Our veteran traveler not beyond surprises

This week, Register critics are weighing in on their favorite and least favorite places on their beats. In keeping with the spirit, but going in a different direction, here are five places that were unexpected pleasures when I experienced them.

Rarotonga, an unexpected favorite: The Cook Islands had never been anywhere near the top or middle of my travel list. When Air New Zealand offered a special fare that allowed for two stops between Los Angeles and Auckland, I knew that one would be Tahiti. For the other, I decided on Rarotonga using a decision-making process I’ve employed many times: When am I going to be in this part of the world again? Rarotonga was a revelation, a tropical oval of coral-ringed beaches with a laid-back, sunset-of-the-British-empire atmosphere from its days as a colony (it’s now a protectorate of New Zealand). I rented a large house with a pool in the back for the cost of a small hotel room in Tahiti. I had to pay $10 for a Cook Islands driver’s license, which featured my photograph – it’s one of my favorite bits of travel ephemera. At sunset, I’d watch the local kids jump off the rocks into a small bay. Few stops have been so randomly chosen and so richly rewarding as my three days in Rarotonga.

New York’s power and magnificence: Photos engage only the eyes. Movies add sound. I’d seen thousands of still and moving images of Manhattan, but the colossus that is the city has to be felt. Standing on Fifth Avenue and feeling the canyon of brick, steel and glass all around you. Realizing that you could pick any anonymous building on almost any block and it would be a landmark, the largest building, in just about any other city in the country. The constant roar and rattle on your ears, the undulating sidewalk that someone always seemed to be taking a jackhammer to. The whoosh of hot air through a grate as a subway car hurtled, unseen, below. Rounding a corner and catching a glimpse of the Empire State Building’s spire or the lit crown of the Chrysler Building. Smells great and horrid. When I visited at 25, I had to live there. I did for a year. At 27, I couldn’t wait to move away. But I have been back dozens of times since. Other countries economically nip at our heels, but New York City still feels like the Capital of the World.

The open Atlantic and the serenity of crossing by ocean liner: I never thought I would be much of a cruise fan. I have been in too many small towns when a gigantic cruise ship came in and disgorged thousands of people into the shops and cafes, warping the experience. I’ve taken more than a few and have enjoyed myself, realizing there are parts of the world I would not have reached without the cruise line, whether it was a sailing ship anchoring off the Tobago Keys in the Caribbean or a day in Bulgaria on a Black Sea cruise. The revelation came when I bought a ticket on the QE2 from New York to Southampton. I fell in love with the open sea. Days at sea with just books, movies and conversation – making a journey that millions had done before in far less comfort. I’ve made the crossing two more times and the feeling of sitting in a deck chair, wrapped in a blanket, watching the waves dip and rise to a distant horizon is the most peaceful vision in the world, for me.

Remscheid and getting off the tourist track: Before I was travel editor, I covered the military for the Register. My assignments overseas would often take me to places most tourists would never go, such as Pohang, South Korea, and Aviano, Italy, or countries such as Saudi Arabia and Bahrain that discourage tourism. It was often a chance to see the working side of a country, places that didn’t cater to foreigners or were off the tourist track. An assignment took me to Remscheid, Germany, which had been obliterated in a 1943 British bombing raid. The city was the center of a debate about NATO flight training after an A-10 Warthog flew into an apartment building, killing the pilot and two others. My B B was run by the local candy maker (bonbons with breakfast) and sat on a 1970s-era pedestrian mall. I ate at the Ratskeller, the traditional “city cellar” restaurant in the basement of most German city halls. I interviewed locals at bars and bookshops, and went for strolls up into the hills where the plane had hit. During my three days I don’t remember meeting another American. There was no reason for anyone to go to Remscheid. But I felt more like I was in a real place than all the stops in Heidelberg, Rothenburg ob der Tauber and the pretty spots I’ve visited in Germany. It’s a lesson I’ve applied around the world, from Tsukuba, Japan, to Craigavon, Northern Ireland. Days away from the tourist sites are some of the most memorable of every trip.

Tahiti: It is the humidity, not the heat: It isn’t the heat, it’s the humidity. I was spoiled by years of going to Hawaii, where it can be humid but the trade winds blow. What a sweet feeling. It was only in later years when I went to Tahiti, the Amazon, Singapore and Southern Mexico that I faced constant sopping, draining blankets of hot moisture. Bora Bora, in French Polynesia, is a justifiably iconic travel destination, a tiny volcano ringed by a coral wreath. My five-star luxury hotel room turned out to be the farthest from the beach, up against a small hill where the road passed by. The air inside was still, moved about by a laconic fan. No air-conditioning. Breezes occasionally cooled the other units, but my bungalow was stifling. I later learned from a senior housekeeper that management called it “the Dog House.” We Californians live in a dry, Mediterranean climate and often vacation in the nearby desert. It can be 90 or 100 degrees at times. But it truly is different. I’ve told couples planning their honeymoon who fall in love with pictures of overwater bungalows at some distant resort that before deciding, they should go to their gym and look at the picture for a half hour inside the steam room. See if it still enchants.

Contact the writer: travel@ocregister.com