Way, way back on Day 11 we were on the island of Moorea in French Polynesia. We bought a T-shirt, mailed some post cards, hung out at the beach. A stingray the size of an oven door swam lazily past us while we were in the water. I got sunburned, and was subsequently told this by literally everyone we knew.
We talked to some people from the ship who rented some scooters, and while there's a perimeter road around the island, there are few, if any, roads into the interior. But there are a number of fruit stands dotting the main road, and we passed these on our way to and from the beach. Each one appeared to have a healthy selection of fruit. I didn't see any fruit in the trees, but this was probably because the low-hanging fruit (heh) was already picked by the locals, leaving only the difficult to reach stuff. (I did find some mangoes smashed on the ground during my run the next day, making me think these might have fallen from higher up in the trees.)
On our way to mail postcards, Tamara suggested we should stop at one of the fruit stands -- which was awesome, because I wanted to eat a banana. I love bananas, and was excited at the thought that this would be the most amazing banana ever (spoiler: it tasted exactly the same as any other banana you've ever had in your life). So we go up to this stand and talk to this nice woman (in French) about buying some fruit.
"Je voudrais acheter des bananes, s'il-vous plaît." «I would like to buy some bananas, please.»
"Vous avez besoin d'un sac?" «Do you need a bag?»
"No, merci. Nous avons déjà un sac." «No, thank you. We have a bag.»
"Alors, prends ça. Je le fais ce matin." «Well, take this. I made it this morning.» And she handed us a lovely basket made from (what I assume are) banana leaves, and filled it with two big bunches of tiny bananas! Then she gave us a couple more underripe bananas for "le petit dejeuner demain" breakfast tomorrow. And handed us another fruit that we've been unable to identify, but that I think may have been some kind of guava. I thought it was okay, but Tamara did not like it.
Now, Tamara has a story about a similar situation, that I love, and which I'm totally stealing for this brief interlude.
Some time ago, Tamara's grandparents were crossing the border from the United States back into Canada, following some vacation or something, and they had with them a sack of potatoes. I want to say it was a twenty pound bag, which is probably reasonable (and true). But the story gets better with an absurd amount of potatoes, so let's just agree on 50 pounds for the sake of your entertainment.
They get to the border station and are talking to the agent about what they're bringing across. Turns out they weren't allowed to cross with these potatoes. But Tamara's granddad really wanted these potatoes, and began arguing with the border agent. It turns out it wasn't the potatoes themselves that were the problem, but the potato skins. "So you're saying if I peeled these potatoes I'd be able to bring them across?" You betcha. So, like any completely rational person, he found a knife, sat by the side of the road, and peeled this big bag of potatoes -- probably at least a hundred pounds of the things.
Tamara and I sat on a bench in the shade and shared a feast of tiny bananas, while locals near us played ukuleles for the tourists from the ship. There was a mild breeze blowing through, just enough to blunt the afternoon heat. Maybe not the best bananas I've ever tasted, but easily the best I've ever eaten. A pretty spectacular moment overall.
We tried the guava thingy but didn't finish it. And the underripe bananas went to a lady who sold us some goods, because she was very friendly and kind to us. I think she was happy with them, but my French still isn't strong enough to know for sure. "Quel bizarre cadeau" must be good, right?
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