I finally made it onshore on the main island of Bora Bora today for a morning run. We were anchored out across the lagoon by a couple motus, but after a quick dinghy expedition yesterday afternoon we knew there was really nowhere to run there either. So, Tim shuttled me approximately a mile over to the main island, where we knew there was a road. The problem was, we had no idea where he could drop me off, or even if we could get through the coral heads near here. We noticed a “jetty” with a lot of local boats around, and then we discovered the marked cut in the coral to be able to get there. As we pulled up, though, it started to seem like he would be dropping me off in someone’s backyard, and I felt kind of weird about that. When we saw some kids and a man coming to see us, we figured it would be OK, since we’ve learned over and over how generous the Polynesians are. Tim asked if he spoke English and he said no, so it was up to our broken French and some hand gestures. It went something like this, “Je voudrais…” hand gesture of a person walking, “… a la rue. C’est bon?” He smiled and gestured, of course. There was a tiny dock that I was able to hop out onto, so I didn’t have to get my shoes wet. (Never mind they were already wet since I left them out in the rain last night.) The kids were pretty interested in me, and they walked with me up the dirt road over out to the main road. The homes were modest, and the people were friendly. Ia ora na is hello in Tahitian, and I got to say that a lot today.
The run was slow, but I’m still cutting myself some slack. There weren’t that many cars on the road, but I still ran towards traffic and shuffled off onto the very narrow shoulder when a car did pass. There were no resorts along the stretch I ran down, but I did pass two of the water shuttle areas for the large resorts. They each had a parking lot, so I’m thinking this might be where they shuttle their employees from the main island out to the motus, since that’s where the majority, if not all, of the resorts are. I ran through a small town. I only know this because of the sign and that there was a mairie (town hall) and a church. There were many more modest houses, and I noticed that along the coastal side there were a lot of makeshift benches and lounge chairs. I was thinking maybe this was a sign that they appreciate the beauty of their surroundings, if they bother to set up a place to sit and enjoy it, but I didn’t see anyone sitting there, so who knows. Maybe in the evening. Not on a Sunday morning.
Throughout the Society islands we witnessed the stark contradiction of huge mega resorts against the backdrop of modest Polynesian living, but never has it been so obvious as here in Bora Bora. It was on display yesterday when we were out on our dinghy expedition. There was a cut through the motu almost all the way out to the ocean. On the left side was the very ostentacious St. Regis hotel. On the right side were local dwellings, and my first thought was, “poverty.” However, that reaction was probably due to the stark contrast with the resort, not based on a fair assessment. That’s why I started using the word “modest” above. No one is starving. No one looks miserable. But compared to the lavishness of the resort, it looks like poverty with small unenclosed dwellings and laundry strewn about. When we went a little further up the channel, far enough that we had to tilt the outboard motor up so it would bottom out, we came across four kids having a grand time. Two were in a boat, and they were fishing. Two were playing on a paddle board, not unlike the way our boys play on a paddle board. They were all fun to watch.
We also noticed that a hotel guard on a bike had spotted us and was following us along the edge as we motored deeper into the channel. I waved to him, but he didn’t wave back. Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, we wouldn’t think of stepping onto your precious resort property, even though it’s been days since I’ve been able to run, and I’d really, really just like to find a place to run. I bet if I asked the people on the other side of the channel they’d gladly let me run on THEIR land.
My run back this morning was slower than on the way out. The wind was in my face on the way back and the sun had gone behind a cloud, so it was a bit cooler, and I felt better. I know I was running slower because I was running based on time, and I didn’t make it all the way back to where I started in the same amount of time. But it gave me a chance to walk a bit and observe a bit more. The kids were riding their bikes, and they came out to meet me and walked with me back out to the dock. It was a boy and a girl, and we didn’t talk much, since we were all shy about speaking in a language we don’t know. I assume they know a little, because earlier one of them said, “No English here.” They didn’t attempt to speak English with me as we walked out to the dock, but I told them, “Velos, bon,” which I hope means good bikes. They smiled, and I felt happy.
-D.
Gresham Family Exodus 