Travels

10/18/01 - Finally, at about 2:40 am Tahiti time (which is 3 hours behind Pacific Time during daylight saving -- 2 hours during the rest of the year -- because they don't do daylight saving there), we arrived in Tahiti. We filed off the plane down the stairs (no mobile indoor gangways here), into the balmy, fragrant Tahiti night. While we filed through the customs line, we were serenaded by a traditional Tahitian ukelele band. This music sounds really funny when you first hear it, but it grows on you. After passing very quickly through customs, we were met by our local travel agent rep, and greeted with the traditional flower leis. A great way to start off. The smell of the Tiare (Tahitian Gardenia) is amazing. They took our vouchers, gave us some more vouchers in return, and told us they'd be back at 6am. This was probably the hardest part -- here we were, finally in Tahiti, after a very long flight. Tired, hungry, hot, sweaty, stuck in the stinky, dirty airport (the only stinky and dirty place in all the South Pacific, I'll wager) while it's pitch dark outside. We can't see the beauty of the island -- not yet anyway. Although the smell in the air (outside the airport, which is mostly open-air) was intoxicating. We were stuck for a few hours until we would be transferred to the "domestic terminal" for our puddle-jumper to Moorea.

When dawn finally came, we were met by another agent and driven literally 100 yards around the parking lot to a very small hut in front of an even smaller prop plane. I think walking would have been faster than loading the luggage into the van, it was that close. But hey, transfers were part of the deal, so we let them drive us wherever they wanted to. After a few minutes we boarded the little plane, along with a few Italian tourists, who spoke ZERO English. The pilot handled this plane much in the same way a NYC cabbie drives his cab. Very jerky, abrupt movements. A bit scary, but exciting! And the view was incredible. After 7 minutes in the air we were across the Sea of the Moon, on the island of Moorea. We got off the plane and were met immediately by another guy with a van, who drove us a half mile down the road to our hotel.

Upon arrival at the Sofitel Ia Ora hotel we were given some fresh pineapple juice ('jus d'anana'), the likes of which we had never tasted, and will never taste again -- until we return to Moorea. The island boasts a large pineapple plantation, and the fruit and juices are unbelievable. Here we waited for a bit, and the Italian couple who was on the little plane with us were waiting with us. It was kind of comical watching the exchange between this couple and the hotel hostess. The Italians spoke only Italian, and a tiny bit of French. No english, no Tahitian. They had quite a bit of difficulty communicating. Lucky for us, most everyone there spoke fairly decent English, so between that and my sad little bit of French, we never had much trouble communicating. Eventually, the other couple was shown to their room, a garden bungalow, and we were asked to wait until the hostess returned. When she did, she explained that we would be staying in bungalow #120, an overwater, and one of the 2 BEST rooms in the joint. If you look at the picture to the right, you can see our bungalow -- it's the furthest one out in the lagoon. This discovery alone was almost worth the excruciating wait at the airport.

While we waited for the room to be made ready, we had breakfast at the hotel buffet. This was much to our relief, after the grueling flights and the airport waits. I had heard bad things about the buffet here, but I found it to be pretty decent. The short-order fare was a little heavy: crepes (thin pancakes), omelettes, "french toast" (not sure what it's called in french!), etc. All cooked in a good bit of oil, and the eggs tended to be cooked a little 'easier' than we're used to back in the New World. But there were plenty of other things to choose from: breads (croissants, rolls, pain au chocolat), pastries, fruit like you've never seen (as I mentioned earlier), the best yogurt I ever ate, made on a nearby island, and the usual other stuff: sausage, bacon, you get the picture. A good way to start the day, for around $10 per person. One of the most memorable parts of the trip was the flowers they picked and laid out on a table at the restaurant. Each day, somebody on the staff would pick dozens of tiare blossoms and make them available to the guests. On a table in the middle of the restaurant, we would always find piles of tiares to put behind your ear, and piles of bread to feed the fish with. And even I put flowers behind my ear. I didn't feel like a sissy because all the locals, even the big, burly men, wore flowers behind their ears. The important thing is that you put it behind the correct ear. You see, there is a significance to this practice. The wearing of flowers is a form of nonverbal communication. According to Jan Prince's Tahiti and French Polynesia Guide, when you wear your flower behind your right ear, it means you are single, available and looking. When you wear your flower behind your left ear, it means you are married, engaged or otherwise taken. And when you wear a flower behind both ears, it means you are married but still available! When you wear a flower backwards behind you ear, it means "follow me and you'll find out how available I am." And when you wear flowers backwards behind both ears, it means "anything goes." And when you see a young vahine (woman) wearing flowers in her hair, it means she's desparate -- you'd better hurry up!

During breakfast, a woman told us our bungalow was ready, so we went to check it out. The inside of the room was deceivingly large, and very comfortable. Among the features worth pointing out are the his-and-hers washbasin in the bathroom, the unbelievably high ceiling (because of the roof's pointed shape), and most of all the glass table that lifted up, allowing direct access to the shallow lagoon below, where we could drop food down to the fishes (the bread from the restaurant) swimming by. And a light made it possible at night, while attracting the fish.

While we were getting a feel for the room and our lush surroundings, the telephone rang. It was Hiro, a local tour operator. Apparently we were scheduled to do a shark and ray feeding tour that afternoon, but my itinerary said it was supposed to be the next day. In the end we lucked out, because the Friday tour was quick, with no frills. Just a boat ride to the feeding area, and a boat ride back. We were "rescheduled" for the Saturday tour, which came with an extended Motu picnic, which was loads of fun. More on that on the next page.

We spent the rest of the day just lounging, sleeping, snorkeling, swimming, and drooling. For dinner we ate at the hotel buffet, which was a seafood extravaganza. Lots and lots of fish. Cooked fish, raw fish, fish tartare, poisson cru, shellfish. One fish two fish red fish blue fish. We like fish -- don't get me wrong -- but we realized we had better get used to the idea of eating more fish than ever before in our lifetime. I guess you don't go to a tropical island paradise without planning on eating a lot of seafood. After dinner the hotel put on a "traditional" dance show, complete with grass skirts, floral crowns, mother-of-pearl brassieres, flaming torches, gyrating hips, and knocking knees. I can't attest to the authenticity of this particluar show, but it seemed authentic enough to me. Anyway, neither of us had seen anything like it. But we would see much more as the trip went on. One thing I will say about these dances is that they are not like the Don Ho-style hulas you've seen on the Brady Bunch. They are FAST, and energetic, and extraordinarily provocative. So my wife and I retired, inspired (and full).