Continued from Part I

. . .arrived. We heard French and Tahitian spoken with equal frequency. The hotel staff, a mixture of Tahitians, Americans, New Zealanders and Australians, readily engaged in conversation when time permitted. Tahitian women have a unique beauty, which is enhanced by a certain shyness combined with a little twinkle in the eye. They seem natural flirts, as the sunbathing girls confirmed, something Gauguin certainly took advantage of, not always honorably.

Although Gauguin's anti-bourgeois behavior made him an outcast in Tahiti, the islanders are now happy to acknowledge the painter as their own. The Paul Gauguin Museum lies on the South West coast at PK 51, 2 Papeari. It offers Gauguin memorabilia, prints and copies of his paintings, and an occasional exhibit of his art, borrowed from museums around the world. It lies opposite a botanical garden well worth the trip to this part of the island. (PK stands for 'point kilomérique', the only way to find a local address).

A broke Gauguin left Tahiti in 1901 for the Marquesas, another French Polynesian island group. There he died in 1903 from syphilis, shortly before starting a jail sentence. He had made himself just as unpopular in the Marquesas as in Tahiti with his anti-clerical and anti-social behavior, no doubt aggravated by his the syphilis. He is buried in Calvary Cemetery, Atuona, Hiva Oa, Marquesas Islands, not far from Jacques Brel's grave (the Belgian songwriter/singer, who died in Paris in 1978, asked to be buried there).

Tahiti has a few peculiarities worth noting. There are probably as many roosters on the island as there are humans. They will wake you up early. One seemed to be located directly under our window from the sound of the crowing, and as soon as he crowed, another replied and in no time a whole cacophony of cock crows echoed over the island. By the third night/morning we got used to it. Had we stayed even longer, we most likely would have become oblivious to their crowing. Why the roosters? Cock fights are a favorite sport on the island. A drive around Tahiti will bring to ones attention flat, long boxes in front of houses that are similar to our mailboxes. It turns out they are for the early morning delivery of fresh baguettes, not the mail. As can be found almost everywhere across Polynesia, the native Society Islanders are strongly Protestant, mainly Seventh Day Adventist. Considering that they are part of France that claims to be secular, but whose citizens are mostly Roman Catholics, it came as a surprise. The minority Roman Catholics on the islands are generally French colonial civil servants. Native Tahitians are entitled to free higher education in France, but strangely, few of them end up in the civil service. Government offices are overcrowded with ex-pat French, although after their service is up, they usually return home.

After three very pleasant days in a world that is laid back, yet eager to please, we reluctantly had to say goodbye to board the roughly 40,000 tonne The Pacific Princess. It became our home for the duration of the trip. One of the smaller ships now plying the oceans, it holds only 600 passengers, something we really enjoyed. Clean and well maintained, its cabin stewards and most of the wait staff came from the Philippines. They were amazingly friendly, helpful and eager to chat with us when off-duty.

We often sat late at night on the back deck with a drink and had conversations with the crew. We learned a great deal about what it is like for these young men and women to be away from their sweethearts, or wives, husbands, and children, for seven to nine months at a stretch. All of them suffered such separations to be able to have enough money so that some day they are able to own a house, or a business, otherwise impossible to achieve in the Philippines or, in one case, India, and another, in Bali.

We had two favorite meal times on the ship: breakfast and afternoon tea. The breakfast buffet on Deck 9 offered every variation of breakfast foods possible, which allowed one to style one's own early morning repast. The afternoon tea had the required small sandwiches, such as cucumber and cream cheese, smoked salmon, and cakes and cookies, but especially perfectly baked, warm scones served with jam and cream. These were served with a good cup of tea by impeccably mannered waiters wearing white gloves.

Interestingly, some Americans, who joined us for afternoon tea referred to it as 'high tea', and asked us if we had this custom in Canada. Although our demeanor and speech is obviously North American, one got the impression that they think of Canada as being an extension of Britain. The ladies (there were few men at these teas) were surprised to learn that high tea is actually the evening meal of the 'working' classes in Britain, often shortened to just 'tea'. They seemed disappointed that 'afternoon tea' is not generally a custom in Canada and that we call the evening meal supper or dinner just as Americans do. Fortunately, most took the little lesson good-naturedly.

