Cruise

Cambodia: Life Along the Mekong & Tonle Sap Rivers or A Beautiful Country Full of Surprises

| 2suitcasesfor2years

In the golden morning twilight, the skyscrapers of Phnom Penh gleamed like a set of gold capped teeth revealed by the broad smile of a person awakening to a spectacular new day. It was the consequence of a torrential monsoon storm, with I swear horizontal rain, the evening, before that abruptly shortened an otherwise delightful happy hour on the sun deck of the RV Mekong Pandaw. Overnight as we sailed to Phnom Penh the storm cleared the sky for a beautiful sunrise. Our cruise had departed Ho Chi Minh City three days earlier during the last week of September, which was nearing the end of Southeast Asia’s monsoon season, and the mornings were heavily overcast until today.

The forty-eight passenger river vessel is a classic shallow draft, teak and brass finished riverboat, based on historical designs of colonial era river ships that once plied the waters of the Mekong Delta and southeast Asia from the late-1800s to the 1930s, and was built specifically for the luxury river cruise provider Pandaw. We had signed on for their Four Country 21 Night Combo Cruise, which would take us up river into Cambodia, then connect us with flights to Thailand and the resumption of the cruise, on the smaller Pandaw RV Laos downriver from the golden triangle, where the borders of Myanmar, Thailand, and Laos meet along the Mekong River, in Chiang Khong, Thailand.

Waiting for us as the boat docked along the city’s quay on the Tonle Sap River, just upstream from its confluence with the Mekong River, was a row of rickshaw tricycle taxis or cyclos, set against Phnom Penh’s rapidly expanding skyline dotted with construction cranes. In times past, the cyclo was the predominant mode of transportation around the city but now are mostly used by tourists for scenic tours that weave through its streets.

We whizzed through traffic past the National Museum to the Royal Palace of Cambodia, a richly ornamented grand palace complex built in the 1860s, on the site of an earlier citadel, for Cambodia’s royal families. The palace’s architecture leans heavily on influences from Ankor Wat, a massive 12th-century religious monument that is Cambodia’s most famous attraction.

The palace’s formal and ceremonial buildings feature golden spires atop steeply pitched stacked roofs, orange in color to symbolize prosperity, with highly decorated upturned finials and gables that characterize Khmer architecture. The spires on the rooftops represent Mount Meru, the sacred center of the universe in Hindu and Buddhist cosmology.

The grounds also have several large pyramid and cone shaped sandstone stupas carved with elaborate high-relief sculptures of gods, floral patterns, and legendary creatures. 

Across the site are sculptures of fearsome mythological animals depicting Naga (seven-headed serpents), Singha (guardian lions), and Kala (fearsome faces), which symbolize protection, power, and the bridge between human and divine realms. There were also some interesting ancient murals depicting significant events in the country’s history. And surprisingly several tranquil spots to rest and contemplate.

By midmorning that day in late September the temperature was in the mid – nineties, 35C, and the humidity was terrible. Some relief was found in the shade of the central market where some folks sought out the post office and a pharmacy while others wandered through the tightly packed clothing stalls. We didn’t find the shopping particularly interesting, but the flower market with its vendors making floral temple offerings of maali (garlands), and Kantong (small bowls made of banana leaves containing flowers, incense, and candles) was colorful, and intriguing. The Cambodian art of Lotus flower folding is a cherished, ancient art form where the green outer petals of a lotus bud are meticulously peeled back and folded, creating intricate, rose-like shapes that symbolize purity, devotion, and enlightenment. The market was beautifully full with these floral displays that represent a spiritual offering to Buddha. The ritual of daily offerings placed in home shrines and pagodas to honors ancestors, bring blessings, and symbolizes enlightenment, and is ingrained in the culture of Southeast Asia.

The market was also a good place to watch life go by on the street, especially the scooters and the configuration of families they seemed to effortlessly carry.

It’s always great to escape to an exotic new destination and see only the good stuff, but there’s always history. Cambodia’s recent history is difficult to ignore, and we encountered it later that afternoon we went to the Choeung Ek, “Killing Fields,” memorial near Phnom Phen. Horrifyingly, these areas and their mass graves were all across the country between 1975 and 1979 when the Khmer Rouge regime under the leadership of Pol Pot killed nearly 2 million people, roughly 25% of Cambodia’s population, through forced labor, starvation, and execution. At the height of this nightmare, folks living in the country’s large towns and cities were forcibly relocated to rural labor camps to work in the fields. There the regime targeted the country’s city dwellers, professionals and intelligencia. The cruelty of the regime was relentless, with children brainwashed to execute their own parents. All in a delusional vision to create an agrarian utopia.

