The Pearl of Moorea Part One: Getting there

by Neil Woodburn on

Travel, when done right, is an active, engaging adventure during which every day reveals something new and exciting.

But every once in a while, travel is nothing more than a well deserved excuse to escape from the real world and do absolutely nothing. And this is exactly the way I usually feel at the end of the calendar year when I’m burnt out, overworked, and in desperate need of reinvigoration.

And so, my girlfriend and I headed to the South Pacific this last Christmas vacation for some well deserved R & R.

I wasn’t sure we would actually get there because I had waited too long to book anything and when my girlfriend started calling around in mid-December, a few travel agents actually laughed at her.

And then we found a gem. Laurel from True Tahiti Vacations took on the challenge and in less than a day, had done a phenomenal job of putting together the perfect package for our one-week escape to the Tahitian island of Moorea. She pulled off a minor miracle in the middle of high season and did everything imaginable for us-even offering the professional services of her husband, a local tattoo artist on Moorea who practices his art in the traditional Tahitian manner: with a wooden tapping stick and needles made of shark’s teeth. And don’t worry mom, this was one souvenir we both passed on.The Flight
The South Pacific is a surprisingly easy place to reach from the West Coast of America. A direct flight from Los Angeles to Tahiti is only eight hours and, if planned properly, can be arranged as a red eye. All you have to do is fall asleep on the tarmac and when you awake, you’re in paradise.

Our flight was a little less convenient, but not too bad. We left Los Angeles at 7 p.m. on Christmas night and arrived to balmy Papeete weather at 1:00 in the morning. It was my first time on Air Tahiti Nui and I was mostly impressed: we were treated to friendly service and were able to each enjoy our personal video screens-a huge plus in my book for any airline these days. The food, however, was a sad foreshadowing of what to expect once we arrived in Tahiti. The evening meal was sub par, but the snack they served before landing just might have been the worst food I’ve ever had on an airline, and I’ve flown Aeroflot. I’m not sure what whacked out cook thought he could prepare a quesadilla in a plane microwave, but the end product tasted like coagulated lard mushed between burnt sheets of wallpaper. Ugh!

Papeete
Since most international flights land in Papeete, on the main island of Tahiti, those traveling onwards to Moorea, Bora Bora, or any of the other paradisiacal islands of French Polynesia usually have a bit of a layover before their final destination.

Since we arrived at the unfortunate hour of 1:00 in the morning, our travel agent booked us a room at the Radisson so that we wouldn’t have to wait in the airport for the remainder of the night. This was a great call. Although it took 20 long minutes to reach the hotel, when we finally arrived, all the stress of travel and the toil of a busy life back home miraculously dissipated the moment we walked through the door of our room and into a South Pacific-themed, zen-like oasis. I really hadn’t expected much from the Radisson, and was therefore quite surprised at the quality of the room.

The only problem was having to wake up five hours later.


The Ferry
I had made sure to stay awake the entire flight so that I’d be on Tahitian time when I arrived and would then go promptly to bed. This was a great plan until I learned that we were booked for the 9 a.m. ferry the next day. This meant waking up at 7 a.m. to get breakfast, meet our driver, and head on over to the docks. This was horrible. DO NOT do this. Sleep in, enjoy a leisurely breakfast, and then catch the noon ferry or a later flight. Your body will thank you for it.

Although the flight to Moorea is only ten minutes, the hour-long ferry is actually a more enjoyable way, in my opinion, to get to the island. Just be sure to sit at the front of the boat and gaze out as the most luscious, green island you could ever imagine slowly grows larger and larger on the horizon until it completely dominates your view.

And that’s when you know you’ve finally made it.

Personally, I couldn’t help but think of the magical island in Lost and was filled with anticipation as I looked forward to being stranded here for the next seven days.

Tomorrow: The Resort

Using Sex To Sell Israel

by Brett Atkinson on

A few days back I blogged about Tourism New Zealand’s innovative approach to internet marketing. Israel is another country that’s been harnessing the power of the interweb to push their claim as a great place to visit.

Unlike New Zealand, Israel can’t offer alpine lakes and adventure sports on every street corner, so they’ve decided humour and sex is the best way to lure visitors to the Holy Land. (Read that last sentence back for the true meaning of irony).

Who knew Israel was the Mediterranean’s answer to Brazil?

A Canadian in Beijing: Umbrellas Not For Fellas

by Ember Swift on

Today they’re calling for a high of 37 degrees Celsius here in Beijing. The sweat gathers on my skin within seconds of stepping outside and I was so agitated by yesterday’s (equivalent) heat that I went straight to the market and bought some super light-weight shorts and a light-weight, long-sleeve shirt to help me survive. My Canadian summer clothes cannot compete with this heat. I had to relent.

