Bora Bora Beautiful Bora Bora! We were woken as we usually are when coming into a tender port by the loud grating sounds of the anchor chain being played out. I climbed out of bed sleepily to have a look at our latest destination. What absolute beauty! Turquoise water, crystal clear, fringed by a reef spurting white foam high into the air. The island itself was palm covered with some habitation at the water's edge. Bora Bora is the archetypical tropical island. Our group met as usual in the Atrium on Deck 5. Like the day before in Papeete, we'd dressed for swimming so we were ready for a day lazing on a beach under the palms. But oh, dear! It seems that no matter what our plans are, they are destined to be thwarted. We set off in the tender; it's always a good way to go ashore. The jetty was right in the small town of Vaitape and the locals were out with all their island wares for sale. It was sunny and beautiful and we couldn't wait to get to the beach. The first stall that caught our eye, well the girls' eyes, was one advertising The Pearl Farm. A couple of Bora Borans, or whatever the locals are called, were keen for us to go there, so keen that the he/she male flicked his thumb at his companion and said, "She'll take you there." We all piled into an ancient truck which had seats along the sides of the covered tray and off we went. Along the way we passed beautiful coves where the turquoise waters lapped right up onto the roadside. Strangely, there were houses on both sides of the road which had water lying all around. The Pearl Farm was spectacular. It was built out over the water and was decorated with colourful painted totems and huge flat oyster shells which were strung up on ropes hanging on the walls. The gardens overflowed with bright tropical flowers and the scent of gardenias filled the air. We were greeted by an equally spectacular young Frenchman with the most gorgeous pale blue eyes who led us along the path to the business end of the place. He could have led us along any path, come to think of it, and we would have followed. By 'we', I mean the women. The men hung back, fearful that we'd actually buy something. Our Frenchman explained the whole process of seeding the oysters and harvesting the pearls. One oyster can be used up to 5 times and will produce a single pearl each time. We saw how the shell is opened and the pearl prised out. It was quite fascinating. After our education the sales pitch started. To be honest, it wasn't really necessary as the pearls were so gorgeous that they could sell themselves. The only problem was the price. Patricia was keen to buy a pair of earrings to match a single pearl pendant she'd bought on a previous visit. It wasn't easy to choose two pearls that matched each other as well as her pendant but eventually, after searching through bowls of unmounted pearls, she was satisfied with two that matched. Then she had to find fittings that weren't too expensive. The price of gold is exorbitant at the moment so they had to be chosen with care, too. Not too much gold, but enough to look substantial. Once they were chosen, an attendant took the pearls away to have them fixed to the mountings. However, things didn't run smoothly; in minutes the girl was back with the news that the jeweller had drilled right through one pearl so another had to be selected. This was harder than before but eventually one was found. It was such a shame because it didn't match quite as well as the first pair had but they still looked gorgeous. The total was about $200 US which was a pretty fair price. At last the earrings were finished and we were ready to get to the beach. Probably because we'd made a purchase the girl who'd taken us to the Pearl Farm was willing to take us on to the beach so up into the truck we climbed once more. The scenery was much the same - turquoise water on the right and muddy water on the left. We passed Bloody Mary's, a bar and restaurant named after the character in James Michener's 'South Pacific' but we didn't stop as it was quite crowded. The road was busier as we neared the beach and we could see a lot of people standing around under the palms watching something in the water. Between the trunks of the palms we could catch glimpses of long narrow canoes whizzing past at incredibly high speed. Each canoe bore a young man madly dipping a long paddle in and out, in and out as he screamed past. We had began to climb out of the truck when a worried man rushed up, gesticulating wildly and speaking frantically in the local lingo to our driver. We thought we'd got the gist of it. It seemed that we weren't allowed to get out. Our driver translated something different for us, though. "No swim. Water bad," she said, in her broken English. This time Shirley came to the rescue. "I'm a member of the Novotel chain," she said. "We could go to the Sofitel." We thought the driver had agreed to take us there but instead we found ourselves heading back to town, back past the Pearl Farm, back past the flooded gardens which we now understood to be an anomaly. There didn't seem to be any speed limit and as we sped along, Vincenzo's cap flew off and landed on the road. We watched it grow smaller as we sped away. I think our driver was really going to town to unload us and find another truckload of potential buyers. Quite understandable, really. Once there, we found a large taxi van with a driver named Dora who agreed to take us to the Sofitel for $40. Off we went again, past the flooded gardens, past the Pearl Farm, past the closed beach, all the time looking out with no success for the lost cap until we finally arrived at the gates of the Sofitel. Oh, no! Again someone bustled out, looking harried. Shirley explained what we wanted to do. "You cannot come. We have big crowd. You cannot