We are scheduled to return to New Zealand in 2025, the first time since 2020, having been there when the Pandemic struck. Between 2003 and 2020, we went once a year, often stopping off in either Tahiti or Fiji on the way or on the way back. The blog below, though never posted before, was written around Easter of 2018, and brings back lots of fond memories of a stop in Tahiti and also LA. If you’ve never been, I encourage you to try it if you get the chance. It was fabulous back then, and I assume it still is.
When we arrived at Papeete from Auckland, it was too late to catch the ferry to Moorea (it might have been possible, but tight). We spent one night at the Tahiti Airport Motel, right across the street from the airport. We took a taxi there because of our luggage. This motel was very basic, no pool, but the room was clean. For dinner, we walked to a nearby Chinese restaurant, Ocean. We ordered the Special fried rice and roast duck, and they were very tasty. Then we walked to a small supermarket, where we bought some jam, peaches, bread (only 52 cents for a French Baguette),two yogurt/fruit salads, butter, and a couple of types of cheese to take to Moorea. The hotel had a small Continental breakfast but no hair dryer. There was a chocolate croissant included J. We had some time after breakfast before our shuttle, so I browsed the jewelry case located in the lobby. I’d previously bought a Tahitian pearl pendant at the market on Tahiti Nui the first time we were there, so I was interested in earrings this time. The case was locked, and the lady at the front desk had to call someone to show me the jewelry. She came, and I tried on a few pairs. The posts were a bit large for my holes, but I settled on small gray studs that seemed to go on a bit better. When we arrived at the ferry station, we discovered that the boat was leaving at 11:30 instead of 12:45 like we thought, so we were just in time. We found seats next to the window with a view. Apparently, there are two companies, one with two boats and one (the one we took) with only one smaller red boat. Norm texted the taxi group who was supposed to pick us up to let them know we were arriving early and they met us with a sign with our name on it. Our bungalow wasn’t quite ready at the Manava Resort and Spa, but they greeted us with a cold drink. It was very hot and humid. I wandered around a bit, and we both recognized the resort as somewhere we had stayed before with a different name (the resort’s, not ours). When the room was ready, we were taken on a brief tour. We remembered it as the Moorea Pearl. Our bungalow was a garden view, not over water or even ocean front, but nice, with a small private plunge pool in the back. Tropical flowers and trees all around. Air conditioning plus a ceiling fan, nice shower (no tub), hair dryer, robe and slippers (one men’s one lady’s), etc. Our tour guide informed us we could have breakfast all three mornings at about half the price if we committed on the first day. We decided to do so. Breakfasts were very nice, with fresh fruit varying by day. Avocado one day, papaya the next, mango twice, bananas every day. There were crepes with Nutella, meats and cheese, small chocolate croissants (much better than the ones at the airport motel), but no decaf until the last day. There was some in the room, however, so I started bringing my own. Hot milk for it on the breakfast buffet. The resort had a zero-entry pool (always a nice temperature), a small but lovely beach with great snorkeling nearby, and free snorkel gear, kayaks (Norm said no), and paddle boards (no also). So, we limited our exercise to snorkeling, always a favorite. Jet skis were available to rent, and several people did so, not us. The coral was damaged severely since our previous visit, possibly due to higher than normal water temperatures in 2016. There were still plenty of colorful fish, though, and I hope that won’t change. We saw sea turtles at both resorts (description on second one to come shortly). On our first night in Moorea, there was a Tahitian dance show around 7:30 pm near the pool. We found seats in the bar, where Norm ordered an amber Hinano beer and I had a fancy dessert—ice cream with flambéed bananas, whipped cream, and cherry. We repeated these choices on our second night, except that my ice cream was chocolate, with chocolate sauce and chocolate mousse. For lunch we ate bread, butter and cheese, which was plenty after our large breakfasts. We went snorkeling once