I lied. I said that the last post was going to be the final one from Rapa Nui, but here’s another. The fact is that to go to Rapa Nui and not to be mesmerised by its skies is 100% proof that one has, to quote from former Italy goalkeeper Gigi Buffon, “A dustbin in lieu of the heart”.
Storm coming down.
From Orongo, looking east. 3,500 km in that direction is Chile. A bit closer for some rain. Storm Coming Down, to quote from the great Norse band The Devil and the Almighty Blues.
William Ashcroft endorses this view.
A late Victorian artist, William Ashcroft, painted his name into history with a series of sketches of Chelsea at sunset, the skies unusually glowing red thanks to the ashes blown worldwide by Krakatoa volcano in 1883. I somehow suspect that he’d have loved this view.
This is what Rapa Nui sunrises look like when looking in the opposite direction of the one where the main action is. It was in those moment that I caught myself thinking at the Akivi Seven, at the sunrises they must’ve witnessed in their voyage into the unknown.
Aged 5 I learned, from a nursery rhyme, that crabs walk sideways. 27 years later I found myself copying them – and, let me tell you, it wasn’t easy – on a rocky path running along the north coast of Rapa Nui. I did it because this was the view just off to our right.
One last sunset.
This was it. A Mahina beer, some music in the background, a light breeze and the end of the last day.