Grey Matter

On a recent flight to Rarotonga I couldn’t help noticing that of the six passengers in my row of seats, two were reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Apart from that commonality they had little in common; one was male and elderly, the other young and female; they seemed to be complete strangers to each other before, during and after the trip, and oblivious to the fact that they were reading the same book, so immersed were they. That’s in my row, I wonder how many Fifty Shades of Grey were on that flight, and how many were left behind on the island. Rarotonga is a bit like the book in that it has a lot of grey in and over it. The sky was grey for three of the six days I was there; grey is also the predominant colour of many of the buildings. But most striking is the greyness of the population. They are virtually indistinguishable from their background, almost as if they were in hiding. They exhibit a friendly face but also a detachment from the passing tourist trade, so different from the in-your-face manner of the Fijians. I found that a positive about Rarotonga. It was almost as if we were being told we were welcome on the island, but with very little to offer except the sun (and there was precious little of that) the island and islanders best offer was to leave us alone, to give us the chance to relax. So they did. I did. And I am grateful to the wonderful people of the Cook Islands—as grey as they may be—for allowing the space, their space, to do that. Would I go there again? Yes. There is far far more chance of me doing that than ever ever getting through all three books in the Grey trilogy. Thanks Cooks.