Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I correctly assumed. Time to get up! I had heard that Aitutaki was the first Polynesian Is-
land to have missionaries. I was hearing a church bell calling the people to service.
It had been a long time since I had stepped into a church. I was not about to start today. I
am not a churchgoer. I do believe in a divine force and an intelligence beyond our ken, but
I do not need to walk into a man-made building and sit listening to man-made stories about
a man-made God. There certainly is a force everywhere you go, best seen when man isn't
about, best understood without man's explanations, and best felt by hearts and not heads.
I am suitably humbled by the everyday grandeur around me without having to pay lip ser-
vice to it, wearing uncomfortably hot clothing in a stifling building with the embarrassing
ruffles, snuffles, and suppressed coughs of other embarrassed members of a congregation.
I made some strong, filtered coffee, a real treat from my normal instant coffee and was out
in the cockpit drinking it when I saw Terry and Lynne waving from their boat. Soon, I heard
Terry's familiar Canadian lilt on the radio, “Déjà vu, Olivia, channel ten please.”
“Hi Terry, going down channel ten,” I responded, grinning. I had not seen them since they
had left New Zealand. It was fun catching up all the latest news and information on Aitu-
taki.
They too had not felt comfortable in Rarotonga; they told me over another coffee on-board
Déjà vu.
“Oh God, it's so nice here; you're going to love it!” Lynne was bubbling over, a bougain-
villea blossom behind her ear. She looked so relaxed and happy. They both did. Marriage
suited them well. They were relating some story about a restaurant they had been to, and I
was suddenly lost in space. My mind wandered off for a few moments and, with great sad-
ness, recalled some of the happier times I had had when I too had a princess on my boat.
It felt like ages ago. I was drawn back into the conversation when I heard the words guitar,
jamming, and keyboards.
“Sorry, what was that about jamming?” I asked Terry, embarrassed at my mental vacancy.
“No, I was just saying there's this ex-muso that owns a very cool restaurant who encour-
ages visiting musicians to get up and jam with him.”
“No kidding! Have you jammed there?” I asked enviously.
“Yes, Terry was great! The guy wants us to go back,” said Lynne proudly.
“Please, let me know when you go again! I would love to tag along,” I asked.
“We were thinking of going again on Wednesday. He has electric guitars and a bass and all
the amps and P.A.s and stuff, even a cool outdoor stage. You'll love it,” Terry was saying.
