More Polynesia: Mo’orea.

Hi folks!

As promised, I’m back with more tales from the mid-Pacific. Today, a quick rewind to that very strange place, which goes by the name of Mo’orea, Tahiti’s next-door neighbor.

Mo’orea is another idyllic tropical island of French Polynesia, but it’s hard to compare it with Bora Bora. That island is all about blueness. Mo’orea is all about volcanism, but no less bluetiful for it. Sea for yourself:

Headstrong tourists do climb these mountains, but some of them are deemed too difficult to scale without special climbing gear.

The mountains themselves come in many different shapes and sizes, as you can see. Ahh – the power of natural erosion on soft volcanic rock! The local tribes here have legends about such landscapes due to their resembling different princesses and kings. Here, for example, a princess is looking up at the sky. And can you see that (in the pic, tiny) cave/tunnel right at the top? That’s the princess’s piercing, as our excellent guide explained. I didn’t ask where the nose ring itself had gotten to.

Here’s another princess, beating a drum – as princesses do – to inform the king on the mountain opposite about their guests arriving in the bay. Apparently. Do you see all that?! )

And so on…

As far as I understood, generally, not many folks know how atolls are formed. I didn’t know either. So I consulted good old Wikipedia on the subject. Now I know ).

Briefly, “a coral atoll is a ring-shaped coral reef including a coral rim that encircles a lagoon partially or completely. There may be coral islands or cays on the rim. The coral of the atoll often sits atop the rim of an extinct seamount or volcano which has eroded or subsided partially beneath the water. The lagoon forms over the volcanic crater or caldera while the higher rim remains above water or at shallow depths that permit the coral to grow and form the reefs. For the atoll to persist, continued erosion or subsidence must be at a rate slow enough to permit reef growth upwards and outwards to replace the lost height.”

It’s a slow process – taking millions of years. Here, for example, is Tahiti (as viewed from Mo’orea), whose age is estimated at around one million years.

Neighboring Mo’orea, which is distinctly more ruined, is twice as old. Bora Bora is even older – around seven million years old, while the classic atoll Tetiaroa is around 30 million years old, if I remember correctly.

Btw, the volcano also needs time to grow under the water for it to appear above sea level. And depths here are considerable – from one-and-a-half to four kilometers. So it works out that these atolls and islands are in fact rather massive mountains themselves – not that you’d be able to guess that from looking at them.

Back to modern day, the atolls are dotted with little huts on stilts in the sea. These are hotel ‘rooms’, and they’re all over most atolls, with perhaps Bora Bora having most of all.

Sadly many such cabins are empty; some have been abandoned. Apparently all was well, but then the 2008-9 global economic crisis kicked in; then, in 2010, some kind of catastrophic hurricane hit. This unfortunate combination affected the atolls’ hoteliers very badly.

On the brighter side, the local art is impressive:

And here’s the view from Tetiaroa:

That night we were woken by the hotel staff who were excitedly uttering something about a ‘baby nest’. After some confusion, we finally worked out what they were so animated about: a batch of turtle eggs had hatched and they’d called us to have a look at the newborns!

All the eggs are kept inside metal netting so that when they hatch they can first be counted (for herpetological needs or some such) before the turtles are let go. When they’re set free on the beach, by instinct they all charge as fast as their little feet can carry them into the sea!

The photos are red as that’s the only lighting permitted the baby turtles to prevent them being blinded.

And that folks, is about it, not just from this particular island, but from our French Polynesian trip on the whole. Almost…

…Quick recap of these Pacific islands:
1) Oh my gorgeous – they’re real beautiful in the quintessentially tropical-paradise way;
2) But! They’re reeeeaaaaal far; and
3) They’re very expensive to visit as a tourist.

Getting there: there are just seven (7!) routes there on regular commercial passenger air transportation from afar (April 2018); specifically from:

1) Auckland, New Zealand (six-hour flight, six times a week);
2) Los Angeles, USA (eight-hour flight, two or three times a day; what’s curious is that only Air France (!) and Air Tahiti Nui do the flying!);
3) Tokyo, Japan (12-hour flight, twice a week);
4) Hawaii, USA (six-hour flight, every Saturday;
5) Easter Island, Chile (five-hour flight, every Tuesday);
6) New Caledonia, France (six-and-a-half-hour flight);
7) Cook Islands (three-hour flight).

Given the options, I’d say the best routing goes like this:

From wherever you are > Santiago (Chile) > Easter Island (to check out the moai) > Tahiti (Bora Bora) > Hawaii (volcanism + beaches:) > Tokyo (do I need to add anything here?:). And if you’d set off from Europe that’d give you a round-the-world: bonus! This route, however, would take a long time. Need more route advice re getting to French Polynesia? Let me know in the comments and I hope I can help based on my experience.

One thing I still can’t quite work out is why there are no (0!) regular commercial flights between Tahiti and Fiji. You have to go via New Zealand! Now there’s a promising unoccupied business niche, if ever I’ve seen one :)…

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31 hours door-to-door.

Hi folks!

