Sleep is an issue for this jet-lagged soul, but if I had to be violently awake anywhere it may as well be here in Hanga Roa, Rapa Nui.
I am listening to crickets and the occasional rooster as I type away in the darkness. All else is quiet and still. I am a long away from home.
I could tell on arrival that Easter Island was a little more relaxed than your average destination.
After the Customs Dog had done its sniffing duties around the busy bag carousel, the Customs people threw it a tennis ball. Said working dog then ran off after another pooch which had just been released from the plane.
There is a lot to like about the island’s isolation. The clear blue skies are a relief after smog stained Santiago and the water is the “best in the world” according to my host Edith. It certainly tastes that way.
Still, I am not the only tourist here. My 767 was packed to the fuselage with eager types ready burst lose on the place.
The famed Moai heads are around town, as are lots of crafty versions decorating people’s homes and businesses. I’ll be hunting more in the wild today.
These stone wonders are fragile sentinels which carry warnings of hefty jail terms for any tourist silly enough to mess with one.
I have arrived in time for the closing stages of Rapa Nui’s annual fortnight long festival, Tapati Rapa Nui.
I have missed the young men sliding down a mountain but will witness a parade and the crowning of a local “queen”. Last night I ignored the drizzle and sampled a local concert near the shore.
The roosters are crowing more. It is light and outside and it is time for breakfast. Edith has organised things but I quickly found out from her that Rapanuians don’t eat toast.