Around check-in time, we walked back and got our room key.

We liked the bungalow. Less than a block from the ocean. Two rooms (a bed in each) and a kitchenette. Also, no shoes allowed indoors (LOVE that) and a serviceable bathroom with good shower pressure. That said, some complaints I read online regarding Easter Island were confirmed here:

• No A/C
• No TV (which we were fine with)
• Slow Wifi (we could get a signal only in the lobby and a public park in town)
• Water shortage (though tap water is potable, we were advised to be cautious how much we use)
• Trash abundance (disposing of trash is a problem for the island, so we tried to re-use water bottles even if the tap water didn't taste great; trash cans are hard to find and recycling is practically mandatory, though I saw no good system for composting)

We relaxed in the room, writing postcards while the fan rotated between each of our rooms. My phone picked up the weather. Man, we must be wimps coming from winter. Eighty degrees felt so hot.

After resting, we ventured back out.

First, we hit the post office to send our postcards, not cheap, and...

Since Easter Island is technically part of Chile, you don't get a stamp in your passport on arrival from Santiago. However, since there is (apparently) high demand, you can still get a stamp! It's not official or anything, but the folks at the post office will happily stamp the above image in your passport, which is legal I am told. I hope.

After that, we took a nice walk past the end of town and found heads! (And dogs!)

Okay.

I will try to stop calling them "heads" since the proper name of the monolithic statues is "moai" and, besides, they have bodies too.

Heads = Moai

Getting up close to a moai is difficult. Touching is a definite no-no. The warning sign on the left above shows about how close you are supposed to get in most cases. (In Rano Raraku, which we visit later, you could get closer. Still no touching.) A guy on a bicycle got yelled at for riding too close. Many of the moai have fallen on their face and I mistook them, at first glance, for random boulders with wooden railings around them.

We wandered along the coast with a few other tourists, checked out the moai, and played with a pup.

Bex was bummed she didn't have any food to give the skinny pup, but it was happy to play, even with its hurt paw. It followed us around for a little while.

You may have noticed: the moai all face away from the sea. The opposite of what I expected. But they are protectors, watching over their people, so it makes sense. There is one exception, but it's further inland.

Our fitbits buzzed, announcing 10,000 steps, whew. When we reached our second waist-high stone wall with no way through, and apparently no moai ahead, we turned around and headed back toward Hanga Roa. Although most of the shoreline was grass and lava rock, there was a man-made stone swimming hole. We tested the water with our toes. Nice and warm! Lots of locals were enjoying a dip. At least, I assumed they were locals because they weren't gaping at the nearby moai.

As we reached town, a festival was starting! Folks in Polynesian traditional costumes practiced behind a stage. Didn't feel too touristy. Hard to tell. We sat on the grass, pet a random dog, and watched some drummers and dancers perform on stage.

Along the edges were various vendors. Beyond that, folks made food for the masses. Wandering the booths, we tried local Rapa Nui chocolate and found it surprisingly good! Nice and dark. Bex checked out some local soap and I got a pumice moai -- the woman who sold it to me said that her husband carved them from lava rock. She was a bit pushy but otherwise I had no reason to believe it wasn't a locally-made product. (I have some trouble believing that anything is made in China here since it doesn't seem cost effective. But who knows.) Since it was only $25, I purchased and made room for the head in my bag. Despite that it slowed me down in the L.A. security line and possibly made me miss my flight, this is my favorite souvenir from Easter Island!

While walking around the festival (and trying to find water), we got to chatting with a local stirring a giant vat of chicken. She was pleasant and friendly, especially to us American tourists, explaining in surprisingly good English all about the festival (but I don't remember what she said.)

On our way out, we finally found an opportunity to get that drink we've been chasing for days! The peach-and-rice beverage (with an actual peach in it) was rich, sweet, and filling. Almost like a mini meal.

We stopped at an (unimpressive) supermarket on the way back. Except for the awe inspiring GIANT SHELVES OF HUGE RIPE AVOCADOS in the humble produce section, the majority of items for sale were cheap junk food, canned goods, soft drinks, beer, and liquor. We bought two avos, a couple bananas, muffins, and cookies so we'd have breakfast tomorrow before our ride and munchies in general. (Despite our best intentions, we also bought better-tasting water.)

I had the thought that if they wanted to ease up on trash, they should stop importing trash. Tons of food was in single-use plastic. We even got individually wrapped soap and tiny shampoo in our hotel. The pharmacy, where I picked up some sunscreen, had an impressive selection, though. A popular place! You have to pick a number to be served. (Though, again with the plastic containers...)

