Tahiti, Island Paradise or Toxic City?

Well, after my last journal I got some very interesting emails to the effect of: “So, you are saying that Tahiti is not a tropical paradise?” (Jen, you are now officially quoted in my journal, you’re famous!) So I would like to clarify my position on Tahiti and civilization in general. There is nothing wrong with Tahiti, it is only a relative thing that I never would have noticed had I arrived by plane. Approaching Tahiti was, for instance, the first time we had seen city lights since leaving Mexico. Approaching islands in the Marquesas and the Tuamotus was an absence of stars on the horizon, not a glaring affront to the darkness. After crossing the Pacific we have cruised islands that have no airport, where the only way to see these places is to approach by sea and the locals look at you like a visitor, not a tourist. Most of these places had a number of cars that could be counted on one hand and where the mayor was also the ambassador who ensured you had a good time. There a dive knife was part of the daily attire, similar to a banker wearing a tie.

Tahiti has the ghost of these qualities underlying the city smells and life here has a similar flavor. But while Tahiti does still have echoes of the island life they are under a layer of car exhaust and there is a feeling of solitariness that is unseen in the smaller islands. There are still roosters that are camped out in front of the bank but without a tree in sight they saunter through the parked cars and across concrete roads. There is always a fire burning somewhere on most of the islands (maybe garbage) and it is as much a part of the smell and richness of the islands as the scent of flowers and the clear turquoise water or the ever present stray dogs. Tahiti is no exception in any of these respects and these smells and animals simply combine with the smell of car exhaust. Strangely, the island culture is very strong here as well. Most of the people from the islands are educated on Tahiti so the small island mentality is alive and well and there is a warmth to the people. An informality that is present in the clothing (board shorts, flip flops and a tank are the accepted uniform out here, just like most islands) and the national culture is well represented with the rowers that litter the waters here just like on the smaller islands. But it is different here and after the pristine beauty of coral reefs, undisturbed by pollution, and the open friendliness of the people, you can’t help but mourn the loss of so much.

Before Brett’s dad arrived we decided to take advantage of city life and hit the night life. After some research we realized that the busses, called Le Truck here, stop running at 10PM, so if we went out we would be taking a taxi home. Taxis out here are very expensive and we anticipated a $50 taxi ride so we tried to get a posse together for our foray into the night life of Tahiti. In the end, since most of the cruisers are a little older than us and less incline to party till the sun comes up we only had one taker for out Tahitian bender: Pat from Don Pedro was game for the outing and the three of us headed into town to enjoy the sights.

After a few drinks on Fearless to get the party started and filling the flasks to lessen the burden on our wallets we headed out and the craziness began almost immediately. On Le Truck there was a drunk Tahitian speaking to us (in Tahitian) and Pat carrying on an entire conversation with him for the bus ride. The only rub was that Pat does not speak Tahitian and was speaking in English. This did not shorten the duration or the enthusiasm of the dialog and by the time we had gotten into town my side was hurting from so much laughing. When we got down town we bid our new friend goodbye and headed to the pier where we could hear some music playing in the public square. Don Pedro had been med moored (this is when you moore stern to shore with your anchor out front and two lines securing your stern to the dock, it is typically used in places where dock space is at a premium, like the Mediterranean.) in the Quay, a mooring that is basically in the center of town, and had met the crew of the boat Far Out. Far Out was still med moored in the Quay so we ran into them at the show and ended up spending the evening with them.

There was a free show that highlighted Tahitian dancing and music. They started with the adults and then the troupes became younger and younger until the troupe was 3-5 years of age and shaking there hips like there was no tomorrow. The dancing was amazing: each gesture represents a word or concept and and the dance tells you a story. I, of course, was itching to shake my hips as well but when they came into the audience to get volunteers to dance with the girls they were looking for men only. The men that danced ranged from tourist to local, one of whom had obviously done this before, and mans dance consisted of them perching on their toes and flapping their knees together in a crouched position: it did not look easy. The women danced with their backs to the men and the men seemed to admire them from a distance as the women shook their hips to the driving drum rhythm. So free and full of life, I should have been born a Tahitian.

After the show was done we all headed to the local brewery where a pitcher of beer was a very reasonable $30 each. We sipped beer and relaxed while we listened to the cover band do renditions of pop songs, they were very good. We ordered two pitchers for the five of us and were almost done when another two pitchers showed up. I looked at them in horror. Sixty dollars was enough to spend on booze for one night, especially when we had brought ours flasks with us and I had not even touched mine yet, not to mention that I am not a beer drinker as I like to spend my night with friends, not in the bathroom peeing all night. Pat fessed up that he had ordered them and so we all did our best to finish them off. You can’t let good beer go to waste, especially when it is worth a small fortune. By the time we moved on to the next place I was in a daze. We wanted to go to the Piano Bar, a famous transvestite bar that I had read about in the guide books and in Blue Latitudes. (By we, I really mean I, since we were a group of four dudes and one girl at this point and for some reason I was the only one interested in a transvestite bar.) But since we did not know where it was we ended up in the next bar that we came to, a dive bar with a small disco in the back and a pool table in the front.

