Life in the Slow Lane

As we left the airport Monday morning, our taxi driver asked if we planned to rent a car. No, we said, we thought we might rent a scooter for a couple days, but otherwise we planned to walk. But your house, he replied, your house is way up in the mountains, in the hills. We know, but we don't think it will be too much to walk. He seemed skeptical. A day or so later, as we walked by a neighbor, she called out "Why don't you hire a car? You think walking is good for you, eh?" We laughed, yes, yes. Walking is good for us. But really, the walk from the coastal road all the way to our house is perhaps as long as 20 minutes. And that is when we let CutieBabyBoy walk some of the way chasing chickens, pigs, and cats and throwing rocks and coconuts as far as he can. Trailhead Yet other than a handful of kids, we haven't seen any islanders walking. They all have motorbikes or automobiles. All this to say, when we saw a cross-island trek on the map, we we...

Apparently, the unstated goal of our vacation is to not get sunburned. Even the first day, after spending a few hours at the beach, I thought happily, "We've been here a whole afternoon and no sunburns!" Everyday since I have counted us equally successful. True confessions: I brought five bottles of sunscreen with us, and two of them are of Costco-sized proportions. I promised myself the reason I needed to bring five was that we were going to use at least one bottle start to finish during our two weeks here. Of course, right now, CutieBabyBoy and I are in the shade. Who comes to the beach to sit in the shade? SOS is out snorkeling near the reef. I find great humor in the fact that I can tell which snorkeler is my husband by the brilliant white of his backside.  Let's pray that I covered him well with sunscreen, otherwise, my stellar record of three days with no sunburn will be ruined. I am also wearing the largest, floppiest hat I have every owned.   The Coo...

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 Cu...

The flower our house was named after. When we arrived at our house yesterday, o ur hostess told us that most visitors prefer to boil their water before using it. We aren't sure whether this was a subtle warning about the quality of the ground water or simply an observation about tourists. [Update: we later learned that our water was not ground water. The water piped into the house comes from a cistern that rain water drains into from the eaves of the house. We're glad we boiled the water.] So we've established quite a system to boil the water, then cool it, then stick it in the fridge so that we can refill plastic bottles with it before going out. But let's just say we've noticed the water tastes a little funny. Not bad tasting, just odd. Remember the welcome leis of our arrival ? Well, guess who didn't want to throw them out and wanted to prolong their life just an eensy-bitsy bit longer? I'll give you a hint: it wasn't SOS. A vase w...

I've often considered myself to have a reading addiction: anything with words must be read. The addiction part comes in when I see it again 2 seconds later and have to read it again. And again. And again. But for having a reading addiction, I sure got myself into trouble by missing some key information. I'm fully expecting to be found on the sand with my belly so distended that people will mistake me for a beached whale. I'm hoping that I am being over-dramatic, but only time will tell. It all started simply enough, I wanted some cereal for our breakfasts. All of the cereal in the grocery store that looked familiar was way more money than I wanted to pay. And besides, what is the fun of traveling to an exotic location if you stick to all of the safe food choices? But I saw some Muesli and remembered enjoying it on a number of occasions in far off locations. So I brought it home and this morning I ate a great big, giant bowl of it. A little odd texture, but yum yum, ...

I'm working on a list. It will be called "Top   #     Reasons to travel with a baby." So far, I only have two items, but bear with me that we aren't even a full day into our travels. Our flight leaving LAX had many empty seats and when the airline attendants saw that CutieBabyBoy was too big to fit in the baby bed, they immediately scoped out another aisle where we could lay him down so he could sleep better. Of course, we were seated across the aisle from the pilots' break room, so I'm sure everyone had a vested interest in making sure CutieBabyBoy got the best rest possible, but I wholeheartedly support that endeavor. People have been known to unite over lesser goods. Secondly: the preferential treatment we received upon landing. We were quite prepared to stand in line at immigration with everyone else, but we were pulled aside and brought to the front of the line because we had baby in tow. Maybe someone should do a study about areas in the world where ...

Five years ago, on a Friday not too unlike today, my coworker dropped off a package that had arrived for me.  "You received a box of perishables," she said. "Oh great," I thought, "another creepy gift from someone who thought my professional response to their inquiry meant I could be their ticket to the United States." A gift from an admirer, yes. Creepy international attention? No. Just a man I had found myself talking with too easily the week before at a mutual friend's wedding. A box of fruit shipped to my desk, an offer of friendship wrapped inside. I was in the middle of packing my belongings to start partially-scripted homelessness scheduled to end five months later in who knew what sort of living situation. I needed the fruit for meals as I packed... I supposed I needed the friend, too. A year later, June 22 found the two of us, SOS and me, hiking to the top of a rock overlooking Castle Lake, on an adventure together. Another year, and J...