When we woke up, it was pouring rain.

And the roof was leaking.

Dripping into the bedroom.

But at least not onto the bed!

In fact, I slept great. Once I realized the floor by the bathroom was wet, I put a trash can under the leak to act as a bucket. After eating breakfast, we went to the lobby to report the leak, to check the internet, and to meet our tour guide despite that we were pretty sure we weren't going out in this downpour.

Marcus, our Swedish guide from Easter Island Travel arrived and said the rain would let up by noon (according to Google) so we could go then. He suggested Monday as an alternative if we didn't want to wait. Bex was concerned about the horses navigating a muddy trail, but he said the horses were fine. I said, "Google knows everything," and we tentatively planned for noon.

Sure enough, the rain stopped at quarter till and, just after noon, we were picked up by another guy from the travel company: Peter.

Bouncing along the muddy road, Peter drove us a bit farther past where we had walked the previous day. We got out of the car at the entrance to the national park.

But there was a problem.

No horses.

Peter called Marcus to discuss the situation. Turned out the farmer with the horses was on his way, but it would be almost an hour. Apparently today is a holiday in Chile and all the office staff were off, so Marcus was doing everything.

In the meantime, we chatted with Peter, who was friendly and personable. A Czech with excellent English, he had been traveling in the Americas for years before getting work on the island. He also told us the history of Easter Island, how it was an unofficial American base for some time, when infrastructure like a concrete air strip was built, until the Communists took over in the 70s. And tourism on the island wasn't a big thing again until the early 90s when democracy returned.

Finally, horses arrived! At least a dozen, including young ones, were being herded (by a Jeep, ha!) in our direction.

Except...

They'd only brought three saddles. Peter, friendly and competent as he was, didn't have enough confidence in his horsemanship to lead us across the North Coast alone. One of the horse experts was standing right there, but had no gear to join us with Peter.

Then Marcus appeared on his motorbike to the rescue. Despite having a personal-life crisis, he still agreed to spend the entire day guiding us up the coast. Felt guilty about that, so I offered to call it off, but he didn't hesitate in saying he was willing. Away we rode!

So... Bex and I were both novices at horseback riding, so this all-day tour was already ambitious and now we had a late start. But Marcus was patient. We learned the basics. To get the horse moving, you make a thick kissing sound and kick their flanks (way harder than I would have guessed) or hit them with a stick or branch. It seemed a little cruel, but we were assured we were not hurting the horses, with their thick skin. They were pretty responsive, though petulant. Marcus spent a while trying to get us to go faster, but we only managed a trot a handful of times.

Our first stop was a cave. We got headlamps to put on.

Marcus stayed back with the horses while we descended blindly into the cave (keeping heads low.) The cave was small, the "windows" out to the sea were pretty awesome, but the wet rocks were sketch. We kept our distance. The drop down to the ocean was a ways!

The guide helped us back onto our horses then led us to the next stop. He kept up the conversation (often turning toward us while still navigating) and I learned he also has a web development background (like me!) and at home, he's breaking in his young pet stallion.

We visited another cave (wider and more like a place people lived, but harder to photograph) with a random fig tree and also rode among the ruins of stone buildings.

The land was mostly exposed, but we ambled through a pretty patch of trees at one point. Apparently, before humans came, the island used to be forested.

The trail, which had started out as a dirt road, became narrower as we went along. Soon, the road and trees were gone and the trail, if there was one, was invisible to my eye. We followed Marcus' horse along the steep coast.

The weather was pleasantly cool and cloudy (this would have been BRUTAL in the hot sun) so we were definitely lucky. Rain may have been a boon after all.

We saw no other people. We were out there. Way out there. Far from anything manmade. The middle of nowhere, Easter Island.

The constant views out to sea were stunning. Horses and cows hung out along our route, sometimes watching as we went by. Marcus said someone owns all of them, but they are allowed to roam free on the north side of the island. If they have a trimmed mane, then they are tame.

In the middle of a random field, we stopped for lunch. Marcus promised us we were more than halfway. We each got a brown bag with a sandwich, an orange, a chocolate wafer bar, and crackers. The food rejuvenated us, which was good because as we stood up to leave (SO stiff), the rain started. Mostly a drizzle, but we put on our rain jackets and made sure our cameras were stowed in plastic bags. There was no shelter anywhere.

