I am finally going to Tahiti! I am sure of it this time because I checked the itinerary. On a cruise a year ago I was leery of the itinerary that SailorJill had picked out because it required a long flight back from Australia, but I acquiesced because she intimated that one of the stops was Tahiti. (Granted, she never actually said it was stopping at Tahiti, but I recall that it was subtly implied.) It wasn't until we got to some place called Nuku’alofa, Tonga that it dawned on me that there was to be no stopping in Tahiti! So, after carefully scrutinizing the itinerary for this cruise I can say with confidence that we are finally off to the South Pacific and the beautiful islands of Samoa, Tahiti, Bora Bora, Pago Pago and four Hawaiian islands - with some place called Moorea thrown in as a bonus port!
This will be a long cruise for us - 28 days, but it is a long awaited October anniversary present to ourselves. While I am not at liberty to mention the exact year of our marriage, I can tell you that it occurred sometime between the Sack of Rome by the Visigoths and the discovery of Prozzac. And, while at times it feels like the date may be closer to the former, it is, in fact, somewhat closer to the latter.
However, in preparing for our cruise I received a call from my mother at which time she informed me that her doctor had scheduled her for knee replacement surgery. She was, in addition to her apprehension about the surgery, concerned about how much of the cost would be covered by Medicare. So, on her behalf, I called Medicare to inquire as to the level of coverage for the hospitalization and the operation. It was then, at approximately 3:00 PM on a Tuesday, that I discovered that Medicare administration had apparently been outsourced to K-Mart. As I recall, the conversation sort of went like:
SailorJack: "My mother is scheduled for a knee replacement and I would like to understand what is covered by Medicare insurance."
K-Mart Agent: "OK, is the procedure going to be outpatient or inpatient?"
SJ: "What! This isn't a 'procedure' - it is major surgery and she is going to be in the hospital for three days."
K-MA: "OK, OK. What type of knee would she like?"
SJ: "What TYPE of knee? One that bends!"
K-MA (icily): "They ALL bend, sir! What kind of material do you want? Our base level Medicare coverage for knee replacement is the Aluminum one and it is covered at 100% after the co-pay. It comes with a two year guarantee on parts and labor. Of course you can upgrade to a premium knee for slightly more."
SJ: "She is going to need a knee for more than two years! What is the premium knee and how much is it?"
K-MA: "Actually, I'm new here so let me put you on hold while I go ask Alice."
K-MA (about 10 minutes later): "Sorry for the delay, sir. The available upgrades include a Stainless Steel Knee covered at 90% after co- pay, or the Ultra Titanium Knee that is covered at 80%, but also includes a free Aluminum walker. Of course the walker, being made of Aluminum, is only guaranteed for two years."
SJ: "Of course, we want the Titanium knee."
K-MA: "Very well. Now, will your mother be requiring anesthesia for the procedure....."
Well, to make a long story short, Mother now has a new titanium knee and is doing very well. Oh yes, the Aluminum walker was fine as she only needed the walker for one week - so we didn't have to upgrade to the premium Stainless Steel Craftsman Heavy Duty Mark IV Mobile Assistance People Mover. That successfully resolved, we went ahead and booked the cruise.
Pre-Cruise Day
We have arrived in San Pedro, California a day early, so this morning we set out from our hotel (the Crown Plaza) to explore San Pedro. As we headed down to the waterfront we met a couple from Canada who told us about a World War II era Victory class cargo ship that had been converted into a museum and was open to the public. The ship, the Lane Victory, they explained, was just a "short distance" away, so we joined up with them to visit the attraction.
Now to understand what happened next you first need to understand that Canada is a very large country ( second largest, by area, in the world) and is primarily populated by moose, mosquitoes, and a very small number of actual Canadians - most of whom are now presently in Florida or in RV parks in southern Arizona.
Secondly, you must realize that the extreme vastness of our northern neighbor has given Canadians a distorted sense of distance. They actually measure distance by something known as the "Litre" - no, wait, I think it is actually the "Kilometre." Anyway, the Canadian Kilometre is equal to the distance that could be traveled by a fully loaded dogsled between sunup and sundown on the day of the summer solstice. Anything less than a Canadian Kilometre is known in Canada as a "short distance."
