On or about Oct. 22, the good ship Quantum of the Seas dropped anchor off the island of Raiatea. Raiatea is the second largest of the "Society Islands" of Polynesia, behind Tahiti, and is thought to be where organized migrations of Polynesians to Hawai'i, New Zealand, and the eastern Polynesian islands began. To put things in some perspective, it's about 4000km to both Hawai'i and New Zealand from Raiatea, and these people made the trip in tribal canoes, using the stars, ocean currents, and migratory birds as their guides. We're in a 170,000 ton ocean liner and we're still being tossed around like a piece of cork. I can't begin to imagine what their trip might have been like.
The harbour is not deep enough for the ship to dock, so the ship arranged to take tenders ashore. Apparently, this was the first time Royal Caribbean has visited Raiatea, and there was a small ceremony for the captain and some of the crew to mark the occasion. I guess they normally go to Bora Bora (the "Las Vegas" of French Polynesia, as one of our tour guides described it), but Bora Bora denied access to the ship this time. From what we were told, there were some issues in the past with too many tourists on the island and not enough activities to keep everyone occupied, and with a 4000-5000 person capacity, they decided Quantum was too big for them. I don't know if the ship running at half-capacity was a selling point in our favour or not. But that's the story of how we got to Raiatea.
Tamara and I wandered onto the dock with nothing planned, and were immediately approached by someone with an offer to take us to a small island for $25. "It's nice," he said. "Stay as long as you like, we'll have a boat coming every half hour or so. And there's a girl on the island selling coconuts if you want one." Big deal, I thought. I hate coconuts. But this sounded pretty reasonable overall, so off we went.
The boat ride was about 10 minutes, and the island was... just okay -- not much of a beach, lots of coral. But the water was clear and beautiful, and we spent a few hours just hanging out. It ended up being a pretty good day. There were a few chickens roaming about, and a cute cat, for some reason. At one point, Tamara asked me to buy her a coconut.
Now, I didn't always hate coconuts. When I was a kid, I loved coconuts. But one day, my mom came home with a coconut and asked me if I'd like to try some coconut water. Of course I would -- I love coconuts! She poured it out into a glass, and it looked gross as holy hell -- not clear like water, but kind of cloudy, with some chunks floating in it. I was immensely skeptical, but with some trepidation I took the tiniest sip, nearly threw up, and never ate coconut again. There have been a few exceptions: haystack cookies and pina coladas being two. But I've generally gone out of my way to avoid eating coconut for most of my life.
I walked over to the Coconut Lady. "Est-ce que vous parlez anglais?" «Do you speak English?»
"Non, seulement un peu." «No, only a little bit.»
"Bien sur! Je parles seulement un peu de français, mais je vais essayer." «Very well. I only speak a little bit of French, but I will try.»
I gave her three Polynesian Francs. She spent a couple of minutes expertly taking the top off the coconut with a machete, then jabbed a straw into the opening before handing it to me. We talked for a few more minutes about where I was from: she was surprised to hear Canada, as it was so far away. She asked if we had a lot of snow, and told me she'd never seen any. I told her winter was cold all the time and I was enjoying the weather here a lot.
I brought the coconut back to Tamara, who asked if I'd like to have a sip. Generally no, but I'm in Raiatea, so what the heck. And it turns out coconut water is refreshing and delicious! Then Tamara cracked the coconut open with a few sharp whacks on the concrete table, and we shared the coconut flesh -- which is a gross as hell word to describe something you're eating, but I can't do anything about that. And the coconut flesh is kinda slimy, kinda rubbery, slightly sweet, and nothing at all like the processed coconut you find in a store. I ate most of one half. And since Tamara didn't want the other half, we fed it to the chickens. Who also loved it.
The Coconut Lady came over to talk to us just as we were packing up to leave. We exchanged some pleasantries and goodbyes, then hopped on the boat taking us back to shore. I asked Tamara why she came over to talk to us. Tamara said she was happy to have some people to talk to in French. And then it occurred to me that most tourists would be English-speaking, and she wouldn't have many people to talk to with her limited English. She probably spent some lonely and boring days on that island.
Sorry for not being more talkative to you when I had the chance, Coconut Lady. I'll never get another opportunity to thank you for the first coconut I've enjoyed in over 40 years.
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