I was proud of myself, though! After every stop, we've both been needing a boost to get back on our horses. But this time, I found a rock and got myself back on, whoo! I'd been having conversations with my horse about long-term planning (telling him, "Don't be stopping for a munch or a drink randomly, wait for good times," etc.) but the horse was getting tired, falling into a rhythm where he only moved at the speed of the guide's horse. During the first part of the ride, I was sometimes the second rider, sometimes the third, and jumped up front a couple times, but by the end, the horse was not comfortable unless he was the middle horse. He'd pick up speed to pass Bex if her horse got ahead of us. But would never pass the leader.

But, at one point, even following the guide's horse became too treacherous.

We were navigating a particularly steep course to get further downhill to see an ahu (ceremonial platform). Although the guide picked his way down, switching back among the hard, black lava rocks, my horse was not interested in following. The horse wanted to stay on a "safer" shallower route that did not descend very fast. We had more discussions about long-term planning and making good decisions. (Well, okay, monologues, as the horse was too busy sulking to respond.)

One of the horse's hooves slipped. Then caught a split second later. And it wasn't the last time. When all four shod hooves stepped onto rock, still slippery from the rain, I worried. If the horse fell then, no question, I'd end up in the hospital.

With much prodding, I eventually persuaded the horse to go down the steep hill covered in grass and rock. The stacked stones at the bottom didn't seem worth the precarious path until Marcus mentioned a statue. I couldn't find it, so I asked and he pointed out a fallen moai, which I'd missed. This moai was smaller and differently shaped than the others, made of basalt - a much harder-to-carve material than the pumice and lava rock the other heads on the island were carved from.

The few moai we saw along the route were fallen.

Going through a tight, rocky passage, Bex did fall! Scary! Like a trooper, she climbed back aboard and we kept on riding.

We soon reached the most elaborate pile of rocks yet! Apparently, we were facing due north, which the natives figured out without the handy north star to guide them, being in the southern hemisphere.

Though Marcus assured us we were only an hour or so from the end of our ride (though the landscape looked no different), exhaustion set in. My horse's pace slowed, barely responding to my weak prompts, but also seemed to be on auto-pilot. My legs, especially thighs, were sore. I was ready to not be in a saddle.

At one point, Marcus said, "Horses act funny when they see dead horses. It's like seeing a dead human for us."
"Was there a dead horse?"
"Yep, right back there," said Bex.
I totally missed the dead horse.
Maybe that's not a bad thing.
But I did see a fair number of bones during the ride, remains of horses and cattle.

We reached a long, stone wall. The edge of a property more than 100 years old, with evidence of a farmhouse. Almost civilization...

Then, the sweetest sight of all: the white sand of Anakena: Easter Island's main beach and, more to the point, our final destination!

The enticing sand approached slowly but surely. Soon enough, we were among buildings, people, and cars again. One last trot was physically painful. We dismounted (a man was waiting with a truck, ready to take the horses back) and I was honestly surprised I did not fall over. My legs, made of jello, were somehow still holding me upright. We walked (bow-legged) toward the palm-tree studded beach, following Marcus to the final part of our tour: The Ancestral Barbecue.

This involved lots of meat.

Unbeknownst to us, a local Polynesian couple had already been preparing an elaborate supper during our ride! They gave us big flowers to wear in our hair. The duo were a warm and friendly welcome after a long day.

Besides the sausage, steak, and chicken being grilled, the lady served some delicious (and likely home-made) sides like potato salad, Japanese peanuts, chips, garden salad, and rice. Also, wine and beer were on the table. We toasted our kind hosts. And ate our fill.

Our meal lasted a while as the sun got lower in the sky. Our guide and hosts were relaxed and chill. Though, it was only then that Marcus revealed that he had never ridden horses with horseshoes before (!) and that's why the rocks were slippery for their hooves. Normally, they had no problem on that terrain since it was all they knew. D'oh.

I learned how to say a few words and phrases in the Rapa Nui language, including "My butt hurts" which made a passing local laugh.

In the end, we were sore and bruised, but happy! They drove us back and we tipped Marcus (who gave us big hugs in front of our hotel) before ambling to our room, peeling off our red-stained jeans, and crashing into bed.

We woke to bells. Church bells? It is Sunday...

I also woke with the urgent desire to see heads. For being in Easter Island, my moai-per-hour rate was lower than I wanted it to be.

For breakfast, we ate at the closest restaurant to our hotel, practically next door. The place was called "Polynesian Coffee and Tea" and the fare was good (though not Polynesian.) We finally received proper coffee. We'd heard online that the island doesn't do espresso drinks well, but this place does! And their food was, luckily, much better than their spelling. I had "scrumbled" eggs and toast and Bex had cinnamon rolls with anise.

