After getting 10 full, glorious hours of sleep, we were up bright and early at 5:30 AM to get ready for the full day we had ahead of us. Today, we were going snorkeling with a tour company, accompanied by various other activities. The tour was scheduled to leave at 8:10 AM, so we got ready and headed to breakfast at the resort around 7.

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We finished up breakfast around 7:50 and strolled over to the dock to wait for our tour boat to arrive. We were there early, so we sat on the side of the road and watched as trucks hauled jet skis down to the edge of the dock. A couple and their daughter strolled over not too long afterward. We started talking to them, learned they were staying in the same resort as us, just above our room, actually. Their names were Vincent and Sinead, and their daughter's name was Aoife. They were from Dallas and were here with the same plan of staying in an overwater bungalow at the first chance they got. While we were talking, our boat pulled up to the dock and our tour guide ushered us in. His name was Wilfred, he was from the Tahitian island, Raiatea, and was super friendly. He shared that we were going to be snorkeling with sharks and sting rays today. "The thing that killed Steve Irwin?" I said. Everyone laughed, but I was actually serious. People who know me know my gripe with sting rays. Short story break: When I was a teenager, I was working as a day camp counselor at this summer camp in Long Island. We had a fishing day where we took our kids on a chartered boat out in Freeport and let them try to catch some fish. You know what I caught? A goddamned sting ray. And you know what I thought in that exact same moment as I was reeling it in? "This is the thing that killed Steve Irwin." I swear to God, that's exactly what I thought. My supervisor thought it was so cool, he wanted to take a photo of me with it. I wish I could find the photo somewhere to show it to you; I was holding it up by the line in the most awkward way, not wanting to get it too close to me so that I could be their next victim. It was the greatest relief tossing that thing back into the water afterward. And now here I was, 9 years later, about to go swimming with them... and I can't even swim.

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The van with the other guests finally arrives and deposits a few more groups into our vessel. There were two groups from New Zealand: one, a couple with their son who runs their own tour company in New Zealand, and the other, a couple on their babymoon who had traveled the world nonstop for the past 7 months and were on their last trip before going back home. Beside them sat two French girls, one who spoke English and one who did not. After everyone was seated, Wilfred explained what we would be doing today, then started the boat and set us off on our journey across the top of the island. While we sailed, Wilfred sang us songs in Tahitian and English, all while strumming his ukulele. It was blissful, sailing under the sun, feeling the cool ocean breeze against my cheek, looking out at the island to the side of us, strikingly green and mountainous, palm trees sprinkled at the edges. We passed boats near the beach, stray coconuts floating around us. When we sailed by what used to be the InterContinental resort, Wilfred stopped to explain that the resort had shut down in 2020 due to employee strikes related to covid, and that the bungalows were now being sold for $500 million USD. The New Zealanders made the joke that we should all pool our money to buy it. We all laughed and the boat took off once more.

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A few minutes later, we arrived at the snorkel point, which was a sand bank of shallow water that was deep in the ocean. Wilfred anchored the boat, explained that we would be swimming with rays and sharks, and explained the safety rules: do not follow the rays from behind, do not try to touch the sharks, keep your hands close to your body when swimming near the sharks; all things that everyone agreed upon. Then, he asked if everyone could swim. The entire boat erupted in "yes," except me. Wilfred said the water wasn't too high and that I'd be fine, but that if I wasn't he'd help me back into the boat. He handed out snorkels and one by one, we all descended the ladder into the waters below. The French girls and I watched everyone else go first, mentally preparing ourselves for the creatures down below. I, surprisingly, wasn't the last person off of the boat. I descended into the cool, blue, clear water and then I panicked a little. I'm 4'11'' and this water was about 4'8'' high. Trying to keep my head completely above water, I could barely touch the ground beneath me. I was on tiptoes trying to maneuver my way over to Jarren for support. I grabbed onto him and just stared out at the water beyond me, refusing to look down. Wilfred began bringing a sting ray he called "Angelina Jolie" around for everyone to meet. I tried to get as far away from her as possible, but her tail - THE PART THAT KILLED STEVE IRWIN - gently brushed against my stomach and I quietly screeched, "It's touching me!" as I locked up. Sinead heard me and laughed, but again, I was being serious and no one caught on. Our friends back in State College, Nate and Alex, have this dog named Ruckus who is this pony-sized Great Dane with a ditsy personality. He just walks around happy and dopey all the time (I love that damn dog). Jarren reminded me a lot of Ruckus as I watched him looking around, just genuinely having a good time, mesmerized and excited the way that a kid would be at an aquarium. He asked me if I would be ok if he swam around for a little bit, and while I felt like I was fighting for my life trying to stand on my own two feet in perfectly still water, I assured him I'd be fine and he began snorkeling around, trying to follow the sharks at a safe distance. As for me, I just straight up did not want to know what was just narrowly passing by my legs at any given moment, so I made it a point to keep my head up and just enjoy the water for what it was: nice and cool on a hot, sunny day.

