Postcard From Mo'orea
Sometimes getting sick is a cultural experience
I am having a steamy (because yes, this place is hot and humid!) love affair with Mo’orea – the small Polynesian island just a stone’s throw from Tahiti.
Mo’orea means “yellow lizard” in Polynesian, but I’d rather think of it as meaning “Abundance.” That is what we’ve found here: abundant coral gardens teeming with tropical fish, vegetation so thick the bright sunshine barely penetrates the jungle, and most of all, a generosity of spirit as naturally seductive as the Tahitian women placing a simple but lovely flower behind one ear. It’s a polyamorous relationship – My Guy is equally smitten.
On our first day on the island, he and I walked down a rutted dirt road filled with Jurassic Park-sized ferns, mango trees drooping from the weight of unripe fruit, breadfruit trees, and white hibiscus blossoms – all pushing toward the sky in an act of aggression matched only by the coconut palms. The large coconuts grew in clusters at the tops of the trees and equal numbers were scattered on the ground. At the end of the road was an isolated, white sand beach with a few palm trees and a view across a short stretch of lagoon to two small islands. Before I’d even laid my towel in the sand, MG had donned his gear and was paddling happily around.
Underneath the aquamarine waters, we found ourselves in another world – one filled with abundant coral gardens of mustard yellow and lavender coral. We swam alongside schools of tropical fish gaudily adorned in cobalt blue, lime green, sunshine yellow, and orange. Occasionally, a turtle, reef shark, or ray swam lazily past, and once I found myself in a face-off with a moray eel. He won.
Our private beach turned out to be the favorite picnic spot for a lovely Polynesian family who offered us drinks while they built a fire and started cooking breadfruit, which they invited us to share with them.
Their generous offer of food and drink replaced the need for actual conversation, which was a good thing since neither the young man who introduced himself as “Alan” nor I could understand what the other said. However, I did understand his offer to show me how to husk a coconut by placing the large nut on the end of a sharp stick and twisting it.
Once the nut was husked, he still had the matter of breaking open the nut. Alan brought out a small machete and with a few well-placed taps the nut cracked open to reveal the pearly white flesh of the coconut. In true Mo’orean hospitality, he presented it to me.
I love the flavor of coconut – coconut ice cream, coconut curry, coconut cake – bring it on.
Naturally, I ate the whole thing. By myself.
Did you know that coconuts are a very effective natural laxative?
I spent the next two days regretting my gluttony while fondly recalling the lovely moment shared with a local on an island beach. A moment that felt like an authentic glimpse into another culture.
Do you want to know another genuine way to experience another place? Get sick.
My Guy and I have experienced the healthcare systems of France, Spain, and Bolivia (where the doctor prescribed fresh chamomile flowers brewed into a tea as a surprisingly effective remedy for bronchitis).
It seems we can’t travel without at least one of us requiring the services of a local medic, but we’ve learned to view the experience as a way to get an insider’s look at the health of a country. Rather like a doctor staring down the throat of a patient. Our visit to Moorea wouldn’t be complete without not one, but two visits to the local health center.
We may have been sick, but we were also charmed.
How many times did your mother tell you to never pop a blister? Mine, too. I didn't listen to her when she told me not to marry my husband and I didn’t listen to her when she gave out sound medical advice either. After our wonderful hike in the jungle (take a look at that view).
I came back to our Airbnb with a large puffy pillow of a blister that I couldn’t resist popping. It got infected to the point that I couldn’t walk without pain.
I showed up at the local doctor’s office, rang the bell to announce my presence, and took a seat alongside the other patients waiting on the front porch. When it was my turn, Dr. Sabrina asked me a few questions, examined me, and wrote out a prescription for antibiotics. I handed over about $40 (cash only please). In less than an hour from porch to payment, I was merrily on my way to healing: no appointment, no paperwork, and very little waiting. I’m a fan.
It speaks to the gentle and generous way we’ve been treated on this island. We could all use a little of that, couldn’t we? No wonder I’m in love
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I was waiting for another postcard! The photos-gorgeous! Is the sky and water really those colors of blue? I'm so glad you & Van found good medical care when you needed it. I can't wait to hear more about the trip-eagerly awaiting another missive from 'down under'.