I tried to get a game on the pool table and locals seemed to be fascinated that a girl would want to play. It was a different system than at home and apparently you put your name on a chalk board and there were no quarters involved. I got into a conversation with the locals and they were very nice, one of them even bought me a lei. I was standing there engaged in conversation and was engulfed with the sweet aroma of flowers as they were draped over my head. They laughingly told me that it was tradition that I now give the purchaser of the lei a kiss. I thanked him and gave him a kiss on the cheek like I had seen done and was informed that the proper way to give thanks was a kiss on both cheeks, which I did. Then they all wanted a kiss! Oh well, it was innocent enough and Brett was close at hand so I gave out a bunch of kisses to the delight of these tough, tattooed men. The men here are so sweet, it is not unusual to see a family with their child and the man is holding the little bundle of pudgy softness. The contrast to their hard muscles and extreme tattoos is belied by their easy smiles and helpful nature.

We stepped outside for some fresh air and came back to find Pat gone. We walked to the Quay and found Far Out to see if they knew where Pat was and found out that after all those discussions about sharing a taxi Pat had gone home alone, someone had been over served! We got a tour of the magnificent Far Out: a seventy foot super yacht with teak decks and two cockpits, it was absolutely beautiful. The taxi home was cheaper than we had thought it was going to be, so it was not that big a deal. We found Pat on the dock next to the dinghy. Loud snoring sounds were echoing down the dock so at first we thought he was faking it but a few attempts at trying to wake him was enough to prove that he just snores very loudly and our suspicions about him being over served were completely justified. We did not want him to have to dinghy home so he slept in our guest room.

The next day Brett’s dad was arriving and we spent the day getting last minute chores done. In the evening it turned out that Sally on Grace had just arrived in Tahiti and I really wanted to see her since I had not seen her since Mexico. Sally had an experience that I will have to say was my worst nightmare before leaving home. While walking across the street in Mexico she was hit by a motorcycle. Her and her husband, Geoff, had been planning this trip for a long time and the accident was severe enough that she was not going to be capable of being at sea for any extended amount of time. She would have to stay in Mexico, close to medical supervision, while he took the boat to the Marquesas with crew. When he left Mexico one of his crew stopped waking up about two days from land and had to be evacuated by the Mexican navy, it turns out he had a brain tumor. After returning to land to ensure that his crew was receiving proper medical care Geoff was able to finish the trip with the other two crew that he had on hand. Just another example of how things could be much, much worse. Any-hoo, Sally is back in commission on her own boat (Finally!) and since she was one of the last people that we had seen in Puerto Vallarta before departing on our crossing I really wanted to welcome her home, so to speak.

So, while Brett made his way to the airport to pick up dad I went on Le Truck with the crews of Solace, Chinook and Morning Light to meet up with Sally and her husband Geoff from Grace. The journey ended up being a large part of the adventure. As soon as we got on the bus a girl started yelling at us. I asked her if she spoke English and conveyed that I could not understand her at which time she began pantomiming shooting all of us with a gun. I am fascinated my crazy people (which she clearly was) so while she ranted and raved I tried to establish some kind of bridge between us with hand gestures, smiles and blown kisses. International symbols of good will, I thought. I did more harm than good, I’m afraid. She started to get very violent and punched Candy in the arm a few times until Candy switched places with her husband. The girl took a different approach with Dave and was trying to feel him up. As all this was going on a woman (who I am laying odds on was, in fact, a man) told us that she was crazy and we should just ignore her. I changed tactics trying to ignore her but realized that I was playing with fire when the crazy girl threw her cigarette at me. The cigarette came within inches of slipping down the front of my shirt, and then thankfully bounced away. The woman (or man?) then decided that things were getting out of hand and decided to take control of the situation. She moved to the back of the bus with the crazy girl and started smoking her out, not with cigarettes. This relaxed the mood on the bus and by the time we got to the end of the line Crazy Girl was asking me if we were going to the Disco, apparently she wanted to hang out with us. Hmmm, yea. I don’t think so.

It was fun hanging out with everyone and I had a really good time. Got home to Dad and Brett relaxing in the cockpit, so I hung out and took an early night with the sounds of conversation echoing from the cockpit. We wanted him to see the real cruising life so we did not hang out in Tahiti for long, the next morning we were up and out and headed to Moorea. The sail was mellow: light winds buffeted us but there was not enough to really sail so we turned on the motor to make it a quick passage. Chinook was right on our heals and we anchored outside of Cooks Bay on a shallow sand bar with free internet (yea!) and a coral reef only a short swim from the boat. We decided to go into town for dinner and I looked at the guide book for recommendations. There was a place that was said to have great food and reasonable prices, it came highly recommended so we decided to go there. The five of us arrived at Alfredo’s at 4:45PM only to discover that they did not open until 5:30PM. We were all starving after a long day of sailing and getting the anchor down so it was a little bit of an inconvenience and we decided to try and find another place. We discovered that even the hotels were not serving food until six and when we asked the lady at the front desk of the hotel why this was we got an ear full about the prices in Tahiti and how it was very difficult for the locals since the businesses could not afford to stay open and hence the locals only had limited hours that they could work. This was all fine and good, and I am usually open to hearing from the locals and what life here is like but we were starving!

