We took off on the last quick leg to Bora
Bora. Up until now, my shortest flight
had been between Helsinki and Tallinn 18 months ago. That had lasted 20 minutes. My present flight would break that record,
cutting its duration by half. A ten
minute flight! Well, well! Coming in to land, I clicked away with my camera and also took some video footage. I was exceedingly excited! The airport is not actually on Bora Bora. It lies instead on a motu, a
sand bank, to the north. The Air Tahiti
ticket included a ride on a catamaran to the port town of Vaitape. Apart from the sound of the vessel, this spot
was uncompromisingly quiet.
There was no ambient noise at all.
I picked up the car at Avis, which was already closed, but everything was
as promised.
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Then I drove off to find Maitai Polynesia and was checked in to room
109. One of the receptionists was a
lady-man! The porter took my luggage. After formalities, I crossed the street to locate my beach bungalow. When I'd booked this place,
there'd been three choices. There were
the unaffordable bungalows that stood on stilts over the water. Then there were beach bungalows with an ocean
view. The remaining rooms were across
the road. These were the cheapest and
like many other hotels - rows of small rooms with a view of the ocean through
the gorgeous trees. I'd chosen the middle price range. Since I'd only be coming to
Bora Bora once in my life, I decided that here I'd splurge a little and get the bungalow on the beach. I could not see it, so I stepped into the restaurant to ask.
A waiter offered to show me to my room. She
guided me onto the pier, led me across the water and all the way to the end,
where room 109 was the furthest off the beach!
I was astonished, but there was no way on god's green planet I could afford to stay here. I dropped my bag and returned to reception. Are you sure you've put me in the right room? I took out my phone and
showed them the price I'd been quoted. The receptionist went to get her
manager. They confirmed that the price I'd been quoted was incorrect, that there'd been a mistake. But, she said, the mistake was not mine. I could stay in room 109
and pay what I'd been quoted.
My eyes widened. I gasped "Really?" and then "Thank you!" and
brought my hands together in delirious disbelief and delight. The staff was entertained at my reaction and
all started to laugh.
I could not believe my luck.
For the next while I sat still in my room,
huge smile plastered on my face like cement.
I had tasted the glorious shock one must feel when winning the
lottery. I wanted to immediately
get in touch with Lourens and anyone else who might be awake to share my
fortune. Then I thought to rope it in.
What if they changed their minds and found another room for me
tomorrow? What if they ended up charging
me my quoted price per night instead of for both nights, as it stood on my
reservation? In the end, I was not moved, and I paid only what I'd expected, an eighth
of the cost of this bungalow! The
glamour that had been lacking at La Vague Bleu was here in large amounts.
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I decided that since the establishment had been so generous with
their solution, I'd now spend money in
their restaurant. Apart from the diner
on my first day in Tahiti, I'd been eating wholly
from supermarkets so as to limit the cost of the trip. I also decided to leave
untouched all toiletries provided by the hotel.
I now went to the eatery on the beach, from which emanated more
reggae music, and had my dinner. In truth, it was not particularly good, but I felt that I was repaying in
kind.
On Wednesday morning, I returned to Avis. Their
rate was lower than Hertz's and here gas, unlimited mileage and insurance were
included in the price. Use Avis! They're great! Before getting back into the car, I was fiddling with information pamphlets. Suddenly I heard a shrill scream
of excitement. I looked up to see a woman of about my age embrace her friends,
and they all chatted excitedly. I continued fiddling and then got in the car. Just as I did this, I made eye contact with the passionate woman. She was not a woman at all, but a
lady-man! I turned to adjust my
side mirrors, and then there was a knock on my window. I was getting
propositioned! I smiled sweetly, so as not to offend, then returned to my
mirrors. When I looked up again, she was gone.
In the rearview mirror, I spotted her sauntering
off in a huff, arms flailing. Poor dear!
It took a little while for me to remember that I was driving a manual.
The car I'd had in Tahiti was an
automatic (with no hand break, by the way). I ground the gears once
or twice, to my complete mortification. I also kept caressing the driver's door in search of the gear
stick - the last time I drove a manual was in
South Africa six months ago, where motorists keep left. I made a loop of the
island, stopping at a supermarket to get lunch.
Here the choices were less exciting than at Carrefour. Never mind, just needed to eat something. At one of my stops, I took this video while the car idled. I rested the camera on the steering wheel, and this is what happened:
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Returning to a
scorching Vaitape, I got some supplies,
including swimming trunks. Most of my
friends shake their heads in disbelief when I admit I'd had no intention of getting into the water. As I've grown greyer, the
appeal of lying on the beach and bopping in the waves has waned somewhat. I also don't much care
for swimming pools, even in the heat of summer.
Give me a comfortable place to sit or lie and air conditioning! Here, however, my bungalow emptied onto a
balcony, from which steps went down to a concrete platform. From there it was a short descent down a
horizontal step ladder into the water. It seemed an awful shame to let that go to waste. I ambled longer around Vaitape, dropping in at souvenir stores to
get some small items for friends back home.
I was also in search of an affordable piece of art to hang in my
living room.
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There were some spectacular
pieces, and of course there were numerous stores selling all manner of pearl
jewelry. I hadn't known before I came that this is one of French Polynesia's claims to
fame. I was not interested in
necklaces, though, and avoided those stores altogether. I went into a variety of
galleries until I found the latest piece
to add to my collection. At the gallery,
a French woman with a heavy accent told me a little about this island and the
nation - she'd lived here for two decades.
She also taught me some Tahitian words, clarifying that pronunciation
was identical to Spanish, which I studied for five
minutes a million years ago. I tried to say "Mauruuru" (thank you) and
"Nana" (goodbye). This second
one reminded me of the manner in which shop assistants greeted customers in
Helsinki. "Hei hei!" they
would sing as one walked in. Here,
"Nana" was sung as you walked out.
