French Polynesia's islands offer much to discover. Photo / Supplied
French Polynesia's islands offer much to discover. Photo / Supplied
You’ve seen them somewhere. On a postcard, in a post. Palm-thatched bungalows that look like they’re floating above water as clear as crystal, a liquid world lapping at their stilts. The structures are uniform, all built in orderly, almost geometric arrangements — some jut out in pairs, with slim boardwalks running between them. Others reach out into the ocean, following the curve of a lagoon. At a distance from above, they seem like wishbones or parentheses. In any case, a well-co-ordinated symphony of precarious architecture.
These over-water villas have long been a part of the iconography of French Polynesia, whose island of Bora Bora, famous for its resorts including the Four Seasons (a White Lotus-favourite franchise) and the St Regis, is often thought of as a luxury playground for canoodling newlyweds.
But French Polynesia is bigger — and certainly no less beautiful — than its best-known “jewel of the South Seas”. Having recently spent seven days across the Society Islands, an archipelago divided geographically between the Leeward Islands (the western islands of French Polynesia) and the Windward Islands (the eastern islands of French Polynesia), it’s a nickname that feels scandalously exclusionary to me, when you’re struck by gorgeous vistas practically ad infinitum, stretching across more than 2000km of the Pacific Ocean. Paradise contains multitudes.
Tahiti
In February, the sun shines strong, and the humidity greets you like a particularly heartfelt hug after a four-hour, 45-minute flight from Auckland to Papeete. This is the bustling capital city of French Polynesia, located on Tahiti, the largest of its 118 islands and coral reef atolls (the archipelago is sometimes referred to as “the islands of Tahiti”). The ocean breeze cools its evenings, and sporadic rain showers drift over tropical forests, black-sand beaches and two volcanic massifs.
Though Tahiti is often treated as a stopping-off point for the more remote islands, it’s well worth spending the time experiencing the Tahitian way of life at a guest house. I stay at A Hio To Moua, the home and bed and breakfast business of Aimata and Hitinui, a warm, young couple in the village of Teahupo’o on the southwestern coast of sparsely populated Tahiti Iti, the smaller part of what looks geographically like a figure-eight.
Spanning the full stretch of a valley, from a rocky water’s edge to a cluster of verdant mountains, A Hio To Moua is as close to a utopian experience as possible. Shortly after I arrive, Hitinui takes me on a guided hike to their waterfall, escorted by a gentle chocolate-brown mixed-breed dog called Sadi.
Teahupo’o, Tahiti. Photo / Supplied
Everywhere, guava, mango and coconuts planted by Hitinui’s father are within plucking distance. Halfway, after gingerly stepping through a calf-deep stream, we come to a seeming glitch in reality: a clearing of lime trees where roughly 30 white horses graze languidly. The waterfall is just visible in the middle distance, and we soon swim in crisp pools at its edge before lunch with Aimata, near a recently planted vegetable garden. Tuna is cooked on a small tabletop grill, fe’i bananas are baked until soft, and uru — or breadfruit, a popular Polynesian staple that tastes like potato but lighter, picked on the way — is cooked on a fire until fully blackened, its skin peeled, its flesh served with lashings of butter.
Shades of vibrant green extend in every direction. The rest of the afternoon is a heady blend of yoghurty soursop fruit and birds hovering above the property’s handful of shrimp farms.
It’s still dark when we rise the next morning. The agenda: a sunrise boat tour around “the most beautiful place on the island”, says Hitinui, the end of Tahiti Iti’s “racket”. There are no other vessels on the water, no homes with road access. Palms, leaning out like they’re trying to hear, begin to glow orange.
After coffee, pancakes and passionfruit, we ride further away from the mainland to a cluster of coral gardens near Teahupo’o’s reef break. It’s perfectly still, though avid surfers would be wise to bookmark this too: nicknamed Chopes, the break often has hollow, heavy barrels that are a magnet for professionals, so much so that Teahupo’o will be hosting the surfing competition for the Paris Olympics in 2024. We put on snorkelling masks, jump in and slowly paddle across a turquoise dreamscape, the boat bobbing in breezy amiability.
