French Polynesia: Cruising Aboard a Unique Ship

Over 15 days and almost 800 miles, you come to recognize that there is nothing quite like the passenger/freighter Aranui 3 and to appreciate her unique qualities sailing through French Polynesia.

When you first see her at harbor at Papeete, Tahiti, however, she stood out as strangely different from the large cruise ships, luxurious yachts and streamlined ferries that ply the waters of the South Pacific. Two chrome yellow cranes rose above her bow, silhouetted against blue sky like the huge beaks of ungainly birds. A swimming pool and sundeck were tucked into the stern, behind the dining room, lounge and deluxe cabins that are stacked like a white layer cake near the center of the 386 foot long ship. It appeared as if someone had taken unrelated ships, sliced them in half, and reassembled this one wrong.

Yet, the amazing result is that as a freighter and as a cruise ship the Aranui 3 works. Perfectly.

The state-of-the-art vessel offers travelers the opportunity to escape into the exotic world of French Polynesia. These are the islands that inspired, among others, Herman Melville, Henri Matisse, Jacque Brel, Thor Heyerdahl, James Michener, Robert Louis Stevenson and, most famously, Paul Gauguin.

Life aboard ship is informal and as intimate as a house party. Passengers and the mostly Polynesian crew mix easily. Music is a universal language. Members of the crew often relax by strumming native music on ukuleles and guitars. A pick-up group, including the ship's captain, is dubbed the Aranui band. Most evenings, I found them jamming in the bar under the stars. One night, encouraged by a patient instructor, I even learned to swivel my hips and sway in a fair approximation of the local dancers.

The islands and ship are relaxed. Passengers dress casually, even at mealtimes. The waitstaff wear local fashions-sarongs, flower crowns, leis and seashell jewelry as well as the region's famous black pearls.

The Aranui 3, which carries up to 25,000 tons of cargo, is the lifeline for many small and remote atolls, including two where we shopped at black pearl farms. As the ship sailed into each bay, I'd stand on deck to catch the excitement of the islanders who wait with mounting anticipation onshore for the ship's deliveries.

I marveled at the athletic skill with which brawny Marquesans downloaded the weighty cargo of pick up trucks, caboose-sized crates and even a fishing boat. Afterwards, the tattooed giants loaded goods onto the ship, riding platforms heaped with bananas and sacks of copra, swinging from the crane's heavy chains with the grace of highwire acrobats. And when the Aranui 3 didn't dock near land, these big bruisers handed us over gently as a mother into the whaleboats that shuttled us to shore.

Local children welcomed us with song and dance. Greeters adorned us with flower leis and crowns or, occasionally, a single perfect flower, which they advised us to place behind our right ear if we were single, left, if we were taken. Afterwards, we swam and snorkeled in picture-perfect lagoons.

Looking for adventure, I also explored the islands, which boast no dangerous animals or snakes, only a few insufferable nonos, invisible mosquito-like insects that show no mercy. Archaeological sites with fascinating tikis bear witness to an ancient civilization that practiced cannibalism. Today, the islanders earn their living with fishing and handicrafts. Under thatched roof huts, they demonstrate and display accomplished wood and bone carvings, woven straw hats and bags, beautiful beads and tapas art.

I'd looked forward to a freighter cruise, and I was not disappointed. I was surprised. My experience aboard a working ship left me feeling less like a tourist, more like a traveler. As the Aranui 3 returned to its home port in Tahiti, I savored the distinction.

Article provided by Homesteader