The weather in Aitutaki is meant to be better than Raro’ as there isn’t that big mountain in the middle collecting rain one side and then dumping it on me on the other – so it was a little disappointing to settle on the sun bed under the palm tree with a good book only to have to keep running back to my verandah to shelter from the rain. But it was still warm, the sea was still blue, so I took a damp walk around the beach to find a spot of lunch at the Boatyard café. Lots of fish in the shallow water, and an alarming number of small crabs scuttling about. Don’t know what they’re called, but they are a dark colour, except for one bright pink claw that looks like they are carrying around one of those sweetie prawns we used to buy as kids. After lunch took a longer walk towards the town, and on several occasions was offered a lift by local people on scooters, in vans or cars. There’s no bus service here as there is on Raro’, so it’s lovely that people offer you a lift. Didn’t accept as the purpose of the walk was to burn off some of the calories from the rather large ham and pineapple toasted sandwich I had just consumed… The other restaurant in the vicinity (apart from the flash hotel across the inlet, there are only the two) was the Samade on the beach. In fact the tourist literature proudly points out that there are now 11 places to eat out in Aitutaki, a cornucopia of choice! Tuesday is the Samade Island Night. Never been a real fan of these “cultural evenings” and resisted going to one when in Raro, even though everyone will tell you that they are worth doing. I thought perhaps on the smaller island I would find something more genuine, and not a professional troupe. I was right! We started off with the buffet – again not one of my favourite things, but it was brought out just before we ate so seemed fresh. But it’s odd, in a place that’s surrounded by the bounty of the lagoon, fish and seafood don’t seem to feature much. One of the dishes was a large “seafood” salad with rice which looked really good – but on eating, I found that the seafood was crabsticks. Now I’m partial to a crabstick and they can often be found in my basket in Adsa’s, but when in the South Pacific I did expect something a little more local. But it tasted good. And after dinner the show began. No stage here – the buffet tables removed from the sand floor and the drums set up. It was a cast of thousands, the older men playing the local drums and the women singing fantastic Polynesian harmonies and song. The dancers appeared, the women in their long grass skirts and half coconut bras – I always thought the coconut bras were just tourist tat, but no. I understand they used to use pandanau leaf ones but the fashion for half coconut ones came across from Tahiti in the late 1990’s, much to the disgust of some local traditionalists. But like a Chanel classic, this fashion is here to stay. Whilst the drumming and singing by the elders of the group was perfect, the dancing by the younger members wasn’t quite as together! A ragtaggle of sizes, ages and shapes did their bit – like the curate’s egg, graceful in parts but less together in others. And the smell was interesting – the powerful smell of jasmine from their beautiful floral headdresses, leis and waist flowers mingled with something a little less floral – an opportunity here for Sure deodorant! But I enjoyed it. It turns out, talking to the 2 girls who service the rooms (well, “servicing” is used loosely, she asks if you want new towels and that’s about it….) that it’s a family troupe, and I recognised both of them as having danced the night before. It’s a family and the dancing is a part of that. She did say rather sheepishly that they had all been so busy they hadn’t had time to rehearse, so perhaps weren’t at their peak – I didn’t disagree! That night they were dancing again at the flash resort across the way – justice I guess, the cheap rooms got the rehearsal, the flash place got the best! But I wouldn’t have changed it, knowing it was a family thing rather than just a performing professional troupe made it much more enjoyable. But it was a late finish – 9.30pm and the sun had long set. It was a walk of about 100 metres back to my hut, but was really difficult. I have never been in such complete darkness before, no ambient light, and of course my forward planning failed me yet again – the small torch I had was nestled safely in my big bag that I had left behind in Rarotonga. I couldn’t see my feet, let alone the way forward. But as the evening had just finished, I was able to advance a few yards every so often as a lone scooter drove by and illuminated the path. Anywhere else in the word I think I may have felt a little frightened, but not here.
