We have certainly been off the grid these past 3 weeks.  Travels on the Aranui 3 were amazing. Our experiences in the Marquesas Islands will be hard to describe, we traveled all over the place often visiting several villages on one island then going to several islands the next day. They were all different and made me drag my camera out time and time again.  Mike and I both wrote, took lots of pictures that I will try and post in the next few days. We have pretty good internet service. But for now, we are on the island of Raiatea in the Society Island Group. Below a few reflections.

Raiatea, Sunset Beach Motel 10/24/15

We seem to have landed in the Garden of Eden. Yesterday we were living in a shoe box (quite content) and today we are lounging on our porch overlooking the beautiful bay where a few sail boats bob around in the distance. The sea which is turquoise; breaks against the reef creating white zippers and a sure sign the big fish lay on the other side. The birds are flitting about and the roosters making their presence known. Yes, this place will work nicely for us.

Maeho picked us up yesterday at the airport. These arrangements can go either way, I made the reservation 7 months ago. He’s a nice looking guy, we describe as “surferish”. He has an Irish complexion with a bit of blond and is a 6^th generation islander. The 9 hectors we are sitting on was started as a coconut plantation by his grandfather (who is French) and his grandmother (who is Tahitian). Thus we were greeted with cold coconuts in the frige ready to tap and many signs saying not to lounge under the coconut trees (bonk).

10/25/15

We have just returned from snorkeling off the wood dock (here at the Sunset Beach Motel). It goes out quite a way and you enter the water off a ladder that drops you at the edge of a steep, deep cliff. We saw lots of tropicals; angel fish, puffers, triggers (that like to come right up to your face), yellow fins, sergeant major, blueheads and lots of butterfly and a huge array of other fish I can’t keep track of.   I need to get a better ID placemat, because my “Saltwater Fishes” I got in Mexico is not cutting the mustard. There is a stingray that favors the shallows as you walk out to the end of the dock. He looks innocent enough but the bigger fish always give me a bit of a scare. The coral is quite nice, not a huge variety but healthy looking.

Maeho (the guy who picked us up at the airport) has 4 kids and has set up a zip line that deposits you in the water quite a ways out over the deep cliff. We haven’t tried it yet, you have to climb up on a platform then jump off holding on for dear life. It looks a little precarious for anyone swimming below. Anyway, we will see who goes first for that thrill.

Speaking of thrills, Mike had a major standoff with the king of the land crabs yesterday. He was readying our BBQ which hasn’t been used in a while and the big guy came marching out to eyeball him. There was a stare off and Mike was close to a retreat but then suddenly the big guy sidled off to the left. (They walk sideways while staring at you). They are amazing creatures and are everywhere.

Signing off for now.

Next day                                                                                                                                                                        We woke up to a full view of Bora Bora today. The top of its iconic peak has been hiding behind some clouds the last couple of days. Crystal clear is also the island of Tahaa (closest to us) with Maupiti behind Bora Bora. Pinch me, this is ridiculously beautiful. We had a great day today although we bordered on retail overload. Maeho took us to town. There was a big fancy sailing ship pulled up to the town wharf. Shops were laying out their wears for hopeful sales. Mike and I sat in a sidewalk café and ate chocolate croissants which I have developed a liking for. The pastry chef on the Aranui needs to be shot. Anyway we cruised some of the shops in town, bought a few things then decided to rent a car. We’ve been discussing this the last few days. We want to go to the other side of the island to see Marae de Taputapatea which is a significant archeological site of the early Polynesian culture. Sidsel who was our archaeological lecturer on the Aranui (Marquesas) will be impressed with a photo of me snooping ave certainly been off the grid this past 3 weeks.

We’re back on the ferry: Moorea to Palette.  Getting ready to board the freighter Aranui 3. For the Marquesas. We can see the Aranui 3 across the harbor from our hotel balcony. Things looked pretty quite last week but I’m sure it will be different today. Ferry ride is beautiful as we sweep thru the cut, Tahiti looms in the background. This afternoon it will be the market, the bank, post office then night roulette for dinner. The roulette for dinner is a subject all it’s own.