Back at the hotel, we asked one of the lovely ladies at reception about tours. She recommended exploring on our own using an app because, and I quote, "There are places that are, well, less interesting." She called about a rental car then told us, to our surprise, that the representative would be over in half an hour! When she found out we wanted to go to the beach, she also (quietly) lent us sarongs.

At about 10:30am, we filled out a form with the rental car guy and then, voila, we had a car delivered right to the hotel! That was easy. We had 24 hours to take advantage of our ride.

Counting down... starting now.

We packed water, food, sunscreen, and swimwear for our day trip (making sure to bring our National Park tickets.) Bex was a trooper and took the wheel despite not having driven a manual in quite some time. We made a quick stop by the docks to inquire about a boat ride the next day but they were closed. (The housekeepers took the day off. And the only Polynesian dance troupe that did a show today was sold out. Sunday is tough.)

We headed south of town, passing the airport again (insert airline-geek moment), and went toward Vinapu.

Vinapu didn't have any tall or standing moai, but we were recommended the place because it was the only site with existing evidence of a lady moai. The place had a lot of artifacts otherwise as well as a beautiful view. My favorite part was the Inca wall. (After the Peru trip, I can easily spot a legit wall.)

We saw Peter (the Czech from yesterday) guiding a lone woman who had arrived on a cruise ship. He asked about our horse tour (which we said went great) and we lingered nearby to listen to him talk about the lady moai which, admittedly, was hard to see without an expert guide explaining what we were looking at.

This was one place where having a live guide would have been nice. But the app provided good details about the history and importance.

We quickly concluded that having a rental was a good choice. It'd be a long, hot bicycle ride (though we saw a dude or two on a bike) and the only other option is a tour bus or an expensive private tour. We loved having a car. The roads were paved, though narrow, and some parts seemed better maintained than others. Luckily, even during peak season, there didn't seem to be much traffic.

Even so, it's a good idea to be cautious because there's no car insurance here.

Fun thing: If you get a rental, it will probably be a Suzuki Jimmy and it will probably be silver. So it's a good idea to memorize your license plate so you know which car is yours when you return to a parking lot full of silver Jimmys. Another fun thing: you will have to brake for horses and cows.

The next stop along the coast, according to our handy app map, was Vaihu. We got our Park Passes stamped at the entrance though this one, like most of the archaeological sites, allows revisiting. There's one standing moai here (rescued from the ground in 2002) but more notable are the eight fallen moai. A battle in the 18th century toppled most heads, unfortunately for tourists two centuries later, and caused several red headdresses (or topknots called pukao) to roll around toward the coast.

Also, lots of chickens roam here, mostly around what I assume are reproductions of ancient housing.

After we located our car (based on the contents in the back seat), we 'head'ed back on the road. Our next stop, about ten minutes up the coast, was a place so important that our National Park ticket only allowed one entrance: Rano Raraku.

We soon discovered why.

If you've ever seen a photo of Easter Island, it's almost guaranteed to be from one of two places. This is the first.

Rano Raraku is inland a bit, so we followed the signs up a bouncy dirt road. Google maps showed our moving dot, even if we had almost no signal.

We reached a large, flat area with other Jimmys. Must be the parking lot!

A small restaurant, a gallery, and a couple gift shops were along one side. We walked past those (for now) to the entrance booth and had our ticket stamped knowing that, once we left, we would not be able to re-enter. We had to make the most of our time!

First, we made a pit stop at decent enough restrooms (though ones we had to pay a buck or so to use) inside another gift shop. In the lounging area outside the building, I heard all sorts of different languages. This is the place to be!

Then... we started up the path!

Why so many moai here, you wonder? Because this is the quarry where the moai were made!

That means, you could see heads in various states of breakage or completion. Maybe some that didn't make it down the mountain before falling. Some only partially carved. Some mostly buried after long years.

I loved this place. It was a blast! So many different moai. So many different photo ops. And the scenery out to sea was gorgeous.

The day was windy, but not too hot. Another time of day would have been better for photos, though. We came early afternoon and the light wasn't super awesome. Early morning or late afternoon would have provided greater contrast to the moai. Any time of day, though, a great place to explore!

So.

It was in Rano Raraku where my memory card filled up.

Yeah, I know, big surprise there.

On top of that, my point-and-click camera started have electronic issues. I wanted to delete photos, but it kept erratically jumping between menu items. This was nerve racking. Mainly because one option was "delete all photos on device." I managed to only delete a few old photos and free up some space without the menu jumping to the "all" option, but I soon put it aside and took the remainder of today's photos on my mobile phone.

