And now we are headed to the Rarotonga Prison.
(Insert screeching tire sound here)
When we travel, we don't just come home with t-shirts. We look for whatever is authentic to the area. In this case it is ukuleles. But we didn't want the cookie-cutter-made-in-Bali ones. We wanted something authentic. Hence, our drive up a scary road with barbed wire fencing.
We got out of the car and headed into the only building that looked like a building, our wedon'tknowwhatthehellwe'redoing faces on (it was a stretch to find those faces). Men of all ages quietly watched us mosey up to the front door where we inquired about purchasing a ukulele. We were told that they would open again in the morning (it was about 5 pm at this time) and someone could help us then. We did see some ukuleles and they were beautiful. Yes, expensive, but imagine telling all your relatives you went to prison and bought it. And they were custom. We vowed to come back at a later date.
Then we bolted, laughing the entire way down the driveway and out the road. The only thing on my mind (except for the realization that the men who were sitting around the building were probably the inmates) was that I couldn't wait to tell my mom I'd been to prison! On my second day out of the country!
While these aren't photos of the actual ukuleles (are you kidding me, whipping out a camera in PRISON?) it is an idea of what they looked like.