On our way

Sydney, 28th March, 1972

We set off this morning at about 6.30am from Canberra and had a nice flight here. Derek Freeman saw us off and gave Mungo a rattle.

Mungo’s been nice. We had a spring roll between us this morning and he slept like a log on the bus out to the airport from town. I kept dozing off myself and nearly dropping him. People here are nearly all Australian as opposed to New Australian though I met some New Australians in Paddington. At one point I was longing for a lavatory and rushed into a baby shop. To be a little less direct I asked for somewhere to change the baby. The two ? Italian ladies were delighted and produced a piece of brown paper for me to do it on the counter which I did cursing inwardly a) because he didn’t need changing and I only had one nappy b) I still didn’t have a lavatory. Finally I sneaked into the Town Hall and took advantage of the facilities there.

I am struck by how English I am here bur after all I’d only been in Australia for three months. My language! I haven’t said lavatory for over fifty years and as for ‘Australian as opposed to New Australian’ How strange that sanitised notion is now. I find it slightly unsettling to think I was ever anything but Australian now.

One notices Hotels here – rather lugubrious and austere places – all male.

Paddington was very pretty in the sun – very hilly too so that the terraced houses mounted one behind the other up the hill.

Now we are waiting in the airport ready to head for the Fiji plane.

Fiji, 28th March, 1972

I’ve just completed a perambulation around the Motel Gateway to lull Mungo to sleep. He behaved very well during the flight from Sydney though he didn’t sleep but kept up a string of antics and laughs all the way. Now it is hot and steamy and there are lots of little frogs in the grass of the motel.

We had a day in Fiji before catching the plane to Tahiti.

March 29th Tahiti

We had a good flight last night with Mungo sleeping all the way. He never woke, even on take off. It was weird getting on to the plane because there was a huge jumbo jet parked alongside our UTA plane making a fearful noise revving up. We scuttled up our steps and inside where we settled down and wrapped ourselves in little rugs. We flew up and over lots of little scudding clouds with a full moon. We had quarter bottles of wine and some rather inferior sandwiches and slept for a couple of hours. The flight took four and half hours so that we arrived at six am. It was a very spectacular entry that we made into Papeete. Suddenly a black jagged shape appeared to my left. I suddenly realised how low we were because it was an offshore island of Tahiti. Then we came down lower and lower over the sea until we just hit the airstrip and landed. Grant lost his glasses and found them again.

At the airport I had a great sense of exhilaration. It was warm and breezy and the sun had only just come up. The airport seemed to be full of marvellous people – middle aged ladies in beautiful hats and girls with long stiff hair and flowers and brown skins. A party from the plane was being met as we went through the passport check. The meters had leis slung over their arms and each person gave each person off the plane one so that they ended up with piles of flowers round their necks. The flowers smelled very sweet and the people kissed each other and laughed and talked and finally a photo was taken and they all went away and a girl came up to sweep up petals from the airport floor.

We had a nice surprise here. Apparently the airline is obliged to pay for the hotel and food of transit passengers and they do it in style too. We are in the Maeve Hotel on a beach. It is very modern and comfortable and has only the vice of playing supermarket music softly over loudspeakers.

This afternoon we had a sumptuous lunch and it pelted with rain as it did on Fiji. Everywhere here is covered with brilliant flowers – hibiscus and bougainvillea flowers and many more I don’t know the names of. Afterwards Mungo and I played on the beach and we went into Papeete. I was a bit disappointed in it in a way. It could almost have been a French town, even down to the baby shops. Only the market had a hint of Tahiti in its fruits and avocado pears.

We visited Bengt Danielson who was on the Kon Tiki. He lives with his wife in a real Polynesian house – one of the most beautiful houses I could imagine in a gorgeous setting. You drive in and there are ancient looking trees and the black island out in the sea. You cross a little bridge and there’s a thatched hut all open with warm breezes flowing through. He came out to meet us and wore a blue printed sarong. He and Grant talked and I talked to Marie Therese, his wife. She showed me their family albums. They have a twenty year old daughter and an adopted son of twelve whose mother was their maid, I think.

The Danielsons were very kind to us throughout our stay on Easter Island and sent little luxuries to us from time to time. Chocolate and an electric hotplate to replace the Chilean one that nearly electrocuted me.

We are both a bit tense about what tomorrow will bring. This comfortable hotel gives us no sense of preparing for Easter Island at all.

March 30th, On the way to Easter Island

Julia and Mungo on the flight to Rapanui, 1972.

There are 70 people on board and Mungo is sleeping. The plane is bumping a bit and I saw a flash of lightning out of the window. I hope we don’t crash. The fasten your seat belt sign is on. We are all three very smelly after a hot day in Tahiti. And I accidentally put the Mung to sleep on a wet disposable nappy so he smells of urine. Ah well.