There's no place like . . .where?

"There's no place like home," but if I had Dorothy's ruby slippers they'd have to take me apart and bring me to several places. I imagine myself more like Great Oz himself fumbling around in a hot air balloon, wondering where I'll land.

When someone asks where you're from, they expect the answer to be a static place, not a long complicated story. So I have a hard time answering the question without a stammer - as I imagine many others do who aren't fixed to a map point. I don't know where home is. I'm not thinking about Kansas

My family and I have lived in Portland for a year and a half, mostly so the kids can go to high school here, and the region still feels foreign to me. Yet this is where we rent a house, where my father lives and where my children are so when people ask me where I'm from during a trip abroad, I'll probably tell them "Portland, Oregon," even though I'm not from there at all.

A few months ago I spent the Christmas holidays down in Marin County, California where both my husband and I grew up. We stayed at my mother in law's 1920s-era house that's set between oak trees and has a view of the feminine silhouette of Mt Tamlpais. This is the house I've come back to as a base for the last 20 years since I met my husband, began traveling and eventually moved to French Polynesia. It's my favorite house in the world but it's not mine and one day my mother in law will sell it and retire.

I can name every little sub-district in Marin County, scarcely have to think when driving anywhere and run into people I know on hiking trails and in supermarkets. Every place here holds a story, like that pasture land named after a horse that my dad used to know as a kid (he grew up in Marin County too); or darker, that stop light that was put up after my friend's little brother was hit by a car there. Marin County is where I'll always feel I'm coming home when I visit to no matter where I actually live. But I haven't lived in Marin County for 20 years and chances are I'll never live there again (not on a travel writer's salary anyway).

The place I've spent the largest chunk of my adult life is French Polynesia where my husband and I own a house that we designed and built, and where my kids grew up. This is home, the family base and the biggest asset in my family's economic hat. It almost hurts renting it out and thinking of other people living there but it would be worse to let it rot and loose the rental income. We will probably move back there someday but I don't know when. Despite how much I love the house, the land, our neighbors and the tropical splendor, we will always be thought of and treated as foreigners in Tahiti and I'm not sure I want to live with that forever. The locals ask me about my "home" in the US, and although they don't mean it badly, they will never see Tahiti as a place I should call my own.

To complicate things more, I lived in England until I was nearly five and that's still where I have the largest concentration of family. I go back regularly and my aunts and uncles have all lived in the same houses since before I was born - right now I could describe each one's pleasant, homey smell. But I can't say I'm from England, my Yankee accent makes me come off as a fake.

So when asked where I'm from I cheat a little and pick the best answer depending on who's asking. "Portland" is the easiest as a conversation stopper (most people outside the US don't know where it is) and "Tahiti" gets me the most street cred particularly in places where it's not cool to be American (less of the world nowadays - thank you Obama). "San Francisco" (near enough to Marin County to work) is my answer when I feel like giving people what they want: something familiar.

I'll admit to feeling a little hip not being able to come up with satisfactory answer to the question "where are you from?" But deeper down I envy the people who can answer in one word without even thinking about it: "Quebec," "Wichita," "Berlin." It would be lovely to be able to have a home, that place where history, family, friends and a house collide without explanation. In my dreams there would be a golden retriever in the yard and veggie garden out back. But for now at least, life feels like a hurricane spinning us around in the air and despite how nice it would be to be on solid ground, Kansas or wherever home is, is about as real as Oz.

Culturally misunderstood small talk

"Eh Celeste poria ia 'oe!"

This means "Celeste, you're fat," and I'm frequently greeted this way by female Tahitian friends I haven't seen in awhile.

It's not a compliment. In the past rotundity may have been a sign of beauty for Tahitian women but the Western world has seeped in too deeply and now most people would prefer to be skinny. But the conversation starter has stuck and, unless you look almost sickly thin, or you're a known athlete, people will probably tell you you've put on weight or at least "haven't got any fatter." In a way it's like saying you look healthy and happy even though you're not going to win any beauty pageants.

