I was pensive. It was getting to the end of my trip and I still didn’t know what I wanted to do afterward. Sitting on a terrace at the waterfront of Hanga Roa, Easter Island, looking past the Moai at the breakers in the cove, I felt disconnected from time. The restaurant, like most of the island was simple, friendly, and off kilter. The fish, of course, was fresh and didn’t find fault with my choice of wine. The tablecloth was damp from the condensation running down the glass. Something was uneasy in the back of my mind. Then I realized what it was; and Chubby Checker was playing in the background.
It rained steadily most of the first three days. I read a lot, happy that I’d arranged to stay a week. I sat outside my room and watched the fog offshore near the cliffs, suspended, just above water. It gave the impression something lurking would creep out from underneath it.
It’s obvious of course, but I was surprised that the Easter Island ambiance was more South Pacific than South American. In the South Pacific you usually hear French. Here it’s Spanish. The most locals speak English well enough, but don’t particularly understand it.
Admiral Jacob Roggeveen landed here on Easter Day, 1722, hence, the name, Easter Island. Originally called Rapa Nui, it’s 3,700 km (2,300 miles) off the west coast of Chile, and is still reasonably un-spoilt (is that English?). There’s a modern airport and unfortunately you can detect the beginnings of a tourist-processing machine. Go see it soon.
What do you call a tour guide that doesn’t speak any language you speak? A driver. In the case of my last tour, one with a death wish. Out for a bit of adventure, I found myself clinging to the side of a wet cliff, lava digging into my fingers, 30 feet above more wind whipped jagged lava. Edmund Hillary would have had more sense.
.jpg "Fallen Moai")
It’s unsettling seeing the Moai scattered around the island. Many were toppled during local wars; others just fell during transport from the Rano Raraku quarry to where they were meant to be placed. They looked like toddlers that fell on their faces and left abandoned. It is still unclear how the Moai were moved from these rock quarries to other parts of the island, but rolling them on logs is one explanation for the lack of trees on the island.
I met the Myth Man on Easter Island. For my departure meal I went to the best restaurant in town. The owner, a man with a striking resemblance to Obelix, told me of the Myth Man, a man so rich, he had at least $150 million, and he came in every night with his “Nothing Woman”. He sits at the same table, orders the best wine (there was already an open Bordeaux on the table next to mine), and talks, and talks, and talks. He called him the Myth Man because he seems to believe his own stories. I suspected that the owner was not beyond a story or two himself. About half way through my meal, a Hummer pulled up outside the restaurant and the driver leaves it parked in the middle everything. I paid attention because a Hummer is not a vehicle you see on Easter Island.
A thin man wearing a beat up US sailor cap, came in, sat at that table, pulled out a sharpening stone and started sharpening his big knife. After a couple minutes he looked around the restaurant, and if anyone made eye contact they were rewarded with a big smile. He was missing random teeth.
Of course we ended up talking and, appearance aside, he was articulate and told wonderful stories. He was also well informed about guitars, seemed up on Jazz and Blues: personally knowing Buddy Guy, which he attributed to his time playing in a band in New Orleans. True or not, he was entertaining.
The whole time we were talking, his woman, next to him, was hunched over here food him, looking up once in a while, like a dog guarding it’s bowl. He ignored her, and with good reason I thought. On her other side, a kid, I’d guess around 10 years old, sat sawing away on his chair with the steak knife. Although very tempted, I declined his invitation to visit his home.
TrackBack URI for this entry
Subscribe to this comment's feed
Show/Hide comments
Show/Hide comment form
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
