It was well past midnight when we landed at Faaa Airport, which was around 4 in the morning Rapa Nui time but the four piece band that welcomed us, enthusiastically belting out what sounded like revved up country music, made sure we were wide awake on arrival in Tahiti.
Dusky maidens in traditional costumes handed out flowers and we were soon through immigrationand admiring the artistic qualities and sheer size of French Polynesian banknotes. They were beautifully illustrated, in a stly reminiscent of 1950's line drawings. The only problem was that they were so big, you could only fit around half a dozen in your wallet after folding them down to a managable size.
WE shared a cab with a couple who, bizarrely, had the room next to us in San Pedro, and got dropped off at our budget accomodation. I use the word 'budget' in a relative sense because this place was the most expensive so far and was undoubtedley the most basic. It was a single room which was divided by a curved concrete wall which didn't reach ceiling height and behind it hid the bathroom. We soon had cause to wish the wall did reach the ceiling as the foul, sickly sweet smell of rotting vegetation, or worse, attached itself to the inside of our nostrils.
We were bushed and went straight to bed. Sleep however, was virtually impossible as a cacophony of cockrels held an impromptu song contest outside our window.
It was hot and sunny when we hit downtown Papeete the next day. After some panic, we'd managed to track down a bookstore which had a guidebook for French Polynesia in English, and went to pick up the one we'd reserved via email (what did people do before the internet?)
We spent the day pootling around and decided that we could only afford to eat at the Roulottes (mobile food vans) on the harbourfront that night. Unfortunately, Alex possesed an awesome collection of blisters, the legacy of our last hike on Rapa Nui. Gamely, she hobbled into town and was rewarded with a plate of chicken and chips. It was swimmimg in grease and if that wasn't high fat enough, there was a huge glob of garlic butter on the side and the whole shebang was submerged by an ocean of mayonnaise. Hmm, nice, and only six quid each too!
We thought it would be a good idea to catch up on email correspondence too, but, after paying 5 pounds for an hour, we were dismayed to find that both of our keyboards had been dropped an re-assembled with the keys totally jumbled. We'd reckoned without the french having their own keyboard layout. This was too much for Alex who fumed, hissed and cursed her way through a couple of emails. I decided it was too much for me, gave her my remaining time, and went for a wander.
On monday mornig, we lugged our overfilled packs down to the main road, hoping to flag down 'Le Truck' to the airport for the flight to Moorea. The fabled bus rattled along set routes, picking up passengers here and there along the way, who'd sit facing each other on long bench seats in the back. To our amazement, we caught one after about five minutes and were even more amazed to find the fare was about a tenth of the taxi fare we'd paid a few nights ago, grrrrrr.
WE didn't know quite what to expect when we set out to find the Air Moorea domestic departures terminal, but we certainly weren't disappointed when we got there. We'd never seen anything like it. Four or five rows of bench seats with a check-in 'hut' to one side. Infront of the seats was the luggage area which consisted of two burly dudes and a trolley. We showed our tickets and received two laminated boarding cards with a big '6' on it (our flight number apparently), Air Mooreas logo and a line drawing of a tiny plane.
We took a seat and, sure enough, a tiny plane duly rolled up behind the baggage dudes and came to a halt, the propellors gradually winding down. We boarded the plane and the pilot's head appeared through the cockpit door as he personally welcomed us aboard. His friendly, smiling demeanour suggested that he may not have been too long in the job, flying 30 time a day to moorea and back, each flight lasting just seven minutes. There was just one row of seats on either side of the plane and seating was on a first come, first served basis.
I carefully scrutinised the state of the aircraft which was well worn, especially looking at the cockpit, where the instrument panels showed patches of bare metal where the paint had worn away. The result of countless preflight checks I hoped. The pilot cranked the plane into life and soon we were off, no more than 500ft above the waves to Moorea...
charlie
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