For centuries, residents of Rapa Nui (aka Easter Island) sculpted iconic giant heads, each representing ancestors who, they believed, would protect them and ensure their prosperity.
The society that created and installed the heads (called moai) eventually collapsed into civil war and cannibalism, but in the long run the 800-plus moai have fulfilled their creators' expectations about supporting the native population: 80% of the island's residents now make a living catering to tourists who come to view the statues.
No matter how many times you've seen photos of the moai, to be in their actual physical presence is worth the considerable investment in time and money that it takes to get to Rapa Nui. (The island, politically linked to Chile, is more than 2,000 miles from the country's center.) And the mysteries that surround the creation and transportation of moai by a pretechnical society make them all the more fascinating.
On a recent trip there, however, I became as enamored with the modern culture of the Rapa Nui as with their historical relics. (Having befriended several Rapa Nui during my visit, it has become as strange to refer to their home as "Easter Island" as it would be to call Hawaii by its colonial name, "Sandwich Islands.")
I stayed at Posada de Mike Rapu, run by Explora, which also manages upscale resorts in Chile's Atacama desert and Patagonia. A hallmark of Explora properties is that, in addition to comfortable accommodations and gourmet food, adventure is included in the price of a room. A choice of 25 hikes, bicycle rides, water activities and cultural shows are available to guests at no additional cost.
My guide, Gina Pakarati, was a gifted interpreter of history, geology and culture, and each evening I'd meet with her to plan the next day's activities. On a Saturday night, she suggested that I go to church with her the next morning in the tiny capital, Hanga Roa.
While I do not typically attend services, I'm interested in local religious traditions when I travel and agreed to attend Mass.
It proved to be a highlight of the trip. While Pope Francis seems to have an open-minded view toward liturgical change, and the church has a history of co-opting local beliefs, I wondered what the Vatican would make of the service on Rapa Nui.
The priest, imported from Chile, conducted the service primarily in Spanish, but the faithful preferred to sing in Rapa Nui and, occasionally, Tahitian. Lyrics were projected above the altar, the words fitting snugly into a quadrant edged by a wooden crucifix mounted on the back wall.
A drum, guitar and accordion accompanied the songs, and perhaps because of the instrumentation, the hymns had an almost Cajun feel. The congregation swayed to the music, sometimes holding hands.
Locally carved wooden statues of Jesus, Mary and Archangel Michael reflected Polynesian artistic influences; the angularity of their faces was less severe than seen in a moai but were much sharper than in much of the West.
In a niche set into a wall on one side of the church, a small table used for baptisms rested on a pedestal with the carved face of the traditional — and pagan — makemake god.
Similarly, the outside of the church was covered in symbolic images, some Christian and some representing local symbols associated not only with native religious traditions but with the "cult of the birdman."
(In centuries past, each year a birdman competition was held in which local communities sent their best athletes to swim out to a nearby island and be the first to return with an egg of the sooty tern. The patron of the winning competitor would then rule the island for the following year.)
After the service, residents stood in front of the church to chat and gossip. One resident wore a hat decorated with seashells, and he carried a small statue of the Virgin. Pakarati told me that he had said that God had told him in a dream to be a missionary and tell people to come to Mass.
Rapa Nui tends to be thought of as a one-trick pony; few visitors are familiar with anything other than the moai. But attending that service as well as visiting moai reminded me that the right mixture of curiosity and mystery fuels the most satisfying experiences tourism has to offer.
Email Arnie Weissmann at [email protected] and follow him on Twitter.