A workplace in the country

I work in a pretty unique office. We're a book publisher, but we're not based in a big fancy office in Sydney or Melbourne, we don't have a receptionist, fancy water coolers, or a waiting area with plush lounges. Instead, our office is a cottage on a rural property in the village of Wollombi, NSW.

"What's a book publisher doing out there?" everyone always asks me. Indeed it was one of the first questions I asked my bosses and I think they are probably sick of hearing it! But their answer is simple, when you can run a publishing business from anywhere in the country why not do it in a beautiful place? Where instead of peering out the window at grey concrete buildings, lush green acreage with trees and birds and butterflies are in their place.

A liquid ambar in autumn

Wollombi is a quaint little country village with rolling green mountains draped in fog, tucked away valleys, dewy grass, wineries, metal rhinoceruses, pale blue and cream houses with wrap around verandahs, climbing vines, grazing horses and wooden bush furniture. Wombats grumble around, fat kookaburras dive for worms, black cockatoos squawk, rabbits hop into the bushes with their cute cotton tails, frill neck lizards bask on rocks, liquid ambars in a full sunset of colours, ozmanthuses that smell like a freshly opened packet of lollies, skinny gum trees with bark slouching off, water hens cluck about by the ponds. No wonder so many Sydneysiders have weekenders here!

However the downside of working in the middle of nowhere is that it does take a little longer to get to work, there are crappy, potholed roads to contend with and there's the possibility of a kangaroo bouncing out onto the road at any moment. We have to make our lunch everyday as there are no takeaway shops nearby - unless you want to fork out $14 for a tourist priced toasted sandwich from the village. The internet can be a bit slow and we experience the occasional black out. There's also a tendency for the roads and bridges to flood when hit with heavy rain but never mind we can always work from home! Which we do either once or twice a week anyway to save driving two hours every day 5 days a week. Visitors are rare, we get about one every 1-2 months and it's definitely a lot harder to network as there's not many journalists nearby to take out for coffee.

Nero, one of the office dogs

Another thing that's unique about our workplace is that we have three dogs, Nero, Winston and Big Ted roaming the office. They bark at couriers when you're on the phone, scratch at the door to be let in and out and make you play ball (or golf ball, or wine cork, or whatever Winston can find) when you're in the middle of something. We eat our lunch on the verandah whereby they attempt to engage us in a game of fetch with Winston commissioning the thrower and Nero waiting below to retrieve (and barking nonsensically). Big Ted just sits there eyes full of hope for any scrap of food like he's never been fed a day in his life!

This is my first full time workplace and I'm glad to have started off here. Being a small business they really look after you and it's a very hands on, multitasking job which means I've gained many skills. There are only three main office workers - myself, a special sales manager and an office administrator. An accountant comes in twice a week and our boss, the sales and marketing director, flits in and out. Not many offices can say they have dogs trotting around inside and red bellied black snakes on their door step - it's a unique workplace that's for sure and definitely never boring!

A week in the Cook Islands

My very own postcard

Last week I experienced my first ever tropical holiday. I’d only ever seen the postcards of stunning sandy panoramas; posters featuring lone wooden boats marooned in paradise with the caption "Dream"; Getaway episodes where the presenter gracefully swims through an outrageously large swimming pool; and of course the movie Castaway where Tom Hanks is planewrecked on an island somewhere near the Cook Islands in the South Pacific - which happens to be the location of said tropical holiday.

The chance to spend a week in the sunny paradise of the Cook Islands for a friend's wedding (after only venturing to the frost bitten, grey lands of Europe) was one I jumped at right away. What do I pack? Will it be hot? What food do they eat? What shopping do they have? Were all questions that ran through my mind before we left. I was awash with excitement and eager to escape the hectic world of work to relax on the beach, cocktail in hand and do nothing. We jetted off with suitcases packed full of sunscreen, swimmers and summer dresses, and besides two bouts of my annoying car sickness on the way to the airport, the 6-hour plane flight to Rarotonga, the main island, went off without a hitch.

Rarotonga airport

The Cook Islands are on the other side of the International Date Line which means we gained an extra day and were feeling a tad groggy on our first day. We‘d left Sydney at 9pm and arrived in Rarotonga at 7am the day before (meaning it was really 3am Sydney time).  The whoosh of hot humid air as soon as we stepped off the plane onto the tarmac sure woke us up. Compared to the miserable cold rainy weather we’d been experiencing back home our odds for a warm tropical holiday were looking good!

A representative from our resort The Rarotongan Resort and Spa greeted us with a freshly-made pungent flower "ei" necklace and packed us away on a shuttle bus where we saw our first glimpses of the island. 

Rarotonga is the biggest and main commercial hub of the Cook islands. There are 12 islands all up and I had envisaged ferries tripping to and from them all. But the islands are actually very far away from each other - The second largest island Aitutaki is a 45 minute plane flight away and the other islands such as Puka Puka (where the natives speak a language even the Cook Island Maoris cannot understand) are a 5-6 day boat trip. Indeed you get the sense that locals here consider themselves to be more Rarotongans than Cook Islanders and most souvenirs are emblazoned with Rarotonga.

