A tropical island

Saturday, May 02, 2015
Rarotonga, Southern Cook Islands, Cook Islands
  Our first full day here started under an overcast sky but still pleasantly warm. Our first task was to hire a car to get us around the island, (the unpredictable weather has meant postponing gaining my scooter licence) - very laid back and in fact the first car we've ever rented that has rust holes in the guards and seats that carry with them the comfort of us not having to worry about dirtying the cup holders. And the other good news, no need for satnavs or street directories for that matter. We got in the car, turned left and about 20 minutes later were back at the same spot having circumnavigated the island. One road, I don't' reckon even Adam could get lost here. It really is just a classic tropical island with the road dotted the whole way with little food sellers and stores in various types of buildings, some nothing more than shacks but all appealing nonetheless. Reading the blurbs before we came here there were comments noting the differences between the various sides of the island but the only difference we noticed as we drove around was the the sun was either on the left or right side of the car. 
  We were back at the resort around lunchtime and under a clear warm sky we donned our masks and snorkels and walked down to the beach and dove into the crystal clear water . Coral, fish and sand, just like the brochures. After ten minutes we were like Mike Nelson, Jacques Cousteau and Steve Zissou all rolled into one, like we were born with gills. Great.
  The late afternoon and a wedding taking place across from our room on the beachfront completed a pretty good day on the island.
  Not that I have forsaken my searching for little known historical facts from the island. And I think I found a beauty. A couple of centuries ago, a Scottish writer, hoping to emulate one of his siblings, set up digs in Rarotonga for a little while and put quill to paper. Garry Louis Stevenson, the lesser known of the Stevenson boys, saw his brother doing well for himself churning out some good stuff in Samoa so he thought he'd give it a shot. Unfortunately he didn't quite have the talent of Robert so went back home after a couple of years taking home with him scars from 3rd degree sunburn he suffered the very first day he arrived here, scurvy, dengue fever and a couple of manuscripts he hoped he could polish up to make them publishable. The most well known of them, The Pasta Of Ballantrae, featured his hero, a Scottish prince during the Jacobite era, hoping to win the heart of his princess by making the best noodles she had ever tasted. He had his hero tracking around the world looking for 00 flour but got the story bogged down by endlessly describing kneading techniques. He also worked on a story called "Kidmapped" about a child hoping to study cartography but it too sank without a trace. The things you find out if you dig around. Speak to you tomorrow

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