No one means offence by these comments but I still don't like being told I'm fat. I always get offended -- I can't help it -- but I let it go as a cross-cultural faux pas I'm only aware of on my end.

And this has got me thinking about other similar small talk that Westerners find uncouth.

In Indonesia and Malaysia the classic conversation starter is "Where are you going?"

This question isn't meant to be answered literally although most Westerners don't know that so feel it's invasive.

"Why is it this guy on the street's business where I'm going?" people ask.

It's not, so just answer vaguely with something like the classic "jalan jalan," which means just wandering around.

In the same vein if you asked an Indonesian "How are you?" they'd find it weird. It's a pretty intimate question if you think about it. Why would you casually ask about someone's mental state? It's a big can of worms if you attempt to answer it honestly.

In China common small talk may start with "Have you eaten?" I like this one (perhaps because I'm poria). It insinuates getting invited in for a meal or going to eat somewhere yummy, although it's more of a polite thing to say than attached to any real expectations.

These are just a few and I'm sure there are many more examples of funny conversation starters from around the world. Please leave some in the comments! I'd love to hear from you.

How I Became a Lonely Planet Author

The question I get after "what's it like being a Lonely Planet author" is "how did you get your job?" My response is usually, "long story," because it is. People don't like this answer for obvious reasons so, in continuation of last week's low down on what it's like on the road as guide book author, here's how I got my job and some thoughts on how you can get a job like mine. Spoiler: it's not easy.

For me it started in 1998 when I lived on Ahe Atoll in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. All we had for communication was a short wave radio and a satellite telephone (that cost $10 per minute) that we used mostly as a fax machine in emergencies. Just to put where I was in perspective, this atoll had no roads, no plumbing and only one little store selling canned food. When you see those cartoons of a stranded guy sitting under a coconut tree surrounded by shark-infested waters, that's pretty much where I was. I also had a two year old and a newborn baby. So, imagine my surprise when I got a fax from an old school friend asking if I'd be interested in writing the French Polynesia guidebook for Lonely Planet.

But it wasn't in the cards that time. My friend (unknown to me) was working as Lonely Planet's publicity manager and when she heard they were looking for Tahiti writers she thought of me. I faxed her back to let her know I was interested but by the time the communication had gone back and forth, Lonely Planet had found someone else. A few months later I got offered Tonga from the Australian office but this time the communications seemed to just dissolve somewhere between my remote atoll and the satellite, so once again, I lost the job. Looking back this was for the best since there's no way I could have done what was needed to be done from my remote location and with two very small kids.

Fast-forward to 2001 and the Book Passage Travel Writers and Photographers Conference in Corte Madera, California. My family and I had recently moved to the much bigger island of Tahiti and I had started travel writing. I'd had a few things published and decided to attend the conference while visiting friends and family in the US. I had no idea Lonely Planet was going to be there and my school friend no longer worked there but I had had the seed put in my head that this was my dream job. Lonely Planet offered a workshop and I decided to take it.

On the last morning they told us all to wear good shoes and a sun hat and to get there at around 7am - the reason was a surprise. They drove us all into San Francisco and dropped us all off for about an hour to update a guidebook section. We had that night to write it all up and whoever did the best job would win two tickets to Europe and a chance to become an author; I think there were about 30 of us. I'll skip the details here, but I won.

We decided to go to Spain and Morocco that fall with the tickets. Unfortunately, a day before we were supposed to take the ferry from Spain to Tangiers, 9/11 happened. We were frozen, stuck in Spain with our two young kids, not knowing what to do. Instead of going to Morocco we got the first flight we could back to Tahiti. My husband's pearl business was severely effected by the plummeting economy and I suddenly had to work full time for him to try and save the business. Meanwhile, Lonely Planet's book sales dropped so dramatically that they closed the Oakland office where I'd just theoretically got a job, and everyone I'd just met was laid off. My chances of becoming an author again became just a dream.