The terror didn’t end until Vietnam invaded the country and installed a pro Vietnamese government, after brutal Khmer cross border attacks. Following the collapse, many former Khmer Rouge leaders were eventually brought to justice, with major leaders being jailed in 2014 by a United Nations-backed tribunal. The murder of the county’s teachers, engineers, and doctors fundamentally halted Cambodia’s development for decades as other countries in the region prospered. The trauma of those years has marked a generation of survivors with untreated PTSD. Today, over 60% of Cambodia’s population is under 30, with no direct memory of the atrocities committed against their families. After all that, it is amazing to see how far the country has come and how welcoming the folks are.

That evening on board a troupe of traditional Khmer dancers and musicians performed. It was an intriguing evening watching several Apsara dances, a style known for its slow, graceful, and highly symbolic hand gestures, that through motion depicts spiritual devotion, as well as to illustrate the Reamker (Glory of Rama), a 16th-17th century Cambodian epic poem that is an adaptation of the Indian Ramayana, that blends “Hindu cosmology with Buddhist themes of karma and dharma. It follows Prince Preah Ream (Rama) and his loyal brother Preah Leak (Lakshmana) as they battle the demon king Krong Reap (Ravana), who kidnapped Preah Ream’s wife, Neang Seda (Sita).

The next morning at sunrise our boat left the quay and headed upstream on the Mekong, the start of a journey to explore rural Cambodia, to the riverport town of Peam Chi Korng where we traveled by tuk tuk to an outlying pottery village. That early in the morning the river was busy with small ferries taking folks to work in the city, as long-tail boats raced by colorful shanties that reached down to the river edge.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Here we visited a family that made large decorative pots and vessels as well as ceramic souvenirs that are sold in Phnom Phen, and a traditional charcoal burning ceramic stove called a Changkhran Lao that’s wrapped in metal to help it keep its structural integrity. Our guide was doing a wonderful job eliciting smiles from the families’ elders as we sat on long wooden benches and listened to a translated presentation.

Behind, younger children had also gathered to watch their visitors, and giggle as kids do, only to be silenced by the wave of the speaker’s hand. Later he demonstrated how quickly a pot could be created by hand coiling, and his son demonstrated climbing a palm tree for our group.

A small local passenger ferry pulled up alongside the RV Mekong Pandaw the next morning after we docked in Kratie to transport us to Koh Trong Island across the river. It’s a small tear-shaped island in Cambodia’s Kratie province that is the home to fishermen and farmers who tend rice paddies and pomelo citrus orchards.

The islanders also promote an authentic community-based tourism initiative that offers homestays and bicycle rentals. The monsoon flood waters on the lower part of the Mekong River had begun to recede weeks earlier so our ferry dropped its boarding ramp onto a steep embankment in front of the island’s elephant guarded Santheati Baram Pagoda, and a cluster of small basic shops. Outside the temple a small group of kids were kicking a soccer ball around as an orange robed monk walked nearby.

Villagers warmly greeted us as we walked along the island’s only lane for a short distance to view the community’s unique stilt homes that are purposefully built to be lifted by the men of the village, and moved when needed to avoid flood waters.

A small caravan of tuk tuks took us to the Kbal Koh Pagoda on the north end of the island, the first on the 10km (6mi) loop which circles the island. Built in the early 1800s, the historic pagoda is surrounded by banana trees and is located across from the verdant rice paddies that run down the center of the island. The simply adorned pagoda gracefully showed its age with a weathered patina courtesy of the numerous monsoons it has withstood. Behind the temple, nearly obscured from view by banana trees, was a row of brightly colored steeple-shaped burial stupas, mausoleums, called chedi.

On the grounds in front of the temple were two statues of sacred white elephants and various Bodhisattvas, compassionate helpers, on the path to enlightenment who stay in the world to assist others. Along with other sculptures depicting Buddhist Protectors and Guardians whose fierce looks deters negative powers. A multiheaded Snake Being called a Naga King guarded the stairway to the pagoda to protect the Dharma, the Budha’s sacred teachings.

Nearby a young man guided a cow along the path, and teenagers played volleyball on a hard packed dirt court. Farther along a man fished from a low bridge over a stream that flowed through the rice fields. These vignettes of rural life were the charm of Koh Trong Island and Kratie province.

That afternoon back in Kratie we explored the town on our own. Just down from our docking was the Krong Kracheh Pagoda, an important community center where the town’s lay people can study Buddhism. It’s quite a pretty temple known for its pink walls and is surrounded by several grand stupas that are the final resting place for several generations of post-Angkorian royalty.

