a group of people getting lost and
instead of walking for 4,5 hours, which is the estimated time for the
trek, they where out in the jungle for 17 hours, missing their flight
back home. Another group lost track of the signs and where following
a “path” that was very rough and challenging. With these stories
in mind we where determined to make some good research and talk to as
many people as possible before going, so that we would have a clear
idea of the tricky part and where to go from there. It seems to have
done the trick because we had no trouble finding the right way and
ended up by the beautiful waterfall that made up the final
destination earlier than we thought we would. We even got a driver
how drove us straight form the hostel to the beginning of the trek
and picked us up afterwards. It was a great day and a good adventure.
On the Sunday I left Roy
reading his book at the hostel in the morning and went to the weekly
catholic church service. I had been told it was an experience not to
be missed. And indeed it was. Although I could not understand the
priest as he spoke mainly in Cook Island Maori, I very much enjoyed
being with the local community observing them as they interacted with
each other quietly, dressed in their Sunday best, and seeing the
smaller children running back and forward between anties, grandma,
grandpa, brothers, sisters and parents. It became very clear to me
how thigh the community is and how they all probably are related in
one way or another and how they all probably know everything there is
to know about one another. For good and bad.
As we all raised to sing a
psalm I was stunned by the voices and looked around in vain for the
choir. But there was not choir - the strong characteristically sharp
and “flat” voices came from the congregation itself.
The singing was very powerful with a lot
of harmonies. It gave me shivers and I felt very privileged to be
witnessing it. After the service there was free lunch that was
attended only by tourists.
Now
there is only two days left for us on this island, so next time I
will be writing form New Zealand.
Now
I am off snorkelling, Roy is waiting...
love
ania