I mention all this because, based upon the time we travelled the "short distance" to the Lane Victory, I am estimating that it must have been located just this side of the Mexican border. Staggering back into our hotel after our trek, the concierge told us that the next time we went we should take a cab to El Segundo, catch the trolley to the end of the line, change to the 42 bus, transfer to the 12 bus and then just take the water taxi to Berth 49. I assured him there wasn't going to be a next time.
Day 3 - At Sea and Heading for Hawaii
This is our second full day at sea and, like the first, it is just perfect! We found our favorite lounges around the Terrace Pool and spent the early morning reading and chatting with passersby. However, as our Meet and Greet was scheduled for 11:00 AM in Skywalkers, we returned to our stateroom to shower and dress. I put on my standard khaki shorts and polo shirt and SailorJill, getting in the spirit of things, donned a jet black coconut bra and a green grass miniskirt - accessorized with flowery head and ankle leis, bare feet and a little miniature palm tree navel piercing. Oops, sorry, that's actually my new Hawaiian screen saver. Jill is wearing shorts, sandals and her I Bet My Mother I Would Marry a Genius...I Lost T-shirt - a gift from her mother upon the occasion of our 16th wedding anniversary.
Our Meet and Greet was huge. There were (as I recall) around 229 people on our roll call and it seemed that most of them were at the Meet and Greet - which was attended by a number of the ship's personnel - including the Captain and the Cruise Director. The Captain mentioned that this was the largest roll call group that he had ever seen and regaled us with some stories of his experience in addressing other groups aboard ship - including a story about a group of ladies. At that meeting, he was being unusually effusive in complementing the ladies when one of his staff, realizing the problem, pulled him aside and said, "Captain, these are members of the Red HAT Ladies Society, not the Red HOT Ladies Society." "That explains it," it is reputed to have replied.
Day 4 - Still At Sea and Still Heading for Hawaii
Like the two previous days, the weather is perfect - somewhere in the 80's, so taking my trusty iPad I head up to the Terrace Pool to read, relax, and soak up the sun.
As I lay about the pool, I couldn't help but notice the number of people displaying tattoos. Now, granted, I was raised in a very conservative Canadian culture where the only acceptable tattoo was either the word "Mom" or a picture of an Anchor; and even then these were generally found only on the bulging biceps of men who smelled strongly of rum and salt water. But now there appears to be no limit on what is pictured or spelled out on any body part - intimate or otherwise! I swear, I have seen people with more art work on their body than can be seen on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel!
This visual onslaught of body art took me back several years, when, comfortable in my own naivety, I had been somewhat taken aback when our daughter Alexis (we named her that because if we hadn't had her we could be driving one), approached me and, in a most serious and adult-like manner, asked if she could have a tattoo. My first reaction was to wonder what on earth she was going to do with a cast member from Fantasy Island. Then it dawned on me - she didn't want Tattoo - she wanted a TATTOO! Our conversation, as I recall, went something like:
Alexis: "Dad, I want to get a tattoo."
SailorJack: "Ask your mother."
Alexis: "She said to ask you."
SailorJack: "No."
Alexis: "But EVERYBODY is getting one. I will be the ONLY one in my class not to have a tattoo!"
SailorJack: "But why do YOU want one?"
Alexis: "To assert my individuality."
I suspect that made sense to a 16 year old, but I remained adamant - No Tattoo! Of course, three weeks later she had her tattoo. Apparently all it took for her to assert her individuality was a butterfly on her left ankle.
I mention all this because Wolfgang, the German gentleman sitting next to me and with whom I had been conversing, had suddenly removed his shirt to reveal, in bold letters, the word "Dunkel" tattooed in bright red ink on his arm. Now, while having lived in Germany for several years, I have to admit that I had certainly enjoyed my share of Dunkel beer, but I would never demean myself by advertizing a beer by converting my body into a walking billboard. It simply shows no class! Having "Dunkel" tattooed on his arm was, at best, I suspect, the result of a night of heavy revelry or, at worst, crass commercialism. I was about to ask him what in the world he had been thinking when he had "Dunkel" indelibly imprinted on his arm when a very attractive lady came up and sat down in the chair next to him. Turning to me, Wolfgang said "Jack, let me introduce you to my wife, Dunkel." I managed to stammer out a "Guten Tag, Frau Dunkel," while frantically thinking back to some critical comments I had made during our conversation regarding German beers and praying, "Dear God, please don't let him have a daughter named Lowenbrau!"