Two blocks away from the temple was Kratie’s central market, a huge, covered pavilion that occupies an entire city block. Think of a Costco super store on steroids, with merchandise of every sort stacked floor to ceiling along aisles as wide as a single shopping cart, operated by nearly 100 different vendors. This is an authentic, vibrant local market, there’s nothing touristy about it. If you can’t find what you need here it probably doesn’t exist.  The outside of the building is surrounded by numerous fruit and vegetable stands piled high with produce. Truly a vegetarian’s paradise. Fresh fish and seafood is also abundant as well as fresh poultry and meat. Some of the vendors kept these things cool under ice, while others swatted flies away from the exposed offerings. The smoky grill stands along the street stay open late into the evenings.

The narrow beam and shallow draft of Pandaw’s river vessels make visiting many remote areas along the Mekong River feasible, but north of Kratie the river becomes unnavigable to cruise boats all the way to Vientiane, Laos, adistance of roughly 850km (530mi) due to shallow waters, ever changing sandbars, numerous rock hazards, and the massive Khone Waterfalls, located near the Cambodia-Laos border.

While unsuitable for larger boats, this section of the river is the perfect habitat and a protected zone for the Irrawaddy freshwater dolphin, an endangered species. With a big bulbous head and short dorsal fin, they look significantly different from saltwater dolphins. Sadly, there are only an estimated 117 Irrawaddy dolphins left in Cambodia, but the population has been rebounding in recent years due to enhanced conservation efforts. Fortunately for us a large group of dolphins live in several deepwater pools near the town of Kampi, just north of Kratie.

Viewing rural life along river has its advantages, but traveling by bus to Kampi did provide us with a different perspective. We passed motorcycle vendors laden beyond belief with merchandise, young monks walking along the shoulder of the road as they returned to their monastery, homes on stilts, and all sorts of traffic violations that would incur huge fines in the states.

Reaching the dock in Kampi we were divided into several groups to board small boats. Our boatman was very friendly and made sure we all wore the required life vests, but he wasn’t particularly diligent about balancing the weight on the boat for an even keel and we got underway in a rather tipsy fashion before our group of eight took the initiative to redistribute the load ourselves.

As we traveled to the dolphin pools the Mekong widened, and houses along the river edge disappeared. It was a lengthy boat ride and wonderfully tranquil, as we trailed our fingers into the cool river, passing kayakers paddling, and getting closer to nature as we reached the dolphin pools which are adjacent to the Prey Lang Wildlife Sanctuary. The reserve is Cambodia’s largest national forest, and with roughly 500,000 hectares (1,235,527 acres) it’s Southeast Asia’s largest lowland evergreen forest, and the home to 400 different animal species, that includes Pileated Gibbon, a herd of wild Asian Elephants, Malayan Sun Bear, wild cattle, Sunda Clouded Leopard, and Great Hornbills to name only a few.

The dolphins were very elusive, and we sat quietly in the boat for quite some time before a pair of dolphins gently broke the surface of the water a distance away for a brief moment. We are not sure how many different dolphins we saw, but their surfacing became more frequent, though they were extremely difficult, almost impossible to photograph. Still the experience was very entertaining. Across Southeast Asia and Cambodia the dolphins are considered symbols of good fortune and prosperity. Many folks living along this stretch of the Mekong River also believe that the Irrawaddy dolphins are sacred, protective spirits, and reincarnations of their ancestors.

Later that afternoon, we set sail downstream back along the Mekong toward Phnom Penh to moor overnight and then continue upstream the next morning on the Tonle Sap River to visit the silversmith workshops and Buddhist pagoda in Chey Odam. This section of river was lined with colorful shanty houses, and occasionally the minarets of a mosque or a church steeple protruded from the riverscape. 

The ping of a cacophony of unsynchronized hammers surrounded us as we walked along Chey Odam’s main street which paralleled the river and is lined with metal workshops of various sizes. Across the river on a distant hill, we could see the stupas of Phnom Phreah Reach Throap, a sacred mountain that was home to Cambodia’s royal capital for nearly 250 years until 1866.

This was the most touristy of places we visited with each workshop having displays of their craft for sale. But it was still interesting as the skilled artisans create everything by hand using hand-hammered repoussé and chasing techniques, crafting intricately decorated brass or copper plates and bowls to Betel sets, and silver jewelry. We thought the prices were fair, so we shopped for our young granddaughters. Of course, credit cards were accepted.