or twice every day. My first mask kept leaking water around my eyes, stinging my right eye badly, but I traded it for a different, smaller one on the second day. The new one worked much better. The snorkeling right off the beach was great, with a host of orange/red fish living in a coral cave, a number of large parrot fish, and a multitude of small blue fish ranging in color from bright purple to brilliant turquoise. We saw small purple clams and loads of large black spiky sea urchins. Full moon at night. On Saturday we moved to a different resort, more of a Bed and Breakfast with only four bungalows. It was very hot again, and the taxi driver dropped us, and our luggage, out in front of a large gate. We rang the bell, and our host Philippe appeared shortly. “There is no air conditioning in any of the bungalows,” he said, “so I can call another taxi to take you back to Manava Beach if you want.” We assured Philippe we were fine with no a/c, and he showed us to our bungalow. There were mosquito nets around the bed, and the bathroom windows were open. There was a hammock to hang on the porch and an oscillating fan. No sandy beach, but a pier with a ladder into the water. Deeper on the right (around 40 feet) than on the left (around 5 feet). We discovered shortly that the coral was much better here than at Manava. Still much was dead, but more patches of new growth. Bright purples, some greens, an occasional pink or yellow. A lot of dark red, though none of the red fish I saw at Manava in abundance. A lot of bright yellow fish with blue eyes, black and white small fish, angel fish, a very large trumpet fish, and many more. We saw a large sea turtle on our first day, and an eel on two days. We also saw a sea turtle, possibly the same one, on our last day, and Norm saw a smaller turtle once. I saw a jellyfish, small and colorful, and we both saw several clams. Philippe cooked dinner for us and another guest all three nights (no choice, same for all of us). The other guest spoke only French, so we mainly ate or chatted with Philippe when he wasn’t busy cooking or supervising. The first night we had tuna tartare for our starter, swordfish and cooked papaya (which tastes nothing like fresh papaya), and an arch of tropical fruit with a scoop of ice cream for dessert. Delicious! The second night we had a tuna pate’ (somewhat like our tuna salad) for the starter with a salad, marinated NZ beef and a vegetable comparable to collard greens (not nearly as bitter) au gratin for the main course, and a homemade Bounty bar (dark chocolate-covered fresh coconut) for dessert. The third night we had tuna carpaccio, long-nosed emperor fish (my new favorite fish), and his version of tiramisu for dessert (mostly fresh fruit and homemade yogurt). All good. We walked to a very small store on our first evening and bought sparkling water and crackers. Philippe offered a salad for lunch, and we ordered those on Easter Sunday. I added a boiled egg to mine. At the previous resort, they had egg dying for kids, and I took a photo. Rare year when I don’t dye eggs myself. I found an Easter sermon by Tim Keller to listen to on Easter. The Monday following Easter was a holiday for many in Tahiti so we weren’t sure what would be open. We walked to a public beach and I swam there. Very nice water temperature! It will be so much colder at the lake and at the Gulf for at least a couple of months. An inflated, floating playground for kids tempted me, but Norm said you had to pay to slide. Nice stars at night after dinner. On Tuesday (our last day) we had fruit plates for breakfast. Really good papaya, coconut, grapefruit, and bananas. We walked a short distance to a botanic garden and up a steep hill for a view (and flowers, plants, trees along the way). Vines and tiny yellow flowers draped an old truck. Around noon we went for our last amazing snorkel. I kept looking for a turtle and was thrilled when we finally spotted one. Also saw a lovely purple dotted fish with a bright purple tail we hadn’t seen before. Another fish I loved was black with yellow fins in front, translucent fins in back, and a hot pink tail. Still another one had dark navy (or green) and orange stripes with a tail kept compact when swimming but which would spread out into rainbow colors occasionally, and a wide clown-smiling mouth. Philippe provided us a second bungalow to store our luggage and take a shower while ours was being cleaned for the next guest. We caught a taxi around 4pm to the ferry