Tahiti!
05 June 2010 | Papeete, Tahiti
Alison
We sailed to Tahiti!
We sailed to the lush island of long brown-haired women with shooshy-hippy-sexy skirts and coconut bikini tops, soft, pink sand, swaying palm trees and strong, muscled Tahitian men in outriggers with shells on their heads. To the place of cars and trucks and noise and sirens and kids who steal your dingy in the middle of the day while you're ON YOUR BOAT! Woo hoo!
We arrived in Papeete, which is pronounced "Pap-eye-ay-tay" early on Tuesday morning. The first thing we saw through the hazy morning sky was the island of Moorea, it's jagged mountains a soft silhouette, guarding the harbor of Papeete, and then the island of Tahiti itself with it's striking 7,000' high mountain.
It was a difficult passage, 3 of the 4 of us were queasy the entire time, Tiffany was the only one free of the discomfort, and I actually suggested we henceforth hire crew to move the boat from Point A to Point B for us, while we fly to the next anchorage in relative comfort. Yeah, I'm a hearty sailor. So when we got into Papeete Harbor, calm and glassy, the boat stable and no longer lurching and trying to really wear me out, we all felt instantly better and decided to take a little harbor tour, past the downtown quay, the ferry dock, the airport, and ultimately to Marina Taina, where we hoped to get a slip. We arrived at the downtown quay in time to catch Brian on Further at the end of the dock, preparing to set off for Moorea for a few days. We hovered at the end of the dock and got the scoop from him -- where to go, what to eat, what's happening in Moorea. Greg and Tiff are planning to join Brian for the next leg of their trip, so they had a chance to chat with him as we hovered, making tentative future plans.
Then we peeled off and made our way past the east, and then the west ends of the airport boundary, requiring clearance each time, and finally, to Taina Marina, which had no slips nor moorings available. We meandered through the anchorage until we found a spot in 45' of clear water. Turns out, we're just off a small local public park and next to a McDonalds. Guess where we had lunch? Guess where, in a hot, humid, sticky clime, hungry and moody after a seasick night of passage, lacking the patience to explore, and craving air conditioning -- guess where we had lunch? And just how good WAS that Hamburger Happy Meal? It was A+ yummy extra-pickle good.
After that, we checked into the local Supermarket, and lo and behold ... Mountain Dew, which we haven't had on board since Mexico. Allan, who is admittedly and happily addicted, was redeemed, and Greg and Tiff found their addiction -- Coke Zero, so all were appeased.
Then, boat organization and cleaning, and for Greg and Tiff, packing up their worldly goods for the next stage of their adventure. Our time with them has come to a close, and we honor and appreciate their assistance and guidance and physical help in the last 10 weeks, as well as their intelligence and senses of humor. We learned a lot, and we hope they did, as well. They'll join the powerboat Further on the 16th of June. In the meantime, they'll have some time with Tiff's mom and step-dad in Moorea and Bora Bora. We will see them again, as Further and Fly Aweigh have similar paths, and in the meantime, we intend to hook up with them in Moorea so we can meet Tiff's mom and her husband Rick.
Greg and Tiffany left us with some amazing parting gifts: Tiffany hand picked and selected pink sea urchin spines from the beach in Tikehau, then painstakingly drilled little holes in each one. She then combined them with some little loose sea pearls I bought in Hong Kong a few years back and made me a beautiful necklace. Greg spent the last few weeks working feverishly on a computer project that he told us was his blog. Pretty hefty blog, we thought, as we watched him burn the midnight oil night after night. Turns out, he made a series of 9 "Webisodes" of our trip, starting with our first meeting in Baja and ending in Tahiti. He is very comfortable in front of a webcam, but not us, the Stiff Gabels, so it's a funny collection of little snippets of Greg's charisma and energy and us being nervous in front of the camera and wanting to hide behind the bulkhead, but it's a fabulous work of art and we are deeply flattered. It's something we'll enjoy sharing with friends and family when we get back.
Tuesday night we had the best Italian meal at a local restaurant to celebrate our time with Greg and Tiffany, replete with Truffle Pasta Flambée, a French interpretation of an Italian dish, made in a giant Parmesan bowl. Wednesday we cleaned more and shopped more, exploring the dizzying array of food at the local supermarket down the road in a small but efficient mall. We found a hair salon, the massive and comprehensive Carefour grocery store, an electronics department, a chiropractor, a pharmacy, and a medical doctor. Our first order of business on Thursday was the doctor.