come," the woman said. Shirley tried again. "I'm a member and we just want to swim in the pool." The woman shook her head vehemently. "No, you cannot. Too many people today. Big crowd," she repeated. Defeated, we got back into the van. As you can imagine, we were all a bit fed up by then and the consensus was to go back to the ship and have a swim there, so off we went back along the road to town again. We'd not gone far along the road, for the fourth time that morning, when Dora suggested that she could take us around the island for $160. After a quick confab, we agreed. She turned the van around and we were off. There is only one road and it follows the coast all around the island. Dora proved to be an excellent guide. She showed us all the local sights and explained why there was the no swimming rule that day. Apparently the seas had been so high and the current so strong that a swimming ban had been announced on the radio that morning. We stopped to examine some coconut palms growing along the roadside. The different types are used for different things. The green ones are used for drinking and eating and the orange one ones are used for medicines. One fascinating sight we stopped for was a colony of land crabs by the roadside. The crabs are bright red in colour and they eat plants. Their homes are quite large holes in the ground. Someone had scattered bunches of leaves on the ground and the crabs were busily dragging them along and disappearing into the holes with their prizes. It reminded me of the leaf cutter ants we'd watched in Colon. We passed several places selling sarongs. Dora stopped at one that had an array of local delicacies for customers to sample, hopefully before they bought a sarong or two. We ignored the flies buzzing about the table and helped ourselves. There was a sweet glutinous dish made of a sort of sago flavoured and coloured with pumpkin. It was delicious. Chunks of boiled breadfruit, one of Dora's favourites, were there, too. She said she loves to munch on a bowl of it while watching television in the evenings. I'd rather munch on something a bit tastier, like cardboard! We passed an ordinary house that Marlon Brando had lived in with his third wife, a native of Bora Bora. He'd met her when she played opposite him in "Mutiny on the Bounty" which was filmed on the island. They had two children, a son and a daughter. The daughter, Cheyenne, had a tragic life which ended in suicide. Very sad. Other Hollywood notables who frequent the island are Jack Nicholson and Piers Brosnan. There are still traces of the American occupation, called 'Operation Bobcat', during WW2 following the Pearl Harbour attack. First of all, the name has changed. It used to be Pora Pora (there is no letter B in the Tahitian alphabet) but the Americans pronounced it 'Bora Bora' and the name has stuck. There are several gun emplacements still on the island, none of which were ever used in combat. Dora showed us a bunker and the muzzle of a rusty cannon which were just visible through the thick vegetation on the side of a hill. She also said that the Americans had blasted the opening in the reef through which our ship had entered but I haven't been able to confirm that. We made another sarong stop. This time the owner, a young mother, had her pots of dye all set up. She showed us how she tie dyes the fabric. Everywhere around us were newly dyed sarongs flapping on lines to dry. There was food there, too, and we helped ourselves to more of the sweet sticky pudding. Dora's house was on our route back to town. Well, everything is as there's only the one road! The entrance was decorated with everything bright and colourful and further in we could see long tables all set up for a feast. That afternoon her niece was to be married and the celebrations would go on for two or three days. Hundreds of guests were invited but there would be no alcohol as their Mormon religion would not allow that. On arrival back in town we hurriedly farewelled Dora as she had to get home to prepare for the wedding. It's probably odd that she had been working on the wedding day but she'd told us that Bora Bora had been hard hit by the recession and fewer tourists were coming to the island. Our ship was the first for several weeks so every opportunity had to be taken to earn a few dollars. It was so bad that many of the large resorts we'd seen had closed down. I had a look around some of the stalls which had been set up in a huge covered market while Alan went along the road to the Chinese supermarket to buy some grog. There wasn't much of interest and I didn't buy anything. It was hot, hot, hot inside so I went outside to catch a breeze while I waited for a tender. The ship always cares well for its passengers and a table had been set up with cold water available. I had noticed an assortment of scrawny flea carriers lying around in the heat. As I watched, one of the ship's officers, smart in his immaculate white uniform, and who was manning the water table, filled a plastic cup and offered it to one of the dogs. It scrambled to its feet and gratefully lapped up the water, careful not to knock over the flimsy cup. The officer filled two more cups and went off to give more of the fleabags a drink. I liked that. Back on board it was into the pool for a cool down before setting ourselves up on the Promenade deck, eager to watch our departure through the narrow opening in the reef. The huge waves were still crashing on to it, sending spray spurting skywards. Right at the edge of the opening, a few brave, or maybe foolhardy surfers were riding the waves James Michener is reported to have said that Bora Bora is the most beautiful place on Earth. If it isn't that, it's certainly the most beautiful of all the Pacific islands I've ever visited. Just gorgeous!