Mike and I are sitting on our patio on the island of Moorea. We’ve been here a couple nights and are blending in nicely to island life. We are staying at Les Tipaniers.  A perfect example of not having to spend much (under $ 75 USD) for great accommodations.  Most all the places (on the island) come with a lively chicken population. We have restrained ourselves and named only one; “Bob” He is an adolescent, not particularly attractive and certainly not cute like the little chicks bobbing about.  He gets our baguette crumbs. You have to be very careful and feed him in front of your neighbors, so the furry of petty arguments are not at your door step.

In the morning we get a loaner bike and ride to “petite village”.  Tomorrow I’m getting a different bike, I was lucky to make it home today as the black bike with the black lock has major steering problems.  Tomorrow I’m getting the red bike with the blue lock, it’s much better but was gone today when we needed bikes.  Today we had to tie the bunch of pineapples onto Mike’s handlebars. This caused additional steering problems for him.

So if you are in the area, I highly recommend Hotel Les Tipaniers. A short inexpensive ferry ride from Payette (45 minutes), great beach, nice people, exceptional digs.

We’re there or here now…

The ten hour flight seems so long ago, now that I am sitting on our little patio in a tropical garden here on the island of Moorea. The morning air is thick and filled with the early morning sounds of tropical looking birds. Pink, red, yellow, and bright orange flowers are in bloom all around and finally the dueling roosters have taken a break and no doubt are sharing credit for finally bringing up the sun and then me out to this patio.

The airport in Papeete was madness. We deplaned down a set of roll away stairs on to the tarmac to the sounds of a Tahitian trio singing a welcome song, before passing through the doors into the dimly lit customs area. Like all airports this one was undergoing a construction project that a poster informed us that you would find the size of the customs and immigration area reduced in half due to the new improvement project.

We herded ourselves into appropriate pens and were presented with forms to fill out before entering the country. Usually this is done on the airplane but apparently the forms were not available to Honolulu Airlines. The customs agents were surprised too. And since it seems most travelers don’t carry pens, the half size room was now full of the sounds of most of the world’s languages. Those without pens trying to secure one and those with pens that needed guidance from someone on the other side of the room as to where they were going, had been, and what’s their passport number.

I said dimly lit. This only added to the confusion since many people couldn’t see to read the form. Some savvy world travelers had small pen lights they produced to help out. For me a pair of 1.25 reading glasses was sufficient but my neat draftsman quality printing suffered badly. Didn’t matter in the end. Customs agent only wanted to know how long we’d be staying. I directed him to the two spots on the form listing that as 42 days.

The Tahitian agents in the baggage claim area were helpful. As the bags started to hit the revolving carousel they quickly lifted them off and started stacking them in neat rows with a narrow aisle between each row while people were jockeying for position around the conveyors. This shifted everyone’s attention to the small area between conveyors to retrieve their bags from the neat stacks. Everyone was funneled into the one spot and this was when the madness started.

People attacking look alike, thick, black bags while others rolled away small refrigerator size metallic cases. The rows of bags collapsed filling the narrow aisles between. I was lucky having seen our bags just as the agent got his hands on them. I saw Robin coming through the crowd with a luggage cart. How she got as far as she did I don’t know but now other people were starting to do the same stacking them full of what seemed to be all their life’s possessions now with nowhere to go. We started off but since we only had two bags and I could carry them both while she had the two carry-on packs, I abandoned the cart. I told Robin if we wanted to ever get out of here we would have to go European and to follow me. I used crowd moves I learned earlier when I first saw our bags and had endured many of those same moves in trying to get there. I successfully got us to the exit door and the Tahitian night using tactics that would be less than polite by American standards but seemingly raised no exceptions in the frenzy of this crowd.

MINOTT was printed in neat block lettering half way down the page on the day’s arriving guest list at the Papeete hotel we booked so many months ago. The lovely girl at the desk with the white floor behind her ear welcomed us to Tahiti. The Minnows (French pronunciation) had arrived.

