The flight from Papeete to Moorea was perhaps seven minutes. We boarded a twenty-seater and took off directly at an island looming large with sharp peaks surrounded by wisps of cloud. From a distance it might as well have been Jurassic Park.
I met my English speaking French guide and drove to where I was staying. The place is absolutely breath taking. Within twenty four hours I had upgraded my perspective on the most beautiful place on earth.
I’m staying in a multi-million dollar private house owned by the people I am visiting. There are 3 native houses with no windows and no locks. Each has gorgeously designed interiors with beautiful furniture, wood carvings that twist and jag into the rafters, open toilet and shower and most importantly of all, precisely 15 steps from being in the water on my own private beach.
Today I worked with 2 men, my guide who spoke English and another who spoke virtually none. We had our moments in the day where “the translator” was not around so we did the best to understand each other. Sometimes we could communicate, other times not so much. I am proud to say that I was able to tell him that I have two boys, aged cinq (5) and sept (7) and that I comprehended he had two children aged dix-neuf (19) and vingt des (21). He also had two adopted children aged quatre (4) and deux (2).
Later on in the day we were at it again, and this time I was believing him to be saying something like he could read English okay, he could understand English okay if spoken by a French man, but he could not understand my English. I used Google translate and showed him the following:
Est-il difficile de comprendre mon accent ?
He smiled and replied, “Oui”.