There’s a general deep-seated anxiety that goes with being a cog in a family which is never organised. It’s kind of a sick, lump of a feeling that sits low in your stomach, down on your hips like a continuous toxic anxious pregnancy. Unfortunately, despite all attempts, this is incurable. Our family is a rolling shambles. But it’s our family and it always kind of pans out. I don’t think everyone else in the family has a need to plan ahead, I’m either the blind man in the land of the seeing or vice versa. Either way works. *
We’ve been building our family home for the last 3 months in a constant dash to finish it before we leave. Designed to our own specific needs, a genuine labour of love, it’s on the day before we go to travel it is complete. And of course, being a year behind schedule, it is immediately put up for sale. Hopefully there’s another family with the same ideas on home living that’s looking for a nest. We bled in to this one.
And then there’s the ever-present lack of organisation which we now put to use in getting ready to leave. Alissa, as always, scoured the internet 6 months ago for a supremely low-cost set of return tickets to Rarotonga. Jetstar. The flight is low cost, low frills and at an ungodly hour of the night.
Travelling with a 3, 11 and 15 year old at any time of day can be a confronting time, this is amplified today on two fronts:
1: The 3 year old finds an aircraft an unacceptable place to sleep. It is however an excellent location for increasingly erratic behavior including crawling under seats and general yelling.
2: Jetstar flights lack inflight entertainment meaning the 11 and 15-year-old are thrust into an environment lacking general stimulation and finding the most efficient method to fill the void being mortal combat with each other.
The flight lands. All souls onboard survive.
Its now 1:30am local time. Everyone actually starts to pull in the same direction thanks to our instincts detecting that we are close to a bed to sleep for what’s left of the night. Success.
Even with our two very large bags containing 4 mountain bikes (another of Alissa’s excellent ideas) it’s a swift process to leave the airport and get to our rental, thanks to Rarotonga being an easy island to get to anywhere.
Our transfer driver is generally annoyed at the airline for getting in so late (not at us) and growls his way through general greetings. Being held up behind a car as we drive comfortably over the speed limit to our Raro home he mutters “look, it’s a rental car, these bloody tourists” at me, ostensibly forgetting who I was for a bit. Have I become a local so soon? I naturally assume Raro has opened her arms to me. I am also often annoyed at others; we have much in common.
Arrival at our little house is great, it’s actually a perfect little place. Chalk another one up for Alissa’s great ideas. 2 bedrooms and just back from the beach on the eastern side of the island. Everyone collapses into a coma at 3 am.
*Editors Note: Alissa takes umbrage at the idea that she is unorganised and suggests she merely comes up with many good ideas at once that are time critical. Also, as she reiterates ‘it ALWAYS pans out’.