Early days on Papillon

It’s been 2 weeks and Papillon is beginning to feel like our home. 

our living room

our kitchen

I say beginning because there is nothing about Uturoa (the town), Raitea (the island) or French Polynesia itself that really reminds us of Scotland.  It feels more like a parallel universe that we are having to learn about from scratch. 

Arriving in Raiatea	Rush hour in Utoroa
Super yachts passing by	Flowers that the ladies wear in their hair

I start with the weather.  Scottish rain is misty falling steadily for days; FP rain is violent, preceded by ferocious squalls, falling from dramatic vertiginous clouds that build suddenly and then disappear as fast as they came.  Time and time again we have got caught out leaving hatches open to the elements, shore shoes casually discarded in the netting, washing clipped to guard rails only to return to a sodden mess.  I panic every time imagining the scenario in Scotland but I have forgotten the strength of the sun – within hours everything has dried and we are back to where we were. The heat of the sun feels intense but is it really?  I don’t think it’s actually got above 27degs but after a Scottish winter this new level of heat is a lot to acclimatise to. 

Clouds build

After the rain

To cope we wake around 5-5.30am.  It's still dark and deliciously cool.  I like to have my coffee on deck and watch the sun rise.  The trick is not to move because if you do you will surely miss it – it’s all over so quickly! 

Sunrise

Then we have about 3 hours to do physical jobs. It’s a bit like supermarket sweep with us rushing about madly until the heat gets the better of us around 9.30am!  This morning we removed the genoa (large head sail) for the sail man to have a look at, Malcolm helped Cyprian, the electrician with the solar panels, I went shopping and then we both went off in the repaired dinghy to pick up some diesel to fill up the fuel tank to check it’s not leaking.  All hot work.  Another coffee restores at around 9.30am and then I usually wander off to the local pool for a dip.  The “pool” has been carved out of the sea. There are lanes sometimes and fish always. It is a complete delight and quiet at that time except for the occasional aqua aerobics class. I swim up and down enjoying the stillness and views of Bora Bora in the distance every second breath.  By the afternoon it’s a busier place with swimming lessons, mums and dad chatting and picnicking in the nearby gardens while they wait.  The kids lessons are followed by adult diving classes and finally on training nights teams of rowers arrive after work to launch their long outrigger canoes from the communal slipway and power off across the lagoon. What a resource! 

The pool at 8am

Houses surrounding the pool area

Afternoons are not so energetic. Currently I am making mosquito nets for the boat so a lot of sewing as a machine has yet to be bought but there’s no denying it - a lot of lazing about does take place too!  It’s too hot for much else.  Once our extra fans arrive from the UK we may do better but truth be told we are pretty slothful until about 4pm when the heat of the day dissipates and we wander off for another swim.  This time we use the steps at the far end of the ponton that lead into the lagoon.  The coral shelf drops off dramatically about 10m out from the sand and this is where the best snorkelling is to be had.  I cannot believe how beautiful it is - so many coloured fish darting in and out of the yellows and purples of the coral.  It’s quite a sight …or is until one of the locals whizzes by 100m further out in their multicoloured boats with enormous outboards and everything gets churned up for 5mins!  They certainly love their speed!

We eat early and always outside.

 

Outside space on Papillon

By this time the temperature is lovely.  The sun doesn’t set until about 7pm so there is always time for a stroll after tea – usually back into the town to see what’s doing.  If the boat is in watching them load and unload is always entertaining.  Last week a car was being pushed into the hold.  It took 6 guys to man handle it up the ramp but each time it got stuck on the edge, teetering for a bit before rolling back down towards the assembled onlookers. After a lot of shouting and fancy footwork they managed it but that was only one car.  God knows when they finished that night!  On another walk we came across a live drum session down by the quay.  At least 8 people were playing drums and percussion.  What sounds they created. Loads of people had gathered round munching on street food to enjoy…and I don’t say that lightly because they really do enjoy their beats out here.  I learnt on the plane that when the Catholic Missionaries finally relented and let drums into the newly built churches they got their bums on seats! The beats are everywhere – weekend picnics with the family, fishing trips with the guys, swimming sessions at the pool – all are accompanied by a huge boom box and the inevitable drum beats!

We walk home as the sun is setting, wandering along the grassy verge disturbing crabs that scuttle back down into their dusty burrows – are these sea or land creatures? I really don’t know but they certainly don’t behave like their Scottish relatives! Its dark by the time we get back to Papillon – only 8pm but it feels later. 

The marina at dusk

Another day over in this Parallel Universe