Dream vacation on Bora Bora and Tahiti
Longing for Tahiti
Where does the Central European man dream when he is cold, pale and tired? Very far away. Best to where he has never been. Where he does not yet know the disappointments that may be waiting for him, where all the pictures are colorful and from where the news sounds mostly harmless. But where in the world does this luxury still exist?
It exists: in the South Seas. To be more precise: in Tahiti, French overseas country, the richest of the South Seas. Right away. 30 hours journey - from home garden gate -, enough latitude between dream and reality.
I should have been really tired when I landed in Papeete at 11 pm local time, all my limbs had been folded in all conceivable directions on the plane seat - but I was not tired. I said to myself: Captain Cook's first arrival with the "Endeavor" took eight months 237 years ago. And the man did not come for pleasure! Me, yes.
Le Meridien Tahiti
So air conditioning off, balcony door, only with the night heat. Under the Cross of the South, it whistles and chirps and smells lovely. That's what I wanted. In the morning I notice that I can see three different kinds of water from the balcony: In front of the parapet, colorful kois are swimming towards me in the shallow silver pond. Behind it, white sand fades in front of the blue hotel pool. And behind it, again, the sea rolls in tirelessly. Now I can convince myself that the roaring background noise is not actually the highway, that the cooing and whistling is not coming from a bio sauna machine, and that the air is not sprayed with Chanel. No, everything is natural: Tiares and Franghipanghi trees smell, colorful birds sing and the sea roars.
Tahiti is the antechamber to paradise
The longing goal and me. I am in the middle of my dreams - and the realist in me is ready to let herself be disappointed. But there is nothing left behind the dreams, the blue of the South Seas is brochure-blue, the sun hits me in the middle of the adrenaline dumps, people are smiling in real life. And the hotels are not annoying blocks. I put a flower behind my ear - right side, that is in Polynesian, I'm occupied -, grab a coconut mango drink and stroll to the beach.
Strolling is important now, no fast movements - the heat! Make yourself well, take in the luxury, they said at home, the request I take seriously. But in the sun on the couch, I can not stand it for ten minutes. Also not under the umbrella. To be completely lazy does not work right away. So in the thinnest pants and off with the taxi to the market in Papeete. A quarter of an hour drive to the center, 25 euros fixed price.
French tariffs, even with the local beer by the way, so around five euros cost a "Hinano" in the restaurant. Hinano means princess. So the price is reasonable. The drive goes past small flat family houses that hide under flowering trees, all pretty neat and freshly renovated. There is no industry, some farming further out. The big hotels get fruit, meat and vegetables especially from New Zealand.
In the market hall flowers, flowers, flowers. What are the rhubarb-thick stems with the fat flowers that look like pink plastic? Ginger, says the sun-tanned market woman. Ginger? Yes, Ginger. And then: fabrics, with flowers and more flowers. Here they carry in everyday life, what is up-to-the-minute at home on the catwalks. Gauguin's paintings go through the area and buy fish and bread. On the upper floor: pearl jewelry. Here they come, the most beautiful pearls in the world. And in the market they are in boxes like marbles. All colors, all sizes.
The vegetable department names prices as in the finest organic fresh market in Hamburg. Although the pineapple in paradise supposedly grows in your mouth. And hop the fish into the boat. But Tahiti is just the antechamber to paradise. We continue the next day with a small plane to Bora Bora.
Dream dream Bora Bora
Le Meridien Bora Bora
If Polynesians want to increase or emphasize something, they simply double the word. So they come out with 13 letters. Walking is called Horoi, walking fast is called Horoi Horoi. So Bora Bora is my dream dream.
45 minutes flight from Papeete. You land at the jetty. Schwupp, I have a flower necklace around my neck, someone gently removes the suitcase handle, hang a room number on it, from the airport's by boat directly to the luxury resort: from the mountainous green main island Bora Bora on a Motu, a small island in the middle Lagoon.
One should not endeavor God for no reason, but here his plan is clear: Here, man should one day make holidays, he must have thought, if his own technique and his own filth have eaten body and soul.I stand on the jetty in front of the resort Le Meridien, my suitcase is already in the overwater bungalow 326th The air has 32, the water 26 degrees. I only want one thing: into the water. As I pass by, I grab diving goggles and snorkels on the beach and swim between beach bar and breakfast restaurant. I'm gone. As far away as you can possibly be. It is still and warm under water, the fish are colorful and delicate as flowers. They come up close, they know those white-skinned people like me, who amaze them.