Geese waddled freely along the road as our group walked to the outskirts of town. We seemed to become a group of pied pipers as we swept up a band of children that followed us to the Moni Sakor temple. Reaching the pagoda, and with smiles all around, the kids suddenly lined up and sang the Cambodian national anthem.

It was a rustic temple with a collection of Buddhist sculptures and colorful stupas on its grounds. While we rested under a shade tree one of the small girls in the group entertained us and her friends by making cat woman like claws on her fingers with yellow trumpet flowers. Across the road a three-wheeled flatbed motorcycle vendor went door to door selling fresh produce, and un-iced fish and meat in the morning sun.

Later that afternoon after sailing upriver the crew tied the boat to trees along the riverbank outside the small town of Kampong Tralach and lowered the gangplank to a line of waiting oxcarts. Our traditional mode of transportation through the town to the Kampong Tralach Kraom Pagoda that was a local tourist initiative, that helped the drivers buy their own ox and cart.

I walked ahead to take some photos of the line of oxcarts. Several had passed by already, but there was one stubborn beast that refused to move until one of the carts behind him tried to pass by. Suddenly it seemed to be a chariot race, with whooping and hollering as the two oxcarts lurched forward. As fun as it was, the folks in the back of the carts held on tightly, worried that they would be shaken out of the speeding cart like fortune sticks.

The jolting ride ended with a circling of the carts, in front of the beautiful monks’ dwelling, in the courtyard of the Kampong Tralach Kraom Pagoda. Though the real attraction of the site was the old Buddhist temple located behind it, that wasn’t particularly well-maintained. Like the two other temples we visited days earlier the exterior of the pagoda showed the challenges of building maintenance in the heat, humidity and monsoons of Southeast Asia. On the raised terrace surrounding the pagoda were a collection of folk-art style sculptures depicting Buddhist protectors and guardians that gave no hint of the treasure that awaited us inside.

The temple’s interior was astonishing, with every surface of the walls and ceiling covered in beautiful murals depicting the life and teachings of Buddha. This hidden gem struck us as being the Cambodian equivalent to the Sistine Chapel! Fortunately, this temple was open when we visited, but it made us wonder what we missed at the other two which were not.

That evening our boat stayed tied to the riverbank, and we had a bonfire in a vacant lot nearby where the crew had invited a few of the townsfolk to join us. With wet kindling from an earlier rain, it was a smoky affair, but folks’ spirits weren’t dampened and there was a lot of joyful dancing. 

The next morning, we continued cruising north on the Tonle Sap River. The high riverbanks from the earlier part of our trip now disappeared as the river broadened into a wide floodplain that covered the roads. Only the telephone poles along their edge offered guidance to where they were. Fast long-tail boats were more prevalent now as scooters were stored away on higher ground until the dry season.

Here homes on stilts are surrounded by monsoon floodwaters for six months, from June to November when the Mekong River expands 45-fold, overflows and forces the waters of the Tonle Sap to back-flow into its lake. This in turn forces it to expand in size 4x from its dry season size of 3,000 square kilometers (1,200 square miles) to 15,000 square kilometers (5800 square miles) and cover the surrounding countryside with flood waters to the depth of 9m (30ft) or greater.

The weather since our departure from Phom Phen had been rather unpredictable, with overnight rains and heavy morning mists and cloudy afternoons, but today the weather was brilliant and the river was café au lait colored, and extended to the horizon all around us. The tranquility of watching this broad waterscape and sky change throughout the next two days was one of the trip’s serene pleasures.

We sailed past villages with temples and mosques. The number of mosques surprised us, but there has been an Islamic presence in Cambodia since the 10th century and today Muslims compose three percent of the country’s population with the majority concentrated along the Tonle Sap and Mekong Rivers.

More of the small sampans we passed now were covered and appeared to be floating homes, with small children aboard and cooking platforms at the rear. Fishermen set their nets with the help of their wives.

We anchored in the lake offshore Chong Khneas, a Vietnamese refugee floating village near the mouth of the Siem Reap River. It’s a fully functioning community with a floating school, church and markets that get paddled between the homes. That supports itself from fishing on the lake and tourist tours. It started in the mid-1970s as a safe haven for migrants in Cambodia to avoid persecution from Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge.

Though many of the refugees have been in Cambodia for two generations they have a precarious legal status that denies them citizenship and the right to own land, and cuts them off accessing any state sponsored social programs, forcing them to live in floating homes or marginalized, informal communities. This is due to a deep-seated historical prejudice between the two countries which have often been in conflict with each other. Sadly, the beauty of their floating village makes it too easy for visitors to overlook the complexity of their situation.