Three years later, once the economy had settled a little bit, my family and I traveled to Mexico. Again, I'll skip the details of the trip but we ended up in this little coastal village called Chacahua on the Oaxaca coast. There were maybe four other foreigners in town and we became friends with an American woman at our guesthouse. Her name was Carolyn and, randomly, she was a managing editor for Lonely Planet. She also remembered me from the contest. We hung out for a few days and at the end she told me that, especially with my history with the company, that there was no reason I shouldn't be an author. Things had changed a bit by this time though so, via Carolyn writing a letter of introduction, I had to be accepted to write a sample chapter that would be reviewed by the recruiter. I was given the OK and then the sample took about two weeks to write (I did it once we were back home in Tahiti); after a few months of review and interview, I was accepted into the author pool.

Great, you think, but no. Getting accepted into the author pool doesn't guarantee work. A publishing schedule is sent out once a month and authors have to pitch for each individual title. Luckily for me, Tahiti was on the list and I secured my first gig within a few months. And the rest is history. Once the books I'm currently working on are out I will have contributed to over 30 Lonely Planet titles.

So how can you get a job? Honestly, it's harder today than it ever has been. The company hires very few new authors and only those who specialize in regions where they need people. To check the list go to www.LonelyPlanet.com/jobs - there were no listings when I wrote this post. This is your only hope.

I was lucky to have had connection, be in the right place at the right time and specialize in a region Lonely Planet needed but ultimately I can't imagine what I would be doing if I hadn't got this job. I kept the goal strongly in my head for years. You may not agree, but I'm a strong believer in the power of will mixed with gratitude to make things happen. I think anyone who wants this job badly enough and has the skills and work ethic to go after it, will eventually succeed. It just might take a long time.

Of course if you read my prior post about the realities of life on the road you might decide to keep your day job. For me though, through the hard pillows, blistered feet and days tied to my computer at home it's still what I love to do and what I hope to continue doing it for a long, long time.

Tuna Wrestling & Shark Frenzies in the Tuamotus

Here's a snippet of daily life I wrote over Christmas in the Tuamotu Archipelago in French Polynesia:

"Mama, Mama look what Papa caught!" my son pulls me out of my chair and outside.

Josh and Heiarii are just pulling up to the dock in the aluminum skiff. Looking into the boat I can see a three-foot glimmering dogtooth tuna laying atop a good sized black trevally and two lagoon fish. Josh is smiling huge and Heiarii who's driving the boat looks happily entranced.

It's a grey 5:45 in the afternoon and the trade winds are blowing hard creating long rolls of swell that jostle the little boat before crashing as waves onto the coral gravel shore. We're in a house perched on a coral head about 100m out from the beach and the drone of the boat's motor is nearly drowned out by the loud surf and the wind rushing over the tin roof. It's chilly in a tropical sort of way, a way that makes you think about putting a T-shirt on over your swimsuit.

As they haul the fish and spear guns up onto the dock, Josh tells me the story of the hunt:

"It was a team effort. I shot the tuna in the jaw then Heiarri saw it was going to get loose so shot it in the side then grabbed it with both arms while it was thrashing and swam it to the surface. There were raira [grey reef sharks] everywhere!" I can see the adrenalin still pumping through Josh's eyes. Heiarii, always humble has a hard time hiding his stoke as well.

"So I bet you really feel like men now eh?" I say with a smile.

"Oh yeah!" Josh and Heiarii laugh and pound their chests.

The dogtooth tuna is so fresh it's still changing colors, it's iridescent silver and light blue skin sullied only by a black trickle of a line I assume is its own blood. It's beautiful with its eyes shining under the grey clouds, a truly majestic animal.

