Loss

We travelled during the night and arrived at our studio around 2am. Our sleep suffered, but it was a joy to wake up to being on holiday. Smiles brought our faces to a level that contradicted the tiredness we felt, and we sprang from our slumber to the windows like kids to their presents on Christmas morning. The curtains were peeled back and ‘Rarotonga’ was revealed, the main island of the Cook Islands. Light golden sand ran from the back of our studio down to inviting lagoon water. A short distance beyond, a band of white from crashing waves, separated the lagoon from the deep blue of the ocean, and betrayed the location of the surrounding coral reef. It was beautiful. The rythmic sound of waves breaking over the reef was calming & the feel of sand beneath our feet was therapeutic. We were defintely on holiday. After months of looking forward to this moment, it had arrived.

With no sense of urgency we roused ourselves to leave our piece of paradise and check out the main town. The bus service of the island, although less than punctual, was reliable and easy going. It stopped whenever anyone asked to get on or get off.

We promised ourselves a true holiday on this occasion so agreed to not worry about spending and just enjoy. However, some habits are hard to shed, and we ended up buying enough food for a few days. We had the cooking facilities in our studio, so why not use them? And besides, holidays are not for worrying –whether it is about cooking or not cooking. Plus, we were looking forward to our first sunset barbeque. This was the reason for choosing accomodation on the west of the island and away from the resorts – privacy, peace, and sunsets.

We saw out the remaining hours of sunlight by walking up and down the beach in front of our studio. Taking pictures of everything from every angle, and constantly smiling at our fortuitous location. Who wouldn’t lap this up?

Remembering the pleasure of eating fresh coconut in Cape Tribulation, Australia, we teamed up once again. Lucie found us a suitable choice, cut away the outer layers, I used a corkscrew to open a hole, and we poured out the exotic liquer. I then applied the overhead swinging technique of our primate ancestors, and smashed the nut onto beach rock. The harvest was in, and our appertiser was ready.

The sun dipped beyond the horizon and we cranked up the BBQ. Steak, sauages, mushrooms, and tomatoes on the grill and cocktails in our hands. The evening was nearly perfect. Nearly, because whilst we enjoyed our dinner, the local mosquitoes enjoyed theirs. Why has no-one eradicated these pests from the planet yet? What possible purpose do they serve except in spreading discomfort and disease? We weren’t mad though. It was just another sign that we were on holiday and was easily accepted. It would take more than that to raise blood pressue in a place like this.

The next day, the skies promised trouble and it wasn’t long before it materialised. No problem. We knew this was a possibility. We had books, booze, a TV, and a DVD player. We were fine, thank you very much. No cause for stress here. The hours passed by like rain falling from the trees, and it wan’t long before we were sleeping the night away to wake to our third day. At some point during the night, my boardshorts had left the clothes line outside and gone walkabout. Not Lucie’s towel or bikini. Just my shorts. Fair enough, I shouldn’t have been so trusting. Besides, they were white and not exactly decent when wet, so it was no great loss. The perpetrator would find this out as soon as they stepped into the ocean.

The morning brought a hiatus to the precipitation damnation so we caught a bus back into town. Our intention was to hire a scooter for our remaing time on the island, but first I would need to obtain a Cook Islands driving licence. This is mandatory under the ruse of ensuring safety to the roads, but is little more than a money making endeavour. Not everyone is required to take the test (a small anticlockwise circuit from the police station, round the block, and back again) , but everyone is required to pay a fee. A simple ‘road tax’ would have worked just as well. What cracked me up about the whole procedure was you had to take the test with your own vehicle, thereby hiring and driving to the test centre without a licence, to gain a licence that was presumably not guaranteed by the essence of a test being required.

I returned to the police station half an hour after registering for my licence and was issued one without requiring a practical test.Perhaps the quota had already been achieved for that day so the test supervisor had gone home for the afternoon.

Almost immediately after we left town, the rain began to fall again. It reminded me of being back in Vietnam, getting soaked on a scooter on the way to the Demiliatarised Zone, and we laughed at our misfortune. This seemed to enrage the storm and the intensity increased viciously. By the time we’d arrived back at our studio, we were soaked through, but still jovial. Thunder started rolling across the heavens with such frequency that we were sure it was the sound of crashing waves. The wind increased and the lightening came. Our patience was tested but still we remained calm.

