More from Moorea

As beautiful and exotic as Bora Bora is, multiply that several times when you get to Moorea. It helped that it was a cloudless crystal clear day, but that aside, Moorea is the epitome of a tropical Tahitian paradise.

Transparent waters, great kayaking and swimming, and on a tour of the island from high above, and unparallel view of the spot where Captain Cook first set foot here.

I'll keep this short and throw a couple of pictures here because I want to make the next tender on shore to the internet cafe ... one more blog to follow before we return.

Radio Bora Bora Calling

Bora Bora has now faded into the sunset and dropped off the horizon after leaving a lasting impression of the absolute best snorkeling and underwater experiences I've ever had. It didn't really matter that it poured rain most of the second day we were there, our plans were to get wet anyway. So, at about 8:30, we left the ship, took a tender to shore, and hooked up with a local gal named Nora. Now, Nora is in her 60s, a rather rotund retired school teacher, born and raised on Bora Bora. But unlike Jay Tuday (remember, the off road four wheel driver who never left the island in his 28 years except to go to the hospital), Nora is proud to say she has been to LA and Paris. But she admits, she'd much rather be here ... and shortly we discovered why.

With one of her pals serenading us by ukulele, Nora had the flat bottom boat maneuver first to a shallow sandbar near the reef that protects Bora Bora, about a mile from land. As we approached, first one, then two, then three, then dozens of stingrays began surrounding the boat. Ladder lowered, we entered the cool water (yeah, it's not as warm as we thought it would be) to begin swimming with the stingrays. You don't really swim with them, but they come up to you, nuzzle you with their slippery bodies, looking for a handout. Give them a fish and they're happy, pull on their barbs and they aren't (remember Steve Irwin). After a half hour of so there, no one stung, Nora tells us to get back n board, she's got another place for us to go.

The next stop was the shallow coral reef that stretched for miles around Bora Bora. I wish I had an underwater camera to share what we saw because it was pretty damn indescribable. Even if you’ve seen videos in HD on the underwater experience here, it really can’t adequately capture it.

Thousands and thousands of the most brilliantly colored fish and sea life living among towering underwater monuments of coral. It was like swimming in your own huge well stocked underwater aquarium, but better. The only downfall is it was cold and rainy. Without the sunshine, a lot of us got chilled and the hour excursion was cut down to 45 minutes. All the way back to the pier where we caught the tender back to the ship, it poured rain. Fortunately, the ship did not run out of hot water from the inevitable flood of showers that everyone rushed to take.

Vacations aren't only about relaxing, exploring, meeting new people, seeing the natural wonders of the world. They are about reconnecting with yourself. So, for those of you who know me well, it should come as no surprise that when I returned to Bora Bora that afternoon after the rain stopped to hike around, and I spotted a wooden sign hanging over a dilapidated building that said "Radio Bora Bora," I was intrigued. Though I did TV most of my life, radio was really my true vocational love ... not the corporate crap that has taken over the American airwaves, but the "true local serve your community" type stations that we used to have. If there was any true raw radio left on this planet, I figured I might find it at Radio Bora Bora.

As I entered the building, a young woman wearing flowing Tahitian garb who spoke no English greeted me and gestured for me to come in and follow her (I think she thought I was bringing a new supply of CDs or something). She took me to a small room at the end of a long hallway where a very large Tahitian man was sitting behind a mixing board, the type I used when I first started at KPCO in Quincy in 1976. He spoke English and when I told him I used to work in radio and TV in the U.S. I was suddenly his new best friend for the afternoon. He told me he was the owner and he was very proud of the little FM station that he put on the air six years ago. He told me Radio Bora Bora is the only radio station on the island, in fact the only radio station they receive, and before he put it on the air, there was no radio here at all. It is all local, with five employees who play Tahitian music from 6:30 AM when they sign on to 11:30 PM when they sign off (sometimes he said bowing to pressure from the young Tahitians, he will play Lady Gaga's Poker Face).

His station is computerized, CDs recorded onto a hard drive and like stations in the US, programmed by touch screen. Attached to a pole at the side of the building was a miniature microwave dish that sends the program to a transmitter on a nearby hillside. Two other islands also now receive Radio Bora Bora.

I didn't get his name, but he wanted me to take a picture of him and me so I would remember Radio Bora Bora. Along with the stingrays, and coral, and fish, the little radio station with the big Tahitian man will be part of the great memories of Bora Bora. Alas, radio the way used to be does exist ... though you have to go to the South Pacific to find it.

Bonjour de Bora Bora

After another rocky night at sea, but one that started out with one of the most awesome orange sherbet colored sunsets you‘ve ever seen, the Paul Gauguin anchored in the bay surrounded by Bora Bora. While the first several ports, Huahine, Raiatea, and Rangiroa seemed to have little to offer (at least to us … some people raved about how quaint they were with their third world charm … to which I replied I live in a third world country most of the year), Bora Bora has a beauty all its own.

Up with the sun at 7:00 AM, breakfast by 8:00, we took the second tender into town where we were met by Jay Tuday, our guide for today (get it, Tuday, today … uh ,yeah). You see, Jay has one of those open air Land Rovers (benches in the back … fortunately padded) and he promised us and four other passengers that he would take us off-roading to points high above Bora Bora where few ever trek. Jay did not disappoint.
We saw the obligatory pineapple field and black pearl farm, all right along the main paved road that hugs the white sand shore around the entire island. Then, Jay said, "Hold on." A hard left turn, and we were off the road, onto a rock/dirt path, that was carved up a sheer volcanic mountainside by American forces back in 1942. If you have been on the Giant Dipper in Santa Cruz, envision that (seriously), but instead of being on an OSHA approved track, you’re climbing and falling, twisting and turning, over miles of severely rutted road (and in some spots, no road). The payoff was the most amazing views that few have the opportunity to see.