The guys get busy cleaning it and making fillets that we'll make sashimi and poisson cru from for the next several days. Heiarii saves some of the bones to make jewelry. They throw the guts into the water then my son calls me over quickly to the dock.




There are 20 or more sharks in a frenzy just next to the dock - about three feet down from the edge where we're standing. Never in the 20 years I've been hanging out in Ahe have I seen so many sharks in one place. Not only that they're huge, some over six feet, grey reef and black tips hammering into each other and making the water boil with their thrashing tails as they try to nab bits of tuna. We throw the bones in, more sharks come over from out of nowhere and the frenzy intensifies. We're safe up where we are but it's still instinctually petrifying watching them. Not only that but this is where we swim every day. After about half an hour the tuna carcass is licked clean and the lagoon looks peaceful again.

We make sashimi and, with the same fervor as sharks devour our dinner procured by our own hunters of the sea. I'm glad in a way we got to share the bounty. This is a tuna who's life definitely didn't go to waste.

Hiking Tahiti's River Valleys

Tahiti is riddled with waterfalls; drive along the coastal road and you'll see literally hundreds of skinny chutes tumbling down the deep, steep valleys. A few cascades are found right on the roadside but getting to the more magical, isolated ones requires adventuring far off the beaten track and hiking up a river.

You could theoretically hike up any river valley in Tahiti but a few are well-known and easier to tackle. Papenoo Valley is the most famous and you can drive up several kilometers with a 4WD then hike up the steep but manageable road all the way to Lake Vaihiria in the center of the island then down the other side. Mahaena Valley on Tahiti's Eastside is another relatively easy hike along the riverside; a small river from Papearii (Westside) leads to some natural slides and a river in Vairao (Tahiti Iti) leads to a stunning natural pool surrounded by basalt cliffs.

But this last Saturday my family and I decided to blaze our own trail by hiking up Teahupoo's river. This hike is a little more complicated than the popular routes simply because there's no trail; you have to walk in the river most of the way. We'd been up this river several times before about an hour or so to a serene little beach and swimming hole, but this day we wanted to find out what was beyond. We were not disappointed.

About 20 minutes beyond our swimming hole we came to a first waterfall that tumbled down a steep volcanic face with what looked like upsidedown rock steps running up it. Just across the river was another bigger waterfall behind a big flat area full of thick brush. I decided to try and get through the brush to see if there was a pool at the foot of the falls and clambored through the purua (Beach hibiscus) trees, ginger flowers and miconia (an evil but beautiful invasive plant with big green and purple leaves). The rotting ginger made the forest smell like human bad breath and after all my work I was rewarded with a murky, shallow pool filled with old rotting branches. I went back to report my findings and we decided to continue on.

As we walked the ecology started to change and we began seeing trees, mosses and flowers we didn't know. Eventually the valley opened and seemed to nearly flatten out like we had reached the top of a mountain and could soon peer over the side. We weren't actually anywhere near the top of the island, but the valley that spread out before us was something out of a fairytale. Waterfall after waterfall shot down cliffs that were backed by more cliffs and more waterfalls shaded in a million shades of green like some cheesy New Age painting.

One waterfall had so little water it only misted - so we called it a mistfall instead of a waterfall. Another had a bubbling spring coming out the bottom and another was strong enough to hurt your neck if you put your head under it. This was waterfall paradise.

After eating some passionfruit and chocolate (the perfect food for such a place) we turned around to head home. The hike up river had taken us about two and a half hours. The hike down took an hour.

Being the gear-less people we are, we all did the hike in our flipflops. I only slipped once (and have a big black thigh bruise to prove it) but for comfort's sake I would do this hike in better shoes next time. Another problem was the gnats who were so thick in places we must have looked more like we were break dancing up the river than walking at times as we waved our arms and shimmied around trying to keep them out of our eyes, noses and throats. A hat with some bug netting over it would have been marvelous.

