the post of firsts

This has been a few days of a few firsts. First time I've had luggage lost, and thankfully retrieved. First time flying with a partner. First time I've flown with a partner and had it go well! First time flying with a celebrity; Pamela Anderson rides Economy Class and behaves ... as any other person. Very disappointing indeed. Your fans demand antics, and egos, and horridly overpowering perfume.

As a brief aside, may I recommend Air New Zealand if you ever have the option. The staff have all been very helpful and take service seriously, the food is delicious, and the Linux-based user chair-screen interface had a really good selection of films, games, and informative clips. I watched the All Blacks hammer a British team back in '96, Karen watched The Dutchess. I will never play rugby.

First time I've been snorkeling, and seen dozens of different types of fish I never knew existed. Karen had a fearsome nest-guarding fish lung at her in a way that only protective fish can, and let me tell you, I have a new respect for those fish. They may not be carnivorous but their bravery does leave one wondering how to deal with a rampaging 25cm Picasso Triggerfish. We were so absorbed in our deep-shallows exploration that the hours seemed to burn by. Burn, that's a fitting word to talk about.

The word conjures impressions of heat, of redness perhaps, swelling for some, and a penetrating dryness that leaves things flakey and cracked or prone to such states. Thankfully we're not dealing with any of that latter stuff. Some hot red areas that should fade in a day or two and an understanding that it is not acceptable to forget about time when flopping about under a mid-day tropical sun. Scalp burns are less than fun. However! If I may make another recommendation to anyone considering tropical locales, do thyself a favour and go to the electric beach. Fake n' Bake as it is otherwise known; a tanning salon to those who like to take the fun out of descriptors equating a semi/unclothed human being to a piece of breaded chicken. Whichever name you personally identify with, it has saved our pasty Canadian skin from ending up somewhat like fried chicken skin. Best $30 I've spent in a very long time.

First time I've obtained a driving license in a foreign country. My exam involved standing next to a guy who read over the checklist of Things For Which To Test The Applicant and trading the odd joke as he ticked each box dutifully. They were tremendous tick marks, full of confidence and precision, as though he had personally experienced my driving ability. I then took my portion of that piece of paper to a police station, paid $20, and was issued a hard-card driving licence for the Cook Islands.

To be clear, the local drivers are saints. The 50kph speed limit is generally adhered to (40kph if you wish to drive a scooter without wearing a helmet) and there is infinite patience for those who choose to drive at their own, slower, pace. No tailgating, no honks, no dangerous passing, just placid cruising. Many foreigners, on the other hand, can't quite figure out that one drives on the left side in the Cooks, and as it is in most places on earth, you still can't drink and drive. We've been driving during the day with great success.

First time on a road bike in a very long time. Since my crash in April that totalled my gorgeous, light, full carbon Giant, road bikes have been scarce in my life. Our guesthouse manager just happens to be a triathlete with a good frame and sweet tyres (145psi, I'm in heaven). As luck would have it, of the luggage that was not lost in our transfer, one happened to be full of all my bike gear. We happened to be talking in front of her office where I spotted, and stared at, the rig until she caught the drift. She graciously offered to let me go for a ride, and I in turn waited for her to finish the offer before hauling it out of her office. So I swapped out her pedals for mine, tossed on the ol' spandex and riding shoes, and pounded out the beautiful 32km circumference of the island. It felt great to push the legs like that again.

First time seeing just how expensive this place can be if you're not careful (pictures to come), and how reasonable it is if one shops around and hunts down the local produce. Paw Paw, the local name for Papaya, is phenomenal, and easily the best I've ever had. There is masses of fresh Albacore everywhere, which is rarely inspiring but is well at its best in these parts, and is delicious. Or you can order a coke for $4, petrol is $2.25/L, and the local breakfast joint sells 2 eggs, 2 strips of bacon, and toast for $20. A small glass of juice is complimentary.

First time hitchhiking. First time hiking in a tropical forest. First time getting lost while hiking in a tropical forest. First time playing it oh-so cool to the girlfriend while finding our way out of being lost in a tropical forest. Not the first time playing it oh-so cool to the girlfriend while having no clue what's going on. But this is supposed to be a post of firsts.

First time being in the Southern Hemisphere, and seeing a different face of the moon at night.

That's likely about as many firsts as our patient readers care to dig through. Many more firsts to come, as we negotiate buying a car (another first for me!) and figure out this nonsensical giving way rule they have down here. Good to get that under our belts before driving around and down this country.