The little Raro Tours bus that ferried us from the airport was full of sleepy, happy tourists, and one wide awake, happy Cook Island driver called Willy, who gave us all an impromptu tour of the island as he dropped us off at our various hotels.
Unfortunately for us, our first 4 nights weren't going to be spent in any of the luxurious honeymooner retreats we'd just driven past; we were starting our stay on the island in a more budget-friendly guesthouse before moving upmarket later in our stay.
Rau's Guesthouse was basic, but set just back from what turned out to be our favourite beach on the island. It's other main benefit was the two resident dogs - Cheech & Chong - a pair of mainly Labrador mongrels that decided to follow us wherever we went; joining us for swims in the lagoon and then hogging our beach towels when we came back out.
There are dogs everywhere on Rarotonga, and most of them come over to say hello and follow you around for a bit. I've never experienced such universally friendly, unthreatening dogs anywhere else in the world - a nice surprise for the pair of us as we've both been missing pets back home.
We shared the guesthouse with the young Cook Island family that run it, and like all Cook Islanders they were friendly and hospitable. The two young boys, Kyle and Rafael, excitedly showed me their collection of ninja movies, mum Moka brought us fresh bread every day, and cute little baby Lillia gurgled and smiled at us at every opportunity.
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Our days were spent on white sandy beaches, or in the perfect waters of the lagoon as the rolling, white-tipped waves of the Pacific crashed like angry thunder against the reef.
The water is so clear that you can see fish swimming in the coral while you stand on the beach. When you strap on a snorkel mask and get in amongst it all it's just mindblowing; there are tropical fish everywhere - electric blue, hot pink and shocking yellow flashing bright in the warm azure waters of the lagoon. Some of them nibble your fingers or fearlessly try to scare you off their patch, while others dart off to hide, poking their heads out of the coral when they think you've gone.
There's nearly as much going on back on the beach, hermit crabs of all sizes, bums tucked securely into a variety of stolen shells, scurry about everywhere, happy to clamber over a foot or a leg until you reach down to pick them up and they realise you're a person not a palm tree.
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Tasha picked up a really nasty sore throat a few days into our stay - so bad that we had to go to Raro's nice little hospital that sits high up on a hill. Once again the people were friendly, and even though it wasn't a part of our plans we still got a great view of the sunset from the top of the hill! Poor Tasha lost her voice for a couple of days and was in a lot of pain, but the antibiotics the doctor gave her cleared everything up, and there are worse places than the South Pacific to spend a few days recuperating.
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When our time came to leave the island we did so with heavy hearts, but also with the knowledge that we'll have to come back as soon as possible.
At the airport we waited for our flight to get in from LA on its stopover before carrying on to New Zealand. There aren't many international airports in the world where you can sit in the open night air, rich with the scent of a hundred tropical flowers, and watch the sun rise over the mountains. When our boarding was announced and we walked towards the runway a mother hen scurried in front of us trailing her chicks. We'll miss this magical place.
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