Here's a panoramic video of the magical waterfall spot we reached:

My Big Tahitian Dance Show: A Video

I did it! On Saturday night May 15th I made a sort of right of passage: I was in a Tahitian dance performance at To'ata Amphitheater, Tahiti's biggest venue and the premier stage for Tahitian dance. Most Tahitian girls dream of performing at To'ata and many of them do it. Dance is an enormously important part of society and is one of the joys of being a Polynesian woman - not that the men mind it either. It was an incredible experience of female bonding, dancing, sweating, sewing, stressing, practicing in the cold rain and laughing with an incredibly diverse range of girls, women and old ladies.

The dance schools aren't as lithe and flashy as the pros but still have some amazing costumes, choreography and an ambiance that's literally on fire. Part of my troupe will go on to compete in the singing and dancing competitions at the world famous Heiva I Tahiti festival (again at To'ata) in July but I'll be out of the country so will miss it unfortunately.

As I said in my last post about my rehearsals, the big story is getting published elsewhere so I don't want to blow it here, but here is a video sampler of the show. My daughter filmed this from the stands and I'm in three of the dances in this clip. I'm not going to give you any more hints except to say that I'm the fourth dark figure that walks on stage from the seating area in the first dance. You can also hear my daughter say "Oh mon Dieu! Eh Maman," at one point during the first dance. Hopefully it was because I was busting a great move . . . but probably not.

Raimana's Big Happy Teahupoo Tube Ride

I rarely write about surfing - even though I happen to live in Teahupoo, home of one of the most famous and scary waves in the world - because honestly, I don't really know what I'm talking about. I leave the surf stuff to my husband Josh Humbert. Still, every now and then I get really impressed, like I did when Josh showed me this video footage his friend Gen took (with our camera) of local boy Raimana Van Bastolaer riding what could be the biggest and best wave of the season, nearly getting swallowed and then miraculously making it out. I love how it looks like he got eaten by tube then comes happily shooting back up over the top - I also love how humble and nice he is when he comes back to the boat. That's real Tahitian class. Raimana won the Billabong XXL 2010 Tube of the Year award for this ride! This whole sequence makes me happy. It was on March 17th 2010.



For more photos of that day check out Josh's slideshow.

Tahitian Dancing My Life Away

You may have noticed that for the last few weeks I've been blogging about older stories and general thoughts, not what I'm up to here on Tahiti. The reason for this is that I've been dancing - sometimes up to 20 hours a week - preparing for a huge show I'm going to perform in this Saturday, May 15th. This is my first year taking Tahitian dance classes but by a mix of circumstances I have now committed to dance in five acts of a huge show at To'ata Amphitheater, Tahiti's biggest and best venue; everyone from UB40 to the dancers at the massive Heiva I Tahiti festival perform here. I've been so wrapped up in wood percussion rhythms, graceful ukulele and making my five costumes out of leaves, shells and beautiful Tahitian fabrics, that I've hardly had time to eat.

The good news is that you'll all be able to catch up on the story soon. I have a three-part series that's going to be run by a venerable, soon-to-be-named travel site in the coming weeks and I'll make an announcement here when the first story is up. Till then, here's a video I filmed at last Saturday's all-day practice session. It's just a teaser. Enjoy!

Punu Pua'atoro: Spam of the Gods

Poisson Cru, a delicate and healthy raw fish salad, is the star of French Polynesian cuisine and most visitors think of it as the country's national dish. Tahitians do eat lots of poisson cru but beyond restaurant menus and within family kitchen walls, the most popular dish in the country is by far Punu Pua'atoro, canned corned beef and Tahiti's answer to Spam.

Chock full of fat and nitrites, Punu Pua'atoro is deliciously salty and addictively tasty. It's also very easy to prepare. At home most folks fry it up in a pan with onions and serve it with roast breadfruit. At picnics the Punu Pua'atoro tin is heated directly in the fire next to a charring breadfruit. In fact, the meat is so linked to breadfruit that I've heard stories of doctors who have told local diabetics and cholesterol sufferers to stop eating breadfruit - they know that if people don't eat breadfruit, they won't eat Punu Pua'atoro either. It sounds nicer to tell someone to stop eating their fruits and veggies than something meaty and yummy.