Although we took most of our dinners at the late sitting in the main dining room on Deck 5, we often abandoned this place for a small bistro on Deck 9 to get away from rather uninspired, mediocre food, in which meats were drowned in too many rich sauces, served with badly matched vegetables, an excess of asparagus—served with almost every main course—and boring desserts. When in the dining room, we shared a table with four Americans, two Australians and a German lady. She left us, however, to join some Austrians as she found it a strain to keep up with English.

At lunch, the variety of fresh breads was always good, but one soon grew tired of the same salads, the same cut meats, very poor pizzas, and horrible French fries and hamburgers. On so-called ethnic days, lunch was a European interpretation of Asian and Southeast Asian cuisine. It says much about lunch when the freshly-baked bread and cookies become a highlight, and one turns to Jello instead of cakes or pies for dessert. They did have good hotdogs, though, which means a lot since generally we are not hotdog eaters. The mediocrity of the food came as a surprise because the Italian executive chef had the title of Commendatore, one of the highest decorations an Italian can receive from his government.

We found the nightly entertainment uninspiring. Suffice it to say, we soon stayed away from such events and instead chatted with fellow passengers or the off-duty staff. It seems that today ships have become the retirement stage for faded entertainers, or the start for the very young, who are beginning their career and haven't yet mastered the necessary skills to make it on land. Like many other fellow passengers, we absolutely hated being woken up by the early morning loudspeaker bulletins given by the entertainment director about events planned for the day. Since everyone also got a written nightly bulletin of what was ahead, this seemed an unnecessary cruelty inflicted on the mostly retirement-aged passengers. Ah, well, such is the lot of cruising.

While on the subject of passengers, this is the first time in many years of cruising that we experienced a certain class distinction between guests. Those who had traveled with Princess Cruise Lines before had privileges that first-time travelers with the line did not receive. For the first time we also noticed that nationalities seemed to tend to stick together, almost avoiding any kind of intermingling with strangers. Free intermingling had made past cruises so interesting for us.

But, enough of grumbling about the ship, and what went on there. Pacific Princess had a well-stocked, beautifully designed library, a good gym, as well as a fine running track that contributed to our not gaining any weight on this long cruise although strong winds often made the run an effort. The pool was rather small, but the sun deck had the advantage that no smoke from the stacks reached it. This had been a complaint on many other ships where the smoke stacks were in front of the aft-located sun decks and so caused passengers to inhale fumes. The Pacific Princess, by the way, was refitted after the end of our journey and then proceeded on a world cruise.

Now, back to the journey. On the morning after our first night on board, we chose not to get off at spectacular and serene Mo'orea. Activities there centered on water sports that were not for us. Some passengers arrived back on board with very sore legs and feet from having come in contact with jellyfish. One showed us a double puncture wound inflicted in the foot by one of the very small and usually tame local sharks. So, for us, the view of the shoreline of Mo'orea and its mountainous terrain proved to be much more relaxing and charming.

On the second morning after leaving Tahiti, we came to beautiful Bora Bora, which deserves its fame as a honeymoon island. It is surrounded by a soft blue lagoon and a barrier reef with many cozy bays. In the center of the island are the remnants of an extinct volcano rising to two steep peaks, Mount Pahia and Mount Otemanu. They have apparently never been climbed. Wherever we drove on the island either one or the other of the peaks loomed before or behind us, while the view of the sea invariably showed us the bluest of blue waters.

Bora Bora served as a supply depot for the Americans during WWII, but fortunately never saw an enemy attack. Many say the island is the background for the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical and the subsequent movie, South Pacific. One doubts this because author James Michener's Tales of the South Pacific, which inspired Rodgers and Hammerstein, are based on Michener being stationed during the war at Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides Islands (now known as Vanuatu). The film, of course, was shot mostly in Kauai, one of the Hawaiian islands. Here and there, as we drove around Bora Bora, we saw barely visible reminders of the war years, including remnants of massive naval cannon embankments.

Among local points-of-interest are side-by-side palm-thatched houses once owned by actors Marlon Brando and . .

Continue to Part III | Return to Part I