I found the Cook Islands' best-kept secret

Rarotonga’s untouristed interior reveals a paradise that is lost on most travellers.

It feels like I’m walking through the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. And Vinny the dog.

Lithe and tanned, Cook Islander Kura Happ and her Italian-born partner Jacopo Dozzo are leading me through an orchard of exotic trees, tempting me with tropical fruits.

Kura hands me a lemon-drop mangosteen – “break the skin off and squeeze it into your mouth… delicious!” – followed by an almost-overripe, pale-yellow custard apple or biribá, its gorgeously gooey flesh flooding my mouth with sweet-and-sour, subtle pear-like flavours.

She plucks a dragon fruit from its cactus vine and opens it with a Bowie knife to reveal a vibrant magenta heart. Its flavour is as intense as the colour – a fruit-salad explosion somewhere between kiwi and watermelon. Until now I’ve always thought of dragon fruit as a texture, not a taste. This is a revelation.

Likewise the starfruit or carambola, so zesty and sweet it’s like crunching a juicy Fruit Tingle. I refuse her offer to taste noni, a small knobbly fruit that reeks like blue cheese.

Meanwhile, Jac plucks a tiny red fruit from a scraggly shrub and looks at me excitedly. “You’re very lucky mate – last one!” he grins. “It makes you fly!”

Cook Islander Kura Happ and her Italian-born partner Jacopo Dozzo run Ariimoana Walkabouts. Picture: Supplied.

He hands me the “miracle berry” and instructs me to nibble all the flesh off the seed. I can’t recall the taste but that doesn’t matter. The point is, the berry contains miraculin (actual name, not made up) which, for about an hour after you’ve eaten it, makes everything taste amazingly sweet.

To prove the point Jac grabs a Tahitian sour lime off a nearby tree, carves a wedge and hands it to me. Biting in, the flesh tastes just like a Mojito – sugary and citric. All that’s missing is a shot of rum.

Kura and Jac run Ariimoana Walkabouts, intimate insider tours on Rarotonga, the largest and most populous of the Cook Islands (located roughly midway between Hawaii and New Zealand). Ariimoana means “queen of the ocean”. “We believe it marries very well with Kura’s personality because she loves anything to do with the water,” says Jac.

The couple started the company four years ago, but Kura has been taking visitors onto the reef and into the hinterland far longer. “It’s just something I love to do,” she says.

The dragon fruit’s flavour is as intense as its colour. Picture: iStock.

I’m on an Island Discoveries walk exploring Rarotonga’s untouristed interior. This pleasure garden belongs to her aunty Noovai and uncle Rueben; only Kura and Jac are allowed to bring guests here and show them an aspect of island life missed by most tourists. They had to get permission from everyone in the village, including the queen, before starting the tours. “Luckily most of them are my family,” laughs Kura, who keeps her aunty supplied with Ferrero Rochers in exchange for the fruit.

We’re in southern Vaima’anga district, known locally as “the countryside” because it’s the island’s quietest corner. After gorging myself in the orchard we take a walk to explore taro fields and orange groves and admire the jungled mountains where they also lead hikes.

“I always tell people when they come here on holidays, do the back roads rather than the main road,” Kura says. “You get to see the lush plantations and understand more about island life.”

We’re heading back to the coast when she spots an ice-cream-bean or koko tree and tells Jac to pull over. She calls out to the house and a woman emerges – an old schoolmate as it turns out – who’s only too happy for us to take some fruit. It’s an amazing thing – a long bean which, when split open, yields fluffy white flesh that’s more like marshmallow than ice-cream. Either way, completely decadent.

Ariimoana also offers reef walks exploring the lagoon where, with luck, visitors can spot green turtles. Picture: Cook Islands Tourism.

We arrive at Avana Beach and sit at a table overlooking the harbour where a fleet of seven vaka canoes ventured into the unknown around 1350, its Polynesian explorers eventually settling New Zealand. This is perhaps the Cook Islands’ most hallowed place.

“This was the site of the last Polynesian migration,” Kura explains. “It’s very important for all Polynesian people.”

Jac sets out an impromptu picnic of manioc chips, creamy rukau of taro leaves and coconut cream cooked by Kura’s grandfather, and uto pancakes he made from the fluffy insides of sprouted coconuts. Consumed beside a paradise view of translucent lagoon strewn with palm-studded motus.

Jac is originally from Milan but has lived here for 10 years. I ask him how he finds life on the Cook Islands. “It’s wonderful!” he grins. From where I’m sitting, I can only agree.

Originally published as I found the Cook Islands' best-kept secret