Punu Pua'atoro in the no-nonsense Tahitian language literally means "horned pig in metal." Even though most people are now aware that salty canned meat isn't really good for them, a near mystical, back-to-the-roots aura surrounds it as a distinctly Polynesian dish. If you eat Punu Pua'atoro you're a local; if you turn your nose up at it, you're kind of an asshole. It's the cool kid thing to bring along on picnics and everyone will nod in approval and take a little whether they like it for real or not. It's ironic that what has become a symbol of island cuisine is made from an animal that hardly exists in Polynesia, doesn't even have it's own real Tahitian name and makes so many people sick and overweight. But there you have it, like smoking cigarettes, sometimes being hip and sensory enjoyment takes priority of over reason.

I happen to love Punu Pu'atoro but eat it only a few times a year, mostly at picnics with my cool back-to-the-roots Tahitian buddies. Yeah, I admit, I care a little about my image but I also do love the salty, fatty taste when sopped up on a piece of hot, chestnut-like breadfruit. I don't buy Punu Pua'atoro and it makes me feel sick every time I do eat it, but I relish those moments around the fire pit, eating just cooked yummy food to the sound of ukulele.

Manahune Live in Taravao

As I've mentioned before, between living in a remote place where there's little night life and having two kids, Josh and I don't get out much. But Saturday night we got a last minute call from some good friends who invited us to go and see one of my favorite Tahitian bands, Manahune play live at my favorite new restaurant in Taravao, Terre et Mer. When you live in Teahupoo and there's something going on a mere 20 minutes away you go!

I've been a fan of Manuhune since I arrived in French Polynesia 15 years ago. The word Manahune in ancient Polynesian society meant "the common people" or "working class." Most Polynesians were and still are in this social bracket - today they are the farmers and fisherfolk who effortlessly retain their traditional culture, mixed with some beer and Coca-Cola. The band really lives up to its name. It's powerful music whether you understand the words or not - it's almost like Polynesian rap backed by rock and a bit of jazz. Listening to the forceful lyrics I couldn't help but think of the orero - strong poetic traditional speeches given by orators at Tahitian dance performances and, if you stretch the meaning of the Polynesian art to modern circumstances, political and religious meetings. Orero are what the common people listen to to guide them and Manuhune in essence, give an orero through song. The music is utterly modern yet purely Polynesian.

No one really danced at the show. We were all sitting at tables enjoying a delicious buffet of poisson cru, gratin-baked mussels, salads and assorted meat dishes. I drank an electric blue frozen cocktail that made me want to get up and dance, but the scene just wasn't right for it. A few guys with beers bobbed around in doorways and the only "scene" happened when a guy kept going up and trying to hug the lead singer/guitar player while he was performing. A bouncer finally had to bring the overzealous fan outside. It was actually kind of cute.

But better than explaining, here's a Manune video of one of their most popular songs "Motu":



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The Bright Underbelly of Teahupoo's Monster Wave

My husband Josh Humbert has probably spent as much time below Teahupoo's infamously scary surf break has he has on top of it. Sometimes he brings home fish he's speared and other times he brings home stunning photos like this one. I love this different angle and otherworldly feel of what is one of the world's most photographed waves. Josh says he wanted to capture the beauty of all the cracks in the reef spreading from the break. This day (this Tuesday) the waves were good sized, the sea was glassy and the sun was in the perfect position to light it all up.

To see what the wave looks like from the surface check out my Lonely Planet video at www.lonelyplanet.tv.