WHERE TO STAY THAT’S NOT A GUESTHOUSE
Te Moana Resort, Tahiti. Photo / Supplied
Te Moana Tahiti Resort
It’s hard to contend with Te Moana Tahiti Resort’s sweeping Moorea views, or its manmade island complete with a beach bar. Located on the western coast in Punaauia, this quaint hotel has 120 rooms ranging from standard options to apartments, with wood accents and easy accessibility. You’ll find banana trees growing pathside on the way to an infinity pool that’s poised for respite, and a glassy lagoon that’s great for snorkelling. Jet skis are available for hire, as are paddleboards and submarine scooters. Expect to hear chickens.
Hilton Tahiti Resort. Photo / Supplied
Hilton Tahiti Resort
The island’s only five-star hotel, Hilton Tahiti Resort is a five-minute drive from Papeete’s Tahiti-Faa’a International Airport and the city centre. Large, palpably luxurious and newly built with 200 rooms, the oceanside accommodation has plush beds, modern amenities, a wellness centre and a sinuous pool boasting six private cabanas. Sample a cocktail at the swim-up Heiva Lounge Bar, or dine at any of the hotel’s three restaurants: La Strada, its Italian bistro; Taitea Brasserie, a chic fish and steakhouse where you can create your own dishes (think build-a-bear but with beef or seared fish, and sides like rice or a simple green salad); and San Sushi Bar, for hotpot and dim sum.
Moorea
Moorea is an easy 30-minute ferry ride from Tahiti aboard the Aremiti, or 15 minutes via Air Tahiti (the domestic airline, not to be confused with international carrier Air Tahiti Nui). In many ways, it’s an adventure destination: 4x4 safari tours, hikes through towering rock pinnacles, scuba diving and whale watching all fall under its remit. So do shark excursions.
Black tip reef sharks swim above a sand bar in French Polynesia. Photo / Supplied
One afternoon I’m met by a outrigger canoe and its captain, JR, of Vaapiti Tours, whose brother, Raphael, hand-built the va’a over four years. We head to one of Moorea lagoon’s shallow, aqua-blue sand bars. It’s hard to tell how long it stretches; the only certainty is that in its waters you can see your toes. At standing height, black tip reef sharks cruise around our ankles, and parrotfish and pink whiprays show face before disappearing down a pitch-black trench, the edge of the bank.
Moorea’s access to marine life, and its proximity to a wealth of species, make it hard to leave the water. Nearby motu – reef islets or mini-islands – in the lagoon are fringed with big hives of coral, where hundred-strong schools of kaleidoscopic fish and green and hawksbill turtles go about their day. Back on the boat, JR cuts up some banana as we sail between Motu Fareone and Motu Tiahura. We’re soon surrounded as much by coconut palms as by threadfin butterflyfish, their thin, disc-shaped yellow bodies at the surface. “They know what’s up,” I say. “Oh yeah, they’ve seen this boat before,” JR says, laughing. Banana is king.
Poisson cru, made of raw fish tossed in coconut milk. Photo / Supplied
French Polynesia’s food scene is a complex one, a mix of French, Tahitian and Chinese cuisines that have been in a sort of symbiotic relationship since the 19th and 20th centuries. On a private tour with Moorea Food Adventure (a must), we wind along the single road that wraps around the island, simply tasting, savouring.
Crunchy mango with Chinese plum spice, the red powder staining my fingers as I bite into the apple-like texture, from a small stall at the ferry terminal. Poisson cru (raw fish quickly tossed in coconut milk), silky po’e (a popular dessert often made with pumpkin or banana, and tapioca flour), and chicken with taro leaf sauce, at the town centre. Jams and sorbets from a tropical garden up a steep hill.
