Travel Blog

We get to Bora Bora and are forced to live like normal people

After 3 nights we left Huahine and arrived in Bora Bora, the halfway point of our trip.

Bora Bora is by far the most picturesque of the islands. I hate airports, and even the Bora Bora airport is magical.

Here's the drill. Land in the middle of a sea green lagoon (the most beautiful water of the trip to date). Watch rich people walk by. Breathe in the freshest air in the world. Wait for a yacht to take you to the mainland.

All in all it's a pretty unforgettable first impression.

However, as we got our things and walked to the dock, I began realizing that we'd been pretty spoiled in the resorts, and that maybe we were in for a wakeup call. 

Upon arrival, we noticed some pretty high end yachts waiting at the docks with the St. Regis, Four Seasons, Sofitel logos. On each boat, tour guides were waiting to drape tourists with leis and shell necklaces, and two strong Tahitians were standing by to carry baggage.

We started walking in that direction, but quickly realized that with our non-resort status, we had to take the bus alongside the locals and other non-millionaires.

Of course, the "bus" to go into Bora Bora was also a yacht, there was just a little more guesswork required on our part to figure out what to do, and where to go.

I was a little bit apprehensive as we went to the hostel, as hostels on other islands were definitely not “honeymoon material.” But, I hoped for the best, and tried to appreciate that we had an opportunity to really interact with the locals, and get a dose of reality on Bora Bora.

All-in-all, the inconvenience is a small price to pay for the amount you save by staying at a hostel. (Nights at the St. Regis START at $1000 a night, and even the ride to and from the airport cost 7500 CFP - or the price of three meals - or about $85.)

 

More Tahitian cultural insights

By our last day in Huahine, I still didn't know what to think of the local culture, and the relationship between the Tahitians and the French. It didn’t seem like the French had a lot of influence culturally, with large groups of Tahitians still living on family land with all their relatives, bartering, fishing, and never leaving the island.

It was clear from the moment we arrived at the airport (a single room with a beer stand in the middle of a field with a weekly flight in and out) that Huahine would be the most "real" and "real different" place we visited, so I tried to learn as much as I could while there.

Although we didn't get as involved with the locals as I might have liked, we did learn a little bit about the local politics. For example, the day we took the lagoon tour we learned that our guide was a member of the "Beautify Huahine" movement. He wore a shirt with a political expression on it that meant “Ha’apo is my village and I want to keep it clean.”

It was funny to think that even in the cleanest, most remote, emptiest places, people worry about garbage in the streets and pollution! When I thought about it more, I remembered seeing some French guys pouring gasoline in the ocean when refueling the boat, so I'm glad there are people who care about the environmental impact of that behavior - even in the middle of nowhere.

The other thing we learned was that the current president of Tahiti is really pushing for Tahitian independence. Apparently the import/export ratio is dramatically in favor of the French and he thinks they would do better on their own.

The independence-loving side of me thought this made sense, but all of the Tahitians we met said the president was crazy. The reason they gave was the amazingness of French healthcare. Apparently, if something happens to you on one of the islands, you’re flown to the main island, Tahiti. If they can’t fix you in there they fly you to New Zealand - all on the French dime. So I guess that’s the reason why the Tahitians have the best standard of living of all the people in the South Pacific.

 

Name that tune

I take terrible video, but this is a short clip of Dan and I walking along the pineapple road. Someone in a house nearby was playing this song that I incorrectly said was a Selena cover...

Can anyone tell me what this song actually is? I have no idea why I recognized it, and it's been driving me crazy for weeks -

Alex wants to start a dog rescue in French Polynesia

Besides being remote, the other surprising thing about French Polynesia is the dog situation. I had read in Moon Tahiti that the islands were covered with wild dogs, which I anticipated would be a huge problem, considering the last time I ran into a wild dog in America, he jumped out of the bushes, balls swinging, barked aggressively at me, and I was on-edge for days.

The dogs here are like little stray pets, walking around the street, hanging out in gangs, going through garbage, fishing in the lagoon. They are the cutest little mixed breeds you’ve ever seen too. Mid-sized terrier dogs, beagle mixes, fox-faced little mutts that come lay down next to you on the beach without bothering you and lay at your feet in restaurants without going after your food . . . generally, they act like the most well-behaved pet you’ve ever had.