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Eventually Wilfred and Angelina made their way toward Jarren, and Wilfred called me over to take photos of us together. I struggled, but eventually made it over to them and latched myself onto Jarren to keep in place. Wilfred handed Angelina over to us and told us to pet her, so I did, reluctantly. She was slimy, but smooth, and eventually I got over the fear of her. After we pet and held her, he told us we could kiss her on the head, so we did, and that was what broke the ice for me. I was not going to be Steve Irwin today, not by Angelina at least. However, I wasn't over my fear of the black tip reef sharks, though, so I asked Wilfred to help me get back onto the boat so I could relax a bit. He helped me over and I climbed up, dried off, and watched Jarren happily swim amongst his new black-tipped friends. After a few more minutes, the group reconvened on the boat and Wilfred took us onto the next leg of our trip.

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Wilfred brought us over to a reef where we could view smaller reef-life a bit better. I didn't stay too far from the boat this time, ended up stepping on some dead coral which kind of hurt, so I just resigned to staying near the boat ladder and using it as leverage to lift myself above the coral. Jarren swam off to look at a clam burrow itself into the sand as I just floated in the water and watched the world around me, genuinely content. At the same moment, I heard Wilfred ask someone in the boat if they wanted a beer. "Beer? I want a beer!" I said, perking up. He laughed as I climbed up the ladder back into the boat and handed me a can. Soon enough he'd passed out cans to most of our tour group, and now a group of us were either lounging in the boat or in the water near the boat, drinking our beers as Wilfred cut up a pineapple for us to snack on. Blissful. A short while later, Wilfred started the boat back up for our final stop.

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A few minutes later, we arrived at a "motu" or "island" for lunch. We disembarked the boat and waded through the water until we reached the shore, then gathered around a table and a coconut tree. Wilfred explained that we'd be gathering the remaining ingredients we needed to make lunch, which would be the Tahitian staple, poisson cru. This dish is basically Polynesian ceviche, made of raw fish marinated in lime juice and coconut milk. We watched as Wilfred showed us how to husk and crack open a dry coconut. In Trinidad, I've watched my family pick and open green coconuts countless times, but I'd never seen the process for a dry coconut, so I was intrigued. As I quickly learned, there is far more to a dry coconut than a green one. I watched as Wilfred husked the coconut to reveal the dry coconut underneath, then showed us the process of how to crack it open, then split it to reveal the water and "meat" inside. After the tutorial, he made all of the men in the group repeat it with different coconuts. Jarren was pretty good at husking, and got the coconut to crack immediately with one good hit, then split with another. After everyone took their turn, we drank the coconut water and passed the coconuts to Wilfred for him to shave out the "meat" for the poisson cru. When he decided he had the amount he needed, he passed the remaining coconuts to us for us to eat and save as bowls for the meal. The meat was good, but - big shock - dry and hard. I much prefer green coconuts and stand by those being superior to dry ones.

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Wilfred called us over to watch him make the poisson cru, inviting us to drink rum punch in our coconut shells while he worked. He tossed coconut shavings into a cheese cloth and squeezed it to make coconut milk for the dish and for our drinks, then tossed the flakes into the water behind him and we watched as some small fish hurried over to eat them up. We drank and looked on, and when the poisson cru was ready, he spooned it into our empty coconut shells for us to enjoy. We sat and had lunch, eating the poisson cru along with chicken, rice, and coconut bread that was pre-cooked for us as well.

 

When we were done eating, Wilfred showed us how to make hats out of palm tree leaves. He shared that his grandmother made hats and passed the skill down to his mother, who passed it down to him, and he'd passed it down to his three daughters. He asked me if I'd like one, which I obviously said yes to. He wrapped the center of the "branch" around my head to get my exact head size, then started braiding the leaves around it. In just a few minutes, I had a full sized, custom sun hat on my head. Not only was it pretty to look at, but it was also fully functional, blocking out any sun above me. It was truly the best souvenir I've ever had from a trip, and I didn't even buy it. Serendipitously, the hat also fit Jarren perfectly, so we both took turns wearing it. Shortly afterward, Jarren asked Wilfred about how to make a serving tray, purely just for knowledge sake, and Wilfred ended up making him one and bringing it to him later on. Genuinely such a kind guy, that Wilfred.

