Cook Islands, for Platform

A series of gasps echoed around the cabin as our pokey aircraft gently slipped through the clouds.

Below us was the South Pacific - a magnificent blanket of turquoise blue - and the lush green volcanic island of Rarotonga.

Waves were breaking over coral reefs and beaches glistened with the perfect hue of white. But the best thing was that all of this beauty was completely unspoilt. There were no buildings here, no eyesores.

This was nature as god intended, completely devoid of that menacing human touch. "Welcome to the Cook Islands" mused the pilot. "Welcome to Paradise."

The Cook Islands are thousands of miles from Britain and about as far as it is physically possible to get. The principle island is Rarotonga and there are several others, all scattered around the Pacific. A former part of the empire, they now operate as a self governing democracy in association with New Zealand. Most of the population descend from the Maori and they must surely be some of the luckiest people on Earth.

It didn't take long to slip into the ridiculously chilled way of life that the Islanders get to enjoy. One road travels the entire circumference of Rarotonga and numerous people sat alongside it; chilling out in the shade or drying off after a swim. No-one seemed to have a job here and there didn't appear to be many laws either. My driver, an old rugged looking chap named Bill drove barefoot and the rules of the road seemed to be lacklustre to say the least. A fellow traveller told me how he obtained a Cook Islands motorcycle licence simply by following an official for about two minutes.

There were times when all signs of life just seemed to disappear completely. I'm not sure where everybody went, but I could spend hours without seeing a living soul. On a four hour hike around the island I was left completely undisturbed to explore at my own pace. The beaches were simply idyllic, pure white sand and nothing else, and the sea can genuinely be described as a picture. Most postcards exaggerate places and make them look better than they actually are, but in the Cook Islands they don't need to do that. The place is practically perfect already. With nobody around I began to drift off into my own world, so much so that I felt a bit like Tom Hanks in Castaway.

I took a trip to a waterfall which lay in Rarotonga's forested centre. What immediately struck me was the lack of buildings and high rise. Any development here tends to be carefully nestled in foliage meaning that the natural beauty is left unhindered to flourish. It was a stark contrast to places like Thailand and the Costa del Sol, where numerous high rise hotels have ruined the scenery which attracted the tourists in the first place. The waterfall was impressive, cascading from a great height and pounding into a pool below. I would have liked a picture of myself there, but once again I was the only visitor.

Eventually some other travellers turned up at my hostel and I was able to chill out with them. Days seemed to blend into one endless blur, time didn’t matter or indeed exist and the most pressing decision one had was whether to open another beer. A barbeque always seemed to be on the go and life was an endless beach party. A small crew of people from all over the world began to gather, none of us wanting to leave this haven of relaxation. You would often find us sprawled out on a sofa or bean bag, soaking up the rays having not moved for a good few hours.

However there are things to do if you can be arsed to get up. Snorkelling and diving are a delight in the crystal clear waters and you can also hire kayaks. On one day I discovered a few offshore islands that looked in easy reach so I paddled out to them. There was nobody else present on these rocky outcrops and I liked to think that I had found my own place in the world. I had visions of declaring it independent and living out my days in this tranquil paradise. Another of the islands was home to an abandoned tin shack which gave the place a spooky feel like something out of Lost. I visited the final island with a sense of caution as locals had informed me that the sound of drums could often be heard from it, despite it being empty. As I stood on its beach, regularly watching my back, it suddenly dawned on me that I was one of the few people on Earth to have ever stood on this spot. It was an extremely cool realisation.

I recounted the feeling in the bar later and the American who owned it agreed with me entirely.

“I came out here ten years ago and never went home,” he tells me. “And why would I want to? I’ve found the best place on Earth.”

It’s not hard to see where he is coming from. The Cook Islands are probably the world’s best kept secret. I just hope that they stay that way.

http://www.trentstudents.org/docs/platform/07-08/Platform_07-08_Volume-16_Issue-9.pdf

(Page 12).

