Time Machine

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16 February 2011

Our time in New Zealand had come to and end, we were Paualess and had once again set our alarm to an hour suitable to ensure that we would not have a rush on to get to the aiport.

Unusually, we both slept for the night. It is quite usual when we know that we have to be at an airport in the morning that one or both of us can neither get to sleep or stay asleep. I say this with one slight qulalification. I did sleep but, courtesy of Inception I had rather lurid dreams which involved one of Gregg's colleagues storming out of her job among other things. For the sake of his sanity upon returning to work, I seriously hope that there was no premonitionary quality to that particular dream.

Deciding to skip breakfast (which wasn't free) at Base Hostel we were packed and ready for the off. This is the first proper gap-year type hostel that I have ever stayed in since, across South East Asia, hostels generally refer to themselves as hotels and do not have many communal facilities beyond showers and toilets. Base Auckland was therefore, for me, a sight to behold. It was enormous, I would confidently say that it has a capacity of well over 100 and probably twice that. There is a massive kitchen, an internet cafe with twenty plus computers, a travel agency and even a job agency. This place means business with a capital 'B'. The rooms were clean and basic but airless which I found really difficult to deal with and was rather glad that we were only staying for the one night. There was a massive air-conditioning vent in the middle of our room but it didn't seem to actually do anything. There was one unusual facet to this place in particular, when returning our key (to claim back the key deposit) we also had to take our pillowcases to reception with us. Odd to me but I am sure that there is an explanation somewhere.

Luckily the airport bus (there isn't a metro/underground in Auckland) had a stop on the opposite site of the road to the hostel which meant that we had only a short hop to wait for the bus. The weather was overcast - I think that it was NZ telling us that it was sad to see us go - and the bus driver was clearly having a bad day. We passed at least two stops at which he refused to stop because the would be passengers had not flagged him down. One lot even ran after the bus catching it at traffic lights and he simply shouted through the closed door "you have to flag it down". The people he had driven past where laden with suitcases - I would have thought that their desired destination was pretty darn obvious.

Auckland airport, like many major airports, is a little way outside of the city itself, giving us a final glimpse or two of the wonderful New Zealand countryside.

Stepping into the international terminal I couldn't shake the feeling that the rest of New Zealand knew something that we didn't. The place was absolutely deserted. There was one other traveller at Air New Zealand check in (which was only being actively manned by one member of Air New Zealand staff). We were early, but this was odd. We were able to check in early (in Australia they will not open check in more than three hours before an international flight and two before a domestic one so this was entirely refreshing) and then we headed towards passport control and departures.

The Immigration official was delightfully friendly and made sure that we understood that we couldn't go back once he had stamped our passports and asked us if we had enjoyed our stay in New Zealand - we had no trouble in confirming that we had loved it. On passing through security, we discovered what the rest of New Zealand knew that we didn't (including the immigration officer) there really is not a fat lot to do in departures and there are only something like 15 gates which are a short walk from the shops etc so there really isn't a great deal of point turning up hugely early for your flight.

Fortunately there were three places to choose from for breakfast and a handful of shops to wonder around. Interestingly, on the back of the toilet doors is a poster announcing that Auckland airport has twice been voted in the top ten airports in the world and asking the traveller to log on to a website to vote for them for the 2011 award. I think I get it, this place is chilled out, airy and far less fatigue inducing than Gatwick or Heathrow and I bet it has far fewer delayed flights but, really? Top 10 in the world? Perhaps someone reading this can explain to me what I missed.

Eventually (after a short delay) we boarded our Air New Zealand flight to Rarotonga - the capital of the Cook Islands - and relaxed into Air New Zealand bliss - inflight entertainment that starts from the moment that you take your seat and continues until you are ready to get off at the other end. Unsurprisingly, the aircraft didn't crash from interference from the tv monitors. Funny that.

And somewhere on that flight passengers and crew alike did a mean impression of Dr Who and we arrived in Rarotonga 18 hours before we left NZ.

