Bora Bora Tahiti reality

Bora Bora

Bora Bora. The name itself conjures images of the prototypical tropical getaway. The world’s most famous island, Bora Bora has enticed generations of lovers, artists and idealist with the heady dream and smoldering charm of this garden of sensual delights. They long to come here, traveling light, to build a hut on the beach, fish in the crystal oceans, nap in a hammock. All cares and worries would vanish, the surrounding beauty inspiring and elevating their spirits to new heights of understanding. It would be mystical and magic.
One look at the island’s astonishing towering emerald peaks surrounded by aquamarine lagoons elucidates the reputation, illuminates the dream--and made Bora Bora the port most anticipated on our cruise. Rising early, I found the decks buzzing with passengers. Artists, photographers, and romantics had established their chosen positions at the rail, had set their tripods, and were watching gap-jawed at the scene unfolding before us.
We slowly entered the sheltered Bay of Vaitape, the only entrance into Bora Bora’s reef, just as morning broke beyond the mountain, casting a magical pink-gold light on the island.
We sailed first past the idyllic cottage resorts fringing the island which, true to their storied brochures, rise on stilts directly over the azure sea. The only thing audible was seabirds and a gentle lapping of the water as our ship moved forward so smoothly and slealthily that we didn‘t disturb a single slumbering honeymoon couple.
The Paul Gauguin was already berthed in the bay when we arrived, and her passengers were enjoying their coffee on private balconies waving gaily just a stone‘s throw away. Yet the stillness persisted as passengers instinctively paid reverence to the mountains, the lagoon, the morning--and the decidedly amorous.
Earlier, I had been disappointed to find that all water-based excursions were already sold out when we boarded the ship. Now, staring into the tranquil, pristine, crystalline waters beneath us, diving into the sea of limpid aquamarine couldn’t have been more inviting.
However, our 4 x 4 jeep excursion was arranged, and though I developed second thoughts while riding the tender to shore, the tour promised an exotic island overview with glorious views of the lagoons--a photographers dream. After tendering to the harbor, we followed behind the ubiquitous “lollipop” that designated our tour group (and seems so antithetical to rugged exploration) before meeting our island guides.
We packed into brightly colored jeeps festooned with flowers and headed out in a convoy driven by engaging and informative locals. After a 20 minute trip along the sole road ringing the island, we turned suddenly onto a path no wider than a bike lane. It obviously hadn’t been graded since the U.S. Army cleared this path back in WWII during Operation Bobcat.
The jeep barely cleared the overgrowth, the ruts and runnels so deep that the wheels sunk to the bumpers. A few times the driver had to rock the transmission to release the vehicle from the earth. Fortunately, it was dry. Unfortunately, it was sweltering. Being in the passenger''s side seat afforded me prime opportunities for photo taking, but riding shot-gun also required I dodge ferns, branches, and anything else the Jeep nuzzled on the narrow path. One lane roads demand an essential courtesy, so when the convoy ahead of us decided to retreat down the mountain, our jeep pulled off to the side, balancing tenuously over a steep ravine. The dust kicking up from the passing four-wheelers, mixed with the super-saturated humid air and the sheer nerve-wracking component of the experience, began to merge in the rivulets of sweat trickling down my face.
Suddenly, Bora Bora was not seeming particularly romantic.
Thankfully, the convey bounced along and we resumed our ascent up the rugged mountain road just short of our melting. Our first lookout point redeemed the uncomfortable path. Awesome views revealed the full scope of Bora Bora’s tranquil lagoon. We wandered through the jungle, snapped photos, listened as the guides narrated a story of the area, explaining the presence of the seven-inch naval cannons at most of Bora Bora‘s prime viewing locations.
Weeks after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Operation Bobcat was put into force to protect the island. Fortunately, Bora Bora never saw combat, but from 1942-1946, 6,000 military men remained stationed here serving what must have been seriously tough duty. (How did that go again? “We got sunlight on the sand, we got moonlight on the sea, we got mangos and bananas we can pick right off the trees…”)
After sharing tales of the South Pacific, our guide expertly carved a number of luscious pineapples and invited us to indulge in the sweet refreshment before packing us back in the truck for a trip to the local artist‘s community. The specialty here is brilliantly hand-painted fabrics for sarongs, the South Pacific’s celebrated mode of dress. Strolling among the palm-shaded studios amid a profusion of tropical foliage, it was obvious the source of the artists'' inspiration.
The Jeep Brigade then made a final, welcome stop in town at Bloody Mary’s. The famed restaurant is essentially another “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” but we liked it just the same. We especially enjoyed the sand floor, the relaxed atmosphere, and the open-air pavilion ambiance. In the ladies’ room I searched for the wash basin and only after some time thought to pull the chain dropping from the sky. That released a rush of water down a lava rock waterfall where I splashed my hands, cleaned my face and smiled at the whimsy of it.
What we liked most about Bloody Mary’s, however, were the bloody marys! After one, we waved the jeep on without us. We were in Bora Bora, after all.

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