Yesterday we flew Air Tahiti to one of the most famous islands in the world - Bora Bora. The two islands are about 170 miles apart, hence our puddle hopper flight, though those with more time take one of the several ferries that hop between islands. Our plane appeared to be of an older French design, with tray tables held up by a rubber band and directions in Tahitian, French and English. At 45 minutes in duration, there was only time for some local fruit juice refreshment. Mostly we were gawking at the scenery, as we passed other islands in the archipelago.
We disembarked on a motu,a reef islet formed by broken coral and sand, surrounding an atoll. In other words, it’s a very small island, and it's across from the mainland of Bora Bora. So our flight also includes a boat ride from that motu to the main village of Vaitape.
Amidst this jaw dropping scenery, I was struck by the quotidien task of unloading all that luggage. It's all old school.
Sweating burly Polynesians take off the suitcases from the plane, bring them over to be claimed, then we roll them a few yards to another cart, where the same burly sweating Polynesians load them on rolling carts to be stowed in our ferry. But then, how many claim they have jobs that give them views like this?
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