15 February 2011 #2

We have been looking forward to crossing the international date line and gaining a day since we set out on our travels - why I am not sure, but we have - and today was the day. Somewhere just before landing we crossed the imaginary line and jumped back 23 hours in time and found ourselves 10 hours behind our friends and family at home rather than the 13 hours ahead that we had been in NZ - that messes with the mind a little.

At no point did the aircraft turn in to a Tardis tho - much to my disappointment.

The arrivals hall at Rarotonga is minute. There is one set of doors in, to the immediate left of which are the three immigration desks meaning that we were through immigration and waiting for our bags at the one baggage carousel in record time. The crowning glory of the arrival tho had to be the old guy sitting apparently atop of the middle section of the carousel strumming away on a ukele and singing. You have to see it to believe it and, according to Gregg who read it somewhere, he has not missed a flight - in or out of the island - in something like 22 years. Incredible.

We were collected by Bill, the owner of the Backpackers that we had booked into - it is usual for hostels to offer free airport pick up (and then charge you to take you back). I was pretty blown away by our first views of this island. The main road around the island is, at most points, only about 10 metres from the beach which is beautifully white and framed by gently swaying palm trees. The beaches gently prod at the aqua lagoon and out to sea the waves crash on to the reef. Rarotonga is a volcanic atoll - almost completely surrounded by a coral reef which means that the waves break out to sea and the water between the coral and the shore is almost still. It is a peculiar sight to behold, but a beautiful one.

Sadly, our accommodation did not match the beauty of its surroundings. Prices in Rarotonga are equivalent to those in NZ, including accommodation, but this place was quite simply depressing and we were booked in for 4 nights. Oh well, it looked like we were just going to have to grin and bear it - we didn't get the impression that it was the done thing to move on from this hostel at all, let alone leave early.

16 February 2011 #2

Unfortunately, the standard of the accommodation was not compensated for by the quality of the night's sleep. Cockerels and a sheet that steadfastly refused to stay in contact with the mattress saw to that. Three more nights of this were going to be long.

We decided that the way to deal with struggling with our immediate surroundings was to get up early and go out. We would catch a bus into town. There are two buses on Rarotonga, one circles the island clockwise and the other circles it anticlockwise. They leave the main town, Avarua, half an our apart and it really couldn't be easier than that. Except that they sort of run to their own modified version of island time - for which, read early. Fortunately, I had thought of that we we caught the first anticlockwise bus of the day.

The journey was, once again, beautiful and we hopped off when the bus reached its terminus at Cooks Corner, outside a Black Pearl jewellery shop (for which the islands are famous). First stop breakfast, second stop supermarket.

The supermarkets here are, it turns out, generally not that well stocked and sell some surprising ingredients (every flavour of corned beef imaginable) and are empty of others (garlic) so when we hopped back on to the bus, we had a more than eclectic mix of groceries with us as company. The next 2 1/2 weeks of meals are going to be interesting.

On returning to the hostel, we discovered that Wednesday night is International Food night - a show, tell and share event where each guest is invited to make something from home and share it with everyone else. Fine but we had pasta, tomatoes and milk and not much more. Initially, we thought we would give it a miss but later in the afternoon we got talking to another English couple, Ivor and Laura, who were doing good old bangers and mash - with gravy - and I decided that we should join in. The only problem was that we needed to supplement the odd combination of foods that we had and the 'shop' just around the corner offered shelves that were, quite literally, bare.

Next to the shop, there was a vehicle rental place and the next thing I knew Gregg had hired a push-bike and was on his way to find a shop that might actually sell something. He returned with additional ingredients which would allow us (ok him, really) to produce something like spag bol. Not traditional British fare but the best we could do and minus the garlic - deeply disappointing (although and very fine offering given the circumstances).

Ana, our hostess, had cooked some traditional Rarotongan foods - including Taro leaf 'spinach' in a coconut sauce and taro root chips and the meal provided a great opportunity to mingle with some of the other guests and swap even more stories with Ivor and Laura - who are a few weeks ahead of us on virtually the same itinerary.

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