Tahiti 30/12/2009 to 02/01/2010.

Santiago (Chile)

We had had a stop in Santiago so we wandered about the airport, killing time. During our lunch, equipped with a good internet connection we uploaded photos of Mexico onto the web.

Easter Island

Originally we considered spending some time in Easter Island. Proper time that is, not the40 minutes we had in a pen at the airport. Fortunately there were a couple of the eponymous statues in said enclosure so time for some posing. They do look like Bill van Wyk, only much quieter.

Pape’ete

Our plane touched down around 10.40pm to the sound of local music, song, flowers (to place behind your ear depending on relationship status), heat and humidity. Behind your left signifies that you are available, right for in a relationship, backwards behind the right, in a relationship but available. Tiger Woods and John Terry would be very confused. Since we were to be staying in supreme luxury over new year, we planned to slum it a little with somewhere close to the airport on our first night and a cheap backpacker lodge on our final day. The French owner of pension for our last night mentioned Chez Fifi when quizzed about possibilities for when we arrived.

Note that Chez Fifi is not a pet beautician. They are normally hygienic.

A fella at the airport proffered us directions. As he looked dirtier than a Vernon Kay text message we asked at the information desk just to make sure. With slightly different directions from Mr Sleazy off we went.

We were a little bit lost when the same guy from the airport, who had followed us, told us to follow him and then led the way to a building back down the steep hill we had just climbed with all our bags. Then along for another 100m or so. As he pointed us to the place he asked V to approach him. V politely told him that ‘it is late, we are tired, bye’.

We ended up walking onto someone’s balcony while they were having their evening drink. They were (thankfully) very relaxed about the full thing. As we apologised and left, we passed Charles Manson hiding between some cars. All rather perturbing.

Clambering back up the hill to exactly where we were before, the husband of Fifi came out. Thankfully (at the time) they had some space.

He introduced us to our hostess, who basked like a stranded whale on the settee. Any self respecting Norwegian or Japanese would have harpooned her there and then.

She strained her bulk into the kitchen which has more filth between the gaps than Gary Glitter’s mattress and bedframe. She was also hooked up to some breathing apparatus and had tubes dangling from her blowholes (sorry, nostrils).

We were shown to our sauna-hot, unclean room (by her husband, not Fifi) with its matching pestilent shower. A shock for 60 euros, following our time in central and South America.

It was not an auspicious start.

With the fan on and our mosquito plug in we crashed out at midnight.

The neighbour’s rooster got me up at 4.30am.

A simple and clean breakfast we said our goodbyes to Fifi (I stood on her tubes – by accident, honestly) and we grabbed a bus at the bottom of the street. It took us directly to the port where we boarded a ferry to Moorea. Our luck was changing.

Moorea

It was only an hour trip by boat to the island. We grabbed the one available taxi and it drove us around the island to our resort at a sedate 60km/h. Very different from Fangio in BA.

The pace of life is so very different here and at first we found it perturbing. Used to bustling cities, energetic people and cramming as much into our available time as we could we were acting like kids on too much Inca Cola/ Irn Bru.

Everything was very sedate and serene. Our bungalow over the sea was ready and it was heaven on earth (and sea).

Multi-faceted fish, mantas, sting rays, barracudas, and others that I did not know but were still beautiful swam idly below our decking. Even the sea life are in no hurry here.

We had to pay for the internet though, which considering the damage the one night was doing to our beer allowance it was rather hard to swallow.

Another aspect of Tahiti is that you pay for everything.

Lunch with cocktails, a swim in the sea and then to the champagne reception to prepare to celebrate the new year.

The show was superb. Not just a some people off the street but a highly professional dance troupe. You could tell that they were professional because they didn’t flinch even when they burned themselves with their flaming torches.

The star of the show was not the flame or spear wielding warriors nor the shapely tattoed maidens but a young girl who entranced with her native dancing.

The organised buffet dinner seemed to be the arranged with only the best ingredients the chef could think of; Foie gras, lobster, steaks, oysters surrounded by ice sculptures and chefs on hand to cook what you liked how you liked it.

It was a great atmosphere, no doubt aided by the champagne. No wine, strangely, unless you paid for it.

The band had a guy on his Bontempi and they rocked out all the old French favourites, and we conga-ed around the room, wearing our flower necklaces.

Following the bells we retired to our bungalow for a swim with the fish. They were not scared of us at all and I almost stood on one coming down the ladder.

We checked out with our hangovers but stayed on the resort. Well on the beach really with some locals who had been on the table next to us the previous night. The hair of the dog was their motto and they were back on the lash with music, very small swimming costumes and booze.

The sea was too alluring and for the first time V and I were not careful with the sun. We paid for it.

Paradise was over and we returned to Pape’ete and were met by the owner of our bed for the night. It was back to the bad old days of backpacking with rustic rooms and cold showers.

On his advice we ate locally at what is essentially a carpark, decked out with plastic tables and chairs with the kitchen in a trailer.

The food was delicious and in vast quantities. Even the kids’ meals were full plates.

Huge portions equals large proportions. Obesity here is definitely an issue.

It was a short stay but it showed the different faces of French Polynesia. It is beautiful and eminently relaxing. Paradise is there as long as you pay for it.