With all my free time over break, I added/updated a couple past posts that I haven't had much time for. This includes some long lost posts from the Cook Islands that I didn't have the pictures for until now. Enjoy.
Hamsters in a Washing Machine (video added)
Any Given Sunday
Coconut King
Dinner with the Locals
I Like the Way You Move
More Raro Shots
Biggest Upset Ever
Fraction Workshops Beyond My Wildest Dreams
Big Game
Some miscellaneous but necessary pictures from our Rarotonga adventure.
The Black Rock. Guess where it got its name. This is where they think that the first Christian missionary landed. 
Some cool rocks and shells we found on the beach. 
Here is the spot where they think the Maori departed for Aotearoa. 
Just some beautiful shots from around the island. Can you believe that this is a real place??
I hear that some of the outer islands are even more beautiful. I can't even imagine what that could look like.
Oh man, Cook Islanders can DANCE.
The first performance we saw was a fire dancing show at one of the resorts. 
I can't help but wonder how someone learns fire dancing. In particular, how they learn it without sustaining severe burns. I'm sure you practice a lot without the sticks actually being lit on fire, but there's still gotta be a first time when you throw a flaming stick into the air and hope to catch it, all in time with the drumbeat of course. Rhythmic gymnasts, eat your hearts out.
April in the Cook Islands brings the annual "Dancer of the Year" competition, and we were fortunate enough to see the finals of both the junior competition (approximately ages 10-14) and the "Golden Oldies" (over 50?). This is a serious event, with people flying in from the outer islands and even from New Zealand just to compete. The juniors were extremely impressive, with spectacular costumes and hip shaking that would probably sacndalize some Americans.
The Golden Oldies were just as impressive, again for the costumes and hip shaking, but also because you could tell that they were loving every minute of it. If this is how good these dancers were now, I can't imagine what they must have been like in their heyday. My favourite was a guy who reminded me of one of my old professors. I'm not sure if I liked him because he was such a good dancer, or because it was hilarious picturing Dr. Akutsu shaking it like that. Unfortunately these aren't the best pictures, but I'm still trying to salvage some pics that I burned using Windows Vista and can't seem to recover. 
Good dancers, breathtaking scenery, delicious food, crystal clear water... what does Rarotonga not have to offer?
Obviously, when in Rarotonga, one must eat like the Rarotongans at least once. However, as in many countries where the traditional local culture is quite different from that of most visitors, having an authentic meal easier said than done. On Rarotonga, a number of resorts offer "island nights" where they serve supposedly traditional food and feature supposedly traditional dancing, but it always feels odd to me to have an "authentic" experience when the only locals are the ones waiting on the western tourists.
Fortunately, Sarah and I came across a man who offered "progressive dinners" in the homes of locals. The dinners are three courses, with each course cooked and served by a different family. Surprise, we chose this option over one of the island nights.
The entree (which is actually what Americans would call an appetizer course) was at the home of a couple whose backyard was chock full of plants I'd never seen, proving just how ignorant Americans are about where their food comes from. This included not just the usual delicious fruit veg, but also coffee, lemongrass (for tea), and more. In fact, everything they served us was from their backyard except for the tuna, which they had purchased at the local market.
Below is ika mata (translation: raw fish), a common local dish. It's not actually raw because it's marinated in lemon juice for hours and the acid cooks the fish. They then add coconut cream and some veggies, ending up with a heavenly result. 
The entree also included fresh fruit from the garden: starfruit and pawpaw (papaya)topped with freshly grated coconut. Whenever I have fresh fruit like this, I always wonder why I continue to live anywhere that's not the tropics. 
Next was on to the main course at a beautiful house up in the mountains. Rarotonga has an interesting topography because in addition to all the beachfront, the middle of the island is treacherously mountainous. Much of the dinner food was relatively familiar--BBQ chicken and fish, salad, etc, but of course it was all locally produced and therefore fantastically fresh. They also served taro, a staple on Rarotonga. I am still deciding my thoughts on taro, which I've tried a couple times in New Zealand. It's not exactly tasty, but it's also not bad. Just kind of bland, so it's really only good when cooked right (but I guess that goes for most food). 
