Don't mention the Pigs, Nigel!

Well it's been a pretty bizarre 24 hours. After sending the last email I went to the Fisherman's Club for a beer. I don't want to say they're getting to know me there, but when I walk in they call out "JEFF!"

My friend George Pitt’s brother (the owner of the TV station) was there with two of his older buddies. I'd say one was in his early 80's and looked like a British Major from the Crimea War. Well I made the mistake of commenting on how the national bird of Rarotonga should be the "Rooster" and the conversation sort of went down hill with this old chap from there. Somehow, as all conversations in Rarotonga do, we ended up discussing pigs. When this came up the other two guys began shaking their heads at me ala "Don't mention the war, Basil." In this case “Don’t mention the pigs, Jeff.”

But it was too late, the pig was out of the proverbial poke, as it were, and Gordon (that was the old guy’s name) started off on a diatribe of what people can and cannot do with other people's pigs. (I'm not making this up!) Evidentially if you catch a neighbours pig in your garden you can ask the local police to shoot it. (How the have time to do that I don't know - all they do is sell driver's licenses at 10 bucks a pop all day) Or (to get back to pigs) you can claim the pig as your own. But you have to share the meat 50/50 when you butcher it. When I questioned the old guy about this, he got furious with me - said "How dare I discuss pigs with him – what with me only being here 3 days!" He got up stormed out and disappeared in a blue cloud of moped exhaust.

The strange thing is that nobody seemed to notice. The conversation went on as if he'd never been there. I made a note to avoid mentioning pigs again while I was in the Cook Islands.

After the previous night disaster with dinner I decided to splurge and treat myself to a nice seafood dinner at a nice restaurant not far away from where I was staying. I got in my spiffy car and pulled up to the restaurant - a little to close as I knocked down their sign. On the positive side, I think I may be responsible for introducing valet parking on the islands, because the host, who witnessed my arrival, insisted on parking my car. I think she just wanted to try out a hot car. Not often she gets to check out a three cylinder Suzuki Swift. I should have checked the odometer. She was gone a while.

I think they were a little wary of me, because when I entered they gave me the bleakest darkest corner in the restaurant. Now the thing is that the rest of the restaurant was empty. All the other guests were out on the terraces, where all the tables were full or "booked" so I was off in a dark corner near the rest rooms. If I were any further isolated I would have been IN the restrooms. I think I heard one of them refer to it as the SARS table.

I ordered a nice Tuna steak, and a nice glass of white wine. The dinner came - eventually and was quite good. A waiter finally arrived and asked if I'd like another glass of wine. I said it was the custom in Canada to have the FIRST glass of wine first, before getting a second.

Needless to say I was not impressed with the service, but how to show it. They say that tipping here in the Cook Islands is frowned upon, so I came up with a unique solution. I'd leave a tip and a BIG one! That would show them!

I left in a splash of washer fluid, a flourish of my wipers, and a lurch into the road. I only managed to miss the cut off to my motel by a few yards this time. (Ended up in the Seventh Day Church yard). Got home and had a good night's sleep. The Casablanca fan drowns out the roosters.

This morning went fishing. Pretty uneventful day, other than falling off the boat and hanging off the ladder to the flying bridge like an orangutan over the water for a minute or so till someone noticed I was missing and helped swing me back in! Other than getting scratched up I'm okay. The only fish we got was a little tiny Tuna. No Marlin, no mahi-mahi – just a guppy! But we had a nice day on the water.

I checked with the travel agent and she says the flights for the day I'm due to come back and several more after are 99% full – Since I’m traveling standby I'm already beginning to hyperventilate.

Well that's about all there is too report from now. I'm going back to the Fisherman's club and hope the pig farmer isn't there.

Write again soon.