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After this, Wilfred showed us a few different types of medicinal plants that could be found along any Tahitian shoreline that could do various things from clotting a wound to ailing a stomachache to remedying sunburn and mosquito bites. Then, he showed us how to wrap a sarong multiple ways depending on the occasion.

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After all of the activities had wrapped up, we boarded the boat again, where I narrowly missed stepping on a sting ray as I made my way back to the boat. On our way back to the resort dock, Wilfred sang to us again while he played the ukulele, and I took every ounce of the moment in, savoring everything I possibly could before it was all over.

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15 minutes later, we were back at the dock. We said goodbye to the friends we'd made and headed back to our room to relax for a few minutes until we had to pick up the scooter we'd rented from the company across the street. Around 10 minutes later, we were inside the rental company office awaiting our scooter. There were two types of scooters available for rent: one you needed a license to drive and one you didn't. We went with the one you didn't, obviously, which led me into doing extensive research on driving safely prior to us arriving here. Scooters were still motor vehicles, after all, but it seemed from my Reddit, TripAdvisor, You Tube, and independent travel blogger reviews that a lot of tourists seemed to get the hang of it with due time. Scooter rental was far cheaper than renting a car, and even a little bit cheaper than renting two e-bikes, so this what we ended up going for.

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We stood around for a few minutes while the worker brought the scooter to the front of the office for us. He pulled up with such speed that I instantly worried we'd made the wrong decision. Jarren and I looked at each other, donned our hairnets and helmets, and hopped on. I figured we should take it for a test run since Jarren had never drove a scooter before and we'd be taking it pretty far into the island tomorrow morning, so we decided to head to a grocery store just straight up the street. The next 30 minutes were some of the most terrifying moments of my life.

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We figured out how to get the kickstand to slide up, then Jarren inched us closer to the road. We needed to make a right turn to get onto the road, then it was a straight shot to the grocery store. He inched up and waited for traffic to clear, then pulled onto the street. Even now, my heart is pounding just thinking about it. Much like a rollercoaster that speeds up without your consent or knowledge, the scooter kicked up to what must've been 30 mph instantly when he touched the gas. We took off flying onto the other side of the road, luckily the oncoming traffic was relatively far off. Jarren struggled to gain control for a few seconds, trying to veer us onto the right side of the road in what looked like we were going to crash into pedestrians waiting at a nearby bus stop. I don't know how he did it, but we didn't crash. When we were passing the grocery store, he slowed us to a stop and we walked ourselves into a parking spot. I got off and stood the kickstand up so that he could also dismount the scooter. It was in doing this that I noticed two things: I was shaking and Jarren was bleeding. We were both wearing flip flops, as many people on scooters here did, and a rock had hit his toe near the nail so badly that the skin had cut back a bit and caused him to bleed more than I was comfortable with. I asked him if he wanted to come in with me, but he said he'd stay out here with the scooter, needing a minute to calm down. I agreed and walked in by myself.

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The first thing I noticed about the grocery was how dimly lit it was. The fluorescent lighting was few and far between here, making the aisles dim and blue. I walked around for a bit, looking at the snacks they had, but my mind wasn't working. I was looking at the words on the bags, but I wasn't reading any of them. I was out of sorts and reeling from the scooter ride, and the thought of having to get on it again made my stomach drop. I probably spent around 10 minutes in there just... staring. I didn't know what I wanted and couldn't really think about it, so I grabbed some chocolate chip madelines and some granola bars to replace all the Kind bars we'd devoured on the first leg of our trip.

 

I paid with a cashier that spoke perfect English, then walked back out to the parking lot, where Jarren was just standing against the scooter. We were both shaken up, I could tell, and when I looked down at his foot, I felt really guilty. I didn't blame him for any of this, we both didn't really know how to drive or what we were getting into when we rented the scooter, but it felt like it was my fault that he got hurt, because I was the one that cheaped out by renting a scooter instead of bikes or trying to find an automatic car. I felt like I had somehow pushed him into doing something he wasn't ready to do, and it really bothered me right then and there looking at the stress on his face.

