• Rarotonga, Cook Islands.

As we travelled NZ, people who heard we were coming to Rarotonga would say, “Go to church.” They say it here, too. So we did—never mind that services are in Maori. It was breathtaking. Our church of choice was 150 years old, yet wore white paint as new as the day. All youth were also in all white; all ladies wore large hats; and the men took turns preaching.

But the real attraction was the singing—rafter-raising stuff that the Maoris have been doing since long before the islands went Christian (and boy, did they!) in the 19th century. Hymnals were not to be found. Harmonies knew no bounds. And for two hours and twenty minutes, not one person in that packed church looked bored or out of place.

Island Night

2/17/01: Rarotonga, Cook Islands

On Rarotonga, every night is island night. There are many traditional dancing troupes, plus fire dancers, drum groups, and musical bands. At first blush, one assumes that, on an island of only 11,000 people, most of these performances must be small, phony, or both. Wrong. This island may depend on tourism for income, but they depend on dancing for camaraderie and release.

The guidebooks state that THIS is the island to see Polynesian dancing; they take it seriously here, yet nothing else brings them as much joy. That was clear in their faces—from the one-year-old that kept wandering on stage to shake her nappies to the grandpa who pounded the drum all evening. We saw a few shows—including one that highlighted the children’s troupes. We, too, were left shimmying our hips and knocking our knees.

Saturday Morning Market

2/17/01: Rarotonga, Cook Islands

When you can’t find lettuce on the island, everyone says, “Go to the Saturday market.” When you want fresh tuna steaks, same. If you’re after crafts and good photos, dittos. So we got up early and wandered along with other locals and tourists.

An occasional squall did little to dampen the spirits of shoppers and curiousity seekers. And we came home with armloads of the fruits of the tropics.

• Rarotonga, Cook Islands.

On Rarotonga, every night is island night. There are many traditional dancing troupes, plus fire dancers, drum groups, and musical bands. At first blush, one assumes that, on an island of only 11,000 people, most of these performances must be small, phony, or both. Wrong. This island may depend on tourism for income, but they depend on dancing for camaradarie and release.

The guidebooks state that THIS is the island to see Polynesian dancing; they take it seriously here, yet nothing else brings them as much joy. That was clear in their faces—from the one-year-old that kept wandering on stage to shake her nappies to the grandpa who pounded the drum all evening. We saw a few shows—including one that highlighted the children’s troupes. We, too, were left shimmying our hips and knocking our knees.

• Rarotonga, Cook Islands.

When you can’t find lettuce on the island, everyone says, “Go to the Saturday market.” When you want fresh tuna steaks, same. If you’re after crafts and good photos, dittos. So we got up early and wandered along with other locals and tourists.

An occasional squall did little to dampen the spirits of shoppers and curiousity seekers. And we came home with armloads of the fruits of the tropics.

Arriving at Rarotonga

02/15/01: Rarotonga, Cook Islands

After relinquishing our campervan in Christchurch, NZ, we spent another day airborne and flew off to Rarotonga, a volcanic reef-rimmed atoll in the South Pacific. En route, we crossed the international date line and instantly gained 24 hours—just when we had begun to get the go-homes and count down the days.

We’ve had to search the globe and go through 20 time zones, but it appears we’ve finally found the middle of nowhere. That’s an exaggeration, of course, since there are 11,000 residents and at least as many tourists here—plus cel phones, ATMs, and internet service. But there are also omnipresent wild chickens, miles of untouched reef, and a few tribes that still run things and haven’t agreed (or allowed intermarriage) for, well, hundreds of years. “It’s like Hawaii was 30 years ago,” say the experienced tropical travelers. By that, we assume, they mean it’s hot. It’s the peak of summer in the southern tropics, after all, so the island is like one big greenhouse, and we’re mere snow cones melting inside it. We’ll share some more sights soon after we cool off and explore. But here’s a first impression.

• Rarotonga, Cook Islands.

After relinquishing our campervan in Christchurch, NZ, we spent another day airborne and flew off to Rarotonga, a volcanic reef-rimmed atoll in the South Pacific. En route, we crossed the international date line and instantly gained 24 hours—just when we had begun to get the go-homes and count down the days.

We’ve had to search the globe and go through 20 time zones, but it appears we’ve finally found the middle of nowhere. That’s an exaggeration, of course, since there are 11,000 residents and at least as many tourists here—plus cel phones, ATMs, and internet service. But there are also omnipresent wild chickens, miles of untouched reef, and a few tribes that still run things and haven’t agreed (or allowed intermarriage) for, well, hundreds of years. “It’s like Hawaii was 30 years ago,” say the experienced tropical travelers. By that, we assume, they mean it’s hot. It’s the peak of summer in the southern tropics, after all, so the island is like one big greenhouse, and we’re mere snow cones melting inside it. We’ll share some more sights soon after we cool off and explore. But here’s a first impression.

• Waiheke Island, New Zealand.

For weeks, we´d been admiring the work at the community art gallery. So when we found out that many local artists welcomed visitors to their studios, we were keen to go (as they´d say here).

On this fine summer day we traversed the island, visiting studios tucked in the village, perched over vineyards, overlooking the sea, and nestled in the bush. It was fascinating to enter the work spaces (all so different!), meet the artists (equally eclectic), and see all the creativity that this place has directly or tangentially inspired. Here are a few of the people we met.

Studio Tour

1/20/01: Waiheke Island, New Zealand

For weeks, we’d been admiring the work at the community art gallery. So when we found out that many local artists welcomed visitors to their studios, we were keen to go (as they’d say here).

On this fine summer day we traversed the island, visiting studios tucked in the village, perched over vineyards, overlooking the sea, and nestled in the bush. It was fascinating to enter the work spaces (all so different!), meet the artists (equally eclectic), and see all the creativity that this place has directly or tangentially inspired. Here are a few of the people we met.

1/17/01: Waiheke Island, New Zealand

Many people ask us how we’re able to work and be productive in the midst of a big vacation. Well, the secret is this: by creating a dedicated work space that is organized, ergonomic and physically removed from all hedonistic temptations.

Here, for the first time, is a photo of the place where all 2H activity has taken place during the months of December and January. (Note: We’re still waiting for the Aeron chairs to arrive.)