Day 5 - At Sea, but Nearing Hawaii
This morning we were notified that the ship would be dimming its outside lights tonight so we should be extra careful when out on deck. Apparently, the Hawaiian government has decreed that all ships entering Hawaiian waters must dim their lights - as bright lights had the potential of disrupting the night time flying patterns of migratory birds. This concern about bright lights apparently did not apply to the 153 multi-story neon lit hotels stretching the length of Waikiki Beach or the brilliant and thunderous Friday night fireworks displays over the harbor:
Gertrude (migratory flock leader): Guys, I just wanted to let you know that we are on course and should reach...Wait! What is that wall of lights and the exploding red rockets dead ahead? Everybody! Veer to the left! No! Veer to the right! Wait! What are those moving little tiny white lights in the water way down there? I am so confused. What to do? What to do!"
Now, I am all for protecting night-time migratory patterns - heck I often migrate in the pitch black of night myself! Granted, It is usually just from the bedroom to the bathroom; and, while it is a relatively short migration, it is of no less importance. But I think this whole bird thing is just a clever misdirection. I believe the order is due to widespread concern that brightly lit luxurious cruise ships sailing past Hawaii just might be distracting to the whales that had been heading to the islands' casinos.
Day 6 - Hilo, Hawaii
This is our second visit to Hilo and we have signed up to take an island tour that includes some of the same stops we made on our first visit nearly two years ago. At our first stop at a steam vent in the magnificent Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park I couldn't help but wonder what ever happened to Phil. On that previous tour we had gotten out of the car to see one of the dangerous steam vents that permeate the park. The vents are poisonous as the super-heated steam that streams up from the molten lava beds below is basically boiling hot sulfur dioxide. As we stood the recommended 50 feet away to take our pictures we were distracted by a couple that was, apparently, far more adventurous than were we. Their conversation sort of went like:
Sarah: "Phil, go over to the steam vent and pose so I can take a picture."
Phil: "But Sarah, that gas is poisonous."
Sarah: "So hold your breath."
Phil (now standing near the steam vent): "What's taking so long?"
Sarah: "I ran out of film."
Phil: "It's a digital camera!"
Sarah: "Oh, OK, then I ran out of memory. I'm looking for another memory card."
Phil (now with perspiration streaming down his face): "Well hurry up, I'm roasting to death over here and the gas is really starting to get to me - I'm beginning to get a little dizzy."
Sarah: "Come on Phil, Man Up! Think how disappointed the kids will be if Daddy comes home without a picture of him standing by a steam vent!"
Phil: "I'd like to think they would be more disappointed if Daddy didn't come home."
Sarah: "OK, I'm ready. Now stick your head over the edge of the vent and look down like you are trying to see how deep it is."
As I could see no bleached white bones lying nearby I assumed Phil made it out safely.
Our next stop was at the Jaggar Museum which overlooks the Kīlauea Caldera and Halema'uma'u Crater. It was here that our guide explained to us the role of the Goddess Pele in Hawaiian folklore. She was not, as I had initially assumed, the Goddess of Soccer, but was actually the Goddess of Fire - who (according to mythology) now lives in the volcano and was responsible for the creation of much of the Island. She is described as being "passionate, volatile, and capricious" - and apparently she was also somewhat randy as she is reputed to have seduced the husband of her sister, Na-maka-o-kaha'i (the Goddess of Water). As a result of her little indiscretion she was driven out of the family home in Tahiti to eventually arrive in what is now Hawaii. I think I remember seeing a similar story on Days of our Lives, but the Hawaiian version is much more romantic as it involves spears of lava, showers of fire, and huge spouts of water; whereas the Days of our Lives story basically involved a clandestine drive up the coast to a bungalow in Santa Barbara.
By the way, did you notice that there were 5 vowels in a row in Halema'uma'u's name. More on this later.
