Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, January 24, 1993 TAG: 9301250140
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: F-6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: JERRY HULSE LOS ANGELES TIMES
DATELINE: BORA BORA, FRENCH POLYNESIA LENGTH: Long
A PARADISE IN THE PACIFIC
Move over, James Michener, while I weave a tale of my own return to the South Pacific - a tale that involves nomads and islands and myna birds that sing me awake each soft and sunlit morning.I awoke this new day at Chez Pauline, a nondescript pension facing Bora Bora's lovely lagoon. Lying in bed, I studied the room: four walls, a door and a sheet snapping at the window. A sheet, mind you, not a curtain. There was nothing more. No closet. Not even a chair. With a shared shower, the room is bid at $50 a night. On Bora Bora, that's cheap, especially when a Diet Coke costs $2.50, cigarettes are $5 a pack and suntan lotion sells for $12 a bottle.
Humble though it is, Chez Pauline possesses a certain happy mood. Somerset Maugham, I'm sure, would have been charmed by Pauline's, listening to waves crashing on a distant reef, breathing the fragrance of ginger and frangipani.
Later in my tale, I will drift off to other islands in French Polynesia - Moorea, Tahiti and Huahine. This morning, though, I joined Pauline Foster, the innkeeper at Chez Pauline, for breakfast. Like the late and legendary Aggie Grey of Western Samoa, Foster, who is part Tahitian and part English, became an innkeeper by chance rather than choice. She launched Chez Pauline six years ago when young backpackers were shooed off Matira Beach next door and pleaded with Foster to let them camp in her garden. Why yes, said Foster, of course. And so the backpackers sent out word on the Coconut Wireless that they had found a new Eden. Less than a month later, nearly three dozen campers from the United States, New Zealand and Australia had pitched their tents on Foster's property.
By now, Chez Pauline is an institution. Besides space for backpackers, Foster provides shelter in a scattering of beach cabins, several motel-like rooms, a couple of dormitories and five bungalows.
The first time I came to Bora Bora, there were no cars or telephones. Now visitors direct-dial anywhere in the world. And instead of kerosene lamps, villages are lighted by electricity.
In many ways, though, Bora Bora hasn't changed all that much. Chickens still run freely alongside the road. Dogs snooze by thatched shacks. Hibiscus and frangipani choke the jungle, and distant waves collide with the reef in an on-going symphony of muted thunder. Surrounding the island is a lagoon, a liquid rainbow of incredible beauty. It was the lagoon, I suspect, rather than the island itself that mesmerized Michener - a lagoon unlike any other on Earth.
Unfortunately, Polish baron Georges von Dangel, who single-handedly built one of the island's famous eateries, Bloody Mary's, has taken leave of the island.
I found him in Papeete, on the island of Tahiti. After a career as a commercial airline pilot, restaurateur and sometime medical student, the bald, debonair, middle-aged baron is now serving as a pastor and faith-healer. "At last I have found my calling," he said with a sigh over a drink at the Beachcomber Parkroyal near the Papeete airport.
The baron obviously isn't your run-of-the-mill pastor. Indeed, he always has enjoyed a good time. He recalled one afternoon, at a favorite watering hole in Papeete, when he was distracted by a strange noise. "I looked up and through the door came a fellow we call Crazy George who was riding a lawn mower. It was propelled by a motor. I couldn't believe my eyes. Riding on Crazy George's head was a monkey, and they zipped around the room - whoosh! - like they were on a race track and then - poof! - out the door they disappeared while everyone at the bar applauded."
In the minds of travelers the world over, Tahiti and her neighbor islands of Moorea, Huahine, Raiatea and Bora Bora remain a special Bali Hai - a destination composed of rainbows and waterfalls, verdant valleys and towering peaks. Although 31 years have passed since the first commercial jet arrived on these shores, much of old French Polynesia endures beyond the noisy avenues of Papeete. On tours that circle Tahiti, scenes reminiscent of those set down on canvas by Gauguin appear with startling reality: deserted islets . . . locals peering from thatched-roof cottages . . . gardens with tropical blooms.
Tahiti's outlying islands continue to draw adventurers seeking escape from a troubled world. On Huahine, which is 110 miles northwest, they pay no income tax and no property tax to the French government; the lagoon is loaded with fish and the jungle is ripe with fruit. Trade winds fan the island, and frequent rains turn it a shocking green.
Until recently, commercial boats rarely called, and the airplane hadn't yet arrived. Villagers washed their clothing in rivers that pour from the mountains. Islanders still fish with nets and tend chickens and pigs. The main village, Fare, which is only two blocks long, is lined with Chinese grocery stores, a couple of restaurants and a pool hall.
It is on Huahine that a wealthy American, Tom Kurth, who made his fortune in the malt beer business in Wisconsin, is completing a new resort that is unique in all French Polynesia.
Kurth calls it Hana Iti, a cluster of 25 cliff-hanging bungalows, surrounded by jungle and overlooking the lagoon and a white-sand beach. Jacuzzis are hidden in gardens, and guests will bathe in showers facing a tangle of jungle. Giant shells make do as sinks, and pandanus leaves line the walls. One unit, called the Control Tower, rises above the others, featuring a toilet set in a peacock chair. And there's a shower built into lava with water provided by shell faucets.
When and if the resort opens - for Kurth is having financial difficulties - Hana Iti will not be for the budget traveler. It is designed for an upscale crowd that can afford the proposed $700-a-day tab.
My personal love affair is with the island of Moorea. Even Michener, who is hung up on Bora Bora, is devoted to Moorea. Needle-like peaks pierce billowing white clouds, and waterfalls spill into verdant valleys. Moorea is blessed with the loveliest beaches on any island in French Polynesia.
During my recent visit, on a rain-fresh morning, I traveled to the Belvedere plateau. I could see the surf breaking across a distant reef, and mountains were lost in swirling mists, a scene that Herman Melville in 1842 described as "valleys and peaks that can never be forgotten."
930124 TAHITI STORY #125 TOPIC KEYWORDCUTS DESK AUTHOR:HORNE01/24/93 sunday travel page Mounts Otemanu and Pahia poke their heads into the clouds over Bora Bor photo
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