Everywhere, roadside “snack” shops — mom-and-pop eateries serving ready-made food — house locals-only secrets, where you’ll find menus as carby as chow mein baguettes (long loaves stuffed with egg noodles and stir-fried vegetables) and as varied as shrimp curry, crepes and dumplings.
WHERE TO STAY
Moorea Beach Lodge. Photo / Supplied
Moorea Beach Lodge
Private, on the waterfront, and with just 12 bungalows, Moorea Beach Lodge, nestled on the west side of the island, is a charming stay with unadulterated sand and sunset views. Relax at its main lodge, an airy villa flanked by a towering banyan tree, with furnishings that feel like they could equally belong in a coastal hideaway in the Hamptons. Bikes and kayaks are free to use, as is a communal kitchen that serves omelettes and fresh pastries in the mornings for those who want a cooked breakfast. For dinner, walk up the road to the island’s self-described “best pizza” (the wait time is two hours when I visit, but worthwhile for a mouth-watering buffalo mozzarella pie with all the hallmarks of a good woodfire: bubbles and just-blackened, pillowy crusts), or Le Lezard Jaune (The Yellow Lizard) for relaxed Tahitian fare.
Less than an hour’s flight from Moorea is Raiatea, a sparsely populated idyll with dense, verdant forests and a speed limit of 40 miles per hour. It’s a spiritual and educational centre; the “sacred” island that held the cultural and political capital of French Polynesia pre-colonialism, and, according to oral tradition, the head of mythical octopus Tumu-raì-fenua, whose eight tentacles stretched out across the Polynesian triangle, as far north as Hawaii and as far south as New Zealand.
Raiatea island, French Polynesia. Photo / Supplied
Raiatea’s most significant landmark is a nondescript one, a sprawling Unesco heritage site on the water’s edge, with few signs and several marae sites thought to have been built 1000 years ago by the ma’ohi people.
At the largest, Taputapuatea marae, my guide Tara, of Trucky Tours, sings me its original name, so long that it requires a tempo, a rhythm. The whole archeological structure is flat, a kind of rectangular ceremonial courtyard made of volcanic rock and coral, with low walls, raised platforms and expressive carvings. You’ll find it quiet here. Under the shade of nearby trees, land crabs shyly crawl out of their burrows to nip at fallen fruit.
If Taputapuatea marae is about connection with the past, then Niu Shack is about connection with yourself. Located up a long, bumpy road lined with mape (Polynesia chestnut trees), I stop off at this family-run tepuhapa (“refuge”), a guesthouse and vegan cooking class where groups of up to six can while away an afternoon making butternut and mushroom quiche (expect to walk around the property foraging for most of the ingredients), bathe with avocado hair masks in a freshwater stream, or practice yoga in an open-air room made from bamboo.
Taputapuatea marae on Raiatea island. Photo / Supplied
Raiatea is a handsome island, with a handsome sibling: its sister island Taha’a, separated by roughly 3km, shares the same lagoon and can be reached by speedboat. Poerani Tours offer a lovely full-day tour around the touchpoints of its economy, minted by black pearl farms and vanilla plantations (you’ll find much of this bean sewn into local menus). There’s also a small rummery, its amber liquid made from pressed sugar cane (natural yeast does the fermenting), though the mission here is to imbibe everything in these light cerulean waters.
Five minutes from the airport and a hearty cycle to the town of Uturoa, Raiatea Lodge Hotel is comfortable and family-friendly, with 15 rooms (most in a turquoise mansion-esque building) spread across a generous one-hectare site. Coconut palms point like lights on a tarmac towards unobstructed ocean views. The pool is modern and warm, the staff attentive, the continental breakfast simple but delicious, and the dinner something they pride themselves on (have the lava cake).
CHECKLIST: FRENCH POLYNESIA
GETTING THERE
Air Tahiti Nui flies three times a week direct from Auckland to Papeete. airtahitinui.com/nz-en
Domestic island Air Tahiti connects Papeete with other Tahitian islands. airtahiti.com/en
