Travels

10/24/01 - Once again this morning we ventured across the lagoon to the main island to get some breakfast. We ended up just a little bit down the road from the Sofitel at Snack Potati, where one local woman served simple fare to a few tables on her covered patio. We got some juice, some fruit, some bread, some eggs, some toast. After a few bites, I discovered that the fruit had worms crawling around in it! I didn't actually eat them, but I noticed one or two crawling across my plate. Kind of creepy, but it was not a problem just to put down THAT particular piece of fruit and go on eating the others. It is so good there, I just can't say that enough. While we were enjoying our breakfast, a bunch of tanes (local dudes) came in carrying a giant cooler. They hung around talking for a while while the hostess whipped up some grub for these guys. Apparently they were preparing for an excursion, probably a lot like the shark feeding picnic that I described earlier. This food would be fed to the guests. After breakfast, it was another walk down the road, to pick up a few groceries and things, and then back to the motu.

We decided to actually DO something today, and headed over to the activities desk at the Motu. The parasailing brochure caught both our eyes. We had done it in Bermuda a few years before, and had a good time, so we thought we'd have a go at it in Bora Bora. What *really* caught my eye was a number and a letter after it: "300M". After reading for a minute I discovered that this particular tour company offered 2 parasailing options: 100 meter, and 300 meter. 300 meters! That's somewhere around 1000 feet. We were really high. So we booked this guy for 2pm I believe it was, and waited on the dock at the Motu, where the guy would pick us up. Another couple, who were staying at another hotel, was waiting at the dock too. I thought it was kind of strange that they would have folks go to the Sofitel Motu dock to be picked up for a tour, but it was extremely convenient for Meagan and I, so we had no complaints.

We all got on board, and were introduced to the two frenchmen who ran the operation. They assured us that their equipment was the very latest in technology and that it was perfectly safe (for whatever comfort that was worth). The other couple were doing the 100 meter fly, and they went first. It wasn't all that exciting to watch from the boat, but it did look like fun. And it looked like they were really high. We drove the boat around the lagoon for maybe 15 or 20 minutes, not straying too far from the Sofitel, until it was time to reel them in. Now it was our turn. It was a bit scary getting all harnessed up. This was not one of those cozy self-contained floating units that you sit comfortably in -- oh no! This was serious. You stand on a platform at the rear of the boat, where you strap yourself into a harness, kind of like a very small chair made of nylon cords, like the handle to a duffel bag, only much heavier-duty. We buckled ourselves in, then attached our harnesses to one another, and then to the giant technicolor chute, which flapped excitedly in the wind behind us, and we got into a squatting position. As they uncoiled the winch, we slowly ascended into the wild blue yonder. It took quite some time to get to 1000 feet, and when we got there, the operators cruised us around the lagoon for another 15 minutes or so. The view, I'm sure you guessed, was absolutely breathtaking. The contrast between the colors in the water was 10 times more striking from this height. Everything looked completely surreal. Eventually, just as our asses were beginning to get sore, they started to reel us back in. We were once again dropped off right at the hotel dock. After a few hours in the sun in the Bora Bora lagoon, it was time for another nap.

For dinner tonight we decided on Bloody Mary's. I don't know about you, but if you're researching a trip to FP, you've probably read 100 people's opinions about this place. And they're all vastly different from one another. Here's my take:
Once again, we were given a lift from the hotel to the restaurant, compliments of the restaurant. I remember this ride being particularly obnoxious. Correction -- it wasn't the ride that was obnoxious, but the passengers. Somehow we got stuck with 3 or 4 other couples in the little minivan, all of whom were American. A few were from Boston -- you couldn't miss that accent. It was the "born-and-raised" South Boston accent, the one that's so thick I mistake the speaker for having Down Syndrome. It's not just dropping Rs, but it's also a distinctly slurred speech, like when someone has way too much to drink. Maybe these people WERE drunk already. That would explain why they were so LOUD. And why they slurred their speech, if it wasn't just an accent. These people made fun of the driver as he drove us to our restaurant for free. They made fun of pedestrians we passed in the road. They bitched about the service they got somewhere or another. I couldn't wait to get out of this van. I'm not generally all that enchanted by Europeans, but on this night I was ashamed to be an American. We didn't have anything to say to these people. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.

Luckily the ride to Bloody Mary's was short, and our driver was a jazz fan, and was playing Miles Davis on the car radio, so that helped a lot. Soon enough, we were there, crowding up at the entrance to the restaurant, where everyone is rounded up as they arrive, in large groups, to hear about "The Menu". You see, there is no printed menu at Bloody Marys. It's different every night, apparently. As you enter the place, you will see to your left a giant smorgasbord of fresh seafood, steak, chicken, etc, all laid out fancy-like. The chef and/or the owner (An American expat) will briefly explain what it is you're looking at ("this here is Mahi-Mahi, we serve it grilled, with lemon," yadda yadda). Then the chef will go around to each person as you're standing there looking at this food, and take your order. They are very flexible about what you can get. They only serve the things you're looking at, but you can order 2 of this and one of these, or you can order the "combo" -- in my case, I got a combo but I asked if I could swap something with something else. "Not a problem," they said, "we can definitely do that." They are very friendly and accomodating, and it was a warm and comfortable atmosphere. This restaurant was much like the others, only on a much larger scale -- a bamboo-type structure, with a roof, SOME walls, but at least one side of the place, maybe two, was exposed to the elements, so that the occasional breeze made its way in to cool you down. The overall theme is interesting: they seat you at a table that is basically a square slice of tree. You can see the age rings and all. Around this table is a stool, also a stump of a tree, a small cylinder basically, which sits on the floor -- the sand floor. It's just the beach, with a roof. The stool was really uncomfortable, but we enjoyed our meal. The definite cons about this place, besides the stools: the prices of course, and the fact that they expect tips there. I guess this comes from the owner being American. And when it's crowded it can be a zoo. Like Disney World during winter vacation. Oh well. We had a much nicer ride back to the hotel than we did getting to Bloody Mary's. The passengers were a lot quieter. I sat up front and had a chat with the jazz-fan driver. He was listening to Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto. When I recognized the record he beamed and immediately started chatting up a storm. This guy REALLY liked American jazz, and was lamenting the fact that most jazz artists don't put Bora Bora on their concert tour itineraries. A very interesting thing to think about. That is one bad thing about living on a tiny island in the middle of a giant sea. So anyway, we ended the night on a nice note -- Meagan said that I probably made that driver's day -- sitting up front with him and having an intelligent conversation about music. We were sure the poor guy spends every night having to listen to Massholes from Boston or princesses from Long Island or physical trainers from Beverly Hills or travel agents from Muskogee, all saying horrible things all night long.