Saturday, October 20th
South Pacific
Day 21
ms Westerdam
Raiatea, French Polynesia
Society Islands
Arriving: 8:00 AM
Departing: 6:00 PM
Partly Cloudy - 84 Degrees
Ia Orana!!!
We have arrived in the Society Islands of French Polynesia. Our first stop is at Uturoa at the very Northern tip of the island of Raiatea. Actually, it's two islands for the price of one. Raiatea is the Sacred Island, its smaller neighbor to the North is the Vanilla Island of Taha'a. They are bound together by a coral reef, and share a common lagoon.
Historically, this island was the capital of Polynesian empire. It was from Raiatea that the Polynesians launched their long canoes on epic explorations of the Pacific - to New Zealand, Hawaii, and Easter Island. These are the Polynesians who settled the uninhabited islands of Oceania. The political and spiritual heart of the island is at Taputapuatea Marae, a complex of seven sacred sites that gives Raiatea its name.
Taputapuatea Marae is the primary cultural destination of the island, a place of pilgrimage, and human sacrifice, for centuries. Not to be missed. But, we came to go to the beach.
The Relais & Chateaux Le Taha'a Island Resort & Spa is a five-star property on the secluded Motu Tautau islet across the lagoon from the Northwest coast of Taha'a. It has been featured in Condé Nast Traveler's GOLD LIST of "The World's Best Places to Stay" four years running, and has won Condé Nast Reader's Choice Awards as one of the "Top Resorts in Oceania" each of the last three years as well. Other publications have been just as positive, rating the resort on their lists of: "World's Best Hotel Experiences," "Sexiest Resorts in The World," "Ultimate Resorts for Seclusion," "Best Honeymoon Spots," "Top Dream Destinations," "World's Best Private Islands," and "World's Best Overwater Bungalows Over The Top." Obviously, this is the place to go, so I have arranged a site visit for us today. We just have to get there...
We are docked in the heart of Uturoa, the capital of the island, and home to the airport. Le Taha'a operates a shuttle boat from the airport to the resort, so we just have to get to the airport. The boat is picking us up at 10:00.
We got off the ship to blinding light and oppressive heat. There is a row of little shops on the dock, facing the street, one block behind the main drag. We staggered around, in four different directions, looking for a taxi. Down by the ship, up by the main street, only a rare taxi went by, and none would stop. The airport should be close, but we don't know exactly how far. Finally, we found the taxi stand, and waited, and waited. It was closing in on 9:30 and the shuttle boat wasn't going to wait for us. Just when we were losing hope, a local offered us a ride in her truck, one US dollar per person. Great!!! We're in!!! Her English was limited, but better than our Tahitian and French. We have local currency, the French Pacific Frank (CFP or XPF), trading at 92 to the dollar, but we are happy to pay in American. We piled into her truck and headed out of town, windows down, local radio on. Traffic was tight for a couple blocks, then it cleared out and we rolled down the road like a scene from a movie, glorious views out to the ocean and the islands beyond, juxtaposed with third-world junkyard improvised shacks. Ten minutes on the road, and we pulled into the "airport." Not just open air, there are actually no walls at all. Offering many thanks in multiple languages and a 50% tip, we bid our driver adieu, and headed down to the dock for a Coke while we waited for the boat. A Coke goes for 350 CFP, about $3.50. Spendy, but cold and refreshing.
The boat ride alone was worth the trip, 35 minutes through the lagoon North from Raiatea and up the coast of Taha'a. The topography is severe, the jungle thick, the water every shade from whitewash to midnight blue, the route treacherous. The waves crash against the reef that defines the outer rim of the lagoon, but a vast network of coral lurks just below the surface. You better know the line to drive the boat, and you better be able to hold it.
As the driver stalled the engine and drifted into a glide, we rounded the first two finger piers of bungalows, and tied up to the dock.
