Previously on Keep Calm and Joust On
Jay completed his courses at University of Canterbury, had a BBQ, feared for the life of a chinchilla that was being chased by an aardvark, and was generally productive. Oh, and on the island we 'adopted' a white dog that followed us around, his name was Charlie/Lester and he was a total boss.
Pa's Magical Mystery Tour
Day 3: On the third day of Rarotonga we got dressed and snazzy to go to a local church and experience a sunday mass island style. It was interesting to say the least, and I struggled not to dick around as I typically would. Despite the exotic location, island dialect, and baptist church style hats…I still hate going to church. Something about it just is off putting and makes me think that I'm in a cult. It might have something to do with the fact that I am of the opinion that organized religions are essentially glorified cults - the blind worship, the money collecting, the ritualistic chanting in unison, the eerily synchronized patterns of rising and sitting. Thankfully, I didn't offend anyone when I was there. I guess being around so many devout christians in Christchurch has taught me valuable lessons in holding myself back.
After that affair, we went onto something that I would consider to be potentially a far more religious experience: snorkeling in the reef. The water was warm, the fish brilliant, and the coral beautiful. I never had gone snorkeling before and after that experience I found myself stunned that no one had ever made me go before. It definitely inspired me to go diving someday. After seeing so many incredible fish (including a stonefish!) we hung out with our British guides and ate coconuts. Cool dudes. Later we went to a bar/restaurant/mini-golf place called Coco Putt and chatted with them more. I love mini golf, and island mini golf is one hell of an experience. Messing around, trying crazy strokes, and all the while a goddamn jungle just a few hundred meters away. The clouds crowded in and let down some torrential rains to end out night in a big drenched bang as we sprinted back through enormous puddles with giant smiles on our faces.
Day 4: The next day we visited the Takitumu primary school on the island and were swarmed by small children. We learned some basic Maori language pronunciations and words and how to make crafts out of various ferns from the island. The faculty treated us to a special buffet of traditional foods, which was amazing. During the recess type period we all got swarmed, I mean zerg-rushed, by a small horde of children demanding piggy-back rides and to be spun around by their arms. I suddenly understood how exactly how lone survivors in horror movies feel - the swarm surrounding them on all sides. Relentless. They take no prisoners. We all were quickly run ragged from playing and barely escaped with our lives.
Afterwards we set out on a special tour of the jungle. Pa Tangaroa, a local medicine man took us on a walk to show us the various traditional healing plants the island offered. It was interesting to see the strange combination of tribal superstition, christian superstition, and actual science melding together. Unfortunately, most of it came off as a crock of shit. He would often point at certain plants and proudly proclaim they would cure cancer. "See this plant? If you boil the root and eat it, it cures cervical cancer in a week!" All I could do was think in sarcastic tones: "Wow, you should tell more people about that, see the rest of the world is having a huge problem with cancer. The people of the world could really use a cure, dude." Interesting, yes; credible, not so much. The only thing of note was that there were eucalyptus plants and a certain kind of mint leaves that helped out with clearing airways. Claire has lost most of her voice at the time, and the mint helped her out a bit - even if it tasted horrible. The best part about Pa's tour was towards the end: he suddenly strayed from the path and grabbed a long stalk-like plant and told us that is was narcotics. He actually used the word 'narcotics' I shit you not. He regaled with tales of his drug use, which, of course brought him closer to the christian god. The plant he had in his hand, he said, could be and-processed into a fine powder and either snorted or dissolved in water and drank. According to his story, this would induce a hypnotic trance that seemed to bring users to the edge of consciousness while also hyper stimulating senses for a sort of heightened drunkenness. Then, to SHOW us what the powder looked like, he took a tin out of his pack and opened it to reveal over a kilo of this drug. Just casually. IT WAS THE ONLY THING IN HIS PACK. We thought, "oh, maybe he has shoes in his pack, or water, or food, or maybe a first aid kit." NOPE. JUST DRUGS. He proceeded to offer us the drug, out of the tin in his pack. Our program directors were not impressed. Naturally, Chelsea tried a little.
We finally, got away from Pa, another great escape (did I mention he was in his 50s and would creepily make sex jokes and hit on the girls in our group…no? Well, consider it mentioned.) and headed out to dinner. The Aqua Cafe was easily the nicest place we ate, a full hotel set up with more amazing food. We all bonded over how ridiculous Pa was and had ourselves a grand-old time. A final walk back to the huts in the dark was followed by cards, shenanigans, and a good time.
That wrapped up our fourth day, easily the most entertaining day we could have had. To be continued….
- Jay
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