Nearby on stilts was a Buddhist temple surrounded by flood waters. During the dry season it is partially accessible by land when you follow Rt63 south from Siem Reap and then walk across a wide sand bar, but now we needed the local boatmen to ferry us over.

From what our tour guide explained, this was the first time a group of westerners had ever visited the temple where young monks are sequestered away to study the teachings of the Buddha. Through our guide’s translation the monk answered questions from our group and with the wave of his hand blessed us with sprinkles of water from a Kusha grass stick. Outside, the boatman’s young son entertained himself by jumping from one boat to another.

Earlier that morning our guide was admiring the day and the clouds floating over the lake and said, “there will be a nice sunset tonight.” His prediction was right on, and it was the perfect ending for our adventures in Cambodia.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Sailing to Bora Bora: Magic Mountains, Sacred Eels & the Turquoise Waters of Tahiti

| 2suitcasesfor2years

I teeter-tottered to the bow and gently landed on my back into a lounge chair, like a turtle out of water, my hands and feet waving in the air. My unbalanced ballet was appreciated with oohs, aahs and the friendly chuckles of our congenial shipmates from Poland, Germany, France, Spain, England, Australia, New Zealand, and the United States. We’d just left Papeete’s Nanuu Bay and had entered the gentle swells of the Pacific Ocean, and my sea legs were not accustomed to the ocean’s rhythms yet. The captain had just unfurled the sails of Variety Cruises’ MS Panorama II, a beautiful, 24 cabin, 160ft motorsailer, for a sailing adventure through the Society Islands of French Polynesia to Bora Bora. Our first stop was Moorea.

The shoreline of ‘Ōpūnohu Bay hasn’t changed much since the cry “land ho!” came down from the crow’s nest of the HMS Resolution during Captain Cook’s third and final voyage around the Pacific, in 1777. Remarkably, there are not any multi-story massive hotels disrupting the serene beauty of the bay, only the verdant flora rising steeply into the jagged mountains which surround the bay. The only hint of modernization, a few small cottages, barely visible through the palm trees, were sporadically placed along the shore, and an inflatable Zodiac which raced by.

Cook wasn’t the first European to arrive in the Islands. In 1521, Ferdinand Magellan sailed through, and was probably advised by the Inquisition Officer aboard not to land, fearing that witnessing a hip-shaking Ote’a dance would condemn the sailors to years of purgatory, and so they sailed on. Two hundred forty-seven years later the French Captain, Louis Antoine de Bougainville arrived and viewed the islands as “a paradise found on earth.” Wanting to name the islands after the legendary birthplace of the mythical Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite, he called it ‘La Nouvelle Cythere.’ So began the myth of paradise found on earth.

Anchored in the calm waters of the bay, the swimming ladder was lowered for a short while before dinner, and we enjoyed the warm water. So blue and clear, the polar opposite of the murky grey waters of the North Atlantic off New England, which we were used to. Before dinner the captain introduced us to the crew, assembled from Greece, Bali, the Philippines, and Tahiti. After a week together we appreciated their cohesive professionalism and amiable nature. Dinner was always a sumptuous affair, under the canvas canopy of the upper stern deck, that was usually timed to coincide with the sunset. We especially enjoyed the locally caught Mahi Mahi and various tropical fruits that were delicious. Ubiquitous on Tahiti, French baguettes were even served daily and in a nod to the Greek crew, an excellent feta cheese, imported from Athens, was available for the salads.

The next morning, we packed our dry sacks in preparation for a wet landing, using the ship’s small Zodiac to beach us at Ta’ahiamanu Beach. The clarity of the water was amazing, and the white sandy beach sparkled, as gentle ripples washed ashore. The bay is a natural harbor, with a passage through the island’s encircling reef wide enough for large cruise ships to sail through. Yet the reef is substantial enough to absorb the energy of the Pacific Ocean’s relentless pounding against it, leaving the small waves that reached the beach barely noticeable. We had time to amble along the beach until the groups separated into various tours.

Six of us climbed into the bed of a Toyota 4×4 pickup truck, outfitted with bench seats and a canvas awning, in case of rain, for a tour of the island. The cool rush of air felt good in the day’s already building humidity, as we drove along the coast. It was a little unusual considering it was well before noon, but our first stop was at Manutea TahitiRotui Juice Factory & Manutea Distillery for a tasting. We are not big fruit juice fans, but the Rotui juices – Papaya Passion, Mango, Banana Vanilla, Pineapple, and their various blends, all organic, were delicious. The aged rums are created from distilled O’Tahiti sugar cane, a flavor heirloom variety that thrives in the volcanic soil of the Polynesia islands. Captains Cook and Bligh brought this variety to the sugar plantations of the English colonies in the Caribbean. For nearly a century afterwards the O’Tahiti sugar cane variety was the most widely cultivated in the world. Saluting the old adage, “the sun is over the yardarm somewhere,” we enjoyed our daily ration of rum, and  even purchased a bottle of Coconut flavored rum to take home. Cheers!

