Like so many exotic, far away places,
French Polynesia sits near nothing. It resides in the belly of the
huge Pacific Ocean. Draw a line southeast from Hawaii, west from
Peru, and East from Borneo and you will find it, an aggregation of
118 islands and atolls among four archipelagos. When viewed island by
island, they appear on the map to amount to essentially nothing.
But, if you were to draw a line around them connecting the
archipelagos, they would constitute an area akin to the main part of
Europe. But, the hugeness of the Pacific swallows up everything
making any visible land mass seem inconsequential, even presumptuous.
What it gives us is an array of islands that offer a lushness of
multi-hued greens, and soaring razor-topped mountains that loom over
volcanically created jungle island after island after island. It has
that primeval look to it, as if you might expect to see a dinosaur
pop out at you at any moment. And, the water! Imagine a blue
rainbow, each segment projecting a luminescent shade of the lightest
turquoise to the fiercest sapphire blue. And, a clarity so great
that from fifty yards you can still clearly see the ocean bottom and
the explosive colors of the coral formations below. You may call
this place French Polynesia, but, if you don't mind, I will call it
the Garden of Eden. Adam, you just had to go ahead and bite that
apple, didn't you, and then face expulsion from this place? Huge
mistake, my friend, huge.
Our travels would take us to three
islands: Moorea, Bora Bora, and Vahine. In Bora Bora, we would stay
at the Continental, one of those resorts that offers over-the-water
bungalows. Part of the magic is that part of your living area is
floored in glass allowing you a constant view of the coral beneath
and the ever-present sea life that is drawn to the coral as we are
drawn to chocolate. Want to go for a swim? Well...just climb down
the ladder and immerse yourself in the warm, translucent waters and
explore the shallow depths below in your snorkeling gear and exchange
greetings with the multiple sea creatures there. In Moorea, we would
go on a tour of the interior on ATVs, lurching ourselves forward up
the one-time volcano's heights. We would pass dense forests of
towering bamboo, arching palms, and greenery so lush it is almost an
insult to refer to it as merely lush. Who knew that the color green
could take on so many assorted, so richly diverse, spectrum of
personalities? Up on the surrounding mountains, clouds would
invariably snake around the peaks in thin tendrils almost as if
to embrace them.
We would devote a significant amount of
time exploring the snorkeling possibilities here in the Garden of
Eden. Whether it was drift snorkeling (where our boat would drop us
off and then anchor down the current allowing us to literally drift
to the awaiting boat after our exploration of the coral reefs below),
or an excursion where we would sample an array of different sea-life
environments, the result was always the same: magic! First, the
water is so spectacularly clear that you believe what you're watching
is in high def. The coral reefs were often alive with color: purple,
red, white, pale green. And, joining us down there would be a
vastness of sea creatures. It might be the 12 foot wide manta rays
who would swim at us with their mouths open revealing an impressive
inner chamber that would (they hoped) soon contain an array of
plankton or other micro-sea organisms. Or, perhaps the groups of
black-tipped sharks who hopefully had received the memo that their
diets did not include humans. Or, barracudas, moray eels, eagle
rays, majestic lion fish, or box fish. At one point, I was offered a
small octopus to hold in my hand and found that he stuck to me like
velcro! The explosion of black ink that followed led me to believe
he wasn't nearly as interested in us as we were in him. And, then
there was the “aquarium.” Our guide referred to a place that was
named that way although it wasn't clear to me what he meant exactly
until we jumped in off the boat. As we dropped below the water's
surface, we were literally surrounded by hundreds of bright,
multi-colored fish who were barely inches from our face masks, and
who were apparently as curious about us as we were about them. Ahh,
the aquarium! I get it! Seeing this seemingly endless menagerie of
fish so close to us made me instinctively giddy. Laughing actually.
(By the way, have you ever tried to communicate with someone with
your mouth mostly occupied by a snorkel? The emanating sounds really
are quite humorous as you carry on a “conversation” with your
snorkeling neighbor in a series of screeches and grunts. Tone of
voice conveys quite nicely what the articulation does not.)
Then, there was Vahine Island, not just
an easily overlooked atoll off the nearby coast of Tahaa, but a
destination that we almost overlooked ourselves as we prepared for
this trip. What we discovered as we arrived there by water shuttle
was that Vahine is a private island. There is literally nothing
there but a hotel with nine bungalows that hug the shoreline. There
are no stores, no cars, no roads. Nothing. Well, almost nothing.
There is a two hole golf course that one plays barefoot and only
after consuming a suitable amount of the local Tahitian brew, Hinano
beer. The bungalows offer you a deck overlooking the water, walls
decorated with shells and they don't even come with keys. A sliding glass
door is all the security you might want or need. Our host? A fellow
named Terrence, an amiable Frenchman who, not coincidentally, is a
gourmet chef. Terrence plied us with meal after meal that begged not
to be eaten lest you undo the amazing visuals provided in his
presentation. Whether it was his foie gras, grilled octopus, sushi,
roasted duck breast with polenta, eggplant caviar and goat cheese in
a tomato and basil coulis, or his crème brulee flambe or lemon tart
with meringue, our taste buds and eyes swam in ecstasy. This was
simply too good to be true. Our traveling friends, Randy and Cathy
(but especially Randy), would start a daily chorus of “mmmmm”
followed moments later with the same commentary. Lily and I would
soon find ourselves lapsing into the same language. I have to admit,
the “mmmmm's” pretty much dominated the breakfast, lunch and
dinner conversations. But, after all, as they say, words do not do
it justice. It is no wonder that this resort was voted by Conde Nast
Magazine as one of the best retreats on the planet. While I suspect
this resort was not around when Adam and Eve roamed these parts, Adam
must nevertheless surely be shaking his head somewhere at his
misfortune of not being able to stick around long enough to enjoy it.
There was an overwhelming serenity
about this place. And, this atmosphere was underscored by the
temperament of the local Polynesians. Almost to a man or woman, the
local populace exhibited a gentleness and sweetness that was too
common, too noteworthy, to be merely a coincidence. Whether it was
hotel staff, or snorkeling tour guides, or shop owners, or just people you'd pass
in the streets, people were soft-spoken, and quick to smile. Even one
of our snorkeling guides, Roy, when whistling softly from our boat would cause, magically, a flock of terns to swoop out of nowhere to hover
over us in the hopes of a feeding. And, all this with a willingness
to help whether it was to teach us something about the local physical
environment, find us something we needed, or just chat about life
here. Terrence told me at one point that Polynesians, as a general
rule, always speak softly. Except when they laugh.
Adam, baby, you gave all this up for a
bite of the apple. You know you're a fool, don't you?
Mmmmmmmmmmm. When can we go back?
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