Moor(ea) Fun

We enjoyed a slow morning of coffee sans creamer on our deck overlooking Cook’s Bay, followed by a long walk to breakfast (#1 on TripAdvisor if you’d like to start a list), some casual roadside shopping, and a morning back at the “blue van and some tires” beach. 

We were picked up promptly at 1:15 across the street by Captain Ron and his “safari” adventure truck. We sat in the truck bed with one other tour goer from Finland and held on for our lives as Ron tried to beat his personal best time for going up a mountain. He took us all over the island in record time, with stops including pineapple tasting, jam tasting, Tahitian vanilla plant admiring, Tahitian vanilla ice cream sampling, overlook viewing, etc etc. 

Multiple Choice time! 

Which was overheard on Captain Ron’s Wild Ride?

A. “Why did that chicken cross the road? Wait, I’m serious, that’s not a joke.”

B. “Who do you think would win in a battle between you and Indiana Jones, Ron?”

“What do you mean? I AM Indiana Jones.”

C. All of the above. 

I know you’re thinking C. It was A. B was a lie, but we did spend a significant amount of time comparing him to Indiana Jones, even though Ron would probably be insulted to be compared to that weakling. Maybe he’s more like Chuck Norris… you know, like “Ron doesn’t wear a watch. He decides the time.”

Anyway… dinner was at TripAdvisor’s #2 hotspot, Manuia Grill. We’d been in the parking lot once before, but that was just to pick gravel out of our palms from a scooter incident and allow the locals to come out of all the buildings nearby to help. This time, though, we were there to eat. Us and these giant sand crabs. Plus us and this random cat that we thought loved us and it was not mutual for 3/4 of us, but turns out Shandon had been feeding it tuna on the sly. And, by “sly”, I mean boldly. 

Thursday morning!

Ron/Indiana/Chuck took us to Belvedere outlook and pointed out a trailhead, so we knew our goal for the day was to summit that mountain. After coffee on our deck and completing the obligatory, “how’d you sleep” “fine, how’d you sleep” “is this cereal stale or is it just me?” “did you put on your sunscreen?” “is this water bottle yours or or mine?” deep conversations, we headed out to Belvedere. 

I’m typical Moorea GPS fashion, we just knew we had to turn left at the market… the market with the banana stand, not the market with the paper towels. We then knew we needed to find a new way when that road took us off roading in our car that is definitely not a 4x4. We eventually found it by going a round about way (left at the market, around the stonefish bay with the shipwreck remnants, past the blue van and tires, past the building that looks like a shark tooth, left at the trees that look a little like banyan trees, if you’re curious how directions work around here). 

The hike to the summit was the JAM. Very jungley (that’s a word, ignore that red line), very peaceful, very handy for yelling “ahh ahh ahh ahh ahhhhh” like Tarzan when there are random tree rope guys that you can swing from and then find out they don’t QUITE hold your weight and maybe you should lay off the baguettes. 

At the top of every hike should be a panoramic view of an island, a panoramic view of a reef, a lagoon view, and a giant swing. Well, Moorea… check check check and check. It was glorious. 

On the way down, I had learned my lesson and there were no more sounds of ahh ahh ahh ahh ahhhhh… unfortunately, there was the sound of a POP, which was the sound of Heather’s ankle vs. a rock and Heather lost. Another Tahitian magic trick… that thing swelled up JUST LIKE THAT! Amazing!! But, as Nyrie’s shirt says, “It’s fine, it’s fine, everything is fine.”

Later, we logged some beach time at a new to us beach, and wrapped up the day (and an ankle) with dinner at the resort across the way watching the sunset with our feet in the sand… five feet. One foot was propped up on a chair with ice.

Friday!

In my opinion, we saved the best day on Moorea for last, but it’s a little bit up for debate because every evening we decide TODAY was the best day, which is a good problem to have. 

Nyrie’s expert driving got us to the other side of the island bright and early to a little bungalow lodge situation on the water with a random child running around and an Alex in a boat. Alex, our snorkel adventure leader, gave us the first piece of great news… the other two people bailed and it turned into a private adventure for just us. 

First stop was an area in the reef known for turtles, rays, and sharks. The trifecta of fun, as it were. Our directions were simple… two ropes out of the back of the boat, just hold on, stay relaxed, stay awake so you don’t miss anything. Also, it’s not a zoo, he can’t guarantee what you’ll see, he doesn’t know the animals personally. As all Pooch Campers know, we are EXPERTS in dragging behind a boat and I felt right at home… it was almost like Shaver Lake circa 1995. Except there was coral. And turtles. And rays. And one lone shark way over there. 