Half of the guests here are Americans, one third Japanese. And of all the half in turn should be honeymooners. Those who have just married and those who would marry again after 25 years. True dream travelers so. I do not belong to any of these groups, but look at the fish just as romantically. But that's nothing.
The next day a fast boat waits at the jetty. And I should go out to the sharks and rays. Whether I actually dive to those, I'll think twice, wait and see what the others do.
We board the lagoon for 20 minutes, the wind is good. The surf of the Pacific is approaching. Out there, the divine pool ends up hitting the rough seas. Here the sharks and rays come from the depths. And the critters know: When the boats come, it's lunchtime. When our boatman throws them a bite, they can be admired peacefully like cuddly kittens. Of course I jump out of the boat, hold on to the anchor chain. Gray skates frolick around me like dozens like living flat stones with long tails. Pretty scary. A yellow shark has brought buddies, afterwards in the boat some have seen twenty, I count five. Alright. Shark is shark. Hai Hai.
Afterwards: relaxed picnic on a Motu. Maraehau, the boatman, grills tuna, places it on plates made of leaves, served with cassava, bread cake, and grapefruit fillets. The leaves have several layers, after each course you tear off a sheet and has a clean plate. Maraehau picks up the guitar and sings Polynesian longing tunes. Nostalgia? What? I've heard the Polynesian dreams of only one: Fenua. That means homeland. Of course, the Polynesians know that they have got the better edge of the world. Where they come from is not exactly known, but on boats they must definitely have come from afar, and they found the most beautiful country that makes one think. In 1606 the Spaniards were the first Europeans to arrive. The island women are said to have welcomed her naked, which established the legends about her beauty.
Stefan, who drives me later with a Polynesian outrigger canoe over the lagoon, thinks differently about the South Sea dream. Here, too, time is running short, says the Frenchman, who came here 15 years ago to lead a completely different life. He has tattooed his whole story on arms and chest. He has three children and a wife, he nourishes them all with his work, of which the artful lines on his tanned skin tell. This kind of family album is an old Polynesian tradition. Just like the canoe that Stefan drives - it has big wings on the sides, which keep it stable in the swell, and is very narrow. It glides silently and elegantly. Almost this type of boat, with which they used to cover thousands of nautical miles, would have become extinct, because now they also want fast boats and fast money.
And so tradition has become a luxury. Pascal Fouquet, the hotel manager of "Le Meridien Bora Bora", has provided drawings and recreated the old canoes in Hawaii. Now his guests can seemingly bring back the time they have long lost.
I lie on the four-poster bed and look through the glass floor of my bungalow into the glittering lagoon. Do I swim around the house or do I visit the turtles who are fortunate to reside in "Le Meridien"? The turtle story is too good to be true anyway. One day a guest comes to the hotel manager and attaches an injured turtle. They speared spears or harpoons, but she lives. What is a well-trained Frenchman doing? He initiates rescue operations. He's on the phone with veterinarians in Hawaii. A seriously injured sea turtle? The experts wave. No idea what to do. Pascal gives her a quiet spot with water, sand and food. And probably also human attention, because the busy manager suddenly discovers his love for the tank animal. It is recovering splendidly, that is rumored. Now about 80 sea turtles live here, one day 50 nicked babies were added. The police had secured her with a turtle robber and sent her to the resort. Now guests like Sharon Stone and her family are making a pilgrimage, because it's really nice to watch the orange creatures flocking. It looks like flying in the water.
At breakfast, fish casserole is next to the table: the elegant whites with the narrow green dorsal fin, followed by the celebratory group in the Stresemann, in between the poppy lemon yellow and cool neon blue. Every now and then a bit of a row the fat Olivia, a traumatized turtle, is rowing past.She can not dive anymore, something must have disturbed her severely. But one day, Pascal says, if she crawls under a stone to sleep at night, as it should, she is healed. Then she will be released to freedom, like many others before her.
With my third chocolate croissant, my gaze on palms and white sand becomes sluggish, it's my third dream day, and it's like eating my favorite cake every day. It's delicious. But I feel the day will come and I will gladly fly back to my black bread life. Because when a dream is good, you wake up satisfied and refreshed from it and love the day. Even if he begins, for example, at home in Brandenburg with drizzle. There I sit now, the thermometer climbs laboriously 10 degrees, and I dream again the dream of the South Seas sun.
Travel Info Bora Bora & Tahiti
Many tour operators have the South Sea islands Tahiti and Bora Bora in the program, for example, Dertour: stay at "Le Meridien Tahiti" from 110 euros per day / person, in "Le Meridien Bora Bora" from 234 euros per day / person, without meals. To book through travel agents or at www.lemeridien.com.