Papeete, Tahiti

Travel Blog 10/4/15

Night 1, French Polynesia, they releases us directly onto the tarmac after out 6 hour flight from Hawaii. The air was warm and fragrant like it’s supposed to be in the tropics. The scent of gardenia’s heavy in the air with a background of fire char from the hills. A snappy little trio of ukeilalie players greets us at the entrance. The airport was a mess with all kinds of people bumbling about, it seemed hundreds of us did not have the correct immigration forms so we were huddled in little groups borrowing each other’s reading glasses to see the 6 point type. Oh ya, it was in French.

We taxi to downtown where we are staying at the Hotel Tiera Tahiti. How can you resist a place that used to be the American Embassy? Our modest room and balcony overlooks the waterfront and this morning we watch as the yachties wake up and come to town for supplies.  It seems they’re locked into dozens of eggs and toilet paper. The Aremiti Ferry comes in, as well as a small container ship. It’s 6 am.

Denver and Beyond

Travel blog: 10/2/15

We tossed our bags in the back of a silver Ford Explorer. The drivers name was Alex. As we rolled down Elizabeth Street my mind raced about what I have and don’t have. Mike looks over and says, “relax”. OK, I have what I have and don’t have what I don’t have.

Before I know it the blue horse, the iconic statue at the entry to Denver International Airport, is looming thru the window. I love that blue horse. Mike likes it because it is electrified and its eyes change colors. The engineer. Next thing, we’re on the curb. DIA is not crowded and we make our way thru check-in, security, train and gate location. Presently bumping our way over the Rockies headed to LAX.

Headed to LAX

Travel blog: 10/2/15

I like LAX airport, it is so California. (Ha, ha). It usually means we are going somewhere really fun. In past trips when the boys were young and we traveled with Gail and Bud and their kids we would often pass a few hours at what we called the “Star Wars Bar”.

It’s the space – age looking thing with the disc restaurant that kind of hovers in space. It’s on all the postcards. We took the elevator. The soda fountain machine makes space noises when it dispenses soda, the bathrooms are worthy of a photograph. We have munched on many a good lunch while the kids finish their homework they promised jealous teachers.

 I’m not sure if we will get in a visit this trip, but don’t miss it if you have the chance.

Nubble Lighthouse, York Beach, Maine

Travel Blog 06 08 15

My Sister Jackie and her husband Frank (aka Uncle Frank) have a cottage in York Beach, Maine. In Colorado we would call it a cabin, in the tropics it’s called a bure, in Mexico, heck they call it a villa. Anyway, a short walk down a dirt road and BOOM, you have your camera in your hand. The Nubble Lighthouse looms in the distance demanding your undivided attention. Perched on a small “nub” of land poking out of the Atlantic Ocean, the lighthouse was built in 1879 to protect  mariners from Maine’s rocky coast. It is one of the most photographed lighthouses in all of America.  A quintessential New England House (red roof) is attached to the lighthouse by a covered walkway. It is very old and very picturesque. Nobody lives there anymore because the light house is now “automated”. My imagination creates scenarios of romance, weather and the Atlantic Ocean mixed with New England grit. I’m glad they keep it up because I don’t want to give up my Nubble light house photos- thru- the ages. Every visit I fall prey to the allure of taking its picture; in front of, to the side of, backed up against, The Nubble. Every cell phone I ever owned has season upon season of the Nubble. We have an oil painting of it in our living room. It sticks with you.

Travel blog: Peto, Yucatan, Mexico

Sticks and Stones

4/30/2015

I am sitting in the court yard at the Hotel De Rodi y Eve in the city of Peto, Yucatan, Mexico. We drove four hours from Puerto Morelos (Quantana Roo, Mexico) to arrive in this city. We are in search of the convent trail, some churches, missionaries, and other religious sacred ground. Peto is not on the ocean, but the interior, somewhat arid, somewhat jungle. It is made of sticks and stones. Old sticks and old stones, new sticks and new stones. A Guernsey cow sits at the entrance to town, she is stunningly beautiful, shiny brown and primly flopped down in a giant pile of freshly cut branches. She is munching when we rolled in and she was munching when we rolled out.