Living With House Geckos - The Dark Side

With big, wide-set eyes, stubby little noses and adorable suctioned fingers, who wouldn't find the common house gecko insanely cute. In Tahiti they are omnipresent after dark, lingering on walls, munching pesky mosquitoes, stalking moths and making their soft monkey-with-hiccoughs calls. Many a tourist has become enamored of these seemingly peaceful critters and come home with a tattoo of one on their arm or derriere; ancient Polynesians included the small lizards in many legends.

But here's the truth: geckos have a dark side - a cavernous dark side. My love for them plummeted the moment I first saw a big gecko swallow a smaller one, the tail of the victim waving like a white flag until it disappeared down the bigger guy's gullet. I began to question my like for them when two fighting geckos fell on my face in the middle of the night while I was sleeping, scaring the living daylights out of me and smearing me with mushy battered lizard skin. Cleaning house I began to realize that the majority of the crud on the floor and windowsills is gecko poo. It's commonplace here to have gecko crap fall from the ceiling right into your drink or onto your forehead while watching a movie. Gecko pee pretty much sucks too - it's just a slight dribble that always lands on you as a surprise till you look up and see where it came from. I swear geckos get enjoyment out of their spectacular long-distance aim; I hear them laughing on the ceiling with their funny monkey chuckle.

The worst is what they do to appliances. Geckos have ruined several of my printers by climbing into them and dying. By the time they start to stink (and you'd be surprised how bad one little dead lizard can smell) the machine is jammed up beyond repair. Once a gecko climbed into our air-con unit and died, like geckos do, and we couldn't find the damned thing. We had to suffer stink in the office for a good two weeks. Luckily, the gecko eventually decomposed in the dry pumped out air and the air-con unit survived.

Sometimes I'll casually pull out a book from my bookshelf and a gecko springs out wildly into my lap. This wouldn't be so bad except that the friction of the book has usually removed most of the skin from the gecko's back, which makes him look like some raw, Golum-like beast. They get in the cereal, eat the tops off my ripe bananas and knock stuff over while we're sleeping and wake us up.

It sounds like I must hate geckos by now but really I don't. I admit to enjoying it more than I should when the cat catches them, but overall I think the guys have spunk. It's enthralling watching them hunt bugs (or each other), moving so slowly it's imperceptible except for their tails that swirl like a lion's on the prowl. I like that they can still throw off the cat with the 'ole eject-the-tail trick and I appreciate that they eat so many insects. Every now and then I find a tiny baby gecko and think he's so cute that I try to save him from the harsh gecko world by moving him to a spot in the house where I know the big guys, who would want to eat him, don't hang out. Yes, geckos are a pain but they are also a constant source of entertainment and give our household more depth of character. We have spent many an evening getting entertained by the cat trying to jump up the walls to catch them. My son has raised geckos in a giant fish tank, has incubated their eggs and it's become a nightime family sport to scamper around lightbulbs catching bugs for our reptilian pets.

To close, here's my favorite gecko love story via a Thai commercial for ceiling boards - you might need a hanky.



The opening gecko photo on this post is by my talented photographer friend Vincent Devert www.vincentdevert.com.

Photo of the Week: Ua Huka, Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia

Dried coconut meat, also called copra, makes the world go round on nearly all of French Polynesia's outer islands. Coconuts are harvested off the ground in their ripest pre-germed stage, are cleaved in two with a machete then left out to dry in the sun. Next, the meat is extracted with a curved knife, called a pana in Tahitian, and the meat is dried again. This is the stage you see in this photo. Lastly, the coconut bits are stuffed in a sac, sold by weight to the local supply ships (known as "copra boats") and shipped to Papeete where the oil is extracted.

Ua Huka is one of the least visited islands in the Marquesas but it's my favorite. Lush valleys are concentrated with fruit trees (including over 20 species of mango) but the hills and coastal areas are open, grassy and decidedly wind-swept. I love that the locals let their copra dry out on the bare ground like this. On most islands people use elevated drying huts but everyone knows each other on Ua Huka and there's so much open space, why bother? There's a greater concentration of expert wood carvers on the island than anywhere else in the country, you can roam the hills on horse back looking for ancient pertoglyphs, fetch knotty tern eggs with the locals or search for the Marquesas-exclusive Ultramarine lorikeet, an electric blue beauty that's one of the world's rarest birds.

