The tropical flower garland in her hair drew my attention, and her glorious smile  made me notice her. Rich red blooms, and the variegated greens of tropical leaves framed her beautiful face as she walked past the tables crowded with locals and tourists alike, and onto the tiny dance floor, hand in hand with her man. It was the very last set of the evening, and she and her partner gracefully stepped, turned and twirled, rhythmically but with the ease and confidence that only years together could  have brought. It seemed like the band knew her, appreciated her ,and so they played just that little bit longer.

The venue was Charlie’s  Cafe in Rarotonga, Cook Islands. 

Fine Dining ? Absolutely not. Chips with everything, burgers, pizza, one or two traditional island classics, yes! Dress code: casual. But not as casual as the young couple who entered at6.30pm , she in a bikini and he shirtless. They were gently advised  to come back clothed if they wanted their table.

Lively, loud, lots of fun? You bet! The sort of place you go for a beer after a hard day’s work snorkelling. Or just to listen to some traditional Island music, played by locals dressed in bright, multicoloured shirts and huge island smiles.

Charlie himself, owner of this sprawling lagoon-fronted establishment fringed by palm trees, was the band’s guitarist, and his dear elderly dog lay on the floor nearby, panting and keeping watch for who knows what. Just to one side of the dance floor, lots of activity and the occasional loud yell, guffaw or chatter indicated a competition of some sort was going on.

Indeed it was! Friday Night Darts. Or as the night wore on, Drunken Darts, being played very noisily and giddily by a group of elderly locals outfitted in thongs and saggy shorts.

Waiters scurried back and forth with loaded drinks and food trays , and the music kept on going. Until 8pm, when it abruptly came to an end. By any standard this was an early Friday night, but apparently, normal procedure for Charlie’s cafe. 

And so we made our way outside into a very black night, to await the Island bus. 

Rarotonga has a very simple and very effective transport service. You can hire a car or moped. You can pay exorbitant, unheard of rates for a taxi. Or you can use the  bus , which is relatively cheap, quite comfortable, and unusually, runs to time. The added advantage in the daytime is you get to sightsee.

This however, was nighttime. 

We sat outside on a bench, and the young man employed as a security person, and torch shiner so we could see, enjoyed keeping us company. He was Indonesian, and had left his young wife and two children there. He could earn more money in Rarotonga, and he sent everything home to his family except his rent money. 

Charlie was his landlord. In fact Charlie, owner of the cafe, was also the owner of 7 dogs, and all-round village benefactor. Charlie had a house where his employees lived. It sounded very much like a feudal system, but our young man was content. 

As we sat, the three dart players emerged, stumbling and weaving  their way onward towards a battered old Ute parked just past our bench. Security man leapt to help, remonstrating with one particularly tipsy, and belligerent old man, about to lose his shorts. With the strength of a lion and the flexibility of a gymnast, our caring security man hoisted the three drunks, one by one, into the back of the Ute. The driver, unseen, was hopefully in better condition than his passengers. Off they drove into the night.

This was a regular Friday night occurrence. These men were regulars at Charlie’s, and the conviviality and the socialising through beer, darts and being in the moment with strangers was their lifeblood. 

The beauty with the flower garland in her glistening white hair emerged just as we were about to board our bus. Hand in hand with her partner she slowly walked along the roadway into the darkness, the stoop in her graceful body being now more exposed than on the dance floor. I asked our young security man if she was a local. 

Oh yes, he said, they come for one dance every night. She’s 86 you know.