The next stop was a shallow area about shoulder deep that was as clear as pool water with just rays and sharks swimming amok. Again, not a zoo, be cool, don’t go projecting your arms, don’t make a scene, if you pet a ray actually pet the ray with confidence don’t be ridiculous, you’re safe from the stonefish because you’re wearing flippers but don’t stand on rocks just in case because stonefish look like rocks and they will kill you or at least require foot amputation, these are actual sharks, etc. This part was insane. The best part. Probably of my life. 

Next was solo snorkeling in this protected area off the shore all the way to the reef’s edge. Alex stayed in the boat and let us explore on our own. Half of us snorkeled, half of us mostly sunbathed on the boat, and all of us had the time of our lives. 

Alex’s TripAdvisor reviews had promised spots without a ton of people, and he did not disappoint. He took us to his favorite coral reef area and we played “follow the leader with your snorkel” through the most epic coral reef I’ve ever seen. It’s true, Australia. I don’t mean to offend. 

I’m going to need a minute to discuss the water around here. Only I can’t describe it, so please just imagine it. The bluest, clearest water you’ve ever seen. Now put a filter on it in your mind. There you have it. 

We made it back, we took the long way around the island to see how the other half lives (they don’t, it was pretty much uninhabited), we finally got to taste a chow mein sandwich (which is… wait for it… a baguette filled with, you guessed it, chow mein), Nyrie and Heather went to resort and almost got to participate in the flower crown craft of the day but Heather snitched on themselves and said they weren’t staying there and so no flower crown for Nyrie, we returned the rental car, and we braved the dark dark no sidewalks and no streetlights road down to a pizza place. 

It was the BEST day. 

Saturday

Goodbye to Antoine’s Airbnb, goodbye to Cook’s Bay, peace out roosters, au revoir Moorea. We did get to see the inside of a pharmacy as stopped for an ankle wrap and we got to see Jazliene the taxi driver one more time (not as our driver, but as a fellow fruit stand customer). A quick ferry back to the mainland and we were in Papeete in no time. An even quicker cab ride and we were at our… dun dun dun DUN… over the water bungalow! The resort had it all… beaches, pools, lagoons, etc. We spent all afternoon on our little dock and in the water around our bungalow. Shandon and I slept on deck loungers outside and marveled at the night sky (she marveled and had to tell me about it, my contacts were out) and listened to the waves all night… plus we found out those Moorea roosters can be heard way over in Papeete!

I’m certain it was the exact same one. 

We had a red eye out so we had all day to enjoy the resort life. Heather (as a new Intercontinental VIP member) got us late check-out, so we were able to mosey our way from the beach to the pool to the bungalow all day. Heather and Nyrie caught a Polynesian show, we all got massages at the spa, we all lived our best life. 

We headed to the airport for the fun game of “let’s use up all our change for snacks” - we managed a Sprite, peanut M&Ms, and a sparkling water, if you’re dying to know how the game went. To really drive the point home that a Tahitian vacation is a dream come true, our flight went ahead and left early and got us to San Francisco 45 minutes ahead of schedule. Thank you, thank you very much. Here you go, you may have zero people in line at customs and you may be on your way in record time. 

🇵🇫 

Rooster crows and catamaran bows

 I realize the title doesn’t rhyme. I’m

hoping you read it as if it does. 

Pour yourself a cup of coffee (use creamer if you want to make us jealous) and channel your inner Moana and join us remotely… 

This year’s adventure took us straight into the heart of French Polynesia… a little “Laura Laura in Bora Bora,” if you will. One group text a mile long describing in detail all the things each of us would be packing (including, but not limited to, a complete pharmacy and medical tape), 

one quick little drive to SF, and an extremely uneventful 8 hour flight in the best way possible (imagine no crying babies, no seat kickers, lots of snacks) and we were in Tahiti! I don’t know about you, but turns out being serenaded by the local band upon arrival is a new thing I will now be expecting everywhere. Pull it together, FAT. 

Our Papeete hotel was a quick cab drive away and was perfect for a one night stay. I was particularly fond of the Tahitian ingenuity of magic tricks! They threw a sheet over a piece of cardboard and said TA DA, there’s the fourth bed! It was genius! Nothing a little ibuprofen from the traveling pharmacy couldn’t solve. 

After a quick stop at a Shell station to get someone a new toothbrush because their original was accidentally compromised, we headed for the ferry to Moorea with time to spare! We left the seasick (Heather) down below with the peons (although turns out the snack bar had CHICKEN BROTH FLAVORED CHIPS) and enjoyed a ride on the starboard side getting us to the most beautiful land of all… Moorea. Picture some mountains, some ocean, some roosters, some more roosters, just a few more roosters… and there you have it. 

