Back again in the crown jewel of the Society Islands, French Polynesia: Bora Bora. We anchored around 9:00 pm, after a three hour cruise from Raiatea.
Sunday night in Bora Bora warrants a renaming to Boring-Boring, as almost absolutely nothing happens after dark - in contrast to the sixties, where Sunday night was spent by most Polynesians in an alcoholic dance daze. Despite the late hour, I tendered ashore and wandered about the Vaitape Dock area. A few mobile food trucks were parked there, where a smattering of locals indulged in a late evening snack. On a brightly lit field next door a few people played Petang (?), something like Bocce Ball, to the sounds of a couple of musicians singing and playing to a pre-recorded sound track. All else - darkness.
Morning revealed dramatic Mount Otemanu, 727 meters high, and the no less dramatic Mount Pahia, 661 meters high. The lagoon fringing the small, but spectacular island, transformed itself under the rising sun into a turquoise and emerald jewel.
Before the European's arrival (Capt Cook arrived 1769) the island was called Vavau and as well Mai Te Pora, meaning 'risen from the darkness', or 'created by the gods' depending on which ancient legend prevails. Over time, Pora or Popora became Pora Pora (there is no 'B' in the Polynesian Alphabet) and then in time with the Europeans/Westeners invasion 'Bora Bora'.
According to legend, the first King of the island, Firiamata O Vavau, a great navigator and invincible warrior was born from the love between a stone and a cliff. The craggy black clifffs, now mostly covered with verdant green, make it easy to believe in the magical union of those two elements.
The island has deserved the description, which James Michener used: 'world's most beautiful island'. From the moment one touches down on the small airport located on one of the 'motus' (islets) on the reef or enters through the winding Teavanui Pass the beauty of the island captivates the visitor, now and during Cook's time.
With so much natural beauty, and a friendly and hospitable population, it is no wonder, that tourists, especially honeymooners, love to visit here. And there are plenty of diversions apart from gazing entranced at the shimmering lagoon. Scuba diving, snorkling, glass bottom boats, swim with the manta rays, swim with the sharks, swim with the dolphins, enjoy a Mai Tai or Hinano at one of bars of the luxury hotels or in a modest street side shop, jet ski (ugh), bike around the island, hike up into the interior, shop for pareus, pearls, nacre, shells or eat fresh bananas, fish, coconut, French inspired fare, or take an excursion on a little fishing skiff.
Instead of participating in one of the Bora Bora inflation priced Ship excursions, I headed for 'Le Truck' again, the community bus, dedicated today to take visitors around the island - all 32 km of it - for a modest fare. The driver of this 'basic' vehicle (no upholstered seats or airconditioning here) kept up a happy chatter: Bora Bora prides itself of the most expensive electricity in the world, it is derived from diesel generators. Property Taxes are high, EVERYTHING is expensive, gas is exhorbitant. He lives on a Motu (islets) where he fishes and does not have to pay electricity or property taxes. He bragged of at least five girlfriends, distributed amongst a number of islands, who are so happy to see him arrive on infrequent visits, that they buy him everything: food, clothing, entertainment....no children to maintain either. Life in paradise, some male cruisers nodded.
We stopped at one of his relatives houses, where the women manufactured pareus, meaning tie dying the thin cotton cloth, then spreading it on open air tables with wood cut-outs of animals and flowers put on top. The tropical sun bleaches the areas around the cut outs, and leaves subtle designs on the cloth.
Freshly cut papaya, some bananas, some poisson cru and 'to-die-for' freshly harvested pineapple were laid out in a shady palm hut for our enjoyment. He stopped 'Le Truck' at many a breathtaking vista - too many to count - for rewarding photo ops. He passes through the lively 'hotel area' near Matira point, where the lagoon is light turquoise and so shallow, one may walk over a mile to the outlaying reef without wading deeper than waist deep. He explained, that Hotel Sofitel charges $100 a night at a garden suite - with breakfast, The Meridien and the Intercontinental Thalasso Spa Bora Bora charge a few thousand dollars per night, and breakfast is NOT included - however one lives on a Motu in one of those little Pandanus huts, suspended over the cristal clear lagoon. I think I stay on terra firma for that price difference.
Club Med is now Club Dead, out of business. An interested purchaser has refused the latest deal, as he does not want to have Club Med exert any influence over any potential future venues. Hotel Bora Bora, almost an icon of the island, is closed as well - maybe the rats got into the pandana huts. He explained that there are no land based birds on Bora Bora, except for the even present Mynah birds, as rats, dogs and cats introduced from outside by early Europeans took care of the avian population. He showed us a US cannon, left over from the US encampment during WWII - it rested rustily in someone's backyard.
For his last stop he dropped us at Bloody Mary's, a famous bar and tourist trap, with a fabulous view of Bora Bora Mountains and lagoon from across the street. Famous people, including James Michener (spelled Michner) are eternalized on a carved wooden plaque. Eddie Murphy as well, however Eddy is not one of the island's favourites, as he acts hostile towards the locals during his visits (one notices those little things here).
Back to the village of Vaitape, where daytime had turned the dead little spot of last night into a mini boom town, with some mini traffic jams, bustling shopping, busy little restaurants and heavy competition between the transportation providers. Bycicle rentals were almost sold out, as many guests circumnavigated the island on two wheels, not too hard, even in the tropical heat, as excepting one steep hill, the shore road is flat and hugs sea level coral fringed beaches.
Of course, the little tourist market offered the ususal pearls, shells et etc.
But, 4:30 last tender to the ship for the passengers. All of us, obedient as we are, were back at the ship eagerly awaiting the scenic and thrilling (because of the narrow reef entrance) departure from Bora Bora. However 5 p.m., the scheduled anchors up time came and went, when a little boat zipped across the calm lagoon, delivering a few late comers to the ship: the Captain and his girlfriend, a nubile girl from Urkaine with the longest blond hair imaginable who plays the violin in one of the bars at night, stepped aboard. Almost ready to go? No, another hour or so (maybe to change into uniform and have a snack?) went by, when the Captain finally announced, that the Bridge was preparing for departure. And during the rapid tropical dusk, we slithered through the pass again, dolphins racing the ship, surf crashing on either side, and the sun dipping under the western horizon.
I watched it from the forward deck, a true retreat, with a handful of other passengers and the ship's doctor. The latter has finally succumbed to the ship's cold, but with a medicinal glass of red wine in hand, he still played his mouth-organ to the delight of us...and some broke into imprompty dance on the deck. A sharp sickle of the moon lit up the sky, which had turned black in a few instants.
