MOOREA, FRENCH POLYNESIA - 23 April, 2003
There were too many roosters on this island.
Some people could exist for their entire life. I existed for two days and felt I was ready to start LIVING again, but not too strenuously, please.
Greg said that, according to the guidebook, there was a 'fairly easy' walk from the Ferry Point to Cook's Bay. Two hours, 5 kms, that sounded alright. I asked if I could join him and so we set off on the bus to the Ferry Point.
Unfortunately, it rained just when we arrived at the Ferry Point. We only set off after an hour's wait when the rain subsided.
The trail was horribly muddy right at the start. We followed the red markers painted on trees or plastic tapes tied to trunks and started ascending up a slope. Greg only had flip-flops on. With the earlier rain, the climb was difficult and very slippery. Many times, we had to use roots embedded in the mud like rungs of a ladder to climb up.
After an hour of very sweaty and exhausting climb, we reached the top of the ridge. Walking across the edge to the left, we arrived at a view-point and found ourselves right at the bottom of two very impressive peaks.
Moorea had some very astounding and dramatic mountain peaks scattered all over and to burst through the foliage and be met with this sight, I was utterly floored. 'This is TREMENDOUSLY PHENOMENAL!!', I yelled.
We were awed by the fantastic view around us, for we could see Tahiti island, the bays and the spectacular mountains around Cook's Bay. Yes, the tough work was all worthwhile. Greg confessed smilingly that he had started to have doubts but agreed with me this was worth it. The poor thing was suffering more from the climb because of unsuitable footwear.
Now, we had to descend on the other side of the ridge... which was even worse. We slipped several times and Greg knocked his elbow badly. We came to a point where it was so steep it was like plunging to death. I saw no plastic tapes in a distance and was afraid if we went down this way and it was the wrong route, there was NO WAY we could climb back up. I got worried but there appeared to be no other route and so we carefully crawled down.
We managed to leave the jungle without tragedy after the very stressful journey downhill. And Greg... oops, I am sorry, the Legendary Greg did it in flip-flops. 'Fairly easy', my foot!
We returned to the hostel by hitching. I started to have really bad stomach aches upon our return. French loaf, Nutella and biscuits. What could go wrong?
MOOREA to PAPEETE, FRENCH POLYNESIA - 24 April, 2003
Woke up with no more stomach pains but there were still too many roosters on this island.
After yesterday, we deserved a brainless day today at the beach. At one point, from the clear shallow water, Greg spotted a huge black something moving against the currents. It was a ray! He had spotted one two days ago but nobody was nearby for him to point it out. This time, he pointed it out from the beach and everyone saw it. It was so gigantic and graceful. I waded in the water to follow it for a while. It was great to be able to see a ray. Wow, I was really pleased with this final, perfect present.
I would be flying out of Tahiti tonight to Melbourne, Australia. While I was transitting in Melbourne as well, I had about four hours to kill. Since Greg was from Melbourne, I asked him for transportation details to the city centre, if I so choose to head there from the airport. He suggested I take the SKYBUS to Spencer City Station and then, find my way to Bourke Street.
'OK, so when I arrive at Spencer City, I just have to ask someone: Donde esta Bourke Street? ('Where is Bourke Street?' in Spanish). And I can go there by walking?' I inquired.
'Right.'
'Except that I have to ask that in Australian.' I pointed out.
'Yes, that would be: Donde esta Bourke Street, mate? ('Where is Bourke Street?' in Australian)'
I was all set to tackle Melbourne.