The below shot looks good on the mobile, though, nice and long...

If you follow the path back down and in the other direction from the heads, you get to a trail that leads up to the (old) crater of the Rano Raraku volcano. Apparently "Rano" means "crater lake."

There are also some heads back there. If you squint and/or have a zoom lens.

After we exited (no more re-entrances, sniff), we were hungry.

We decided to stop at the cafe in the parking lot: Rano Cafe.

We sat and ate our lunch joined by dogs, cats, and chickens.

I had a large serving of ceviche and Bex had a tuna sandwich. Not bad for tourist fare.

A kilometer up the road was our next destination.

And the second place you may have seen photos of Easter Island from.

Before today, I'd assumed this place would be unimpressive in person. I thought people usually took photos from a distance because the statues-in-a-line lacked facial detail.

Wrong on all counts.

The heads were awe-inspiring and beautiful.

The ocean waves crashed in the distance as we walked around the monument.

I loved how each moai was different. Later, when shopping, I saw a couple mini Tongariki figures and I was like, "Oh, there's the one with the hat, there's the tall one," and so forth. Like a 15-member boy band.

Although you could make a loop around the pedestal with the 15 moai, you could not get very close (notice the warning sign in the foreground above.) Even so, the place was pretty awesome, especially since, this time of day, we had Tongariki almost to ourselves. The only other folks we saw were a couple with a cute elementary-school-aged kid. Our national park ticket was stamped at the entrance, but we were allowed to come again.

These moai were larger than most. They also stood on a particularly high platform. You can see the scale in the below photo.

I heard that, at one point, a tsunami hit this coast. The moai toppled. Their hats (pukao) scattered. They managed to restore the moai, but must not have been able to replace their topknots. So they placed the ones they could find in a row.

At the entrance was a lone moai. Like a guard or host, welcoming us.

We decided we would come back the following morning. Tongariki is The Place To Be for sunrise.

We drove due north, from the southern coast to the northern coast, on a gorgeous but pothole-laden road. We took the time to locate Mile Marker 15 to look for the place where we could see the optical illusion of a car rolling "uphill" like we'd seen on YouTube. The hotel lady even marked the location on a map but, alas, we could not make it work. The car stayed put.

We then went up to Anakena (i.e. the beach) since today was our only chance. (You need a car to reach it.) We parked, locked up, and walked over. The place was hoppin'. Our first order of business was to spend 500 pesos to use the restrooms. The stall had a hook, yay! Then we wandered down the wooden pathway over the sand, among the (not-native) palm trees, and past the huts serving food and the locals having barbecues. On the way, Bex bought a Corona and I bought fresh pineapple juice. Very fresh. Made right there!

We laid our borrowed sarongs out on the white sand next to a canoe. We relaxed with the other beachgoers as we sipped our drinks. We swam out into the water and had a fun conversation while little waves broke behind us to the shrieks of children. Quite pleasant, if a little chilly (Bex was perfectly comfortable.) The dress was casual. We saw bikinis, even. Many people wore the sarong tied around their neck as a dress (we both bought one later because what a great idea!) A wholly pleasant evening.

Then came what may be the best part of the trip.

The Polynesian woman we'd met at the festival a few nights ago found us!

She sat with us to chat and we learned her whole story:

Her name is (something like) Maruka. She grew up here in Rapa Nui. She dated an American (from the military) under the radar for several months, until 1970 came. The Communist dictator forced the Americans off. Her secret beau went home to (of all places) Denver!

After some time, she received a telegram from him saying that, if she would agree to be his wife (he apparently used the wrong word in Spanish for this, making it sound like a bad word, whoops) and do the paperwork, she could live in America with him.

So she did.

Speaking no English, her cousin and her went to America to live. According to her, she learned English in six months (wow!) and her explanation is that Rapa Nui learn quickly. She described her new husband as "not particularly attractive, not particularly romantic, but has a big heart." She lived in Denver (off Colfax, even! Not there's a street name I did not expect to hear spoken in freaking Easter Island!) and had a son who now lives in Dallas.

(This explains her excellent English with a surprisingly understandable accent.)

About twenty years ago, after almost thirty years in the States, they returned to Easter Island for good. Her son stayed back. He never learned the Rapa Nui language. I asked her about her hobbies. She said she doesn't have a hobby. "I like to cook, but I don't like to eat my own cooking," she quipped. Indeed, she was cooking when we met her at the festival.

In another small world connection--though granted, this island is a small world--she told us her niece is married to the Swede who took us riding.

