6.30am. I wander outside the club to realise that I’ve left the map to the hostel back in my room. Fuck! I have no idea where I am, and all I know is the name of the hostel: Hostel Tequila (quite apt at this time). How am I going to get back? I’m not particularly […]
A man dressed in an American flag is running towards me. ‘I’m burning gasoline, and I don’t even need milk!’ he shouts into microphone as he passes by. The microphone isn’t even connected to any sort of amplification – no one seems to take any notice, and in that bizarre few seconds it sums up my […]
What strikes me first about Rarotonga, as well as the heat and humidity, is how incredibly friendly everyone is. Everyone, it appears, apart from the women at the rental department at the resort that we have just checked in to.