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my way ashore to the immigration office. I had cleared out of the Cook Islands prematurely
in Rarotonga and should have waited until I had left Penrhyn atoll, the last of the Cooks I
planned on visiting; I don't know what I was thinking back in Rarotonga!
I went past a little, local store and popped in and bought a few basic food items. They
had just baked some odd-shaped loaves of bread, and the smell was heaven. I bought a
teardrop-shaped loaf and some fresh milk and bananas and splurged on some cooked lamb
ribs. I bought a newspaper as well; I could not remember the last time I had one. It must
have been years before. I listened regularly to the news on the radio, either local stations or
the BBC, the Voice of America, or some such when I was out at sea. (I do like to keep up
to date with current events on our turbulent little planet.)
I rowed back to Déjà vu, meeting some sailors on the little dock as I was about to head
off. I asked how they liked Aitutaki, and the feeling was as I expected: they loved it here,
so much more laid-back than touristy Rarotonga. I could see why; it was a classic, sleepy,
little coral island, a treasure even by tropical island standards. It was a safe haven for visit-
ors and cruisers with friendly locals and super weather.
I had a tasty bite to eat on returning to my boat, with torn off chunks of the still warm,
chewy bread, smeared liberally with a recently open can of New Zealand butter, and the
lamb ribs. I washed it down with a glass of milk, another gem of a product from New Zea-
land. Soon after my supper, I fell into a deep sleep.
I awoke around midnight and felt as though a truck had ridden over me. It must have been
a psychological manifestation of being able to utterly relax now in the safety of this lagoon.
I could finally let go my defenses and strict disciplines of single-handing. All those sleep-
less nights had caught up with me, and my deprived brain was reacting now to all this care-
free time. I looked out the porthole and was aware of the huge, white moon hanging over
the silent, still coconut trees. God, it was a beautiful night. I had to get up and sit outside
for a moment. I could feel the antiquity of the place. It took millions of years to become
this fringe of coral ring. It was mind-boggling how many nights there must have been like
this with Mr. Moon beaming proudly down on the lagoon.
The evening was pleasantly cool, as stars glittered everywhere. The lagoon was so calm and
silent as they reflected the night's sky. There were no late night revelers like Rarotonga. Ai-
tutaki and her human inhabitants were all sleeping, so it would appear. I was still nodding
with a cloud of weariness that I couldn't shake. I didn't fight it; rather, I made my way back
to my bunk and slept straight through to the morning.
Upon opening my eyes, I felt, rather than saw, the beam of sunlight filtering through the
hatch. It was hot already, and a new day had dawned on the coral atoll. I heard the sounds of
people, laughter, talking, kids yelling, motors whining, even a bell tolling. Oh, it's Sunday,
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