After a great day touring the Big Island, we were in the midst of doing the obligatory souvenir shopping when for some reason I was inextricably drawn to a rack of coconut bras. Now, what better exemplifies the exotic nature of Hawaii than one of these little numbers! Not only that, but coconut bras come in different sizes! Who knew? "Jack, I am not going to wear one of those!" "Well, of course not - not here in the mall or on the ship, but around the pool back home with a tall Mai Tai (with a little umbrella, of course) we could savor the memories of this lovely island." "The answer is still no." Disappointed, but not deterred, I pointed out a display of authentic little grass skirts; however, my suggestion was met with the same disappointing result. In the end, we each purchased a puka necklace, which tradition says, brings a peaceful and safe voyage for those who travel the sea - although apparently the same can't be said for the poor little pukas themselves.
Day 7 - Honolulu, Hawaii
We have joined several of our roll call comrades to go snorkeling at Hanauma Bay and spend some time on a tropical Hawaiian beach. As we drove along the Kalanianaole Highway towards Hanauma Bay, I kept staring at the Kalanianaole Highway signs and came to the conclusion that there must be a state law in Hawaii that says there cannot be more consonants than vowels in a word - which, in retrospect, is why you will never see a Hawaiian version of Wheel of Fortune:
Pat Sayjack: "OK, you have an 'L' - actually three of them. Do you want to solve the puzzle or spin?"
1st Contestant: "I would like to buy a vowel - an 'A' please."
Pat Sayjack: "Yes, there are six 'A's."
1st Contestant: "I would like to buy an 'E' please.'"
Pat Sayjack: "Yes there are four of them."
1st Contestant: " A 'U' please."
Pat Sayjack: "There are three of them."
1st Contestant: "I would like to solve the puzzle - is it Eaulauiaelaelauea?"
Pat Sayjack: 'YES!"
Of course the other problem is where to send people who win trips when they already live in paradise!
Pat Sayjack: "In addition to the $400 you have left after buying the vowels you have won a wonderful vacation. Jim, tell us about their trip."
Jim Thornton: "You're right, Pat! Our lucky couple will be taking a one week all expense paid trip to exciting...FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA - where they will be staying in the recently renovated Red Roof Inn and enjoying authentic south-of-the-border dining at the newly reopened Poncho Villas's House of Tacos!"
But I digress.
Hanauma Bay is one of Hawaii's top tourist destinations and draws as many as 3,000,000 visitors a year. Now those of you who did much better than I did in math class have already figured out that that means the average daily attendance is about 8,200 people a day! Thankfully, the attendance today is much lower - probably no more than 7,500.
A warning to future visitors to this bay: "Hanauma" is apparently Hawaiian for "Hungry Fish." Now I have nothing against fish - especially when accompanied by a lemon wedge and a little butter - but the bay was virtually teeming with fish that hadn't been either steamed or baked and which were madly swimming about the bay - apparently looking for something to eat. I had no sooner gotten waist deep into the water when a two foot long Parrot Fish began swimming between my legs. I was almost certain that Polly didn't want a cracker, but became concerned as to exactly what delicacy it might actually be looking for down there, so I immediately assumed what is known in soccer as the "free kick protection position" - and slowly started inching my way back to shore. Fortunately, Polly must have seen something more enticing ( I didn't take it personally) and headed off in another direction - much to my relief!
Freed from the watchful eye of the Parrot Fish, I enjoyed a lazy swim - taking care to avoid the mouth of the bay. We had been warned not to venture too far out because the Molokai Express - an extremely fast current - runs just outside the mouth of the bay. The current, apparently, isn't the only danger. Sharks cruise the current feasting on Yellowfin Goatfish, Surgeonfish, and Amberjacks. Now I have nothing against sharks dining on an Amberjack, I just didn't want them adding a SailorJack to the menu!
It wasn't long after my friend the Parrot fish departed that I came across (and I swear I am not making this up!) the official state fish of Hawaii - the Humuhumunukunukuapuaa. While it is, indeed, a beautiful fish, why in the name of creation would a state pick as its official fish something called the Humuhumunukunukuapuaa! I mean, like, was Cod already taken!
Day 8 - Nawliwili, Kauai
We have arrived in Kauai, the oldest of the Hawaiian Islands and certainly one of the most beautiful. Among many other stunning landmarks, the island is home to the spectacular Waimea Canyon - described by Mark Twain as the "Grand Canyon of the Pacific."