Oh, and flip flops. I had to abandon my sneakers and socks. My feet were threatening to leave my legs in dramatic abandonment; their long term relationship was near to crumbling in a fiery mess with my feet dumping my legs after burning my leg’s favourite pants in disgust and cleaning out the pedicure account. I can just imagine my leg’s shock at their departure (I’d obviously be sitting down for that news)… and, that gives a whole new meaning to the expression “footloose and fancy free,” don’t you think?! Perhaps it is best said: “Footless and fancy free?”

Alright, now that I’ve thoroughly amused myself . . . (I think the heat is getting to my brain!)
The sun here is way too hot for my white skin. I’m going to have to gather some more light-weight, long-sleeved shirts like this one. I have had to lather on the sunscreen to avoid a burn even on the cloudy days. I am really sensitive to sun anywhere that I am and the sun in China is no exception.

I’ve noticed that the women in Beijing all carry umbrellas on sunny days. It makes me think of the olden days (or old movies) where women are wearing corsets and flowing gowns with petticoats while twirling umbrellas with lace or fringe along their edges. Women here carry umbrellas to protect against the sun that are pastel in colour but otherwise look like regular umbrellas. It’s a great plan, really, and it makes for a beautiful array of bouncing colours everywhere. In fact, seeing these umbrellas all over town brings to mind images of balloons gathered and floating from the hands of children at fairs and carnivals. It seems happy somehow.

When I first noticed this practise, I looked out my window in the morning to check the weather before school and I saw a bunch of umbrellas in the courtyard and assumed it was raining. In fact, I didn’t even notice the sun, just the umbrellas. I grabbed mine (a black one) and headed out.

When I got outside, I noticed that it was a brilliant sunny day and clued into the fact that these umbrellas I had seen were to protect against the sun. I thought, “Great plan! I’ll do it too!” and I opened my umbrella and walked across the basketball courts and towards my classroom buildings on the other side of the campus.

About one hundred yards into my walk, I start to sweat profusely. The heat under the umbrella was intense, like I was being cooked. People turned around to glance at me strangely a few times and then, as sweat dripped directly into my left eye and stung me to the point of having to stop, put my bag and umbrella down on the sidewalk and fish around for a tissue . . . I realized why they were staring at me.

When I moved the umbrella away from my body, I was greeted by cool air and felt refreshed. I thought, “How could it be cooler without the umbrella? It’s 36 degrees today!” And then it occurred to me how genius I am:

The umbrella is black.

Yes, there is something to be said for colour. Sometimes colour is not about style and is all about function.

I put my umbrella away and walked the rest of the way to class unprotected. Either I get a pastel one, or I wear my hat, sunscreen and long-sleeves while walking under the trees for sun protection. I’ll go with the latter option. I don’t need any more stuff… and I’m truthfully not really ready for a pink umbrella in my life.

Now let’s get back to the fact that it is only women who are carrying these umbrellas. Why not men? Would it be too feminine an act to carry a pastel-coloured umbrella to guard against these aggressive rays? I guess so. And in China, where gender division is as obvious as the stupidity of my umbrella’s colour in this heat, I suppose such a question is also out of the question (!)

Although, as I am wont to do, I asked it anyway. I believe my questions was: “What do men do to protect against the sun? Do they ever carry umbrellas too?” First, I got only laughter as a response, but when I pushed for a real answer, this is what I got: “Of course I would not carry such an umbrella!” my friend said in slightly shocked and exaggerated English (and his cute Chinese accent), “That is for women to do, not for men!” And then he laughed some more.

I suppose “sun umbrellas” aren’t likely to become “son umbrellas” anytime soon!

I looked down at my feet and smiled.

So much for my visions of an umbrella-holding gender revolution in China.

A girl can dream.

UV Hawk Tells You When It’s Time To Get Out Of The Sun

by Willy Volk on

The UV Hawk is a pocket-sized tool that measures the intensity of ultraviolet light radiation, which has been linked to sunburns and skin cancer, the most common form of all cancer types.

Before you spend time at the beach, on a trail, or kayaking — anywhere you’ll be exposed to prolonged sunlight — simply expose the device to direct sunlight, and it quickly tests the UV index. It even lets you set a sun exposure limit alarm, alerting you that you’ve spent enough time outside.

Of course, the unit can’t force you to get out of the sun — that’s up to you — but it helps you understand and and be aware of exposure limits. UV Hawks are available in many places, for around $45.

Cute Sunscreen Stickers

by Erik Olsen on

So it’s hot, damn hot, and for most of us fair-skinned folks, that means trying to keep the sun’s rays from frying our skin. Whenever I go anywhere I usually pack away a bottle or two of SPF 15 and 50. And I guess I use the 50 most of the time because, well, I’m about as prime a candidate for skin cancer a they come.

But I saw these handy little stickers recently that I thought would be a nice way to better manage your UV intake. They are also good for kids, to help make suer that junior doesn’t come home with you looking like a red delicious. These oh so cute little stickers from Leaps and Bounds measure UV rays hitting your skin and change from yellow to deep orange when sun exposure approaches dangerous levels. They are also water resistant, so they should stay on even if you decide to take a cool dip.