1/9 Ian - Can you actually drive that safely…?!

Honestly. You just have to laugh. Yet again. Seems that as we’ve moved from place to place, and tried to absorb a little bit about the different cultures we’ve passed through, it’s often the differences that make the biggest impression. Last time I was pondering this was up in Auckland, as Andy, Chris, Claz and I explored an old military installation over in the Devonport district hillside. Dark unlit tunnels full of trip hazards and evil wetas (go Wiki if you really want to see one – the reason Peter Jackson’s Kiwi special effects company is called Weta Workshop), replica gun installations to be clambered all over, and thin, slippery concrete pathways perilously close to nearby crashing waves. But did the Kiwi Department of Conservation (DOC) seem worried? Did they plaster signs all over the hillside, warning inquisitive visitors of impending serious injury or death, or barricade tunnel entrances closed? Did they buggery. No nanny state or claims culture here. In New Zealand, if you knack yourself, it’s your own stupid fault.

But I digress, for a change. In fact, we’re (sadly) not even in that lovely country any more. We’re in the Cook Islands. And man, are they culturally different. You can read a bit more about this in the next post, but we’re talking ‘the island way’ here, through and through. Which is essentially “Hey, no worries. It’s fine. No problem. Relax. Chill.” And of course, it makes for some great cultural observations.

The weather wasn’t that grand when Claz and I woke up on our first morning here, so we thought we’d spring into planning mode and get stuff sorted. We needed scooters. We needed to enquire about scuba diving courses. We needed pop, creamers and booze. So we headed off into ‘town’ on the clockwise bus (only two on the 32km circumference island. The other, surprise surprise, is the anticlockwise bus) and set to work on the main mission of the day - procuring us some hire scooters.

You know, it still makes me chuckle. And I’m still not sure whether this is just a cunning ruse to bring a steady income to the islands with a bit of tenuous safety consideration on the side, or the other way around. It goes like this. You hire your scooter for about the equivalent of £15 a day. But you can’t ride it yet. You then push it to the local police station next door. You fill a form in, produce your UK driving licence, pay the very stern and matronly police lady $20 (less than £10 each) then head over with your receipt to the test area outside. Here, a tanned, friendly, moustachioed gent of an ageing local bobby - whose main perk of the job, incidentally, is clearly to hold his charming, if short-lived, power over tens of young island-visiting ladies each day whilst they attempt to pass – instructs you to run the gauntlet down his test-centre obstacle course, down the side of the police station grounds.

Down one side for 50m to a give way, round and back up, then the same again, but this time weaving there and back through traffic cones. I’d like to say clear it with joint high-scores in safety and panache and you’ve passed, but that would be generous and factually inaccurate. This is ‘the island way’ we’re talking about here, remember. Clear it without riding into the wall, any of the cones and/or innocent bystanders and that’s close enough for jazz. Put your feet down as you wobble through the cones? Hey, no worries. It’ll be reet. There are only pigs, goats, chickens, other vehicles and island inhabitants out and about on those island roads, nothing dangerous, eh? It helps of course if you’ve struck up a bit of comedy banter with the local bobby first (in the case of the gents) or charmed / flirted with him (for the ladies).

We both passed with flying colours, so it seems. So back to the stern matron for our photos and – get this – Cook Island driving licenses! 45 mins from start to finish to be legal. Sunnies and Jandals (local term for flip-flops) on, no helmets in sight, we zipped off to the local shop for some booze to load under our seats. And I’ll tell you this for free – that is exactly how scooters should be ridden. Forested volcanic hillside to the left, tropical blue lagoon to the right, whizzing along in the sunshine. Hilarious!

We were chatting this crazy situation through with our new buddies, Dive Rarotonga staff, a few days later. The current law states that you can travel at 40kph without a helmet, but the only up to 50kph with a helmet on. Think ‘the island way’ doesn’t have the power to rise in protest, if sparked? Think again. Apparently, a few years ago the government commenced the introduction of compulsory helmets for all riders. Some (foolishly) even bought them in readiness, fearing a rush on limited imported stocks. What actually happened was a national petition stating that all bike owners would refuse to wear helmets if the law was passed, and that the ensuing administration nightmare of all the prosecutions would bring the island's police department to a paperwork-based standstill. It worked. They won. The 40mph helmet-less limit was the outcome.