Anxious to begin our exploration of the island we were amongst the first off the ship and looked about for a tour vendor. As we surveyed the assembled taxis and busses we were approached by a very laid back islander who introduced himself as Willy and who offered to show us the island at a very reasonable rate. Jill was a little nonplussed by his bushy beard, tattered shorts and bare feet, but, heck, I assured her, this was just typical island attire - and it was a very good rate! After her rather dubious assent, we agreed to tour with Willy.
As he guided us to his car I was pleased to note, for Jill's sake, that it was in almost new condition. It was also apparently customized as all he had to do to start it was blow into a little tube. As Waimea Canyon was on our "must see" list we asked to see it first. On the drive up the mountain we had a chance to get to know our driver. During the conversation he volunteered that he has "27 broken bones, two punctured lungs, a pacemaker, and a 4" steel plate in the back of my head." "My God," I said, "How did all that happen?" "Mostly car accidents," he replied - whereupon Jill tightened her seatbelt for the third or fourth time and grabbed my left arm.
Finally reaching the summit, we were completely overwhelmed by the beauty of Waimea. The canyon stretched down over 3,500 feet and in the valley far below we could make out a small taro farm nestled between a bend in the river that wended its way along the green valley floor. On the far wall of the canyon was a long waterfall that plunged over a red rock cliff and cascaded into the river far below. It was clearly the most spectacular sight we had seen so far and was certainly worth the slow and tortuous drive up the mountain.
Coming down the mountain, however, Willy appeared to be making up time and was taking the hairpin turns at a speed that appeared to be just slightly less than Mach I. As Jill's knuckles clutching the seatbelt were starting to turn white, I tried to distract her by starting up a conversation:
Sailorjack: "Willy, I see you are wearing a wedding ring - how long have you been married?"
Willy: "Actually, I've been divorced now for nearly six months, I just can't seem to take the ring off."
SailorJack: " I am so sorry, I should not have brought it up."
Willy: "It's OK. Actually, the divorce was a wakeup call and has motivated me to get off drugs."
I quickly reached over to Jill to give her a tight little hug - partly to reassure her, but mostly to stop her from reaching for the door handle.
Our last stop on our tour was at a waterfall from which we could see, far in the distance, Mount Waialeale which receives over 450 inches or rain a year and is, according to our guide, the wettest place on earth. This was a fitting end to our tour as it finally gave me the proof I needed to refute Jill's often asserted claim that the wettest spot on earth is our bathroom floor after I have showered.
Day 12 - Crossing the Equator
Today, we crossed the Equator and the ship held a special ceremony that dates back to the Age of Sail. It was the custom in those times to line up the sailors who had never before crossed the equator (and who were known as "pollywogs") and to then toss them into the sea. This custom has subsequently been adopted, with some adjustments, by cruise ships.
Initially, crew members formed the very secret Neptune Society and convened deep within the bowels of the ship to vote on which passengers they wanted tossed overboard. They would then present the list to the ship's captain. Now, one of the main problems with this approach was that cruise ships are on such a tight schedule that they could not afford to stop for long and some, if not all, of the passengers pitched over the side might not be recovered. Reportedly, the crews failed to see the problem.
Those early captains then faced a conundrum (which, by the way, is a very good wine). On the one hand, tossing the passengers on the list over the side would most certainly improve crew morale - which would undoubtedly result in increased performance; but, on the other hand, the loss of passengers would reduce bar and casino revenue and could possibly also result in an increase in insurance premiums.
As a compromise, the present day ceremony today involved gathering a dozen volunteers on deck (who would represent all of the pollywogs aboard), smearing disgusting stuff on them, making them do embarrassing stunts, and then tossing buckets of water on them. In discussing this with our waiter later in the evening, I suggested that this appeared to be a reasonable compromise. "Not really," he replied, "the top 12 people we vote for never volunteer." "You still vote?", I asked in amazement. "Of course. We find it rather cathartic." Perhaps noting the concern on my face he added, "Don't worry, you barely made the top 20."
