Jetlag ensured we didn't really know what day of the week it was when we woke at 5am. All very confusing. But the fact that no shops, restaurants or bars showed any sign of life hinted it might be Sunday.
The Christian missionaries obviously did a cracking job when they arrived here in the mid 18th Century, because to this day, the Cook Islanders are a pious old posse. Church attendances might be plummeting back home, but in Rarotonga anyone who's anyone dons their Sunday best and heads to the nearest service.
Curious to see what all the fuss was about, we decided to join them, and boy, did we have a good time - what a magical, heartwarming experience. Many more treats like this in the forthcoming months and we'll be a very contented couple of travel bunnies.
At first we tried to keep a low profile, standing towards the rear of the noisy gathering, but it quickly became clear that this was to be no passive gig, and we were encouraged to pick up our hymn books and get with the beat. The service was split evenly between English and Maori so at times was pretty hard to follow, but the singing was amazing; a 100 or so South Sea Islanders belting out their hymns with great gusto and harmony.
What's more - and I suspect you couldn't say this about too many Church services at home - everyone seemed to be having an absolute ball. Smiling, swaying, clapping and giving it everything they've got. Some of the more enthusiastic ladies even cutting loose with a little dance during the more up-tempo numbers.
Then, to top it all, just as we were about to leave, the vicar announced that there'd be free food and beverages in the Church hall for all the non-islanders who'd joined today's congregation.
Result!
Our tummies nicely filled and souls suitably cleansed we spent the rest of the day on the beach next to our guest house.
Vara's is a glorified backpackers lodge, but it's clean, cheap and smack bang in the middle of Rarotonga's coolest stretch of waterfront.
How cheap? Well, put it this way; a double room for a night is less expensive than one of those daft cigars Jan smokes back in London. Less smelly too.
The beach is like something you'd see in a Bounty commercial. Palm-fringed, powder white sand sloping down to the crystal clear water's edge for as far as the eye can see. To break the monotony, four islets sit about 200 metres out into the bay, each surrounded by coral outcrops and thousands of brightly coloured tropical fish.
I think we're going to like it here.
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