As faithful readers of this blurb may recall, Allan's big toe had an unfortunate encounter with a scuba tank a few weeks ago. The toe in question has taken on a luminous green hue of late, so we thought maybe it was time for an actual doctor to have a gander at this digit and give us his opinion. In the waiting room I made a valiant attempt at translating Allan's situation into words that a French-speaking doctor might recognize. Using only my "French for Cruisers" book, which is great if you need a new halyard or want to check in with the Harbor Master, but which is a bit lacking in the "I smashed my toe" department, I managed to cobble together a fairly logical explanation. We were assisted by a friendly French-speaking guy in the waiting area, with whom we struck up a conversation and discovered that he, too, had smashed his toe in recent months and could not only completely empathize, but could also translate the entire event to the doctor for us. The Doc was tall and French, with a happy face, a silly laugh and no shoes. Barefoot. I decided right then and there, if I am ever a qualified medical doctor, I am going to French Polynesia to practice.
We stammered and stuttered and botched the language pretty well, the doctor made cheerful gestures of amputation with imaginary saws and gardening clippers, and in the end Allan ended up with some antibiotics and a tetanus shot.
When we returned from our sojourn to the mall, Greg and Tiff has just completed their generous task of cleaning the room and bathroom, and were ready to head off into the their future. We hugged and said our so-longs, and dropped them off at the dock, laden with packs and fins and masks, looking forward to seeing them again in few days in Moorea.
And then, the dingy was stolen. Allan and I were on the boat working on various interior projects, and heard what sounded like our Honda outboard firing up, accompanied by a lot of cheerful young male voices. Allan jokingly said, "Is that the sound of someone stealing our dingy?" We rushed to the cockpit and sure enough, 6 teenage boys had commandeered our dingy and were having a gleeful joyride as we stood on the transom, waving our fists, cursing and swearing and looking generally quite fierce. The thief at the helm made a few more passes, talking to us in French and smiling, but the only word I understood was "bateau" meaning "boat," and finally, after the accompanying 5 kids had bailed out, he brought our little bateau back to the stern of our boat, shut off the motor, rolled off the stern with an "I win" smile on his face, and swam to shore. A few minutes later they had taken a dingy from the stern of another boat tied up at the marina, so Allan went to the marina office to report them, lest they continue their pranks and hurts someone (they came dangerously close with the propeller to a number of kids swimming near the park.) Then he went to the park and took a picture of the group, who smiled and posed for the camera. (Guess which one was the thief?) An hour or so later the police came and made a sweep of the park, removing a number of the more threatening older kids who looked like gang members (not the group pictured above.)
Ah, city life. Well, overall, it's great. We have a marvelous view of Moorea from the anchorage here, and we have our friends nearby. Not to much has broken on Fly Aweigh in the last 3 months, so our passage through this town will be brief and not burdened with waiting for parts and buried in complex maintenance projects, which is how many people unwillingly spend their 90 days in French Polynesia.
Yesterday we took the bus to downtown with Mike and Gloria from Paikea Mist. We strolled through the seaside park, investigated the fresh fruits and vegetable market, found a bead store and a fabric store, and generally got the lay of the land. For dinner, we ate at La Roulette, a wonderful collection of food trucks that come in the evening and set up in the public square, with tables and chairs and, in some cases, even tablecloths. Each truck is a little traveling restaurant, with Chinese dishes, fish, crepes, and a few other food genres' from which to choose. One truck had set up a fire pit and was spit-roasting a splayed calf, rather gruesome but quite the attraction. Nearby, kids are playing in the square on roller blades and skateboards, and running around while their parents eat a mostly quiet meal.
Sunday or Monday we'll head for Moorea for a few days. Our goals at this point are to restock for the next stage of our adventure, swim with some manta rays in Moorea, join friends for the Puddle Jump Party in Moorea for the semi-final reunion of the many good people we have met along the way, spend some time with Greg and Tiff and family in Moorea, and around June 20th, head west for Bora Bora.
Next report: when I get around to it.
XXOO