We went back and waited at the restaurant but when the place was about to open this giant transvestite came out and kicked us out of our seats where we were waiting. “They needed to get ready to open.” This consisted of him throwing a runner across the table. He did the table that we had been seated at first and then meandered around the patio repeating this process. We stood at the front of the patio and waited while a group of motor bikers drove in and parked, they were asked to move their bikes out of the front of the parking area and the the transvestite was so rude that we figured they had to be employees. They were customers, in fact they were the only customers that showed up during our meal. I guess when there is no tipping (this is a French colony) there is no incentive to treat the customers with any respect or courtesy. Brett and Dad had the “world famous” fettuccini alfredo: 3,500 francs, roughly $50. It was good but we decided that they must be “world famous” for their high prices, it wasn’t that good!

We did a ton of snorkeling while we were here, we were able to spot octopus, lionfish, picasso triggerfish, peacock flounders, reef sharks, puffers…. the list goes on! We took some peas out to the reef in a spot where we were told they feed the fish regularly and the little buggers swarmed us! These little fish knew where the food was coming from and they started following us around the reef. It was a little disconcerting as they would get a little close for comfort but at the same time you are thinking that you can’t be scared since they are only six inches long. This does not help since you are in their territory and you feel a little helpless, even though they are not even as big as your hand. You can see the photo of the six banded wrasse giving me a kiss. Okay, so it was probably attacking it’s reflection in my goggles, but hey! A grateful kiss for the meal I provided is just as likely. Having the reef right next to the boat was really nice as we were able to swim right up to the coral and made many trips without even having to put the dinghy in the water.

Solace caught up with us and we spent an evening on their boat talking politics. Between Chinook and Solace Dad got a real taste of the cruising life: we swim and read all day and at night we drink or play games with friends. That is cruising in a nutshell and I was glad that we were able to show him what cruising life is really all about. When we left Moorea the winds had shifted and the fourteen mile crossing back to Tahiti from Moorea took us seven hours. We were beating into twenty five knots of wind and it was coming exactly from the direction that we wanted to go. We were not able to go straight into the slop, even had we motored, since the waves were six feet high and when the bow slams directly down on them it is very uncomfortable. We had to sail twenty eight miles to go fourteen and by the end we were all exhausted and hungry.

We had decided to park the boat at the quay, downtown Tahiti. We ran into Little Wing, another boat that we had been hanging out with, and we all went over there for drinks. Little Wing was getting some chores done around Tahiti and I helped them out, walking them to the place to get the liquid propane since it was a little tricky to find. We got our first shot at med mooring which was a little stressful but was accomplished without any mishaps. Being in Tahiti and in the heart of the city was fun, we could get off the boat and walk to stores and bars. When Dad left we were sorry to see him go. It had been a nice time and he had become part of the crew. I had grown accustomed to getting up early and getting the coffee brewing and having a partner in crime for my evening vodka tonics. But all vacations come to an end and he had to get going.

We spent a few days getting the boat back up to snuff and then we headed back to the anchorage in Marina Taina where we were going to do some boat chores. There was a southern swell coming in and while there was no wind the water was very bumpy. We had planned on being here for a few days but it was simply not feasible. We went back to Cooks Bay in Moorea and after having to motor over in no wind we anchored in 25-30 knots. Out of the frying pan and into the fryer! The first night here was very stressful but when all the boats in the anchorage realized that this crazy wind was going to stay there was a little bit of a shuffle as we all either put out storm anchors or more scope. This big wind is no joke: one of the boats had their anchor drag and hit some coral, when they fired up their engine their painter line on the dinghy got caught in their prop and it cut their line which sent their dinghy drifting out to sea as they attempted to re-anchor. Boy, it really can get bad fast out here. Thankfully there was no damage to the hull and when they sent out their mayday there was a boat in the harbor that heard them and came out to retrieve their dinghy for them.

The next night we had a pot luck on Fearless. I made a chicken curry and the boat was full of curry and music. It was the largest cruiser party that we had hosted on our boat: we had thirteen people! After dinner they all pulled out their instruments and we had five guitars, an accordion and a mandolin on board. It was really fun, though they played a lot of music that I did not know (mostly bluegrass) so I was not able to sing along. But even when they did play a song that I knew it was difficult. I think I know a song until I am put on the spot and then all of the sudden I realize that I have been playing the radio very loud and there are times when I save my breath, in short I am really only singing the chorus and most of the words elude me.

Now we are waiting for a weather window to go to the outer islands where we will say farewell to Chinook, who is putting their boat on the hard while they go back to the real world and meat up with Cyndi, who is coming to visit. I am looking forward to seeing Chinook one last time and the visit with Cyndi will be a ton of fun. Being in Tahiti has been a great place to people watch and to get a feeling of the island culture on a larger scale. Here you can blend in with the crowd and see how they interact with each other, strangers and friends alike, and since there are people everywhere you can blend into the landscape. I can see there is an interconnectedness with the Tahitians, they are tied by a very strong culture that is both in touch with the earth and compassionate and where the men, despite their city dwellings, are still hunters.