station for a 4:40 ferry to Tahiti Nui. There we shared a taxi with another couple spending the night at the Tahiti Airport Motel where we stayed our first night. They had a 5:30 am Wednesday flight to LAX, whereas ours was 10:30pm on Tuesday. We had five hours at the airport, which was very hot. The Atrium café was open, so I spent the last of our Tahitian money on some snacks. Norm located a bottle of sparkling water for me and instructed me to buy a Hinano Amber for him. Unfortunately, I picked up a Hinano Gold by mistake, and I’ll be hearing about it for years to comer (my one job). Son Clay and his girlfriend, Sarah, (and sweet, sweet dog, Billie) picked us up at the LAX airport. Amanda’s daughter Reagan has a “Flat Stanley” project, and Clay had printed out Flat Stanley and stabilized him with some cardboard. We carried and photographed Stanley everywhere we went in Los Angeles. First Clay and Sarah took us to an Italian deli known for some of the best sandwiches in L.A. We bought olives, artichoke hearts, salad, and anchovies, along with sandwiches and drinks, for a picnic. Then we drove to Malibu, where we ate and hiked around the beaches (Leo Carrillo State Park) with Billie and Flat Stanley. We stopped at Malibu Yogurt and Ice Cream, an old favorite. We went back to the hotel (we had already checked in) near the airport, and Clay and I went for a very chilly swim in the outdoor heated pool. The water was nice, but it was after 5 pm by then and the air was very chilly. After our swim, we relaxed in the room for a while, and Clay watched some video footage related to his Cuba documentary. Then we had a lovely dinner at a tapas restaurant, The Walton, in Culver City. We shared a raw fish dish, striped bass (our favorite, except Sarah, who is vegetarian), carrots, kale salad, cauliflower, and pasta. Dessert was a homemade candy bar with ice cream, very chocolate and tasty (all 4 of us shared one). The diet should have started today, but unfortunately our Mexican lunch was entirely too tempting. I had al pastor (marinated pork) tostada salad with guacamole and rice, and it was too good to be healthy or low calorie! La Fonda was inexpensive and so delicious, but left an onion taste in my mouth, oh well. I write this as I sit in the airport now with Flat Stanley, about to board the plane for Nashville. We had a good experience with Air Tahiti Nui, much better than with Air New Zealand. All got us there safely though, so I can’t complain.
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A few years ago, we were recruiting at Vanderbilt for a new member of the small faculty group in my department. A sort of dating game was scheduled in Miami to match prospective employers with new faculty hires. I agreed to go, and discovered to my delight that Miami was warm enough for swimming in January.
“Can you believe this?” I asked my husband. Norm shrugged, knowing he’d always insisted the Gulf waters were warmer than the ocean. I typically swam in the Gulf—Orange Beach or Gulf Shores—up into November, but January was too chilly even for me. Since then, we’ve stayed in Ft. Lauderdale a few times. The hotel I typically choose, Sun Tower, boasts a limited number of room and a superior location right on the beach rather than across the street. The first time we booked a vacation there I’d chosen the cheapest rental car I could find. Our flight arrived after 5 pm, and we waited for a shuttle to the rental car establishment for over an hour. We called more than once, and the last time no one answered. “Let’s just get a taxi,” I said. “Or an Uber.” We did, and soon realized Sun Tower was a short, inexpensive Uber trip to a host of excellent restaurants. Over the years we’ve visited historical gardens and houses and booked a terrific trip to the Everglades (Wild Lime Adventures) led by a National Park naturalist. Not long after returning to our hotel from the Everglades tour, I realized I’d left my prescription sunglasses on the bus. “Dang!” I said. “I loved those glasses. They were my favorite.” Convinced I’d never see them again, I called the company anyway. They agreed to ship them to me. They further endeared themselves to me when the sunglasses arrived, as promised, a few days later. (The tour itself was fun and educational, and we saw a ton of birds and alligators.) A few months ago, I stumbled upon a website listing the best beaches (by someone’s ranking) in the U.S. Beach lover that I am, I’d been to quite a few…but not number