Mongolia Piece Online

My Mongolia bit in Platform can be found here: http://www.trentstudents.org/docs/platform/07-08/Platform_07-08_Volume-16_Issue-6.pdf

It's on page 23. Cheers to Dan Wilson for helping to get it in.

Mongolia, for Platform

Mongolia is one of those funny sounding places that you would never really dream of going too. And, after all, why would you want too? The country lies slap bang in the middle of nowhere and is sodding miles from anything that could actually be considered important. Add to this the capital city of Ulaan-Baatar, which has earned the unispiring nickname of 'ugly-baatar' and it becomes obvious why this is not many people's number one tourist destination.
But for all of these reasons it was a place where I was itching to go. The fact that it was off the beaten track made the place appeal to me much more, and the sense of adventure was overwhelming. This was a journey into the unknown, a trip that would take me away from the tourists hoardes to somewhere different and exciting.
Only 3,000 Brits a year come to Mongolia so I felt ridicliously privileged when I strutted into the country. I board a train at the border town of Sukhbaatar and start to head north. It quickly becomes clear that this is a pretty empty place. As far as the eye can see, there is nothing but sand and grass and it presents itself with an eeriness that is hard to describe. The thing is, although there is nothing to look at, there is still everything to look at. The void is the attraction of Mongolia. Imagine a landscape which is completely devoid of anything. There are no twenty-first century intrusions, no ugly eyesores. Just a 360 view of absolutely sod all. And it is beautiful, completely haunting. I find myself drifting off as I stare out at the horizon through the sea of complete emptiness.
The train eventually enters the Gobi Desert and the blanket of grass turns to a blanket of sand. It is equally stunning, with the feeling of isolation being one to behold. It was a shock to realise that our hectic, vibrant society can be escaped so rapidly. Was I really on the same planet as our chaotic towns and cities? It just didn't seem possible. Mongolia really is like entering another world.
Eventually we reach the town of Choir, which is basically just a collection of tin shacks. I can't really imagine what life would be like here, so far removed from everything we take for granted. The train continues north and as night approaches we are treated to a stunning sunset over the desert. With nothing to intrude our view the sun is left with the entire sky as its canvas. It makes use of every last bit, spreading colour and light in every direction in a beautifully magical display.
The next stop is Ulaan-Baatar, the urban island in the middle of the ocean of nothing. About a million people live here, around a third of the total population. You can sense it approaching from miles off, the sight of smog on the horizon the give-away that something big looms admist the emptiness. And on arrival, you can see why it earned it's ugly-baatar monkier. The city is a communist inspired, concrete mess, but for me that gave it an odd type of charm. It wasn't the most attractive of places, but this certainly made it interesting. The lack of tourists also meant that this was a genuine travel experience. I was seeing somewhere how it should be, a far cry from South East Asia which has been ruined by the overwhelming numbers of visitors.
Sukhbaatar Square is the city's focal point and is home to parliament, as well as a statue of Ghengis Khan. They really milk that fella in these parts. During my stay I had a Ghengis Beer in the Ghengis Pub on Ghengis Street. A statue of someone in the square was being pulled down to make way for yep....a statue of Ghengis. I suppose everyone needs a hero.
I was in town during the Naadam Festival, which is a big deal in these parts. Events include Horse Racing, Archery and Wrestling and the event was the equivalant of our FA Cup final. Taking in some wrestling was a unique experience. There are no weight divisions so the biggest bloke usually wins. It seemed a bit unfair but it was a pleasure to imberse myself in a bit of the country's culture.
The food also deserves a mention. Mongolian barbeques were numerous in number around the city, and you could frequently pick up a cheap piece of steak or kebab. These were ridicliously tasty and went well down a treat with the local beers, Khan Brau being a particular favourite.
On my last night, I went for a stroll up a large hill and watched the sunset again. On one side of me sat Ulaan-Baatar, on the other, absoultely nothing. This seemed like such a peaceful existance, out in the middle of nowhere, away from crime, terrorism and all the other problems this world faces. It seemed such a shame that soon, I would have to return to them.