FRENCH POLYNESIA

CONTINENTAL DRIFTER
2nd Stop: Papeete, French Polynesia by Elliott Hester
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Contrary to what one might expect on a South Pacific cruise ship, the Aranui does not have an onboard casino, discotheque, or array of glitzy shops. Meals are basic, passenger cabins utilitarian, entertainment is virtually nonexistent, and crew members wear grungy T-shirts and hard hats rather than spiffy white uniforms. But therein lies the attraction.

Having had little interest in traditional oceangoing cruises, I was thrilled to learn that the Aranui (www.aranui.com) is primarily a cargo vessel that delivers food, building materials, fuel, and an endless array of provisions from Tahiti to the remote Marquesas Islands. The monthly voyage lasts 16 days and covers approximately 1,600 miles round-trip. While 32 Polynesian crewman load and unload some of the 2,000-ton payload at each port, passengers make shore excursions to paradise.

In Sept., 1985, the Aranui launched with accommodations for only 37 passengers. Five years later, that ship retired and a new Aranui II (the ship I sailed on) tripled its predecessorís capacity. It houses 100 passengers in cabins and another 22 in a bunk bed-filled dormitory. (A new and improved Aranui III is scheduled to launch in March, 2003. Complete with a swimming pool, gym, and room for more than 200 passengers, this latest incarnation will seem more like a traditional cruise ship.)

A few hours before departure, I strolled up to the sun deck where many of the passengers had gathered. Most were middle-aged French who carried with them a reclusive air that seemed well, very French. Of the few Americans onboard, the majority belonged to Elder Hostel–a senior tour group that sponsors worldwide excursions.

I was befriended by folks from many countries: a quirky British doctor and his demure girlfriend; a Norwegian anthropologist who turned out to be the life of the party, as well as the onboard guest lecturer; a retired French doctor, Bernard, whose wife had recently passed away; and a young Belgian woman who had come to pay tribute to Jacques Brel, the famous Belgian singer whose grave lay on the island of Hiva Oa.

Surrounded by new friends, I leaned over the railing and watched one of the ship's 3 gigantic cranes lower a cable toward a heavy container on the dock. A crewman in oil-stained shorts, stood atop the container. He fastened chains to a massive hook at the end of the cable, then rode the rising load as if it were an amusement park attraction.

Kadafi, the crane operator, looks like a character from Melville's "Moby Dick." His bald, tattooed head protruded from the operator's window as he guided the container to its proper position in the multi-level cargo hold. Sporting a large hoop earring and boar-tooth necklace, Kadafi loaded the remaining cargo. Chains rattled. Metal screeched. Grease-streaked men in hard hats ducked beneath the heavy, swaying hook. It was a crewmanís ballet presented to an audience of landlubbers. Each time the ship dropped anchor, we would be treated to an encore performance.

The Aranui departed shortly after sunset. Amid the rumble of the great ship's engine, we eased out of the harbor, past expensive yachts and out toward the open sea.

Hands clasped behind my head, I stretched out on a lounge chair and gazed upon a star-clustered sky. A soft sea breeze kissed my face. The welcome drink began to work its magic. I retired to my interior cabin, near the engine room. The rumble of the engine and the swaying of the ship induced an instant womb-like sleep.

After a day and a half at sea, we reached Takapoto, one of 77 atolls in the Tuomotu group. Because Takapoto has no pier–like many of the islands–the ship anchored offshore. Led by two Aranui guides, we descended the stairs and jumped into a battered wooden whale boat that motored us ashore.

While the crew offloaded pallets of concrete, beer, and other coveted necessities, we swam in turquoise water at a picture-postcard white sand beach. Later, I took a canoe to a pearl farm and learned how spherical mussel shells are inserted into oysters, hung from bamboo rafts, and harvested 3 years later. The result is the precious poe rava, or black pearl. Pearls, black or otherwise, are responsible for more than 25% of the French Polynesian GNP. Only tourism produces more income.

Afterward, we feasted on poisson cru (raw fish in coconut milk) at a Polynesian picnic lunch. Then it was back into the whale boat, onto the ship and out to sea.

Upon reaching the Marquesas, our itinerary quickened. By 8:00 A.M., the Aranui dropped anchor at one lush, volcanic island or another: Ua Pao, Nuku Hiva, Tahuata, Fatu Hiva, Hiva Oa, or Ua Huka. While the crew performed their off-loading ballet, we ate a breakfast of fruit and pancakes. Afterward, we jumped into whale boats, hiked, rode horses, and visited ancient tiki sculptures and petroglyphs (rock carvings), many of which were discovered and recorded by Dr. Sidsel Millerstrom, the onboard anthropologist and guest lecturer.

On the island of Tahuata (pop. 800), I attended morning mass in the tiny village of Hapatoni. Inside a small white church, across the road from the crashing surf, nearly all 80 villagers had assembled. A 4-piece band, complete with a ukulele strummer, played uplifting melodies between pauses in the sermon. The Polynesian congregation sang along in sweet, flowery bursts that my foreign ear could not decipher. But when I closed my eyes and locked arms with a stranger, the message suddenly came in loud and clear. They were simply trying to say, Peace on Earth.

If the rest of the world were as beautiful as Tahuata, perhaps the message would be easier to hear.

Elliott Hester has given up his day job to travel around the world for one year. His dispatches appear regularly in Travel.

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Next stop: Coober Pedy, Australia.

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