one. The top-ranking beach was Siesta Key. We booked a week for November. The hotel contacted us a few weeks before our stay. “We have to cancel due to the damage from the hurricane. We will issue a full refund,” the message read. “I was afraid of that,” I said, disappointed, and sad for the hotel, but not surprised. “Let’s check Sun Towers.” We did. Unavailable on our dates. And that’s how we ended up here. At B Ocean Resort. Much larger than Sun Tower, this resort shares the advantage of being right on the beach rather than across the street. Before I share the unfortunate first few hours spent here, let me hasten to acknowledge that the rest of the week more than compensated for our initial poor impressions, and I’d gladly stay here again. We’d paid extra to get an ocean view, and I point this out as we check in. “Ocean view. Right?” “Right.” “We also have breakfast included,” I add. “Do you?” The receptionist sounds surprised. Norm shows him the reservation on his phone. “You’ll need coupons for that,” he says. “I’ll get them for you.” We make our way to the room, which is larger than I expected—on the top floor of the South Tower. No bathtub (my preference) but a nice shower (my husband’s). Large corner floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked another shorter building, with an ocean view in the distance. I busy myself for some time unpacking my suitcase, positioning my toiletries, cream, pills, etc. for my bedtime regimen, hanging the clothes most likely to wrinkle, and arranging my shoes. I always travel with multiple pairs; otherwise, I find myself shopping for shoes on trips. “What’s that odor?” I ask abruptly. “I don’t know. Smells like sewage.” “I feel a migraine coming on.” Odors often trigger a migraine for me. I locate some matches in my suitcase and light several. No help. “I think we’re going to have to move. I can’t handle this.” I pick up the phone. No dial tone. “Phone’s dead,” I say. I push the talk button and try again. I check to see if it was plugged in. I try a third time. “We’re going to have to go back to reception.” “Call on your cell,” my husband suggests. I do. The woman who answers, Marie, is very nice. “We’ll call you when the new room is ready,” she says after a long hold. “The phone in the room doesn’t work,” I tell her. I give her my cell number. “Do you need someone to help you move?” “No, but a luggage cart would be nice.” “I’ll send someone up when the room is ready.” Quickly I repack everything I’ve unpacked. There is a surprising amount to do, but I’m fast when motivated. I drop into a chair to wait. And wait. After an hour, I call again. “They are having to change the lock on the sliding door,” Marie says. “We’ll call you when it’s done. It will be the exact same room you’re in. Only one floor lower.” Hmm, this room doesn’t have a sliding door, but … oh, well. Another hour passes. I call again. “Marie has left for the day,” I’m told. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” I explain the situation. Again we wait. “I’m going to that room on the 7th floor to see if anyone’s there,” I say. The elevator doesn’t seem to be working properly, but finally I’m able to descend one floor. I tap on the door. No response. I return to the 8th floor. “I think we’re going to have to go to reception,” I say again. When we get there, the new receptionist asks how I am. “Not well. We’ve been waiting over two hours.” I explain the situation again, and she disappears for a bit. “They tried to call you,” she tells me when she returns. “The phone in that room doesn’t work,” I say. “I left a cell number.” She apologizes, and finally produces a key. The new room is not directly below the other one, nor does it have a sliding door. It’s dark now, and I cannot tell whether we have an ocean view or not. At this point I don’t really care, and the following day we’ll realize it has an even better view than the first one. We unpack again. When I use the toilet, I notice the same smell. “I can’t believe this,” I say. “At least the room doesn’t smell,” my husband says. “Only the bathroom.” We decide to stay. The smell comes and goes. One day Norm suggests to maintenance that someone clean out the drain in the sink. This seems to help, and a day later the odor vanishes. The rest of the stay is spectacular—for the most part. I’m happy with the breakfast buffet, which includes fresh fruit and Irish oatmeal, along with eggs, bacon, country potatoes, pancakes, and pastries. There are two pools. One