Thursday, June 28: Forbidden Pleasure
Yesterday we enjoyed what we later discovered to be a forbidden pleasure. The good news is that it only cost me $1.50 and some embarrassment to find this out rather than a run in with the law and a good deal more money.
When we first researched our island getaway and learned that motorcycles and scooters were the main form of transportation and that obtaining a Cook Islands driver's license took little time and money, we started our biggest debate of our pre-vacation planning: How many days could we justify the rental of a motorcycle? Strictly a question of wise stewardship of funds, you understand.
So it is certainly no surprise that after one day of riding the bus, SOS hiked down our hill early yesterday morning to learn how to drive a scooter and to take his driving test. After the arduous course (once around a small block), he had his picture taken at the police station and was gifted with his very own Cook Islands driver's license.
Back at the house, we sandwiched CutieBabyBoy in between SOS and me and away we went.
You could say that I have been waiting 17 years for that simple pleasure and you would not be wrong: helmet-less cruising with the wind whipping through both hair and toes. We had told ourselves that we would pull off to the side of the road frequently to explore several beaches and shops and smoothie stands, but once we were moving, fewer and fewer stops appealed. Let's just go!
Does your anxiety level rise when you picture the three of us helmet-less and happy? Let me allay a few fears: even off duty policemen don't wear helmets. Helmets are only required if you wish to travel a good deal faster than everyone else. On some of the cooler days here on the island, helmets are also worn for warmth.
But we had no need for warmth on our cherished cruise around the island. Every time we did stop to enjoy a particularly delicious beach or equally beautiful smoothie, CutieBabyBoy would eagerly wait to get back on the motorcycle.
*sigh* Pure delight, I tell you. Pure delight.
And then the shadow on our perfect day.
Almost back to our starting point, we stopped to buy fruit at a roadside stand. We had hoped for a wide variety of options, but by the time we realized they only had papayas, our arrival had already drawn the attention of the kids tending the stand. And as new as SOS is to driving, we didn't think we could quite pull off the "Oops, we didn't mean to stop here" look so as not to offend. So I hopped off the bike and was addressed in the first full sentence of non-English since the airport in Los Angeles. Startled, I mumbled, "I'm sorry, I only speak English."
"Not true," my overly literal conscience cluttered my thinking while I began choosing two papayas. They all seemed to be priced between $0.50 and $2.00 but then I grabbed one that read $11.00.
What?!? I promptly forgot the price of the papaya they had already bagged for me. The teen launched into berating her father for playing with the price tags when he had the luxurious job of tending the plantation while she was the one who had to put up with the customers.
There was so much for me to object to in that diatribe that my processing skills were severely compromised and I handed over $3. I expected change, but instead of counting out coins, the teenager suggested that we might want to keep the cops from seeing us. My uncertainty over remembering the correct price quaked in light of having somehow broken the law.
And in the way only a teen can suggest to complete strangers that they are breaking the law, she told us it was illegal to have three people on a motorcycle. Yes, even when one is as small as CutieBabyBoy. "But," she said as I hurried to make a quick getaway on the bike, "at least you are smart to hide the baby as you are so that they can't see him."
Our way home brought us directly in front of the police station where three policemen stood out front, watching traffic. No one jumped to follow us as we drove by. Since I didn't think CutieBabyBoy was that well hidden, I began to wonder if she had just been mistaken... and not only did she ruin the rest of my ride, but she kept $1.50 of my money!
But no, SOS confirmed the law this morning. He and I can ride together or CutieBabyBoy can ride behind either one of us gorrilla-baby style, but no more family cruises. It didn't help that I saw a man driving his motorcycle one-handed while holding a 20 foot bamboo pole. But I guess you have to draw lines somewhere.
Oh well. Forbidden pleasures. And I guess I can grudgingly admit that $1.50 surcharge on my fruit was worth the teenage words of wisdom.
When we first researched our island getaway and learned that motorcycles and scooters were the main form of transportation and that obtaining a Cook Islands driver's license took little time and money, we started our biggest debate of our pre-vacation planning: How many days could we justify the rental of a motorcycle? Strictly a question of wise stewardship of funds, you understand.
So it is certainly no surprise that after one day of riding the bus, SOS hiked down our hill early yesterday morning to learn how to drive a scooter and to take his driving test. After the arduous course (once around a small block), he had his picture taken at the police station and was gifted with his very own Cook Islands driver's license.
Back at the house, we sandwiched CutieBabyBoy in between SOS and me and away we went.
You could say that I have been waiting 17 years for that simple pleasure and you would not be wrong: helmet-less cruising with the wind whipping through both hair and toes. We had told ourselves that we would pull off to the side of the road frequently to explore several beaches and shops and smoothie stands, but once we were moving, fewer and fewer stops appealed. Let's just go!
 |
| Beautiful Smoothies |
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| Delicious Beaches |
Does your anxiety level rise when you picture the three of us helmet-less and happy? Let me allay a few fears: even off duty policemen don't wear helmets. Helmets are only required if you wish to travel a good deal faster than everyone else. On some of the cooler days here on the island, helmets are also worn for warmth.
But we had no need for warmth on our cherished cruise around the island. Every time we did stop to enjoy a particularly delicious beach or equally beautiful smoothie, CutieBabyBoy would eagerly wait to get back on the motorcycle.
*sigh* Pure delight, I tell you. Pure delight.
And then the shadow on our perfect day.
Almost back to our starting point, we stopped to buy fruit at a roadside stand. We had hoped for a wide variety of options, but by the time we realized they only had papayas, our arrival had already drawn the attention of the kids tending the stand. And as new as SOS is to driving, we didn't think we could quite pull off the "Oops, we didn't mean to stop here" look so as not to offend. So I hopped off the bike and was addressed in the first full sentence of non-English since the airport in Los Angeles. Startled, I mumbled, "I'm sorry, I only speak English."
"Not true," my overly literal conscience cluttered my thinking while I began choosing two papayas. They all seemed to be priced between $0.50 and $2.00 but then I grabbed one that read $11.00.
What?!? I promptly forgot the price of the papaya they had already bagged for me. The teen launched into berating her father for playing with the price tags when he had the luxurious job of tending the plantation while she was the one who had to put up with the customers.
There was so much for me to object to in that diatribe that my processing skills were severely compromised and I handed over $3. I expected change, but instead of counting out coins, the teenager suggested that we might want to keep the cops from seeing us. My uncertainty over remembering the correct price quaked in light of having somehow broken the law.
And in the way only a teen can suggest to complete strangers that they are breaking the law, she told us it was illegal to have three people on a motorcycle. Yes, even when one is as small as CutieBabyBoy. "But," she said as I hurried to make a quick getaway on the bike, "at least you are smart to hide the baby as you are so that they can't see him."
Our way home brought us directly in front of the police station where three policemen stood out front, watching traffic. No one jumped to follow us as we drove by. Since I didn't think CutieBabyBoy was that well hidden, I began to wonder if she had just been mistaken... and not only did she ruin the rest of my ride, but she kept $1.50 of my money!
But no, SOS confirmed the law this morning. He and I can ride together or CutieBabyBoy can ride behind either one of us gorrilla-baby style, but no more family cruises. It didn't help that I saw a man driving his motorcycle one-handed while holding a 20 foot bamboo pole. But I guess you have to draw lines somewhere.
Oh well. Forbidden pleasures. And I guess I can grudgingly admit that $1.50 surcharge on my fruit was worth the teenage words of wisdom.
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