The ocean colors, the homes built over the water, the tropical rain forests. Not one, but three mountain tops we wound our way to … the last being the abandoned military outpost where canons, which never had to be used in actual combat, still sit, a left over souvenir of the US presence in WWII (the airfield here was also built by the Americans during the war and turned over to the people of Bora Bora who use it today as their main airport).

In addition to the adventure, we got great insight of Bora Bora life from Jay. 28 years old, he has

been off the island only once in his life. That’s when he was injured in a motorcycle accident and had to be taken to the hospital on the nearby island of Raiatea, a 90 minute boat ride. His parents live on an even smaller island about 15 minutes from here. Too difficult to get to, he says, so the last time they visited was two years ago. He said he loves providing tours, and he said it is very easy to find a job here … because nobody wants to work. He said he lives in a small house on the beach. In the afternoon after work, he’ll fish to catch dinner. Or, if he feels like it, he’ll take his small boat to a reef 100 yards out and pluck lobsters from the shallow ocean bottom (he said he’s tired of lobster though, but loves to cook and would like them again if he could find a new recipe for them … life‘s tough for Jay). He said he’ll probably not get married because he is related to everyone on the island … "just wouldn’t be right, if you know what I mean," he said. I told him maybe he could go online to find someone in the Internet. "Yeah, that would be fine," he said, "but the Internet here takes about two hours to upload a picture, so it’s too much effort."

For a lot of us, no cell phones, painfully slow internet, one or two TV stations, unable to travel, it would be misery after a while. But here, honestly, they are a very happy people. The co-exist in a society that has almost stood still over time. There is virtually no crime, only two police officers (which Jay says just drive around the island twice a day wasting gas), there is no jail, no court system. On top of that, it’s one of the most beautiful places on earth. I don’t think it’s the type of place where I could live, but it is a great place to visit and explore … so now, I will catch the next tender to go onshore, and explore for a Internet connection which hopefully will be faster than one Jay talked about. If you see this and there are pictures with it, it means I found one.

Update ... I obviously did find one ... the only one on the entire island ... slow, but it works.

Somewhere out in the Pacific

Somewhere in the South Pacific, the M/S Paul Gauguin is slicing through the eight foot swells in a very choppy ocean. At noon today, nearly 36 hours after we anchored off the shores of Rangiroa, we raised anchor and set sail again under sunny warm balmy skies.

Like the two previous stops, the small communities on the two atolls of Rangiroa, have been sparse at best. On Saturday, we took a tender to the enclave of Avatoru. Other than a hotel, comprised of thatched roofs and cottages built on a pier over the crystal clear blue bay, there is not much here. We hiked about a half mile over rough coral covered shores to reach a white sandy beach adjacent to the resort. With snorkeling equipment we snagged on the ship, we set out into the lagoon for a close-up look of exotic fish and coral. Truly beautiful, though so far the snorkeling has not been as visual or plentiful as Caribbean snorkeling. An hour in the water and we were ready to move on taking the small shuttle boat back to the main ship.

This morning (Sunday), before setting sail, we took the tender into the adjacent village of Tiputa, which is less than a quarter mile from Avatoru but separated a narrow deep swath of ocean (deep enough that our ship squeezed through during today’s departure). A couple of churches, a post office, a tiny store, and a pay phone (no Internet here)… that’s Tiputa Beyond the amenities (or in this case, lack of), what stands out are the people and the dogs. Everyone here is very friendly. They all smile at you, greet you with "Bonjour." There are no gangs here, no attitude, no graffiti. Even the teenagers, unspoiled by the opulence that often guides teen’s life in other parts of the world … i.e., the US … are genuinely polite. They would rather stop and talk with you, a stranger, than sit there texting their friends about Britney Spears (oops, no cell phones, so no texting … and if you ask who Britney Spears is, you’d likely get a puzzled look).

As friendly as the people are, so are the dogs. I would bet the population of this one atoll would be about 200 … the dog population easily exceeding the people population. I walked the entire island, arriving with a camera, backpack, and bottle of water. By the end of the one hour walk (that’s all it took to explore the entire island), I’d attracted three four legged friends who followed me everywhere I went. One, a black lab, even went into the moderate surf apparently to go fishing. But after several underwater dives, he only resurfaced empty-mouthed. He and his two other pals returned to the beach and followed me back to the pier for the tender back to the main ship. When I got back to the cement slab pier, four young boys had gathered, each with an empty soda bottle. The ship brings a jug of water and punch on shore for passengers, but since I was on the last tender off the island, and no one after me would want the punch or the water, the ships crew fills the boys’ bottles with whatever water and punch remained. The kids, bottles filled, left happy, as did I.

Back on the ship, lunchtime … barbecued ribs and calamari were today’s feature. One thing that stand out on this ship compared to others is the quality of construction and the service, which I’ve already mentioned. It’s more like a fine hotel, with teak wood cabinetry in the stateroom (not plastic like most ships), and a simple elegance (not loaded up with mass produced gaudy artwork). The service and the food truly are the best I’ve encountered on a ship. With so few people on board (350), perhaps it is easier to operate more like an upscale hotel and gourmet restaurant compared to a Travelodge and banquet hall.
The downside, a small boat rocks a lot more in the open seas than a large ocean liner does. And more than once, I have been startled awake in the middle of the night thinking we’re having an powerful earthquake before remembering where I was. Speaking of which, I think it’s time for a nap.
The next port … Bora Bora at 8:00 tomorrow morning.