Our tour continued into the center of the island where the fertile ‘Ōpūnohu Valley is surrounded by a crown of four rugged peaks, created from the collapsed cone of an ancient volcanic eruption. Mount Tohiea, at 3959 ft, is the highest peak on Moorea. It’s followed by Mt Rotui, at 2,949 ft, and Mounts Mouaputa & Maturaorao, at 2724 and 2700 feet. Of the four, only Mount Rotui is hikeable.

Driving along a dirt track through rolling acres of pineapples and sugar cane, our guide stopped and with a small machete cut a fresh pineapple from the field and deftly sliced it, without getting any juice on himself. He explained that Queen Tahiti pineapples thrive in the volcanic soil here, though smaller than the famous Dole pineapples grown on Hawaii, which are good for canning. Queen Tahiti pineapples are sweeter, have a smaller tender core, and are better eaten fresh.

Tahitian myths and gods are associated with mountains throughout Polynesia. Though Mouaputa is not the island’s tallest mountain, its shear pinnacle shape with a hole through its summit, like the eye of a needle, spectacularly sets it apart from the others. Passed down through generations for more than a millennium, Tahitian’s oral lore tells a story about Hiro, the god of thieves, and his cohorts, who rowed a large war canoe across the ocean from Raiatea one night and tried to steal sacred Mount Rotui, where it was believed the souls of the dead begin their journey to heaven. Seeing this thievery from Tataa hill on Tahiti, the famous warrior, Pai, a demi-god, threw a magic spear crafted from hibiscus wood across the 11 miles of ocean separating the islands, in order to stop them. Missing its target, the spear punched a hole straight through Mount Mouaputa with such an enormous bang it woke all the roosters on the island. Fearing the whole island would awaken from the rooster’s cacophony of crowing, and discover their treachery, the thieves fled emptyhanded.

Later we pulled down a shady lane and stopped at a narrow, fresh-water stream, where we followed our guide into the shallow, barely ankle deep water. We had stopped to see the sacred blue-eyed eels of Moorea. The surface of the water was very still, with barely a ripple, until our guide ceremoniously reached into his rucksack and withdrew a magic can of mackerel to chum the water. Suddenly the water around our group erupted with a dozen or more 4-6 feet long eels racing toward us from all directions!  They squirmed and splashed in a frenzy around us, fighting for pieces of mackerel. Tahitian legend believes the eels are the reincarnation of the God Hiro, who after his death assumed the shape of an eel and took on the responsibility of keeping the island’s freshwater streams and springs clean. The eels are a protected species across Tahiti, and are also believed to possess healing powers that can cure disease and bring good fortune to anyone who touches them.

Reaching the Belvedere Lookout, we were rewarded with a pristine panoramic view, without any hint of mankind in the landscape, centered by Mount Rotui, and flanked by ‘Ōpūnohu Bay on the left and Cook’s Bay on the right. Afterwards we stopped a short distance away at Marae Ti’i-rua and Marae-o-Mahine, where tiered open-air platforms had been constructed with rounded lava stones, and used for religious ceremonies and sacrifices. During Captain Cook’s third and final visit to Tahiti in 1777, he along with several other officers from the HMS Resolution witnessed a human sacrifice held on Moorea to ensure the success of a war party against a neighboring island.

Tahitians are practical and for centuries the lava outcropping behind the village of Papetō’ai, near the reef on the edge of ‘Ōpūnohu Bay, was simply called the “hill behind Papetō’ai.” Its name change probably happened in the 1960s after the opening of the Tahiti International Airport and a marketing executive was tasked with drawing tourists to islands. I can just imagine the conversation, “Listen folks, who wants to fly across the Pacific, or sail around the islands to visit a hill? Now Magic Mountain, that creates an impact!” Signed, sealed, and delivered. The rutted road up was very steep and the six of us bounced and swayed quite a bit in the back of the 4×4 and when we stopped, we still had to walk up a rough zig-zag trail to the summit. But it was well worth the effort for tremendous views of the mountains, reef, and bay, with the Panorama II tranquilly anchored below us. Our guide pointed out an octagonally shaped red roof at the water’s edge in Papetō’ai. “That’s a church, the Église protestante de Saint Michel, the first western structure built in the South Pacific. It was built by Protestant missionaries from the London Mission Society in 1827 atop the ancient Marae Taputapuatea, which was dedicated to Oro, the Tahitian god of war.”