Finally was dessert at the home of the man who organised the tour. Of course it included more fresh fruit. There was also banana cake which, although not exactly a "traditional" Rarotongan food, was still delicious. 
To anyone planning to visit the Cook Islands (which really should be everyone), I highly recommend the progressive dinner. The food was fantastic, and being in real homes made it feel more like dinner with friends than a tourist activity. When you're only somewhere for a week, it's hard to see how people really live, but this felt like a pretty good taste, both literally and figuratively.
Honestly, I felt a little silly telling people I was "on holiday" in Rarotonga. True, I was taking a break, but it's hard to justify that it's really a holiday when all I've been doing for the past two months is traveling around. But traveling in New Zealand, while fantastic, has been exhausting. Rarotonga was a true holiday, where the most stressful part was trying to determine which cafe had the best fruit smoothie (the answer: the Blue Note Cafe in Avarua).
Check out how clear this water is.
And more importantly, how blue it is. 
Obviously, it was a much needed respite. But the question remains on whether the holiday provided enough refreshment and fuel to help me take on my last two weeks(!) in New Zealand, the inevitable reverse culture shock upon returning to the States, a long drive out west, and the beginning of a new career path. Or will I just spend all that time wishing I was back in Raro? Probably a little bit of both. 
My mom knows a family that has been to Rarotonga, and they recommended as one of their "must do" activities a visit to Piri Puruto, the self-proclaimed Coconut King of Rarotonga.
He begins his show by weaving a rope out of coconut fibres, and then uses it to help him climb a very tall, very slippery coconut tree.
Yes, that helmet and skirt are made out of coconut. 
He then takes one of the newly retrieved coconuts and shreds the husk to create kindling for the fire he's going to start. Somehow I was selected as the lucky audience member who got to hold the kindling. 
Then he rubs some sticks together and ta-da! 
And of course, no coconut experience is complete without some being eaten. Piri shredded it (in a weird/awesome machine), drizzled it with honey, and served it on a palm leaf. I could seriously eat this stuff all day. 
I don't know if I would put this on my personal must do list, mostly because Piri turned out to be kind of a creepy old man, but given his plethora of uses for coconut, it's pretty hard to dispute his coconut king title.
And I have the license to prove it.
The government of the Cook Islands has deemed me competent to drive a motorcycle. Until Saturday, I had never ridden a motorcycle or motorscooter of any sort, but it turns out to be the most convenient, economical way to get around the 32kms that comprise Rarotonga (it's one road--you can go clockwise or anticlockwise). Unfortunately, you can't drive on Rarotonga unless you get a Cook Islands drivers license. So when we arrived here, I headed down to the police station. They had finished testing on Saturday by the time we got there, but the police just told me to "drive safely" until Monday when I could sit the test. Clearly the licensing policy is very strict.
Today I sat the test, which comprised of about 200m of driving and four turns (including the turns in and out of the police station parking lot) and passed with flying colours. Or at least colours that flew enough to get what is probably the only ID picture I will ever have where you can see my bathing suit. I suspect the whole licensing thing just an easy way to suck money out of tourists, but I reckon it's the best $16 souvenir I've ever gotten.
The Cook Islanders are a very religious bunch, so the only thing to do on Sundays is attend church. They are also a very welcoming people, so all the churches are open to visitors and they make sure to conduct the service in both Cook Island Maori and English. 
The service was pleasant, with a lot of beautiful singing. Personally, I really enjoyed checking out the women's beautiful hats, which are very intricately woven with lots of colors and flowers. I didn't get a chance to take a picture, but here's a picture I found online. 
After the service, they hosted a reception across the road at one of the local schools. Of course, fresh fruit was in abundance, so I was happy. 
And although the graveyard didn't have much to do with our actual church experience, I thought it was really interesting. 