It took hours before the torment eased slightly and we walked two doors down to the owners of our studio to pay the remaining balance. Whilst there, we borrowed half a dozen DVDs to see us through, and returned home. We were gone for around ten minutes.

When we returned to the studio, we decided to pop up the local supermarket and stock up on cocktail mixers. Might as well use this break in the deluge to bring in supplies. Even though we’d only be gone a few minutes, for some reason, I put virtually everything of value in a bag to take with us. When I considered bringing the only other valuable items left such as my PSP, I reasoned it wasn’t necessary as we’d only be gone a few minutes. The property was locked. It would be fine. I didn’t even know why I was bringing everything else along.

When we left our studio, we said hello to a couple of kids in the apartment next door. They were cleaning windows and sorting a few things out, so we weren’t sure if they were part of a family who’d just moved in, or local help employed to get things ready.

The drive to the shop was only a few hundred metres but something felt wrong. A smile from a passing motorist seemed sinister, not welcoming. We were back within minutes, and it took only seconds to see our feelings were just. The dividing door between our studio and the apartment had been forced open. The frame was off the wall, and plaster littered the floor. Then we started noticing things that were missing. My PSP. Why didn’t I take it with me? We called the owners, they rang the police, and I had a look next door for how they managed to gain access. This section of their mission was easier than the last, as no force had been required to open the windows on the far side of the propery. It was only then that we realised we had probably disturbed them, and they could be nearby. Were they running or waiting to return?

What else was missing? The list grew as I went over a mental checklist of what was brought, and our anger increased. They had gone through our things and taken only specific items. They’d emptied Lucie’s sports bag and filled it with possessions. My other pair of boardshorts, my PSP, a spare camera battery (obviously the retards believed this to be for the PSP), Lucie’s camera charger (once again, an obvious mistake over the appropriate accessory for the PSP), two pairs of my trousers, 3 t-shirts, & 3 pairs of underwear. The local kids would soon be fashioned in the style of Nick Parker. I wanted to tear their limbs off. They’d also gone through our fridge/freezer and taken milk, cookies, musli bars, and a bottle of vodka. What kind of human being takes another man’s booze and his underwear? These were demons.

During the discussion with the police, it was clear that there would be no C.S.I. team to aid our misery. But there was hope; my discription matched that of a kid previously caught by the owners of the property, his identify was known, and he’d previously been arrested. Add a bottle of vodka to the equation, and they were going to get caught.

We felt angry and insecure. They had shown incredible cheek by saying hello to us, and continuing with their crime in broad daylight, but it also showed they had no fear of repercusion. These were not masterminds. The milk and cookies illustrated their age, but their stupidity was worth being afraid of, as what limits did they have?

We didn’t want to stay there another night. Our holiday had been invaded, our safety threatened, and our relaxation polorised. The safety that the owner promised with the help of a dozen screws in the door was of no comfort. They had forced entry before - there was no reason to believe they wouldn’t again through a different door. They had also shown no logic in committing the crime in daylight after being seen, so there was no confidence in the owner’s words that they wouldn’t return.

He took us to his sister’s accommodation a km down the road at Puaikura Reef Lodges. The close proximity brought little comfort, and we discovered later that this place had also suffered a number of break-ins in the last 6 months. Lucie spent most of the night with the light on, unable to sleep, and fearful of another attempt. We played over the series of events in our minds, and constantly questioned whether we could have done something different. I blamed myself for not questioning them when I first saw them next door, for not taking my PSP with me, for not running to catch them immediately upon discovering the scene, for choosing this accommodation, for our luck. We considered the possibility of catching an earlier flight back and continuing the holiday in New Zealand, but realised this would cost greatly.

I promised Lucie that I would give her a proper holiday for our remaining time, that we’d get beyond this. It was now down to us. We could let this affect the rest of our holiday, or we could accept it, move on, and try to recoup something good from this trip.