After an hour (at least!) of talking, the sun sank lower in the sky and the beach started to empty and so we went our separate ways.

As we pulled back into Hanga Roa, we realized we'd seen the ocean in all four directions today: north, east, south, west. After (quietly) returning the sarongs, we almost collapsed, but instead, changed clothes and went out on foot, looking for dinner. Even though it was 9pm, a nearby restaurant was open until 11pm. Most of the tables were full, but we got an excellent seat on the porch overlooking the waterfront.

We both ordered local fish (YUM) and extra-fruity sparkling adult beverages (also yum) while we sat and enjoyed our late evening meal listening to the ocean lap on shore.

Sunrise was at 7:15, so we set our alarms for 6:00.

Instead of church bells, we were serenaded by chickens.

At about 6:30, we carefully drove down the long driveway in pre-dawn light only to find the gate closed. A moment of panic, but only a moment. The gate was not locked.

Despite having no phone signal, we were able to use GPS. Although there are not many turns, we didn't want to make a wrong one. Once outside of town, we did not encounter a single other car on the road. We reached the Tongariki parking lot just at 7:15am ... and it was so packed full of cars, there were barely any spots left!

(I've had this happen before. Your destination is somewhere far, out of the way, rural. You're driving for nearly an hour on quiet roads. You feel like the only person in the world. But then... everyone else is at the place you're going! And you have to wonder -- where the heck were they all?)

Even though it was just after dawn, a national park staff member still stamped our ticket (again) as we walked in. Despite being tardy, we still enjoyed some amazing sunrise views.

Dozens of people were gathered. Definitely a party atmosphere. Music. A ton of silly poses -- jump shots, selfies, panos. Some people bundled up, though it wasn't super cold. But a nice feeling to share a sunrise with strangers on the far side of the world. Far from home. At a place not easy to reach.

There seemed to be this unspoken line, far behind the warning sign, where most everyone was standing. I suspected it was the best distance for getting all fifteen heads in one shot. The placement also seemed polite, so you didn't get into other people's pictures. Enough room for everyone!

Apparently between Dec 21st and Mar 21st, a range which we were about two weeks outside of, the sun rises directly behind the statues. Though, as far as we could tell, it did!

I walked back and forth along the rocky grass, looking for different angles and shots. So were many of the others. The atmosphere of gathering for a celestial event reminded me a little of the solar eclipse. (Though no cheers and awed gasps when the sun rose. At least I assume not since dawn happens fairly often. Like every day. Not to downplay the beauty or magicalness of it all.)

As awesome as seeing the sun rise behind fifteen heads was, the view in the other direction-- the reddish glow on Rano Raraku -- was impressive as well. Everything looks good in dawn light.

We finally headed back to the car (past the guy selling trinkets in the parking lot) and got back on the road.

It was about eight in the morning. We had a little over two hours left for our rental. And it was a forty-five-minute drive back to Hanga Roa.

And... there was one more set of moai we had not yet seen.

These heads were a little harder to find, being inland off a side road. And the roads, despite having names on the map, don't have any street signs. But we eventually found the right way. (There aren't a ton of choices.)

When we arrived, one other car was in the lot. We said hello to a couple with a dog, then they left and we had the place to ourselves.

I suspect the monument was empty because the lighting was not optimal. These heads faced west. (And by west, I mean they face sunset on the equinox. Because Easter Island.) So, being morning, the statues were backlit.

Still cool, though!

We could make a loop around the heads here as well.

Apparently, not only do the moai face the sun setting on the equinox, they also face Orion and the sun sets behind one each month.

(Or someone made that up. And I totally believed them. Because, Easter Island.)

Back on airport road, we found one (of two?) gas stations in town. Which led to a conversation about how much gas one burns to bring gas to the island. We were careful not to use the diesel pump. Pretty sure we weren't in a diesel. Pretty sure. The pump didn't work until I talked to the hard-to-understand guy in the booth. Total was 6,800 pesos (roughly ten bucks) for 7 litres. Two loops around the island. Barely a quarter tank.

Then I navigated Bex to the rent-a-car place shown on the map. We found the place, parked in the lot, and I went inside to return the key.

The man inside said, "This is not ours. That key is not ours."

Sure enough, the other rentals had the "Oceanic" logo on the spares. Ours did not. Noticing a rental car place next door, I figured it must be that, so I walked over. But the family at Insular also said, "Not ours."

We went back to the car. Unfortunately, our rental paperwork was back at the hotel and our map, we realized, we'd gotten elsewhere. We had no way to know which place we rented from. We only remembered the guy saying, "It's on main street. Part of a souvenir shop."