Day 13 - Approaching the International Date Line
Tomorrow we will cross the International Date Line for the first of the several times that we will cross it as we sail between the various islands in Samoa and French Polynesia. We have been informed, however, that despite the crossing, the ship will not be adjusting the ship's calendar. To ignore it once is bad enough - but several times! Surely, in so doing, the ship runs the risk of its passengers incurring the legendary curse of the Polynesian Goddess of the Dateline. According to Polynesian legend, failure to respect the Goddess's domain will result in "ulummna otteroi treeipani," which roughly translates as "woman will be as with child."
As the last thing I wanted was for Jill to be "as with child" we held a clandestine ritual on our balcony at midnight whereby we secretly changed the dates on our Ipads and tossed oatmeal-raisin cookies into the sea to appease the Goddess U'ugonna'beadaddie.
Day 15 - Pago Pago
Back when I was a small child - heck, let's face it - up until today, I have wondered why we were not allowed to pronounce the "n" in the word "Autumn." I mean it can be done - "Autum-n". Granted, it sounds more like an ancient Turkish empire that a season, but it can be pronounced. So why don't we?
The answer, I have now surmised (and with great insight I might add), must go back to WWII when, as part of our lend-lease program, we transferred the rights to use this particular letter to Pago Pago. This gets a little complicated, so I will try to summarize:
1. Pago Pagoans were concerned that as their island became more well known, the term Pago Pagoans could be confused with the word "Pagan" - which they certainly were not.
2. And, as the United States had a naval base on the island, Islanders became aware ( probably in August or September) that we were not using the letter "n" in Autumn.
3. As the people of Pago Pago were letting us use the island for a base they must have approached the base commander and asked ( as we were not using it) to be granted the rights to the letter "n" in "Autumn so that they could use it.
4. Their request was apparently approved and we gave them the rights to use the "n" in question - but, it was firmly stipulated that we were only letting them use the "n" for pronunciation - not spelling (or else we would have had to actually drop the "n" and would have to change all of our books, almanacs, calendars and documents to read "Autum)."
5. So with the pronunciation rights transferred, island residents promptly inserted the letter "n" into their pronunciation and could now refer to their island as Pango Pango - although they still had to spell it Pago Pago (I told you it was complicated). So we now have Pango Pangoans - which sounds a little like the black and white birds in Antarctica, but is so much better than Pago Pagoans!
I also have a theory regarding the letter "k" in "knife", but we will deal with that latter.
Anyway, here we are on the magnificent island of Pago Pago and we are to take a guided tour of the island by an experienced Pago Pagoan (Pango Pangoan?).
They say that horseracing is the Sport of Kings and I have to admit that there is something truly regal in seeing a sleek thoroughbred come pounding around the final turn - strong sinews rippling under glistening flesh, nostrils flaring, ears laid back and tail flying as it stretches for the finish line. I couldn't help but think of this magnificent sport as we made our first stop on our tour of Pago Pago at Tia Seu Lupe Park where we were to see the site of what has been called the Sport of Kings for this beautiful island. How to describe the island: Beautiful - truly; idyllic - undoubtedly; but it had to be pretty darn boring back then. I say this because on Pago Pago the Kings' favorite sport was....Well, actually it was...I'm sorry, I simply can't go on with this. It is simply too undignified to describe!
OK, OK...in the interest of my journalistic training and to make this report as accurate as possible I have to be objective about this and report on what I discovered. The Sport of Kings, the lofty competition, the Royal contretemps if you will, the activity than inspired joy and excitement for generations of Pago Pago Kings and other Royalty was - Pigeon Chasing! Really! I swear I am not making this up!
And this was not Central Park type pigeon chasing. By all accounts this was, apparently, a very elaborate activity requiring the construction of elaborate structures that were used to corner the pigeons. Originally called Star S'tools, the name of these constructs was changed to Star M'ounds as, apparently, it was deemed inappropriate to use the words "S'tool" and "Pigeon" in connection with the King. And, as the game involved bending over to chase the little devils, a participant in the chase would occasionally stumble and fall upon a hapless pigeon driving it into the soft ground and causing correspondingly small depressions in the ground which were known as pigeon holes - many of which can still be seen today in Tia Seu Lupe Park.
Of historical interest (and I swear I am still not making this up!), the loser of the game had to offer up his wife to the winner! Now, while this may seem rather unorthodox to many of us, translations from recently recovered secret tablets from the lost city of Weeki Leek indicate that apparently the wives may not have always cheered for their husband to win.