A typical Rarotongan home

There is one main road around the island with an inner “Old road” running parallel closer to the foot of the looming jagged peaks of the inland rain forest-covered mountains. Between the mountains and the sea is where the islanders live in shabby asbestos beach shacks kept company by coconut palms, hibiscus trees and frangipanis. Most islanders use scooters/mopeds to get around which is a smart idea considering fuel is $2.65 a litre. There are cars but none are new and are not exactly the latest Ford or Toyota models available to us here. You get a sense that they are primitive but only because they are so far away from the rest of the world. Just about everything is imported from New Zealand as the main industry here is tourism (and also black pearls and crafts such as weaving and wood carving). 

Tangaroa - God of the
sea and fertility!

The second thing you’ll notice (after noticing first that coconut palms are in no short supply here) is that Cook Islanders treat their dead very differently. A common site are graves situated in the front yards of many houses. Their reasoning behind this is that instead of sticking dead family members in a cemetery where they are visited once in a blue moon, why not bury them near the house so they’ll always see them and be reminded of them? It makes sense but it's still abit creepy and what if you wanted to sell your house? Indeed we spotted no real estates on Rarotonga.

At the resort we were instantly greeted by a giant wooden carved statue with a rather, er, large appendage. We were soon to find these are a very common occurrence around the island, both in gift shops and as decor. His name is Tangaroa and he is the god of the sea and of fertility (go figure).

Just another day in paradise

The day we arrived was an overcast day so when we rushed out to the resort’s beach to see the postcard of magical turquoise water and soft white sand for ourselves we were a tad disappointed. Without the sun this paradise is dulled. But with sun it's instantly transformed. The water turns a vibrant turquoise colour, the sand glows with the suns rays and the fish glide and scatter beneath the surface. A reef surrounds most of the island about ½ a kilometre out from the beach with the distant waves crashing against a constant soundtrack.

The sand here is very different to Australia's. Not only is it white (not yellow) it's very course, not smooth, and when you look closely it is actually crushed up dried coral. Lush tropical trees are throughout the resort, and of course the ever present coconut palms. The smell of frangipanis and beautiful Tiare Maori gardenias waft around with red hibiscus, orange birds of paradise and potted pink moth orchids making appearances. It's little wonder everything is so green and lush as short tropical showers in the afternoon and storms at night are frequent. 

Cook Island dancers at Punanga Nui markets

Going to the Punanga Nui markets after we'd checked in was a nice chance to experience the island culture. We caught the island's shuttle bus back into the main town, Avarua, the main “CBD”. Hopping out of the bus we were instantly blasted with Celine Dion's "A New Day Has Come" from giant black speakers at the entrance, a funny song to welcome tourists! Browsing the market stalls there were many souvenirs: braided wrist bracelets and anklets, shell necklaces, coconut bras, sarongs, fish and whale statues made out of coconuts, woven hats, grass skirts, wooden statues, etc. But after 5 or 6 stalls the souvenirs seemed to repeat themselves and we were beginning to get a taste of the expensiveness of the island. A key ring = $9.50, fridge magnet = $12, wooden Tangaroa statue = $35+, a return shuttle bus ticket no matter what the distance = $7. My plans for stocking up on souvies were quickly quashed!

The mountainous inland

The expensiveness must be because of their isolation as the Cook Islanders are a relaxed bunch. They live on “island time” meaning service can be a bit slow and things are always done in a calm, relaxed manner. This also applies to road rules; drink driving and other road infringements we wouldn’t dare commit here happen all the time. Riding in the back of utes, holding small babies in our laps, etc is just how it’s done and no one bats an eyelid. The island has only one breathalyzer - which they never use - and only got two years ago. Although they have fairly relaxed rules there are not many accidents and the ones that do happen are usually tourists. You get a sense that the islanders have a love/hate relationship with tourists. While tourism is the island's main industry I can see how tourists can become a bit of nuisance. The islanders who worked at the resort were nice but you just got a sense that they were smiling and saying hello not because they wanted to but because they had to.

Delicious cocktails!

Cook Island food was a tad hit and miss. I tried to stick to seafood as mainly everything else has to be imported from New Zealand. The restaurant at the resort, Captain Andy's Bar and Grill was average food for a high price. The restaurant next door called The Sanctuary in the adults only accommodation was much better. Our continental breakfast every morning consisted of fruit, toast, cereal and pastries. Lunch and dinner menu items were pretty much what we have back home: your usual Reef and Beef, Salt and Pepper Squid, Lasagne, burgers, etc. But the seafood I had was fantastic, Yellow fin tuna steaks at Whatever Bar and Wahu fillets at Kikau Hut were delicious. I'd definitely recommend Kikau Hut as the service was fantastic - the waitress wrote down all our names (we were a table of 11) and addressed us by name every time we wanted a refill. It was also a good opportunity for some souvenir shopping as they sold reasonably priced branded stubby holders and beer and wine glasses.