When Dan and I drove around Moorea, we saw a pack of 4 of them walking down the street together. We slowed down, I said hello, and they all came over, tails wagging. Very cute and friendly for being out on the streets.

I know I am going to break some hearts here, but Moon Tahiti not only left out the part about the dogs being adorable, but also the part about the dogs being food.

We didn’t learn this until we had gotten to Bora Bora, and made friends with Nir, our pension host. We asked him, "So what's up with all the dogs here?" And he said point-blank, "Ah, well they eat them."

I don’t think it is super common, but apparently if there isn’t a pig for a big family dinner, sometimes the family will go get a stray dog, fatten it up for a month, and then roast it for dinner.

This news made me really really really sad.

I think the thing that really surprised me this was that this fact was left out of 2 different books—Moon, and I think the Frommer’s guide. Is there some reason this is not discussed?

The other thing I think is strange is that the Tahitians keep some dogs as pets. I generally try to embrace cultural relativism, and the different strokes for different folks thing, but I don't know how you could have a pet dog, and not make the decision that dogs are too intelligent to be eaten. My aunt tells me that in the places she's been to in Africa and China, if you're eating dogs, you don't also keep them as pets. So, this seems to be an exception to that rule.

 

Having an Island to Yourself

In spite of how amazing everything was on the trip, from time to time I found myself getting really anxious. It didn’t inhibit my mood or my time, but something about being so remote can be scary.

For example, our third day in Moorea we rented a car to drive around the island. Along the way, we found a couple of spots to do some hiking. Places that had private property signs, but according to Moon Tahiti, the owners really didn’t mind a few hikers.

The funny thing is, Moorea is so remote, and everything is so undeveloped, that you get to these hikes by “taking the second left after the Mobile station." Basically, the second you turn off the one main road that goes around the island, you’re in no-man’s land.

The most popular of the hikes we read about was a walk through the jungle to a vista point where we could see Cook’s Bay. It’s a 2 mile walk to the point, but the path goes all the way across the island through the jungle if you’re an experienced hiker and have a guide.

The locals call the first part of the hike Anana (pineapple) road, and really, that’s all there is out there. Pineapple farms, mango, coconut and banana trees, and some hikers. And when I say “some hikers” I mean you see 1-2 hikers every 5-10 minute on the main road. (Again, this is one of the top recommended tourist activities on the island.)

At first we passed a few acre plots of land, and 1 or 2 houses with neighbors in the yard. But once we passed the look-out spot about 20 minutes into the walk, we didn’t see anyone. And the vegetation got a little denser, and the road got a little rougher, and there were a few more ominous looking “private property” signs.

After awhile, something about the shade and the silence and the isolation and the narrowness of the road made my heart start beating a little faster, and I started getting this wave of “we shouldn’t be here.” I get the same feeling when I’m snorkeling, and suddenly I realize I’ve drifted farther out than I meant to.

I’m sure it was fine, but when it comes to walking through private property in the middle of the jungle in a country where you don’t speak the language or know the culture, it’s hard not to wonder what would happen if we were on someone’s land who wasn’t super happy to see us, and we couldn’t explain ourselves in French or in Tahitian.

I thought I understood before I left, but I was wrong. There is no way to wrap your head around the remoteness of these islands until you go. I thought I could imagine it, but it wasn’t until a few days had gone by that I realized how different things actually are in a place that has so little people around, and is so disconnected from the rest of the world.

 

Swimming with Whales in Moorea

One of the highly recommended activities in Moorea was Dr. Poole’s eco-friendly dolphin tour. I love dolphins and have always been curious about them, so this was one of the few activities I made sure we signed up for. About two weeks before we left I emailed Dr. Poole (an American biologist living in Moorea) myself, and had a dialogue with him about the trip, and about Dan’s work at Liquid Robotics—since ocean vehicles and ocean data might be relevant to him.

I was all ready to see dolphins, but as it turns out, Dr. Poole is a whale guy. So if you go on this tour, be ready for him to be single-mindedly focused on conducting whale research during the “tour.” (This was totally ok with me, helping a marine biologist collect whale skin all morning is a pretty cool experience.)