Be that as it may, the sport saw its demise with the arrival of Europeans in 1722 when they brought with them the penultimate pigeon chasing equipment - guns. So now, Pago Pagoans no longer chase pigeons - they shoot them. Clay ones that is - at the Tafaigata Shooting Range!
Day 18 - Moorea
After two days at sea we are anxious to go ashore and stretch our legs. As we step ashore we are briefly cooled by a breeze which we are told is not uncommon and is, quite possibly, the inspiration for a hit song from the fifties - "They Call the Wind Moorea." We are also greeted by traditionally dressed dancing girls and a complimentary buffet of local island fruits. It is a very gracious introduction to Moorea. And I would be remiss if I did not mention that many people consider Moorea to be the most beautiful island in the world. Based upon what we saw of the island we would be hard pressed to dispute that claim. The island was flat out gorgeous!
This is our first exposure to Moorea and we, along with many others from our roll call, have signed up for a tour from a local entrepreneur named Hiro. I thought the name was vaguely familiar when I first heard it, but it turns out that his last name was not Shima, but Kelly - which would make him a Kelly's Hiro. Sorry about that. I need to stop rambling about Hiro and go get a sandwich.
Our first stop of the day was a chance to swim with Manta Rays. The water is so clear it was almost like it didn't exist. It is clearly (no pun intended) the most absolutely clear water in which we have ever snorkeled. The rays were magnificent and many were in excess of 4 feet in width. Soon we were being nuzzled by the rays as they bumped up against us or swam over our backs looking to be fed; which gave us a great opportunity to hold onto one and stroke their soft velvety backs.
It wasn't long, however, before I noticed a school of sharks starting to circle us. The sharks - some of which were some six feet or more in length were probably drawn to our party by the scent of fresh meat. I am not exactly sure what type of sharks they were but I am almost certain that I saw a tattoo on one of them that read, "Been in an accident? Call 768-9877." I am not really sure about the last two numbers as it quickly spend off after what appeared to be a water ambulance. Perhaps sensing my concern, our guide swam over and assured me that these were black tipped sharks and quite harmless - unless I tried to retain one; no, wait, make that restrain one. As I had no intention of trying to grab hold of a six foot shark I was somewhat mollified - still, the one with the tattoo would bear watching.
Our next stop was at a private Motu where we drank beer, snorkeled, drank beer, had barbeque, drank beer, fed the chickens, and drank beer (it was free). All in all, a fantastic day on a beautiful and relaxing day on a French Polynesian island.
Day 19 - Bora Bora
This is the second island we have visited that is named with two identical words. I don’t know what it is about the South Pacific, but I think the idyllic lifestyle here sometimes inhibits creativity. My theory is exemplified in the process of naming things:
Alice (a Pacific Islander): “I think I will name our island ‘Bora’.”
Bob (her husband): “You can’t just use one word! All the really cool and exciting places in the world have two names – like ‘Macchu Piccu’, ‘Ankara Wat’, ‘St. Croix’, and ‘West Covina’. You need to be creative!"
Alice: “But I like Bora.”
Bob: “Well, how about something more exciting…like ‘Aurora Bora’, Alice?”
Alice: “But I like ‘Bora’…just ‘Bora’.”
Bob: “ Wait! That’s it! Perfect! We will call it ‘Bora Bora’.”
I am convinced that other processes similar to this must have been enacted in the naming of other South Seas locations such as Pago Pago, Savu Savu, Puka Puka, Wagga Wagga, and Mugga Mugga – among many others. However, in the interest of full disclosure I have to admit that my home state of Washington has Walla Walla – but I think it was named by the same Australian guy who wrote “Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport" – and was simply a result of his reminiscing about his native Wallabies!
And speaking of Puka Puka, how does someone from there - when at a table in the Michelangelo dining room - tell someone where they are from without it sounding like a commentary on the ship’s food?
Table Mate: “Hi, we’re Dan and Beth from Iowa. Where are you guys from?”
Puka Puka Guy: “We are from mumble mumble.”
Table mate: “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you say?”
Puka Puka Guy: We are from mumble mumble.”