After dinner, we pulled anchor and sailed through the night to Huahine, and tied to the quay in Tahateao just as the sun was breaking the horizon, We shared the dock with an inter-island ferry readying to get underway. The quiet unpretentious street harkened back to a different bygone era. Huahhine is actually two islands, Huahine Nui and Huahine Iti, connected by a short bridge. Legend believes that the Tahitian troublemaker Hiro sliced the island in half when he paddled his canoe through it.

Women are revered on the island, and islanders attribute the land’s fertility to the mountain silhouette that looks like a pregnant woman lying on her back. Huahine meaning, “woman’s womb.” There is a long history of Queens ruling Huahine, and they are credited with a sacred power and wisdom, often counseling their warrior chiefs to make love not war, especially as the British Navy began to explore the islands of Tahiti.

We joined a tour heading to see the marae that line the shore of Lake Fa’una Nui, a shallow saltwater bay. Our guide explained to us that there are over 200 ancient stone ceremonial sites, of various sizes, around the lake, which were central to the community’s religious life. There are more hidden on the forested and jungled hillsides of the island’s mountains, some dating to the arrival of the first Polynesians around 700 AD. After the marae are discovered and if the sites are not maintained, the jungle grows quickly over them again. This is the reason the island is commonly called, ‘the Garden or Secret Island.”

Farther along we stopped at the bridge over the saltwater estuary that feeds Lake Fa’una Nui to view the ancient V shaped stone fish traps that are still used communally. A sandy road led us to the Marae Manunu, a very substantial stone platform that stood taller than us. It was quite different from the earlier ones we viewed, which were low to the ground, like patios. It was along the road here that we noticed gravestones in front of houses; it is a Polynesian custom to bury your deceased family members close to home, often in the front yard. There is usually more than one grave. It’s a custom that stems from the ancient belief that the spirits of your dead relatives will protect the family home from evil spirits. The mountains of Huahine aren’t as dramatic as on Moorea, but the vista from the Maroe Bay Viewpoint out over a verdant jungle, and the azure waters of the bay with Mont Pohu Rahi, on Huahine Iti behind it, was sublime.

We’re all familiar with those epic aerial photographs of Bora Bora, a volcanic atoll, with Mount Otemanu rising from its center, like a spear thrust up through the crust of the earth, ringed with white surf, and  surrounded by an artist’s inviting palette of blues. It’s an expensive perspective you’ll only get if you fly into the island, but sailing through the reef is truer to the Polynesian way of life – smelling the air, tasting the salt spray blown up from the bow of ship lunging forward through the waves, feeling the wind on your face, and listening to the surf crash against the reef. For us it was a rewarding tactile journey. We had crossed the waves and arrived.

Bora Bora has been a romantic destination since the publication of James Michener’s Tales of the South Pacific, a collection of related anecdotes garnered from his time in the South Pacific during WWII, and which was awarded a Pulitzer Prize. Later the book was brought to the stage as a Broadway musical by the playwrights Rodgers and Hammerstein. South Pacific the movie premiered in 1958. Resorts with thatched roofed overwater bungalows, a new concept in the 1960s, followed. Tahiti was suddenly an exotic honeymoon destination with bragging rights, and the island still retains its allure.

With two days scheduled in Bora Bora, it was time to get our feet wet again and we signed up for a snorkeling excursion. The tour group boarded a motorized catamaran which made 4 stops as we circumnavigated the lagoon, known for its concentration of marine life. Our first stop was to see sting rays and black tip reef sharks.

The 80°F/27°C water was perfect for snorkeling without a wetsuit, and the clarity of the water was amazing, making it easy to attempt some underwater photography. I have a new respect for the photographers that document marine life – it’s not easy. Pulling anchor, we motored along the shoreline, the captain calling out the name of the resorts and any celebrities that might have vacationed there. The underwater coral garden just off the beautiful palmed lined shore of Pitiuu Uta, a small islet or motu, had us imagining a Robinson Crusoe adventure and Tom Hank’s character in Castaway, though we didn’t spot any wayward volleyballs floating along.

