After a few more paradisical days, it was time to go. What a joy Rarotonga had been - the chance for Jemima to spend literally hours splashing about in sandy-bottomed, gently-shelving, glass-clear and bath-warm water (and for us to sit with a cocktail while she did it); sunset strolls along the beach; the warmth of the South Pacific people; and, for me, the discovery of paddling boarding - it's actually really fun, and I took Jemima out a few times with her sitting on the bow trailing her fingers in the water. There is very little actually in Rarotonga - we hired a car for a day, snorkelled in a beautiful bay just down the road followed by a lovely lunch in a famous restaurant in the main town, overlooking the sea - but we circumnavigated the island twice in about an hour before we realised that was it. But it doesn't matter - it doesn't need much, when what it has is so glorious. And we thoroughly enjoyed our island time.
But all good things must come to end, and this was true not just for our Rarotongan sojourn - we really were coming to the end of the trip now. One final stop left - a few days in Los Angeles, to break up the journey home and visit the now-American branch of the Siddall family. So on Friday afternoon, we headed to the airport for our penultimate flight, landing in LA the next lunchtime.
Our hotel was in Huntingdon Beach, chosen because of proximity to my family. It was good enough - a room with a view of the (much wilder) sea and a huge expanse of beach. But after the intimacy of Rarotonga, and the openness of the Australian and South Pacific people, it all felt a bit harsh. But never mind - we weren't on an American tour. This was all about the reunion tomorrow. So after a walk on the beach and dinner in the hotel surf-themed diner, we retired, ready to reunite with family.
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