has an ocean view and a bar, and the other is heated to the point of feeling cozy. The attendants are generous with the blue striped towels. Three comfy sofas with equally comfortable chairs line one wall of the heated pool area, and there are always plenty of loungers too. The other pool, nearer the beach and more popular apparently, runs short on loungers from time to time. When it’s full, we make our way to the ocean. Another towel guy offers us chairs for free, and umbrellas for a fee. “Do you know where I can buy a boogie board?” I ask. “I’ve got them here.” He points to a shed. “Do you want one or two?” “None right now. But I’ll be back. How much do they cost?” “No charge.” I’m delighted, and ever more so when I discover how fast the waves here are. Every day the waves are a bit different, but every day they yield lovely rides. I’m accustomed to waiting for a good wave at the Gulf, but here—on most days—every wave delivers. As my knees and hips age, I cannot catch as many as I want to. But I’m deliriously happy nonetheless. The hardest part on the knees is standing up after you ride a wave all the way up onto the shore. I learn to spare my knees and my back a bit by pushing up with both hands, distributing my weight equally across the board before heading back to catch the next wave. “Just one more,” I tell myself, knowing I’ll pay later with knee pain but longing to live in the moment. I have a poem on my wall at home, “I’d pick more daisies.” I chose this because I sometimes need the reminder. If you aren’t familiar with the poem, the gist is that if you had your life to live over, you’d be sillier and crazier, less hygienic…climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets…eat more ice cream and less beans…have more active troubles and fewer imaginary ones. After a long, sweet ride, I think, “A good one to end on.” But I suspect that a wave like that one will be followed by another, just as good or almost as good. “Maybe one more.” The restaurants we select include one Mexican, one American, one Italian, one Chinese, a boathouse, and a sports bar. On Sunday night, we return to an old favorite, Cocina Tequileria. Always delicious, this meal seems even better than I remember I order the lobster quesadilla; Norm goes for the shrimp and crab enchiladas. Both are excellent, but I almost taste that quesadilla in my mind’s memory buds and it’s the best. The chips are crisp, the salsa tangy, and the ambience fun. It’s a big place, and we choose to eat outside this time. I can remember cozy nooks inside from prior visits. On Monday night, we select Doc B’s, classified as American and one we’ve not tried before. I order the kale salad, and my husband has a filet mignon. Both are delicious. He offers me a generous portion of his steak, rare and very tender. “Not quite as blue as it could be,” he says. “But pretty good.” My salad is huge, but I’m hungry and I eat every bite. I eat much more slowly than he does, but we’re accustomed to that and he doesn’t rush me. “Dessert?” the waiter asks. He’s the one I stumped with questions about tart cocktails and fish of the day (see previous blog on “too many questions” and Yellowstone). “No way,” I say, patting my full belly. “But you go ahead.” Norm orders Oreo ice cream, with chocolate sauce and two spoons. I can’t resist. Later I will wish I had. Stomach cramps and severe diarrhea set in as soon as we return to the resort. I’ve been plagued much of my life with IBS, but seemed to get it under control for a time. Unfortunately, I’m reminded of a disastrous trip to California to visit our son and his family, where I indulged in a delicious take-out meal with unfamiliar spices on the first night and spent the rest of the trip running between the bedroom and the bathroom. On that occasion, I could not keep a thing on my stomach, not even water. I fear a repeat. But, after one uncomfortable night, I feel better the next morning. I eat cautiously at the breakfast buffet—toast and oatmeal. Delighted, I’m able to put the incident behind me and enjoy the amenities. For at least a couple of days. By evening, I’m hungry, but determined to eat light. The Boathouse at Riverside proves perfect. We share a feta dip and a grilled fish sandwich. Mahi and so good, enhanced perhaps by my intense hunger. The waiter is great, not the sort to act offended by our inexpensive choices or wish to share. We’re amazed by how much wealth must be invested in huge, fancy boats in this community. We