Slowly, we drove down the street, passing another car rental place. Then another. Apparently, all the rental places are on main street and there are a half dozen of them!

We were running low on time. Our 24 hours was almost up.

We decided to park on the street and walk. Bex suddenly remembered seeing the name "Toki" on the paperwork, so we walked to a random souvenir shop and asked if they knew "Toki". They both pointed in the direction we were going. We finally saw a sign in a souvenir shop for car rentals. And found someone who knew Toki! I stood in a street parking spot while Bex retrieved the Jimmy.

The lady behind the desk confidently took the key, but I had to remind her that "Todavia necesitamos papar" ("We still need to pay.") She maybe charged us the right amount, we paid, and we walked back to our hotel.

After lunch at Polynesian Cafe, where I had an acai fruit & granola bowl with a mocha and Bex had a croque monsieur (again, not so much Polynesian, but good), we shopped! Wandering around, we chose places that looked like local artisan shops. They might have all been? Unclear. I ended up with a carved wooden moai, bookmarks, chocolate, magnets, and one of those cool beach shawl things everyone had. The weather was intermittently hot. Some shade and breeze helped. The museum was closed. We got more postcards.

We saw a boat tour place on main street and decided it was worth trying to squeeze in an activity tomorrow before our flight. While we waited for it to open, we hung out at a coffee shop across the street, sitting at a table outside under an umbrella. I had a chai (but had to order milk separately for 500 pesos?!) and we checked into our flight and played online until the hotspot randomly died. Well, it was good while it lasted. Then, we walked back to the boat place. They had a perfectly timed tour the next morning from 10:30 till noon, leaving us enough time to make our flight. We reserved it... except... no credit cards.

Sigh. This happened several times. You couldn't rely on credit cards here.

So, we asked around until we found one of the few ATMs in town (which I'm also told cannot necessarily be relied upon, yikes, but I was able to get 80,000 pesos out for the rest of the trip.) We walked back, paid for the tour, then chilled in the hotel.

Back at the XXL empanada place, we ordered an early dinner and had some final drinks. I got a pisco sour and Bex had a mojito special. We sipped while watching the kids play soccer on the field next door. Then, a strange thing happened. Two uniformed and armed police officers (there're police here?) strode in and began talking to our waitress. Intimidating but polite. My Spanish eavesdropping skills weren't good enough for me to guess what was going on, but it looked serious, even though they said "gracias" at the end. They then went to talk to the manager of the restaurant next door. We weren't disturbed. Our waitress even gave us another free pisco sour!

While we waited to be picked up by Green Island Tours, we chatted with another couple at the hotel. They were a little grumpy about the front desk not being manned often and were trying to figure out if they'd seen all the heads. After looking, I'm pretty sure they had.

At 8:50pm (only five minutes later than their stated pickup time), a beach bum wearing crocs walked up to us and spoke in perfect English. Must be the guy? We were not entirely confident until we met other tourists in the car -- a couple from the UK who were on their way to Antarctica and quite friendly. Our driver was indeed a native English speaker.

He drove us back downtown and we met another carload in their main office (near the boat tour place, though granted, pretty much everything is on Main street). Although the office was run down, the fold-up chairs budget, and the presenter was decidedly unshowered, the introductory Powerpoint was quite good. His fast English was hard to understand (a bummer to the gals from Taiwan, I imagine) and the pacing of his presentation changed from too quick to read, to excruciatingly slow, to skipping entire slides, but the information was fascinating. He talked about how Easter Island is one point of the Triangle of Polynesian Culture, with Hawaii and New Zealand as the other points. The moai were placed with celestial orientations in mind. He also discussed how early sea explorers navigated using the stars even without the helpful North Star. Since constellations rise at the same place on the horizon every night, just at different times, you could use the angles between stars. (He even did the hand gesture to calculate the angle that Moana did! Love it.)

The eight of us then split back up into two cars and went in the direction of Anakena beach.

He assured us that wild horses wouldn't dart out in front of us on the dark road because they would already be standing there, enjoying the day's heat radiating off the asphalt.

We pulled off onto a dirt road and were given headlamps. "Keep them on the red setting. The white light will make everyone's eyes have to adjust all over again." He used a laser pointer to show us Diamond Cross (the Southern Cross had unfortunately set) then he pointed out my new favorite constellation after Orion: Pleiades!

Without binoculars, the place in the sky looked like a blur or a mini galaxy, but through the binoculars provided, I could see seven individual stars. WOW. Love at first sight.