Another month – another globe trot…

The suitcase is packed – and probably right now already in the hold of the plane I’m about to board. Physical preparation – check; moral preparation – check; books packed into hand luggage – check (two in fact). All righty. All set. Off we pop on another multi-long-haul. Get ready – it’s gonna be a long one…

It starts out in Tetiaroa, an atoll of French Polynesia in the Pacific. It ends in Abu Dhabi, the United Arab Emirates. I wonder how many hours this is going to take door to door?…

April 2, 09:30 local time (22:30 Moscow Time): we say goodbye to paradise:

Read on…

Sunny Melbourne.

Melbourne is a really great city – especially when the sun’s out. But just the other day it was overcast, wet and miserable – not what you associate with one of Australia’s main cities. My hotel room was up on the 46th floor of a skyscraper, so I had a good panoramic view of the city, and I would have taken a few snaps of this conspicuously present bad weather, but they’d stuck some kind of transparent film onto the windows, which made the whole scene horrendously ugly and certainly not worthy of its picture being taken. But I digress…

A day later – it was back to business-as-usual: a shining sun in a clear blue sky with just the odd white fluffy cloud here and there. Yes, the Australian summer unhurriedly merging into the Australian fall in March: not a bad time of year to be here.

Read on…

A word about jetlag.

Herewith, a few words on the experience known as jetlag, which I am often asked about, and of which I have plenty of experience.

First. When asked if I suffer from jetlag, I sometimes answer no: I travel around the world too fast for it to catch up with me. Alas, that’s a bit of a benign porky pie. Of course I suffer from jetlag – just like everyone else (to differing degrees). However, according to my long-running observations of this phenomenon, I’ve learned how to endure it a little easier than most. As a wise man once said, you can get used to anything – especially if it happens a lot. Well, my decade-plus of practically non-stop globetrotting – that’s a lot of jetlag. I’ve just gotten used to it, I think. And these days my body and mind have no trouble at all getting over any degree of jetlag in just one or two days.

Second. Despite my oft-uttered little white lies, the worst kind of jetlag is in fact the one that can’t catch you up. Wait. Or is it the other way round – you can’t keep up with real time? What I mean is, when you continent-hop non-stop for weeks, spending just two or three days in each place, your body clock gets just completely out of whack as it has no idea whatsoever whether it’s day or night, morning or evening, whether it’s time for breakfast or supper, and on and on.

For example: Sydney – Cyprus – Tokyo – Paris (a segment of a world tour that springs to mind if we’re talking extreme jetlag disorientation). One’s circadian rhythm gets so confused that when you do manage to get some shut-eye (whenever that may be), it’s never a deep sleep, and so when awake one’s eye’s blink out of sync. It’s like – your sleep is only 70% effective, so your waking hours are only 70% effective. That can’t be too healthy. Not recommended!

Another tough scenario: flights east (and this has been scientifically proven. Worst of all: a flight taking you +9 time zones around the world. Like New York – Moscow, or Moscow – Kamchatka. Or my recent Budapest – Melbourne. You sleep poorly on the night flight, you arrive in the morning with a full day’s business ahead of you, and all you want to do is hit the sack for a full night’s kip!

This time though it was a day flight. We arrived in Melbourne (via Dubai) at 10pm local time after flying 13 hours, around six of which I slept, which is more than sufficient. But time for bed again! No worries though – that’s sure doable. A couple of melatonins (must-haves for any frequent long-haul flyer) and I was out like a light again at 2am local time (4pm body-clock time, set in Hungary). Then, at 6am (10pm body-clock time) we were up and at ’em like troopers, zero jetlag!

Plus there’s a bonus getting up so early in Oz:

Note to self: more day-flights – especially when flying east – than red-eyes.

Now, where was I. Oh yes…

Third. The best jetlag, if there ever can be such a thing, is that that comes with flying west: say, the same nine hours but going back in time. What you get is simply a very long day, at the end of which you fall into a coma-resembling deep sleep. You find yourself waking up at four or five in the morning local time, fully refreshed and back at ’em!

PS: Two or three hours’ time difference between Western and Eastern Europe? Please. That’s not jetlag. That’s… a blip, nothing more :). Feeling a bit funny mood-wise? It’s not due to the time change; it’s something else. My prescription for phantom jetlag? Get to Kamchatka or Indonesia, where you set off up volcano treks literally in the middle of the night. That should cure any blypo-chondria!

All righty, my extra early-morning energy here in Melbourne duly expended on this here post during the extra few hours to kill before the business world wakes up in Australia, here we go again – for the third time in this post, back at ’em!…

White Budapest.

Budapest is a very beautiful city – especially from the Pest side. The city currently has a light coating of snow over most of it (where they haven’t cleared it), which adds a certain wintry charm to the place.

Read more on…

Фэбruaяy 45, 2018.

I love Russian winters. Everything coated in spotless (at least on my balcony at the office) driven snow, and when the sun comes out, the beauty of the serene scene is multiplied several fold:

But wait. Typo, surely, no? Russian winter? But we’re 16 days into spring already. At least, that’s what I thought. What’s going on here?!!

Read on…