Dr Poole was one of the people responsible for saving Humphrey the Whale back in the 80’s (a story that made a huge impression on me as a child) and he also is responsible for turning French Polynesia into a protected whale sanctuary, so he really knows his stuff and is a cool person to meet.

We never saw dolphins, but we did spend the better part of the morning with a 60,000 lb humpback whale, her baby, and an escort whale. (And to illustrate just how ridiculous these animals are . . .)

 

 

Dr Poole warned us that we might not have a chance to get into the water, that his tour is more about education and observation. I was prepared for a morning of whale watching, but about 10 minutes after leaving the lagoon Poole stops, and says “Ok—who brought their snorkels?” (Another travel tip—buy and bring your own snorkel to French Polynesia, and keep it with you . . . you never know when you will have the chance to swim with some crazy animal.)

The visibility wasn’t great, but I climbed in with my snorkel and swam over to where the guide was at. All I could hear was how loudly I was breathing into my snorkel. It was a mix between being cold, excited, and terrified.

I wasn’t sure how I’d know when I had reached the whale, and suddenly I realized that the big dark water was a shape—that I was looking at the whale already. And then it moved, and I saw the white belly, and the tail with the spots on it, about 20 feet from where I was treading water. Unfortunately, the guide in the water was already waving us back because some idiot had tried to swim too close to the whale, and he had to grab her by her foot and drag her back. Another guy was splashing all over the place like a drowning fish, which attracts sharks.

We got two other opportunities to go into the water, both of which were short-lived due to the other idiot tourists’ inability to chill out (on a boat with 12 tourists, there were about 10 too many.) Eventually the three whales took a nap, and we cruised around for awhile and came back in. But for the first half of the entire trip, that experience stuck with me as the highlight of the trip. Being able to get so close to such massive creatures feels like an opportunity few will have, and I feel really special that I was in the right place at the right time.

 

First Morning in Moorea—at the Pearl Resort

We woke up in Moorea around 5:30am, and it already was 75-80 degrees out with a breeze. That never happens in San Francisco, so already the trip could be considered a great success. From the back deck of an over-water bungalow, the sunrises are amazing. On a small island, you can start the day in one place to catch the sunrise, and end the day on the other side to see the sunset.

But at our first real stop, the Pearl Resort in Moorea, we were lucky enough to be facing the ocean in such a way that the sun rose on the right, and set on the left, all in front of our eyes. You could literally sit on your back deck all day and watch the sun move across the sky.

Dan and I are generally far too active for that sort of behavior, but in Moorea we did spend a lot of time watching the sky. The morning was my favorite time of day, hands down. We’d wake up to pink light coming through the window, and go outside to see completely still lagoon water, stretching all the way out to the coral reefs (a few hundred yards away) where the waves broke.

The lighting at that time of day allows you to see under the water for several feet. You can see the details in the coral reefs, and the striped, electric blue, and yellow fish swimming underneath you. The overwater bungalows are essentially like being on top of an aquarium, and you even have a hole in your floor that allows you to see what’s going on below—any time of day.

My favorite of the three mornings was when Dan noticed a manta ray gliding by our back porch. It looked like it was on its way to work. Other than the occasional canoe, scattered birds, and the muted sounds of the ocean hitting the barrier reef, the mornings are quiet. Even the roosters, which crow inland starting at 3am, are too far away to really be heard.

If anything, it feels like you—the tourist—are tainting the scene with your presence. The islands are just a speck out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and you feel so lucky to be there—along with the rainbow of fish, and the sharks and the rays.

When the sun comes up, nothing really changes, but somehow things get louder. The surf sounds louder, the colors of the sky change from sea green and baby pink to blue, the sun comes up and the heat is on your face, and the water becomes mysterious again.

 

Ferry to Moorea

The easiest island to get to from Tahiti is Moorea, about a 30 minute ferry ride (although some people are dumb enough to fly . . . not sure why.) This was the first time we got out on the open ocean, and it's pretty incredible to see the difference in the water once you leave the safety of the lagoon.

We actually ended up on the same ferry as the British Polynesian dancer. Apparently she takes the ferry to Moorea every morning to hang out at the resorts and go to her dance lesson. Not a bad plan, and it sounds like it's a common one for people who plan to spend a long time on the islands.