The water was deeper here and the naturalist who accompanied us warned us not to stand on the endangered coral. Even as our party tried hard to avoid contact with the reefs, the currents made it difficult, and Donna and another person discovered the hard way that coral is sharp! It was a great spot for a variety of fish, and we enjoyed finding giant clams embedded into the reef. The colorful lips of their shells were the only clue to their presence. It was easy to appreciate the beauty of Bora Bora as we motored along.

Off the Tā’ihi Point we stopped to snorkel with large manta rays which swam close to shore, and appreciated the joy and enthusiasm of four black dogs that frolicked through the surf to join us. They swam safely back to shore as we departed.

Beaching at a motu, we enjoyed refreshments and snacks. Some of us joined an impromptu game of volleyball, as others relaxed in the water or walked along the beach to savor the view of Mount Otemanu.

The next day we continued with an outrigger taxi ride along the lagoon’s waterfront before wandering around the small village of Vaitape. Remarkably, Bora Bora is not overrun with a intensely developed tourist infrastructure. The resorts with overwater bungalows are barely visible from the mainland. And a walk along the main road through Vaitape revealed a town that has kept its laid-back identity, hosting stores geared for the islanders. There are not any international fast-food joints or coffee shops, though there are several art galleries and a pearl shop. Fishermen still display their daily catch along the roadside along with farmers selling fruits and vegetables. There are several small grocery stores in town as well.

Walking back to our ship along the quay, we noticed a memorial to the U.S. Navy Seabees who arrived on the island in February 1942 after sailing from Charleston, South Carolina. The 150 men were tasked to build a fuel depot and airfield. It was the first of many naval air patrol bases built on various islands across the South Pacific to keep communication channels open with our allies during WWII. Later they built roads around the island to strategic points for the placement of naval artillery batteries to defend the island. And they brought electricty to the island for the first time. After the war the airfield they built was passed to civil authorities and it became Bora Bora’s Motu Mute Airport which accepted international flights from Los Angles through Hawaii, before Papeete’s airport was constructed. The Seabee memorial resonated with Donna, remembering her dad’s stories from WWII, when he was a young, 18 year old sailor on a fuel-tanker making frequent stops to this enchanting paradise.

By the end of the day the weather had turned and our overnight passage to Taha’a across a tempestuous sea was the roughest of our cruise. If you expect verdant jungle in paradise, you need to accept some rainy days. Unfortunately, the weather didn’t break, and we stayed onboard all-day watching movies, playing board games, and reading.

Overcast skies followed us to Raiatea, but we kept our plans with several other passengers and toured along the coast in an outrigger canoe to the Faaroa River, which flows from the mountainous interior of the island. Our hope for the day brightened as the sky cleared and brilliant colors returned to the landscape. It lasted only a brief time until we were deluged with rain. The Faaroa is referred to as the only navigable river in Polynesia, but during our visit the river narrowed as it travelled through the jungle and was blocked by a fallen tree. It would be perfect for exploring with a kayak.

Afterwards our guide explained as our outrigger headed towards the Marae Taputapuatea archeological site that Raiatea, meaning “faraway heaven,” is believed to be the homeland, Hawaiki, in Polynesian legend, and the island from which the colonization of the South Pacific began around 500AD. Polynesians wayfarers sailed across the great expanse of ocean, using their seafaring knowledge of the stars, wind and waves to reach Hawaii, 2500 miles away to the North, and eventually reaching New Zealand 2400 miles to the south, and Easter Island 2800 miles east – the area referred to as the Polynesian triangle. These were amazing weeks-long voyages in double-hulled, sailing canoes, with folks aboard exposed to the weather.

The Marae Taputapuatea was not only a religious ceremonial site, but also a place where the knowledge of the sea was passed down from generation to generation. The bravery of these wayfarers was immense, but they followed a belief that “under a chosen star there is a land that that will provide us with a new home.”

The last evening of the cruise, the sky cleared, and our cruise director, a vivacious Tahitian woman, arranged for a local ukulele trio to come aboard and entertain us on the top deck, as she and a crew member demonstrated the three different styles of ‘Ori Tahiti, the Polynesian dances, once banned by the first missionaries that arrived to the islands, from which Hawaiian hula evolved. Between songs she explained the characteristics of the types of dance: the slow, graceful motions of Aparima, which mixes hand and body movement to tell a story in a kind of elaborate pantomime; the lively Ote’a, similar to Hula, and danced to drumming; and Hivinau, a group dance performed as a  communal celebration in a group circle with singing and clapping.

It was a wonderful evening of shared camaraderie. Our adventure complete, and the night darkened; the stars we’d follow back to Papeete, and eventually home, sparkled above us.

Till next time,  Craig & Donna