Final visit to Papeete, Tahiti

On arrival in Tahiti, stored my suitcase at the airport, grabbed a taxi and popped into Papeete. Principally in search of clip-on French Polynesia’s pearl earrings. First place, perfect set (and duty free made them even more perfect). On way to pearl market had noticed a street of fabric shops. Wanted to buy every roll with all their patterns, but settled on one to make a pareo (sarong). So much wonderful choice. Hibiscus flowers predominated whether symbolically stylised or more naturalistic. I settled instead on a more geometric find, not geometric like Marquesan tattoos but making me remember them. The landmark Cathedral was suddenly before me. Nothing to write home about architecturally. It was a useful break because I could sort out my bag and remaining francs. It also gave me physical and mental space to work out where I was and where I might go next. Outside it was simply too stimulating to think clearly. Then I found a busy street corner with a restaurant where I could buy refreshing jus de pamplemosse, and then watch the slim, elegant, urbane yet casual French local women walking away at the end of their working day. After quite a while and the walkers had thinned out, and watching cars held no interest, I wandered down to the water front, found a brasserie on the side walk. While enjoying a cold beer, the sun set majestically over the water with the rim of the reefs in the distance. All around me were elegant French men having end of day drinks. Very civilised. The street lights were on and it was time to find the food vans. Eventually made a choice and enjoyed a Mahi-Mahi with Tofu. Silken tofu slipped down interspersed with prawns and chicken pieces in a slightly chillied sauce. Was joined by a couple from Kobe who had no French at all. This was a shock. Tried to gather my thoughts and find some memories of my limited Japanese language. Thankfully the woman had sufficient English for us all to be able to communicate. Had one last look around and grabbed a taxi to return to the airport. Collected my case, brushed my teeth, washed my face and felt so much better. Water is such an amazing thing.

Music

Last night from my hotel across the TaiOHae bay, I heard music and drums and wondered whether a cruise ship had arrived after dark and was being welcomed with a performance. I am a little sad that I never saw such a one, but as much as the Marquesans love dancing (apparently), these performances are a patchwork quilt of remembered dances linked with Hollywood patterns and with what locals think foreigners need to see. I wouldn’t want to be hanging around with the patronising smiles I have seen on other tourists. I would find that offensive. So music has been in short supply during the holiday, except for the thump of pop, reggae, rap and techno sounds imported from elsewhere – and so much of that in English. God bless America! But memories of the sensational uplifting singing during last Sunday’s Catholic church service will stay with me forever. Somewhere I did learn it was true what I thought had been the case – the service was in French and the songs/hymns sung in Marquesan.

Catholic Church

About 1km along the road back to town from my hotel, it was obvious a church was up the side road. 4WDs everywhere and women dressed up Marquesan style walking towards the building. The service had started when I entered but I found a seat. Estimate 1000 people in there. June you would have been enraptured with the congregation's singing harmonics. So fabulous, brought tears to my eyes. Everyone sings and for the most part exceptionally melodic. And predictable so that I hummed or la la la'd throughout. Extraordinary way of starting many songs with the high soprano voices then suddenly like the melodic crash of waves on the shore, the male bass and baritones would enter the song. Amazing sound. The sort which makes you feel happy to be alive. Service in French not Marquesan. Would be just another way France would show its domination. Was last to leave after looking at the wood carved stories on the walls. And finally the soft paw of the priest passed through my hand in farewell. Continued to walk towards town looking for the oppositions Protestant church. Instead found the only shop open for the day. Bought tinned sardines from Morocco, and tinned vegetables where they have pull tops so I can get into them. Otherwise there won't be much food around. Rose will cook specially for me if I really want it but I will let her be - only 2 others staying there. French Poly closes for Sunday. Every Sunday. Rather like our Good Friday. Right now I am sitting under a tree staring out into the large bay with with its bobbing boats, and with cool breezes swirling around. Feeling better in spirit by the moment.

Wed morning leaving Tahuata

The usual early wake, repack, and Joelle is outside waiting to drive us back to her house. Breakfast of fresh baked that morning long bread sticks, the largest ever avocados I have seen, more of her brilliant confiture (a blend of guava, lemon peel, vanilla bean grown in the Marquesas, and I have forgotten what else), small sweet bananas of course, and Nescafe coffee. Other foods on the table included pot of peanut butter branded Skippy. This is typical, comfortable, talkative, and relaxed for everyone except Joelle who is trying to get eldest son (named east wind in Marquesan possibly aged about 8yrs) to eat his breakfast and get ready for school. Just like Mums all over the world. Eventually she and I take him to school. Back at the house another man has arrived to help Philip fix the outboard motor so we can get to the yacht in the dinghy. Joelle takes me up into the back of their lush property where we pick limes from the mother of all such bearing trees, smallish tree but loaded, and spiky. She has developed a drop pocket gadget at the end of a pole that you can insert into the vegetation and pull off each lime without being attacked by the tree. We filled a bag that turned out to be part of their farewell gift for us. Next we went up into another part of the garden where she was growing cucumbers, and endless bushes of a type of basil. Here she cut off the purple flowering heads. Down at the house I then had a demonstration and actually made my own parting floral necklace interspersing the basil flowers with long sections of complex creamy white/yellow flowers. Felt immensely privileged. She packed a box with avocados, grapefruit with a new pot of guava chutney. We packed many cars. Farewells were made to host Kiki and his 64 year old friend they wanted to marry me to (who is rich and has lots of pigs) - cant believe I almost went to write that here in my pigeon French rather than in English. Have had to speak so much French that sometimes I respond to English speakers in French. Of course my ability is dreadful, but I can be understood and can find ways to understand people who have no English. So parting from that wonderful and generous family was a bitter sweet moment. And I was the first tourist they had really met in this sort of way. I am immensely grateful for Philip talking his way into this. I know it has been a good and new experience for him as well. He hadn't known the people until the morning before he met me, so a great achievement all round.

Remembering - Gauguin's women in the shade

Yesterday yielded another delight. My theory holds up. When the Tahitians sit under a tree, the colours of their skin and of their clothes greys somewhat. It is difficult use the words of art curators who choose brilliant, rich, glowing, etc. It is patently not true. Thanks to my visit to the rooms of Gauguin paintings in the Hermitage and now Tahiti, I have seen a new way of understanding Paul Gauguin's Tahitian paintings, and probably his Marquesan paintings. More research required. Perhaps a learned paper or article should be written, if I can be bothered.