watch as one couple pulls their yacht up to the dock and climbs out for a snack. Perhaps our favorite meal of all takes place on Wednesday evening at Del Cantino. We have dinner reservations; but, as we read reviews about the fantastic happy hour deals and prices, we inform the host on arrival. “We have reservations, but thought we’d just sit at the bar for Happy Hour is that’s okay.” He is totally agreeable, and the servers are all friendly and chatty. It is a slow time before the evening rush, and one server asks, “Have you ever had mushroom coffee?” I watch her take a slurp, and shake my head. “No, but I love mushrooms. Is it good?” “Not really.” She makes a face and laughs. We order bruschetta, meat balls, grilled calamari, roasted artichokes, and ciabatta with olive oil, balsamic, and fresh parmesan. Every flavor is exquisite. I long to try the pasta with pear and gorgonzola sauce, which I’ve had twice before, and which happens to be on the Happy Hour menu. “Should I?” Norm shakes his head, and I know he’s right. I’m comfortably full, and the dish is very rich. We leave for a movie at a nearby theater. I should qualify my food reviews with a confession. We learned to look for the less expensive but still delicious options when we were younger and poorer. Old habits are hard to break. So, I have no doubt there are plenty of amazing restaurants in the Ft. Lauderdale area that we do not frequent. Perhaps our tastes aren’t sophisticated enough to appreciate the difference, but the ones I’m telling you about are among the more affordable options. Still, it’s hard for me to imagine we’d enjoy the fancier stuff more than these. Another restaurant we’ve enjoyed on multiple occasions comes next, followed by the next misfortune. The Rainbow Palace shares the strip mall with Del Cantino. In fact, a few years ago, we were exiting Del Cantino when we encountered a middle-aged couple coming out of the Rainbow Palace. “Best Chinese food in Ft. Lauderdale,” the woman said. “Really?” My ears perked up. “We’ll have to try it.” And we did, more than once. As usual, I order the roast duck, this time with portabella mushrooms and an amazing sauce. Norm and I always share our dishes, but he instructs the server, “Give her the larger portion of the duck.” Although I intend to save some of my duck for him, I scarf it down, along with a fair amount of spicy Chef’s Choice fried rice. By the time we return to the resort, my stomach churns so noisily I suspect what lies ahead. Armed with anti-diarrhea pills and Pepto Bismol, I manage a decent night’s sleep. Once again, I feel much better the following morning, optimistic that the day might not be a complete loss. I am right. Friday is our last full day at the resort. I’d noticed a restaurant called the Quarterdeck from our Uber the day before, so I looked it up. Quarterdeck is a local chain, with one location less than a mile from our resort. We decide to try it. Traffic has exacerbated significantly from the prior week-day trips. As we sit stock still, the driver suggests, “You might walk the rest of the way. It’s just ahead.” We could have walked the entire way, had I worn more comfortable shoes. The restaurant boasts only a few diners at this hour, as we are late for lunch and early for dinner. I had arrived prepared to order the Mahi Francais, as I’d read excellent reviews of the dish. “It’s battered, isn’t it?” I ask the waitress. “It is.” “Better not then.” I ask her about a few other dishes, and she proves helpful. “The lobster roll is good, but it’s a lot of bread,” she says. I nod, appreciating the detail. “How about the shrimp and scallop linguini?” “Really good.” So, I order that, and Norm the blackened shrimp tacos. Both are good, and I wisely refrain from finishing my plate. The portions are more than generous. I ask for a carry-out box and nibble a bit more on the dish that evening. “Strong smell,” Norm comments. “I don’t suppose I should take it on the Southwest flight.” “Definitely not.” I take one last dip in the heated pool the morning of our departure before heading to check out. The hotel buzzes with weekenders plus a conference of some sort. All in all, I’d stay here again. But keep in mind, I’m all about the amenities—the pools and the nearness of the beach, and I’m fairly tolerant of rude or even incompetent staff. At least in hindsight. Plus, the servers in the buffet restaurant were great, as were the housekeeping staff. |
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