I asked if it was always this hot in Bora Bora and she said no,
it was an El Niño year. The citizens
were terrified that a cyclone might ravage the land before the summer was
over. As it turned out, a cyclone did
wreak havoc some weeks later in the Pacific, but it was Fiji much further west
that suffered the destruction.
The artist whose work I purchased, the dealer continued, used to be a tattoo
artist. He then switched to drawing,
sometimes on bark as with my piece, and his work was in high demand across the
archipelagos. Mine was of a Ti'i, similar
to a Tiki, which is a manlike statue, a spiritual guardian. The difference lies in their faces: whereas
the Tiki has a square face, that of the Ti'i is more pointed. My artist, she went on, was lackadaisical
about collecting his earnings. He was
forever off on another island, pursuing some dream or love interest. "C'est artiste!" she concluded.
I returned to Maitai and rested in my room. I also christened the
swimming trunks in the water below my bed.
What bliss! I had a lot of time now to potter and relax. I watched TV for a
bit. The choices were also all French,
with the exception of CNN, whose broadcast was exclusively about US
presidential nonsense. I watched Scrubs in French, four episodes back-to-back, and
laughed my head off. I was almost as amused at myself for laughing as I was at the show. I've watched Scrubs before; it is an American comedy show. Therefore I knew the characters
and could completely understand the emotions beneath the unintelligible
dialogue. I further decided that
it was time to learn how to use my camera properly. Though the Wi-Fi in my room was not very
good, I did get online and researched how to take pictures at
night. Then I changed settings and shot away with great excitement and
anticipation. This was the result:
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| the stars... ahem! |
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| oops |
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| improving |
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| better |
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| ahh!! |
It was decided. On
Thursday I'd wake at 5:15 a.m. and attempt to get a great
shot of the sunrise. I was not happy with the results.
I blame it on the website I visited for advice
because one I perused later gave me quite different
instructions. On the other hand, the
sunrise itself was not particularly photogenic.
Here are those that came out alright.
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Next I went to breakfast, then returned to the bungalow and sank into
the ocean once more. When I'd had enough of that, I slowly readied for
departure. Check out was at 11:00 and my
flight wasn't until 19:00. I opted to stay in the bungalow until the last minute and then
spend the rest of the day in the air conditioned car. This was more than just for comfort. After this morning's shower, I'd not see another for 24 hours. In that time, I'd be lugging bags through a variety of airports, one of them the muggy Faa'a International in
Papeete. To get sweaty would make me a
most unpleasant neighbour on any airplane.
After settling up, I first went back to Vaitape to check the ferry schedule. The last one to the airport motu was at
17:50. I did another loop of
the island, this time way more slowly, stopping everywhere that looked
pretty. In other words, I stopped repeatedly, as this magnificent slice of paradise is
indeed dazzling. I again noticed this one stark difference between my present
location and those I've visited in
Thailand, Africa and even the Baltic trio:
there were no beggars, no dropouts, no touts trying to sell you things
you neither need nor want. In fact, there was no one here who looked in the least bit
sketchy. The only 'deviance' I saw was the lady-man at Maitai and the one who'd propositioned
me, though from what I've read, this is not
considered a deviance among these people.
Good! I did spot a couple of Mormons in their usual white shirt - black
tie - black trousers - bicycle garb. One
of them was Caucasian, the other seemed Polynesian.
After circumnavigating
the island, there was still way too much time, so I looped again. Peppering
the drive, I lunched and drank juice and got 40 winks in
the car. When the second circuit brought
me back into Vaitape, I elected to turn around
and circle back in the opposite direction.
I dropped the car just before 17:00 and waited for the
ferry. Could I come here again?
Absolutely, but only if I had 1) oodles of
money, 2) company and 3)a plethora of activities lined up, including diving and
snorkeling, but most certainly excluding hiking. In this sultry
environment, I would be swimming uphill in my own perspiration.
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There was no X-ray
scanner at Bora Bora Airport. This has
to be the first airport I've passed through
where this is the case. Back at Faa'a
Airport, a solitary crab, far away from home, marched across the floor, causing
a stir. The cleaners whisked it up in
their dustpan, after which a couple of tourists approached them to get some
pictures. A guard held it up to his
mouth, ready to eat, and the ruckus continued.
As expected, the air was muggy, but it was night and I found some relief in the breeze in the parking lot. If you think I'm exaggerating, here's another thing that happened. There were lots of senior American tourists getting ready to board their plane to Los Angeles. Many of them looked red-blotchy and overheated. Just as the check in counters opened, an ambulance rolled up, and one tourist was whisked off within it. I thought what dreadful luck it was to need medical attention just before an international journey. Before the plane took off, though, the ambulance returned and dropped off the patient. Of course, I have no idea what happened, but two-and-two suggests that he'd suffered some kind of heat-related incident.
I was intrigued to find
that announcements were made in the local language last: French first, then
English and finally Tahitian! The time
came to pass through security, and though there was still no air conditioning,
beyond Immigration the airport was nicer. Interestingly, the
smoking section was in a garden separated from the lounge by ... nothing! Whereas on Air Tahiti seating was open - sit
where you like - Air New Zealand was very strict about sitting in your
allocated seat. Fortunately, on the
flight from Auckland to Sydney, the bulky Kiwi rugby player beside me ( - there was certainly not enough space for both of us - ) did not pay attention,
and as soon as the seatbelt sign got switched off, he found another seat and
never returned.
The far-flung lands and people of French
Polynesia have had their fair share of significant events. Some of these were meaningful only to the
nation itself, whereas others had implications for the world arena. If you're interested, here's a summary of important events on Wikipedia.