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I walked over to him and asked if he was ok. He said he was and I reminded him that I'd packed a first-aid kit in our suitcase for the first time ever and that we could clean and  bandage his toe when we got back to the hotel. It was getting back to the hotel that was going to be the hard part. We both looked at each other and Jarren said, "How much did we spend on this?" "I think around $40 for 24 hours," I said. He thought about it for a moment and then said, "Is it really worth it for us to keep this thing?" and I felt relief wash over me. "No, this was really friggin' scary," I said, "Let's just go straight back there and return it, if we lose the money, we lose the money, but at least we don't lose our lives." He wholeheartedly agreed. "I could learn how to drive this, because when we start going straight, I'm fine, it's just the start up that's hard because it just takes off so fast, but we don't have enough time to learn how to drive this properly," he says. I nodded, thinking about the fact that we didn't purchase travel insurance (we never have for any of our trips), and that we would probably have to get flown to Tahiti from here if we got into an accident because that's where the nearest real hospital was. Everything about this scooter was anxiety inducing, and I wondered aloud if we should just walk the bike back down the street to the rental company. It was only like, a 3 minute ride here, so it would've been maybe a 15-20 minute walk back, but the bike was heavy. Jarren was confident enough in his ability to get us back over there in one peace, so I reluctantly got on the bike behind him and we inched toward the parking lot exit together.

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We waited a lot longer to get onto the road this time, making sure the lanes were completely devoid of any traffic for a long distance, giving ourselves a wide berth in case we needed space to recover after taking off. When it seemed like our best window had come, Jarren got us going, pulling us across the street and back onto the direction toward the rental company. It was surprisingly not as bad this time around, but we were still both pretty nervous. Like he said, going straight was perfectly fine, so it almost seemed silly to return the scooter until we needed to make a beeline into the rental company's parking lot to avoid slowing down too much on our turn to let traffic pass and needing a quick startup again. We pulled up directly in front of the door, took the key out of the ignition, and tucked our tails as we walked back inside. The woman sitting at the desk in front of us looked amused as we placed ourselves in front of her and explained the situation. "We just picked up this rental around 30 minutes ago, but we don't really know how to drive it safely so we need to return it." "Is there anything wrong with it?" She asked, to which I responded, "No, we just really don't know what we're doing." She chuckled. "Is it your first time riding a scooter?" she asked us, and we responded, "Yeah. If we can't get our money back, that's ok, because we understand that we took it off of the lot and everything." She said she'd work her magic with her boss and gave him a call. She spoke in French the whole time, so we had no idea what she was saying. After a few minutes, she hung up and told us to wait right here, that her boss was coming.

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Her boss, the same worker who gave us the scooter earlier, came over to the desk and said he was going to inspect the scooter for damage. When he saw that there was none, he came back and offered us half of our money back. We weren't expecting anything back, so we agreed and thanked him for understanding. He said it would be processed with our resort, because we got the rental through them, and called them to confirm before we left. When everything was good to go, we thanked him again and turned to walk back across the street to our room. On our walk back, Jarren said, "This is a perfect example of 'baka gaijin,'" and we both started cracking up. "Baka Gaijin" is a term Jarren had learned early on during his 2 years being stationed in Okinawa, Japan. It directly translates to "stupid tourist," which is apparently a term the Okinawans were fond of using regularly. This time around, we sure as hell did fit the bill. Now that the scooter was no longer our responsibility, it was a laughable situation, but I was still coming down from the terror of it all as we walked into our room and tried to relax for a bit.

 

Once we got inside, still laughing at how ridiculous the last hour was, Jarren pulled out the portable blender, Bacardi Black, pineapple juice, and cream of coconut that we brought with us and whipped us up some piña coladas. We decided that, since it was nice out, we'd head over to the beach with our drinks and unwind out there. We both got ready and opened the door,  just to find that it was now pouring out. "There's no way. It was sunny out like, 5 minutes ago!" Jarren exclaimed. We shut the door and walked back into the room, frustrated. "Maybe we could just hang out on the porch until the rain calms down?" I suggested, which Jarren thought was also a good idea, so we went out onto our porch and watched the rain come down on the resort. "How did our day go from incredible to such shit so quickly?" I said, and Jarren just shook his head and laughed.

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We were sitting, drinking, talking, and I called my mom to check in on the puppies. It was around 10 PM NY time when I called, so the dogs were asleep. We talked for a little bit, then I let her go to sleep and hung up. The rain had just started to ease up when I saw two little eyes staring at me from just over the ridge of the porch. "Oh my God, is that a crab?" I said. Jarren peered over the porch for a better view, "Yup. That's so cool!" He said, and proceeded to pretend to pick it up. "Leave him alone!" I exclaimed. He laughed. We sat around and watched Mr. Krabs for a while, then we decided we should go get dinner. The place we were heading to tonight was Rudy's, one of the restaruants on the island. It was a straight shot down the street, around a 20 minute walk, that I had planned on visiting today because I thought we'd have the scooter and be able to make it a 5 minute ride. Guess not.