Rarotonga's Christian Church

On Sunday I did what most Cook Islanders do and went to church. The church was a crisp white building with it’s front yard crammed with graves. Me and a few other tourists entered the building where we were ushered to a pew roughly in the middle and I was given a quick warning not to drink from my water bottle in the church and to go outside if I needed to. The church quickly filled up with Cook Islanders and some more straggling tourists. The front empty cues were soon filled with young chattering children and the rows either side of us filled up with locals. The women were all dressed up with elaborate straw woven hats and their best tropical printed Sunday dresses. The church dias was scattered with pink potted orchids and large doilies whereby the pastor stood, a tall man who somehow reminded me of my old school principle. The service consisted of an address by the pastor, some bantering from the locals and lots of singing. Most of the service was spoken in Maori but the pastor was kind to welcome us tourists and to invite us back for coffee and tea at the neighbouring building. The singing was incredible, the women sung and the men harmonised beautifully with them. There was a real sense of community in the church and you got a real sense of the Cook Islander's joyful spirit.

Horse riding in the lagoon

For the rest of the week we swam, snorkeled, ate, sun baked, lounged by the pool, read a book, hired bicycles, kayaked, went for a horse ride on the beach and through the lagoon, drank cocktails, went out for dinner, saw a fire show, had a massage, got a manicure, napped, saw a hula dance show, went for a scooter ride and swam in the resort’s pool bar. Being in a large group was really fun, especially at night when we’d all have dinner together then have drinks afterwards by the pool or on the deck. It felt like being on school camp! The resort was well organised and every day they had an itinerary of activities, some of these included crab races, night snorkeling, Maori lessons, weaving lessons, fish feeding, snorkeling lessons, etc. It would be easy to just not leave the resort at all for the week but it's good to get out and about and explore the island. We didn’t get as much done as I would have liked thanks to the transport issue. Most tourists get around on hired scooters, but me not being very experienced riding a bike and hardly being able to hold one up by myself, stopped us. Otherwise it’s just the $7 return shuttle bus or a $10 a day bicycle. 

Bye bye paradise

By the end of the week it felt like we’d been there a lifetime. The life we had in Australia seemed a world away and I was reluctant to head back to the airport on our last day. But of course I was looking forward to going home to see my boyfriend, speak of my adventures and to not have to shower twice a day for the humidity (oh and not to mention no more frizzy hair!). We touched down in Sydney and now it was the Cook Islands turn to feel so far away and like another world away - we were no longer in a work-free, turquoise watered paradise :(. Back in Rarotonga we had told a pearl shop owner that we were heading back to reality today and he said “What?! This IS reality!”

Living overseas

Sweden - my dear old home

I’m reading a book at the moment called Beijing Tai Tai. It’s by one of our truly lovely authors Tania McCartney. In it she tells the tale of how her family were uprooted from their quiet life in suburban Canberra to the fast paced, smog choked, millions of people filled city that is Beijing, China. They had to go and they had to go for four years. The book is full of tales about their life in China; the food they ate, how they lived, how different Chinese people are to us, the nightmare trips to hair salons, the markets, temples and strange (not to mention some very disgusting) Chinese traditions.

Reading Beijing Tai Tai made me reminisce about my own experience of living in another culture. There’s nothing quite like packing up and moving overseas to a foreign country to make you realise just how different your quaint little life in Australia is compared to the rest of the world.

I was 20 and eager to see a piece of the world so I moved to Sweden. By myself. I’d never been on a plane, ever. It took me 30 hours and three flights to get there but I got there. And when I finally arrived I suddenly found myself alone and terrified. I thought to myself "What was I thinking!".

But the next 6 months were the time of my life. I met and made friends with people from all over the world. I was immersed in a culture extremely different to my own and a language I couldn't understand (bar a few words). I grew to love the food, the shopping, the nights out, riding my bicycle everywhere, catching the tram, the snow, the cold, living in an apartment by myself, the lack of any sort of bugs/insects.

Sweden was the best time of my life. I didn’t want to come home and when I finally did it was like nothing had changed – and really it hadn’t. I came home to my same room and my same friends. It was like I just took off from where I left. Of course I was changed - you don’t fly half way around the world by yourself and not grow in someway. I came back and could truly appreciate my home and our laid back Aussie lifestyle.

Now, I’m 23 1/2 (to be precise) and I look back on that time in Sweden as a fond distant memory still not quite believing that I actually did it. But I'm glad and proud that I had the guts at such a young age. I think if your faced with an opportunity TAKE IT, don’t let fear hold you back. As Tania says: home will always be there.

When I returned home I had had enough of travelling for awhile. I was sick of packing, I was sick of lugging a heavy suitcase around, I was sick of the stress of planning and organising where to go and what to do, I was sick of hanging around airports for hours. But now after reading Beijing Tai Tai and how Tania became emersed in the culture of China I'm craving that feeling of living in a foreign country again. But where would I go? I’d love to live in Oslo, Norway but how would I go for work? The UK? Everyone goes there. Switzerland? Hmm…