Yesterday was our pre-planned lagoon tour, a good way to
start off, getting the lay of the land-or rather the water. This is the most
beautiful place I’ve ever been; I cannot imagine what could be more
spectacular. The island is surrounded by motus, small coral reefs, sandbars,
and tiny islands. It’s not technically an atoll, but that’s what it looks like.
I doubt any photo could capture it, but it’s hard not to keep clicking away, if
only to prove I was here. The lagoon, inside the reef, is various shades of turquoise,
in ribbons and swirls like a Desigual print; the water outside an electric blue
expanse stretching to the flat line of the horizon. Our boat took us to an area
of the reef (our geographical precision here is weak!) for a relaxing hour of snorkeling
among the coral, in warm shallow water. There
were lots of fish, but not a lot of variety, and nothing big. After dumping us
off on a sandbar of sorts, we walked to One Foot Island, a local favourite, for
lunch of grilled tuna and sausage, salads and fruit. More snorkeling here, and
walking about the island, and wine and beer, and more sun. Life is good.
Today was a badly planned day, but somehow those days have
their gems as well. We headed out on foot to go to town, then got distracted by
a route up to a view point. 30 minutes later we were atop the island, not quite
the highest point but close, with views in both directions, toward the lagoon
on the east side, and out across the reef and beyond to the west. It was noon,
so midday heat almost got the better of us and we straggled down the west side
toward the main road, and what we hoped would be a bar for lunch. I was thirsty
enough to consider a beer, and not a gf one either. (Quench me now, I’ll pay dearly
for that indulgence later of course.) Sorry,
closed! the proprietor hollered to us from his perch under the car port. How
could he be closed? No fish, he explained. No fish? How could there be no fish.
Well apparently there is no fish for local fishermen (the government sold a
license to a large Chinese fishing company), so none for the small shop owners
either. We pleaded our cause—exhaustion, drenched in sweat, hungry, thirsty, on
foot—and although it didn’t get us anything to eat or drink, it got us a
sympathetic ride down the road toward our hotel. And a recommendation that we
try Sonya’s. And Sonya is quite a find.
In the hidden garden of her café, Sonya served up icy
coconut water to hydrate our sweat-drenched bodies, breadfruit lasagna (layers
of breadfruit, with spinach, basil, tomatoes—who knows what else), candied
plantain, curried mango, grilled eggplant, a variety of condiments and salsa
including tzakiki and fruit chutney, a side salad and more. Sonya’s is from
Calgary. She met her husband, an islander, on a day trip from Rorotonga and
moved here 20 years ago. She filled us in on the local culture, and the
politics of food in the Cooks. We picked up a few recommendations for our next
island, Atiu, and she offered to pack up any leftover lasagna to take with me,
given the dearth of gluten free options! Spent the rest of the day sleeping,
and lounging around the pool, and reading.
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