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We started walking there after the sun goes down. There aren't many cars on the road at this point and there also aren't a lot of street lights, so it's pretty damn dark. I turn on my phone's flashlight and leave it on for the entirety of the walk so that I can see the road in front of me. On our walk over, I narrowly avoid a large amount of crabs making holes into the dirt on the side of me, which freaks me out a little because they're super quick on their feet and I can only just barely see them. As we continue onward, we notice a group of stray dogs all playing together in an empty parking lot. It was pretty nice to watch. Jarren and I both remark about how we haven't seen a single homeless person since we arrived here on Moorea, and that neither of us felt unsafe walking around here in the dark, which isn't something that can be said of most places. Even the stray animals here were friendly and well-mannered, not aggressive like you'd find in some parts of the world.

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When we finally came upon Rudy's, we entered, only to find that the majority of the restaurant was full. The host came over and asked if we had a reservation, to which we responded that we did not. He said he'd speak to the manager and be right back. I knew the answer would be no, but was hoping for a different response, anyway. I didn't know this place took reservations, or else I obviously would've made one when I decided we would be eating here like, 4 months ago. The host came back and shared that, unfortunately, he would not be able to seat us tonight and offered to make us a reservation for another night, but we would no longer be on the island for any of those, so we declined, thanked him, and left.

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We were both pretty hungry at this point, so we just decided to walk back to a place we'd passed on our way over here, Moorea Beach Cafe. Let me tell you, I was not excited about eating here from the rip, because I'd seen the food and the menu online months earlier, and it seemed like an overpriced tourist trap to me, but we were really hungry so didn't have much of a choice now. When we entered, we were promptly seated as it was mainly empty, save for 3 or 4 other couples around us. The food, as I'd expected, was all super expensive, around $40 for one entree, whereas we were getting entrees elsewhere for half that or less per person up until now. Wanting something quick, we decided to just order a Hawaiian pizza to share. The waitress offered the idea of garlic breadsticks, so we agreed to that, as well. Neither of us had high expectations for the pizza here because we both agree that New York is really the only good place to get solid pizza, everywhere else is just disappointing in comparison. 

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As we were waiting for our food to come out, three groups of very loud twenty-somethings entered the restaurant and let me tell you, they were annoying. We didn't even have to eavesdrop on these people because they were all fully yelling at each other from opposite ends of the restaurant, sending each other shots from different tables, yelling about the shots, talking about the time they had shots together in New York like that was some type of a flex. The men were all excited about a rum tasting they were going to tomorrow, and the women were all talking about how their purses were holding up to the humidity. Seriously, I cannot make this shit up. These were the exact type of people I was excited about getting away from by coming on this trip, and somehow, they still ended up here. I just couldn't understand how people could come to such a wholesome, humble place like Tahiti and still only care and talk about things like their Louis Vuittons. What a far cry from the morning we'd had with Wilfred. It all just felt so plastic, shallow, and hollow and I wanted nothing more than to just get our food and leave.

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When our breadsticks finally came out, I just laughed. You know what the "breadsticks" were? Literally BURNT slices of white bread with Italian seasoning on it. I swear that is not an exaggeration. That's exactly what they were, and it cost us $5. Then, the pizza came out. Honestly, the pizza wasn't bad, it just wasn't, y'know, good pizza. It was like, those flashy designer pizzas you get at places that charge too much. And here? Charge too much, they did. $30 for what was basically a flatbread. The waitress brought over some hot sauce, though, that I actually really enjoyed. Other than that, this was just as disappointing as we thought it would be, just with the extra addition of the Instagram clout chasers that showed up for good measure. What's more, we actually witnessed the owner degrading his staff here, talking down to both our waitress and another waiter. We both couldn't wait to get out of here.

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As soon as we were done, we paid and left. Our walk back was pleasant, but we were both really tired and couldn't wait to get back to our room. On the way back, we passed the dogs who were playing before, now all cuddled up next to each other, fast asleep.

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When we finally got back to our room, we put some of our stuff away in our suitcase and then decided to just head straight to sleep, so that's exactly what we did. Time machining ourselves straight into a new day where we'd finally be in our overwater bungalow.