Apparently, the original Polynesian settlers somehow knew about all twenty stars in the constellation despite only seven being visible to the naked eye (for someone with better eyesight anyway). You can see the twenty arranged properly in local rock formations or poked-out holes. No one knows why they knew!

In addition to the individual binoculars, the tour company also had a telescope. We looked at several stars (Orion nebula, globular cluster, Sirius which is the brightest star) and then at the moon. I could see the crisp outlines of craters. Again, I was awestruck! Had a great moment of self-awareness of being alive. Such a sight. Easter Island is a wonderful place to stargaze. Luckily, the clouds that came through blew away quickly.

After a snack of banana bread and hot chocolate, we got back in the car and were driven to the beach. Mostly empty, but not quite, at 11pm on a Monday night. This is technically the third time we have been to Anakena beach. (The other times on a horse and in our rent-a-car.) This time, we walked right up to the moai, practically sitting on the base. Looking at the stars with the shadows of the moai looming over us was amazing. (We never ended up seeing the heads up close in daylight, only in the dark and from far away.) Their stone faces lit up in camera flashes. Instead of binoculars and telescopes, we admired the starscape while listening to a song played on the acoustic guitar by the other guide. In a sweet voice, he sang a beautiful history of Rapa Nui. One of the other tourists was literally a rocket scientist. Great to hear his tidbits of insight.

A lovely evening!

After breakfast at Polynesian (who kindly broke my 10,000 bill), we tipped, washed dishes, and brought our luggage to the front desk. Check-out times are strict here, according to Tripadvisor. No one was at the desk. We were leaving a note when Maria Jose showed up, whew. Then we walked to the dock. The place was further than expected -- we asked directions -- but we arrived in twenty minutes with ample time to get on the boat.

Ten of us (and an adorable kid) put on orange life vests and boarded. Bex and I seemed to be the only English speakers on the tour.

This was my first time on a "glass-bottomed" boat that I recall. Riding in it is just like a regular boat. The part with a glass bottom was in the center, over a table-height ledge. I'm guessing the reason is that, if the glass bottom shatters, the boat can still float perfectly fine. We could see coral and the occasional fish through the glass.

I enjoyed seeing Easter Island from the sea. We glided west toward this towering rock that (I think) is where a traditional competition took place. We stopped to look down at fish every so often. Occasionally, a bright yellow one would glide by. The ride got bumpier as we moved away from the island.

When we were about twenty minutes out from the dock, the wind blew cold and we were blasted with drops of rain. I shivered. The ride got bumpier. Although I was sure we were not close to tipping, I became nervous like I do on boats. The boat rose up and down on waves. Felt seasick so kept my eyes on the horizon as we bounced along.

The clouds blew through and the sun came out as we sped back toward Easter Island. The ride smoothed. We went east beyond where we started, though not past Hanga Roa. At one point, the boat slowed down to a stop. Apparently, there was a sunken moai! Not a real one, but one made for a movie, lol. I could barely see it, but only after several people pointed it out to me. The guide (who had been kindly repeating his spiel in English for our benefit) said we could get out and go for a swim if we wanted. Neither of us did but two other folks took him up on his offer! They both (hilariously) swam under the glass bottom for our amusement.

Better than the sunken moai were real ones, visible on the shore! Hard to see, but so neat! Made me want to see all the moai from shore, though granted, you'd be just seeing their backs...

We disembarked (I was still a little woozy) and we walked back to our hotel to catch the shuttle to the airport. (We could have almost walked, but with luggage, that would have been a hassle.) In we went!

The tiny terminal was pretty full. But we had time for a drink and a brief browse at the gift shops before we had to board.

Then it was time to line up for our return flight. We were headed to Los Angeles via Santiago, so it was to be a long, long day of travel.

There's a bit of an epilogue, like that our flight to L.A. left very late, so we were stuck in Santiago airport (sitting at a table in a closed Dunkin Donuts) for hours after midnight. I missed my connection from L.A. to Denver by 5 minutes (despite that I had Global Entry, despite that I had TSA pre-check, despite that folks in line kindly let me through when I begged.) I kinda wonder if they hadn't stopped me in security due to my pumice moai, if I would have made it. At least they let me keep my head!! The dude in security knew of Rano Raraku, which may have helped. Or he was checking that I really went. Because I didn't put it on the same itinerary, I was SOL, but with the help of my uncle with airport connections, I got myself on a standby Delta flight and all was well, whew. It was about 27 hours of traveling but made it home safe!