Peto’s economy is clearly not focused on tourism. Matter of fact, we seem to be the only gringo’s among 22,386 locals, we stick out like a 4^th of July parade. I turned to my husband Mike and said, “What do you think we have to do to not look like such gringo’s?” He turns to me and says “It’s not going to happen.”

After that exchange we march on to the town square with our friends Dave and Bev, and try to procure a tri-cycle motor scooter to give us a tour of the city. Funny thing is, it was very difficult to explain we didn’t want to go anywhere, we just wanted a “tour”. The- would- be driver kept indicating “where to drop off?” After dragging in several folks from the now gathering crowd to (not) translate he let all four of us sit on the little bench arrangement mounted on the front of his 2 stroke motor scooter. The scooter whines with the efforts of pushing four not so small humans along the cobbled street, but alas, off we go. To the driver’s credit, he did not let us miss one street, alley, square, home or tienda, and drove us by every stick and stone. Why was this an amazing tour? Because it wasn’t a tour, it was a physical emersion into a culture that has probably not changed in the past 100 years.

Folks socialize and walk around the square, they go to the Catholic Church, and they eat at a small taco stands along the side of the road. They cook on open grills squishing corn balls into tortillas. The woman where traditional embroidered clothing, the men where trousers and short sleeved cotton shirts. They are nice to strangers.

6/8/2015

Travel Blog: Kennebunkport Maine

I was pretty excited when my brother in law Frank asked me if I wanted to go to Kennebunkport. It’s a place I somehow missed on all my New England adventures. He talked about Walkers Point and visiting the Bush’s. My sister Jackie placed the stamp of approval on the trip and we took the shore road from York Beach. We passed homes large and small, fancy and not. I got dizzy thinking about the maintenance. I saw numerous proud owners tinkering on never ending yard chores. God knows what was going on inside. We went by the lobster pounds, the little bays and beaches, the grand stately homes. It was beautiful. A tiny “Clam Shack” announced our arrival into Kennebunkport. There was a healthy line at the “Clam Shack” and I thought the morning hour a bit early for an $ 18 dollar lobster roll.

As we rolled into town it became quite evident (by the plethora of banners) that Barbara Bush was celebrating her 90the birthday. I always liked her no nonsense demeanor and was happy we were there to celebrate the day. I also loved her when she said ”there is a slim svelte woman somewhere in this body”. After passing thru town we soon encountered the Episcopal Church where the party was to be held. I was hoping my membership would allow us passage; but alas, no cake for us. We proceeded on to the Bush compound and were not disappointed. They have actually established a lookie-loo pull-off. The compound sits on a point (obviously Walker Point) and has a little “Bush Bay” and little “Bush Beach” which is quite lovely. In Bush Bay there floats one big- ass scary- looking fast boat. All of Kennebunk must vibrate when they crank that baby up. Back at lookie-loo point; there is a giant anchor and plaque honoring George H.W. Bush It says: “An Anchor to the Windward “as he was for our nation and world during four years of tumultuous and historic change so, to, has Kennebunkport served in the words of St Paul, “as an anchor of the soul both sure and steadfast” to him.

Nice Place, I would love it too.

Mike and I have not been to the Franklin County Fair since 1983. For us Greenfieldites it was a highlight of the beginning of fall and the closing of summer.  As little kids we rode the rides with total abandon, wasted our quarters on “sure to win” games meandered thru the Roundhouse, Dole Building and always cheered for the underdog at the horse pull. Touring “the Barns” was an adventure for those of us who didn’t own a cow, and how can you resist cooing at all those bunnies and chickens? Guess what, it’s all still there!

We were amazed to see the Franklin County Fair dishing out all our old favorites, including the Firemen’s Muster, Demolition Darby, Rotarian Hot Dogs and Robbins Memorial Apple Pie, I can’t list it all, but OK, we went on some crazy ride I didn’t exactly recognize from the 80’s, wasted $ 5 on some kind of “put your quarter on the spot” game ate a bunch of French fries, and sat around for utter judging (really).  For those of you who have never been to a great county fair. Take in the Franklin County Fair, Greenfield Massachusetts, and have a peek into many different lives.