When you're used to the hassle and security of traveling in the United States, getting around on the islands is a refreshing experience. You buy your ticket at the counter a few minutes before, a couple of Polynesian guys throw your boat in the back, you get on the boat, find one of the many open seats, and have one of the best commuter views of all time. When the ferry drops you off, you quickly realize that you are in the middle of nowhere, so the challenge is getting your bag, getting on the bus (or paying $25 to take a taxi 2-3 miles) and figuring out where the heck you're trying to get to.

Fortunately, everyone at the Moorea ferry stop is in the same boat as you, so as long as you have 300CPF and know where you're going, it's not too hard to get someone to point you in the right direction. (But knowing French really really helps!)

 

Planning your Time in Tahiti

Our plan was this: arrive in Tahiti at 3:30am, check into a hostel that afternoon, leave for Moorea on the morning ferry the next day—all-in-all, a pretty quick turnaround time.

As I alluded to earlier, that is probably the smart way to play it. I couldn’t really imagine ending a trip to the islands in Tahiti—once you see the rest, Tahiti will really depress you—but it was cool to see the center, and its existence put the rest of the islands into perspective as we went along.

Tahiti is the business hub. It’s where all the middle-school/high-school kids from all the islands are sent to live for a few years to study, its where a lot of the jobs are, and its where all the people from the other islands who want excitement “in the big city” go. The only island that has areas I would ever describe as “seedy.”

Tahiti reminded me of a French city, and, we weren’t sure if it was a classist thing, but the Tahitians in Tahiti don’t speak Tahitian. They all speak French, and some of them act offended/confused if you ask them what something means in Tahitian. There were more homeless people in Tahiti, more Billa Bong and Gap and cell phones, and—relative to other islands—there were more people of European and Tahitian descent.

On Tahiti, money matters. This is not as true of the other islands, and it’s interesting to see the difference that money makes in how people behave.

Tahiti is “big” in that it has people on it—which can’t be said for all of the islands, but make no mistake, Tahiti is small. Don’t go into it thinking it’s a city in the American sense of the word. There are restaurants, a waterfront, a daily open-air market, grocery stores and pearl shops . . . but you are in local territory, and there aren’t a lot of things to do for the tourist. There aren’t really any beaches, unless you rent a car and drive north, and for as little industry as French Polynesia has, you are in the middle of it. So land there, check it out, and then be on your way. People are much friendlier, and the places are much more beautiful on other islands. But for a first impression, Tahiti's not bad.

 

Trapped in Tahiti

We asked Beni why more Californians don’t come to Tahiti, considering it’s only 7ish hours away (which is not much further than Hawaii, a place that gets a lot of traffic.) He said he supposed most Americans didn’t want to deal with the foreign language, and the strange money, and the odd culture. And whenever people say things like that to me abroad, I always have such a strong urge to prove them wrong.

Especially Beni. A guy who seems very close-minded about other cultures, even though he lives in one. There are actually quite a few Europeans like Beni in Tahiti. People who left their home country for “paradise,” married a Tahitian woman, and now feel resentful and trapped. For example, we had read in our Moon Tahiti book that Papeete hosts a Saturday night food-truck-and-music festival on the waterfront, which Beni hadn’t really heard of it, in spite of being just down the street. He told us his favorite place to eat was a small pizza place near the hostel, and that Tahitian food overall was not very good. He was very open that he doesn’t try to speak the language, doesn’t pronounce the islands correctly, and thinks everything is in danger of being stolen at his hostel (although, to be fair, my iPhone did get stolen.) Beni says the day he turns 50 he can retire and take his family back to Switzerland, and he’s basically just buying time until that happens.

It was really strange to arrive in “Paradise” and immediately meet someone who feels so trapped there and has kept him so isolated from the culture (which I thought was very warm and welcoming.) I know that living on an island would never be fulfilling for me . . . but then, I would never lock myself into that kind of life. It’s a weird type of person who migrates to Tahiti and stays there in spite of being miserable, but it seems like there are quite a few of those people on the main island. Some pics - - the hostel Beni is "stuck" in.