The brochure promises "a world of immaculate beauty, a timeless universe of sophistication and authenticity...facing the lush island of Taha'a on one side and the majestic silhouette of Bora Bora on the other side. Inspired by traditional Polynesian architecture and style,...Le Taha'a is the promise of a total change of scenery, a way of life of its own, in harmony with its preserved environment, people and local culture. An experience out of the ordinary."
"Our life style: genuinely Polynesian, purely authentic!"
That pretty much covers it. This is a Polynesian paradise, an island retreat of waterfront villas and overwater bungalows, raked sand and tended gardens, that disappears into the existing vegetation. It is authentically rustic, but luxuriously comfortable.
We were greeted in grand Polynesian style with leis of frangipani for the gentlemen, crowns of blooms for the ladies, a cool scented towel, and fresh island juice.
We took a tour of the property, and then settled in at the beach. A storm had blown through in the days before, so the clear water and clean sand were less so, but still lovely. We chose lounge chairs, left our things without a care in the world, and waded into the water, warm and salty. A hundred yards out, the water came just up to our waists. Not a lot to do or look at underwater, but heaven for waders and floaters. We flopped and frolicked, and waddled back to the beach for a nap in the sun before lunch.
Up from the beach, beyond the pool, the La Plage is an open-sided, thatched-roof, sand-floor hut that serves serious food. They saw us coming, knew our names, and made us welcome. We started with a round of the local drink, a tall glass of tropical love, something like a mai tai, a pina colada, and a banana daiquiri all in one. Seafood sustains the life of the island, and they like it as close to raw as possible. Everyone left the table satisfied, but the seared-rare mahi mahi sandwich won the loudest moans and the renowned yellowtail poisson cru stole the show - a coconut bowl of perfectly diced, translucent pale ruby red fish marinated in lime and freshly squeezed coconut milk, cratered in a mountain of ice studded with flowers, garnishes of lime, coconut, and rice suspended on the side. The presentation was extraordinary, stunning to behold. The fish was cool and luscious, just the freshest hint of the sea and the lightest touch of the tropics. The best.
After lunch, we wandered down the beach to the coral garden, a destination for hotel guests and tours from all over the islands. With mask and snorkel we floated in and out of the coral, just under water, in three to six feet of depth. The coral was unremarkable, drab lobes of sooty gray and dirty yellow, with a few bright bursts of purple and blue. The fish were many and varied, from the size of a child's thumb to the size of a man's hand, striped in every color imaginable. We stroked our way across the channel and back, blowing kisses to the fish all the way.
It's hard to leave paradise. No one stays for just a day. But our ride was waiting, and we know the sip won't.
The boat ride in reverse was just as spectacular, with wind and rain to go with the sun. The resort had a taxi waiting for us at the airport for the short ride back to town. The fare was 1,000 CFP, about ten bucks. As we peaked and poked at the shops on the pier, our volunteer driver from this morning approached. We gave thanks and well wishes again, but that wasn't what she came for. She was waiting for us. She wanted more money. She said the price was actually ten US dollars per person. OK, what's the problem here: language, exchange rate, criminal intent? Not sure, but we were not going to pay her $40.00 for a ten minute cab ride. The taxi that just dropped us off only cost $10.00, and that guy was a licensed taxi driver. It was a discussion more than an argument, but she was insistent and we couldn't make each other understand. We wanted to do the right thing, so we agreed to pay her the same rate the taxi charged for the same route. We let her keep $1.00, took back the five dollar bill, and gave her a 1,000 CFP note. Done deal. But she wouldn't give up. She followed us to the gangway, and then argued her case to the deckhands as we boarded the ship. She stayed out there until we cast off the lines and the ship pulled out of port.
So, we have been shaken down for tips by Gypsies in Italy and a cop in Egypt, extorted for a towel in the Caribbean, and now an unlicensed taxi driver has run up the fare on us in French Polynesia, eight hours after she dropped us off. Crazy!!!
The captain promised scenic cruising out of Raiatea at sunset tonight, and he delivered. Threading the needle through narrow coral channels, Westerdam split the difference between Raiatea and Taha'a, and slipped out to sea.
Next Stop: Bora Bora, French Polynesia