We hopped in a taxi with an English speaking delight named Jazliene. That’s what I called her. Some of us called her “what’s her face” and some of us called her by her actual name, but I’m not some of us. She got us to to our Airbnb by some miracle, since our directions said things like “if you get to the 37th rooster, you’re almost there”, etc etc. Our gracious Airbnb host, Antoine, was waiting for us… however, he only spoke French so he may have been livid and we’ll never know. What we DO know is he gave us a ride to the grocery store to grab the essentials (you know, like cheese and paper towels), as well as the scooter rental place. Poor Antoine had to be our liaison as we tried to convince them in English we were FULLY CAPABLE of driving two scooters whilst scooter man tried to convince Antoine we most certainly were not, only in Francais. 

We won the battle but lost the war, as it turns out. (All French jokes aside.) We got our scooters, we regretted it, we had some injuries, some scooters crashed, an ankle was significantly bruised, some scooters refused to be pushed up the hill to the Airbnb… long story short, we returned the scooters for a car the next day. 

Before that, though, we ate a lovely lunch beachside, pushed the scooters manually up a most massive hill amidst some feral dogs and an even feraler poultry situation, had a delightful cheese plate at a resort across the street while watching the sunset, did not panic at all over a couple foreign bugs, and called it a night. 

Remember the scooters? They were the worst, right? Well, we left them with our friends at Moorea Fun Bike bright and early (imagine a French man clapping with glee and delight that we survived the night with those death traps), and Jazliene/whatever her name was picked us up and dropped us off down the way with a cheery, “The waterfall is that way, have fun!” The “trail” to the waterfall was basically a dirt road through some private property and included some super fun wildlife! By “super fun wildlife”, I mean pit bulls. And wild German shepherds. And chihuahuas. All the canine fun! By some miracle, we made it to a waterfall and had a lovely time playing a game of “I’m going to go for a swim right here wait was that a python or an eel HEEEEEELP”. It was really the best game ever. Turns out it was an eel. Jazliene told us later, “Heh heh, forgot to tell you about those,” which is code for “I almost let you get killed.” It was an eel, if you’re curious. No snakes on this island, according to Captain Ron (you’ll meet him later, promise). Jazliene picked us up on the side of the road afterward and dropped us back off at Moorea Fun Bike (yeah, the scooter place that nightmares are made of) in order for us to get our car. This is how it went…

Us: There’s no one here.

Nyrie: I’ll WhatsApp him. Hi, we’re here to pick up our car. 

Moorea Fun Bike Guy (in French accent): Ooooh. We don’t have a car for you. 

Nyrie: What? We are supposed to pick up a car today. 

Moorea Fun Bike Guy (still speaking in French accent for some reason): We don’t have a car. Wait for me, please. I’ll be there in five minutes. 

Us… waiting for five minutes… 

Moorea Fun Bike Guy shows up…: Here’s your car!

Are you confused? Us too. 

You know what else is confusing? When you’re trying to find a tour you booked over at some beach and you call the guy and say, “We’re parked by a blue van and there are some tires on the road.” Leo the tour guy said, “That’s a great spot, stay there!” 

Who needs Google Maps? As long as you’ve got a blue van and some tires in the road for reference, it’s all good. The tour itself was for a sunset catamaran cruise. Sounds like a relaxing good time, yes? Not if you ACCIDENTALLY wear your shoes on deck (he hates that). Not if you ACCIDENTALLY yell, “You better hang on, spider monkey!” as you grip the underside of the net after cowabungaing into the water (he also really hates that). Regardless, hanging out on a catamaran net during a three hour tour of open water chasing the sunset was unreal. 

After Leo dropped us off and practically peeled out to get away from us (which is not easy to do in a boat), we headed to the Hilton to see how the other half lives on this island… and to try their over the water crepe restaurant. It’s like trying to get into Fort Sumter. Lady at gate? Didn’t believe that we would attempt it without a reservation… until she called us in and, three cheers for us, there had just been a cancellation! Lady in lobby? Didn’t believe we had a reservation. Four cheers for us, she had to eat rooster when she found out we did. (No one eats crow around here due to the surplus of roosters). The crepe restaurant was great, with the highlight being reef sharks just under our feet, hoping to get bits of crepe. I guess they are French sharks. Le sharks, perhaps!

Back to Cook’s Bay for a night of falling asleep while blissfully listening to the waves and the crowing of very confused roosters who can’t tell time!