Table mate: It must be the noise in here. Where did you say you were from?”
Puka Puka Guy: “France.”
Table mate: Ah, and what are you having for dinner?”
Puka Puka Guy: “Mahi Mahi.”
Funny name aside, we take a delightful tour around the island. People who don't think Moorea is the most beautiful island in the world bestow that honor upon Bora Bora. And even though a great part of the day is spent dodging rain showers, one can understand why this island is one of the most sought after honeymoon destinations in the world. It is absolutely stunning!
Day 20 - Papeete, Tahiti
We have arrived in Tahiti and the town of Papeete, which is the capitol of French Polynesia, and where, for approximately 90% of the population, French is the native language. Papeete, which comes from the Polynesian "Pa" meaning "extremely" and "Peete" meaning "expensive" has a metropolitan population of over 100,000 and is a very modern metropolis. I have to admit, though, as we toured the city I found the juxtaposition of poor to rich to be somewhat at odds with the exotic beauty of the island. On the one hand, the city's streets were lined with luxurious shops and boutiques offering haute couture and priceless jewelry; but, on the other hand, the people working in those establishments could never hope to afford to buy what was sold in the stores that employed them. Not only that, but apparently they could not even afford to live on the island and must go home to what appeared to me to be little more than little thatched- roof huts set on stilts over the water. "Jack, those are not homes for people, they are hotel rooms and people pay hundreds of dollars a night to stay in them."
"My word," I thought. " If they paid hundreds of dollars to stay in a hut over the water, can you imagine what they must pay to be able to stay in a room on dry land!" The concept staggers the mind and certainly reinforces the fact that this city is indeed aptly named!
All that aside, as we were walking down the main street, SailorJill spotted a set of earrings in the window of what looked like a very expensive shop.
"Jack, Tahiti is famous for its black pearl jewelry and I think those earrings in the window are really quite nice! I really would like to get a pair of those."
"Certainly, but let me handle the negotiations."
"Jack, jewelry stores like this usually don't bargain."
"Nonsense, this is the South Pacific - everybody bargains." As a Canadian, I took two years of French in high school and, combined with my negotiating experience, I was pretty sure I could cut us a deal!
Entering the store I espied a salesperson behind the far counter:
SailorJack: "Bonjour. Combien est que la bagel en la fester en, ah, en la dinero Americano?"
Salesman: "Pardon?"
SailorJack (pointing): "Voulez-vous donnez moi la negro earringos, ah, de la poisson de mer un bon pricio? Mais est es tres Papeete?"
Salesman (to SailorJill): Madame, is your husband ill?"
SailorJill: "He forgot to take his medication this morning."
Salesman: "Ahhh so. Madame, here is our regular price, but for you I give you our 20% sympathy discount."
SailorJill: "Thank you, I'll take it."
And, while it didn't work out exactly as I had planned, that, basically, is how I got SailorJill a great deal on her new pearl earrings!
Day 24 - Nuku Hiva, Marquesas Islands
On the way back to Los Angles a medical emergency has diverted our ship to the nearest port - which happens to be Nuku Hiva in the Marquesas Islands. It is a magnificent, virtually undiscovered island with a total population of under 3,000. While we cannot go ashore, we have time to marvel at the majestic peaks, the rugged shoreline and the quiet harbor in which we are anchored. We are probably the largest ship ever to visit this island, and we hear that the mayor of the island tried to get the town band to play a welcoming tune for us, but that he couldn't find him.
Later, as the tender returns from taking the ailing patient to the local hospital, we are told that the transfer went well and that the patient was resting comfortably in the local hospital prior to being flown to Tahiti. We raise anchor and resume our final leg to Los Angeles.
Day 29 - Los Angeles
We are finally arrived in Los Angeles. It has been a fantastic voyage and one filled with discovery and adventure. We have visited 10 islands - each exciting and unique in its own way. We cannot decide which we liked best as each one has enough enticements to lure us back for another visit. To top it all off, getting off the ship was the easiest debarkation we have ever experienced. We were off the boat by 8:30, at LAX by 9:15, and on our plane home by 10:10.
I can hardly wait for our plane to land, get home, and give Jill a little surprise gift I picked up for her when I went shopping. Hint: it involves coconuts and grass!