If you know, you know. Our last day in Rarotonga started out lazily enough. We ate a breakfast of leftovers and fresh eggs. Sage ran off to play in the yard with some other kids who were staying in a neighboring villa. I quickly packed up our belongings and attempted to restore some order to the villa before we left. Spacious and bright, it allowed us plenty of room to sprawl out during our last few days in Raro.
Once the car was packed, I drove to our first accommodation in Raro where our friends had graciously allowed us to store our stuff and take showers after our Muri beach cruise that day. We arrived just in time to find a parking spot for the cruise and check in. Somehow, I had registered Sage as an infant which meant she was free. Woo hoo! We were entertained in true tourist form for the next 4 hours. I snorkeled while Sage watched fish pass by the bottom of the glass bottom boat. After a 30 min snorkel, we were whisked to a motu where lunch was prepared for us and we had music and entertainment for the next hour or two. (Sidenote- we enjoyed the energy and spirit of the Tamas Boat crew. The other cruise company was on the exact same route, just an hour ahead of us and it looked like they were having just as much fun.)
Finally after a bit of a swim, we putted back to shore just before 3pm. With wet bathing suits and water shoes, I decided to go straight back to our friends place to hang up our stuff to dry. Ah, the conundrum of an 11:30pm flight. The Hawaiian Airlines flight to Rarotonga was only once a week. It comes in on Saturday night and departs on Sunday night.
We had planned to stop by and say goodbye to some other friends we had made. I thought we were leaving soon-ish, so I didn’t shower. I would do it after as I wasn’t going to be the one causing the delay. I emailed our friends to let them know the whole lot of us would be on our way soon. As 30 minutes rolled into 45, I started to experience pangs of impatience. I knew our other friends had evening plans. ‘Deep breaths and go with the flow,’ I told myself. We’re still on island time.
Soon enough, it was time and we all loaded up in the van finally ready for our trip halfway around the island. We nearly left without the plate to be returned and the mysterious box. Sage and her friend were very interested in the box, of course, since it contained baby chicks. And yes, our trip was going to include dropping those little chicks off on the way. I fully support the level of efficiency that was about to happen. I was only slightly concerned that we’d end up chatting for about 20 minutes too long at the chicken drop off. When did I become a stress ball? More deep breaths and surrendering to the flow.
Luckily, it was just a drive by chicken relocation effort. You see, there were too many chickens in one place and not enough in another. The box was opened and the chicken dumped out without anyone even leaving the vehicle. They would gather themselves that evening and be brand new in the morning.
Finally, we arrived at our destination. Our friends, being delightful hosts, offered drinks, cheese, and crackers despite the fact that they had dinner plans very soon. Three rounds later and 15 minutes after they were meant to be at dinner, we parted ways and said ‘see you soon.’
On the drive home, Sage continued to insist that she wanted a chicken. A live chicken, in a box, that she could take home. I thought we had quelched that request on the way by telling her that we had too many natural predators and so we’d have to build a coop at home first before we could have chickens. She insisted, as only an obstinate 5-year-old can, that she desperately needed a chicken, in a cardboard box to take home. Our friend, O, promised that she would get Sage a chicken. Great, I thought. How is this going to play out when I have a kid crying at the airport because she has no chicken? This is island life and I’m living it. More deep breaths.
After a somewhat hurried shower- finally!- and a quick unpacking and repacking everything, we were saying final goodbye to our friends. Sage again inquired about her chicken and lo and behold, a cardboard box appeared. No time for questions now. Island life. Roll with it and keep going! I had no idea if there was a live chicken in there. “Just open the box at the airport. It will be fine.” – O said. Perfect, if there’s a chicken in that box, we are rehoming it to the airport. What else would we be doing at 8:30pm on Sunday night in Rarotonga?
We pulled into the airport with plenty of time to spare despite google maps re-routing me via the ‘shortcut’ that turned into the long way around. Don’t ask. And now, the moment we’ve been waiting for. Sage had been listening for noises from the box and we had concluded that the chicken was sleeping. With only mild trepidation, Sage opened the cardboard box. Inside there was a brown bag. And inside that bag was…… a…. little stuffed chicken!!! Island magic at its best!
