"Woo Hoo!," that over-used exclamation of joy and exuberation is a huge understatement compared to the day we had Monday. Woo Hoo HOO!! might be better, but starts to sound like some sort of bird call deep in the woods, so let's just skip all the exclamations and say that Monday's transit from Moorea to Papeete was even more raucous than Saturday's rally to Moorea. The lumpiest seas we've been in to date, with 26-knot winds right in our face and 10-foot seas coming from left and right, and not something we'd be very happy to endure for more than a few hours. But that's all it was, a few hours, and as such, it was a lot of fun -- water flushing over the bow and the cabin in giant bucketfuls. We spent almost the entire passage standing in front of the wheel, mid-center of the boat, hanging on, Fly Aweigh pitching so high sometimes she looked like she was ready to actualize her name and take flight. We really didn't have an overblown case of get-there-itis; we knew we could turn around and tuck into Cook's Bay or back to Opunohu at any time, "always leave yourself an out," we say in the flying world, and so we did.

We pulled in to Papeete by mid-morning, snuggled into a nice spot at the downtown Quai des Yachts, just in time for the sky to let loose with more bucketfuls of water, this time the fresh, rainy kind that cleans all the salt off the boat. Allan took advantage of the rain and got the hose out, powering down the scuppers and getting in the nooks and crannies while the rain finished the rinse job. Half an hour later it cleared up just in time for us to go off on our errands.

Turns out the radar bracket that has sheared cannot be repaired, and a part is on it's way from the states and should arrive in a few days. We'll take advantage of being in the midst of things and get little projects done on the boat while we have a good water supply and access to hardware stores, marine stores and so on, and take a little time to explore the city.

Papeete is a teeming place, with lots of nice, new cars, which seems standard in French Polynesia -- no old beaters here -- and lots of scooters with safely helmeted riders. The traffic can get abysmal, worse than anything I've seen in the states, and I grew up in Los Angeles. Downtown Papeete is a huge disappointment to many who have saved their nickels to come spend a week in paradise. It's like many noisy cities with run-down alleys, greasy sidewalks and broken park benches, with an industrial-looking port right at her feet. There are no beautiful palm-fringed ocean views, no delightful promenades, no big touristy shopping malls. But there is an undercurrent here that's compelling, and I love it.

It's an expensive place, French Polynesia, but a few streets back off the main road, Papeete is rife with bargains. I found little stores that defy categorization -- cameras next to mosquito nets next to BBQ tools next to stationary. Stores with dusty clothing at bargain prices, looking like they came from a one-price-buys-all clearance sale at a defunct Hong Kong factory. Rich-smelling shops with floor-to-ceiling Chinese herbs and cotton dresses for $6. There are lots of baguette sandwiches and Orangina, served at sidewalk cafes and walk-up counters under blue Hinano Beer umbrellas and awnings. Colorful pareos are everywhere, hanging from walls and ceilings and sidewalk racks, next to fun t-shirts with Polynesian motifs.

Impromptu ukulele gigs happen occasionally, which is a delightful surprise. Small groups of musicians will gather on the sidewalk and start playing local instruments: ukuleles, guitars, plastic Coke bottles filled with sand and sealed with wax, and a one-string bass made from an upside-down 10-gallon garden pot and a thick plastic line, probably weed-wacker line, like something an Appalachian percussionist might play. And these guys are always really good, in-sync with each other, smiling and sending little messages back and forth while they play. The group pictured above plays every morning at 9am. On the far end of the picture, sitting against the wall is Captain Brian on Furthur, who is an accomplished guitar player and a recent convert to the Polynesian ukulele. When he saw this group playing, he ran back to the boat and got his new ukulele and asked if he could join in. They welcomed him, and invited him back for their morning sessions for the rest of the week.

The young women here seem to exclusively wear knee-length shorts and sleeveless tops. Ditto the men, and sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. Older women braid their hair in long, graceful braids down the back, or wrap them in thick knots with fresh flowers, and are partial to colorful Tahitian dresses with lace and rick-rack and full sleeves. Lots of Tahitians sport tatu's although not all, which was the case almost exclusively in the Marquesas. Some are old and faded, or sometimes an older man might have a lifetime collection on his body, telling a story much like Ray Bradbury's "The Illustrated Man."

There's good food here, but the most popular is La Roulette, the gathering of food trucks along the water front every night. We've become especially enamored of the one at the end, which serves the best Won Ton soup anywhere. Sometimes we move to the middle and finish the evening with a chocolate-banana crepe. Today we had a really good hamburger for a little over $6 at Le Bistro across from the quai. We've avoided the pricey places, but Papeete has some excellent chefs from France, I hear, doing some gourmet stuff.

The quai is a strange and wonderful place to be -- noisy, with the main road just feet away, and creaky, as the lines that keep us tied to the big, moving steel docks rimmed with huge truck tires stretch and slack, the boats and docks rocking mightily every time the hefty wake from the ferry travels beneath us. It's a rhythmic sound that blends into the overall cacophony of the city. This morning at 5am someone decided to play a stereo at full blast, wafting out over the quai and to the surrounding waterside apartments. Not sure if someone complained or if everyone just considered it an alarm clock and got up to start their day, which seems to start pretty early around here. Even the gas-powered leaf-blowers are out at 5:45am. There is a wooden walkway beside the quai, a boardwalk that wraps along from the park to the end of the harbor, and curiously, we heard voices and the sounds of clanking pots and pans coming from beneath our feet as we walked along the other night. No answers there ...

We backed in to the dock this time, so it's easy to climb on and off the boat from our nice stern platform, and we can sit in the cockpit like it's the front porch in an old Southern neighborhood, sipping a cold drink and watching the neighbors go by, off to the market or cleaned up for dinner at La Roulette.

It's about $35 a night to stay on the quai for our size of boat, including water. Electricity is useless to us because our boat is not wired to accept the European voltage. So we run the generator a little bit each day, giving me a change to exercise our rather ignored washer-dryer unit, which uses a lot of water and is rather slow, not to mention it leaves everything mightily wrinkled. But it does do a much better job than I do in my Orange 5-gallon Home Depot buckets. In fact, to save some time and energy, I've been washing in the machine and drying most of our clothes and bedding on the boom, or the rails, or on lines stretched about the cockpit, so we look like a Chinese Junk sitting in the middle of the quai, busy and crowded, it's rather festive.

To the best of my knowledge most of this city was built in the early 1960's. Although Papeete was established in the 1800's, and there are still some older buildings around, a lot of her growth came after the airport was built in 1961. The architecture is less-than impressive, with pseudo-Colonial facades and clumsy '60's motifs. The harbor is lined with 5-story buildings that maybe were hotels in the pre-bungalow resort era, but are now apartments. Most tourists today who come to town and don't go on to Moorea or Bora Bora stay in these bungalow resorts, just outside town. A few of them are just off the airport arrival and departure paths, making for a less-than-paradisaical experience, unless you're an estranged airline pilot who loves the sound of jets flying overhead.

Overall, I think this town is what you make it. We've enjoyed city life but are ready to move on. It's frustrating not being able to jump in the water anytime we get hot, we really are spoiled. We'll see when our replacement part is arriving and start making plans for the next destination, which may now be Bora Bora.

I've taken a nice collection of pictures of Papeete and of the Rendezvous which I hope to get into a photo gallery tomorrow, time permitting. Will keep you posted on that. Meanwhile, the sun has set behind the cargo yard across the harbor, the yellow street lamps are aglow, bathing the main road along the quai in a warm light, the traffic has thinned, the air has cooled, and it's time for dinner.