The World's Most Mysterious Flower: The Tiare Apetahi

When you see an extraordinary five-petaled Tiare Apatahi blossom rising out of it's bed of dagger shaped leaves, you immediately want to pick it. Or, if you're like me, you get the desperate urge to dig up the whole bush to bring home and plant in your yard. But you can't do either of these things. The Tiare Apetahi was nearly plucked to extinction and now it's heavily protected. Also, no matter how hard botanists and gardening freaks have tried, the plant simply won't grow anywhere except the tropical high slopes of Raiatea's Temehani Plateau. Today the unusual looking flower is the island's emblem.

Of the 182 plant species indigenous to French Polynesia, an amazing 26 of these only grow on the Temehani Plateau. Scientists have not yet understood what makes this area so biologically special or why certain plants like the Tiare Apetahi simply won't grow anywhere else. The plateau is regularly exposed to strong winds and heavy rains so it's a harsh environment for the region and not nearly as lush as the valleys. It's guessed there's something special about the soil or that there's some sort of rare fungus that the plants thrive on and can't live without, but nothing concrete has been discovered.

The only explanation of how the Tiare Apatahi came to grow on Raiatea's highest slope comes from Polynesian legend. Long ago, the beautiful Apetahi fled to the Temehani Plateau after a terrible argument with her husband after she discovered he had cheated on her. She was so sad she wanted to die. In her sorrow she dug a hole, cut off her hand and buried it. Soon after, she died from blood loss. Many years later some locals were out looking for bamboo and heard a strange sound. They followed the noise and came across a small plant that grew right where Apetahi had buried her hand. Immediately they saw the similarities between the delicate five-finger petals of the flower and the lovely hand of Apetahi. Tiare means flower in Tahitian so the flower was named Tiare Apetahi after the woman and her tragic story.

Jam Session at the Tahiti Immigration Office

This photo was taken by my friend Fletcher Irwin when he stopped by the Papeete Immigration office at noon on a Thursday. He got his visa and hung out and drank beer and played music with these guys for about four hours. Paradise.

The Diner Dansant - How Tahiti Iti Rocks Out on a Saturday Night

To say that the nightlife is dead here in Tahiti Iti is a gross understatement. Fortunately every couple months or so someone throws a Diner Dansant (a diner and dance night)and everyone within a 25 km radius throw on their flashiest duds and come out to get their groove on. Last night my Tahitian dance school put on their annual Diner Dansant at the beautiful, waterfront Restaurant de Musée Gauguin and over 500 people turned up - it rocked.
A Tahitian Diner Dansant is unlike any other party I've ever been to anywhere. Everyone from age seven to 75 come out for the fun and all laugh and dance with each other till the wee hours of the morn. It's a small-town feel and everyone knows each other or at least looks familiar. I ended up dancing with a bunch of my kid's school teachers.
Alcohol flows freely but there's an air of class to these events so they rarely get messy. Last night started with a delicious Chinese-style sit down meal, which was followed by a dance performance by the best, youngest and most beautiful of the school's dancers. I've written before about my passion for Tahitian dance but now that I'm taking dance classes my enthusiasm for the art is sky-rocketing. Imagine eating Chinese braised duck and poisson cru while watching tanned buff men in palm frond loin cloths waggling their knees with the most gorgeous long-haired Tahitian girls shaking their hips a million miles an hour. It's graceful, it's by far the sexiest thing you'll ever see and yet somehow it remains surprisingly wholesome.
In fact the whole night was wholesome despite the drunken revelry. In Tahiti, couples waltz dancing reigns even with the youngest crowds and it's nearly always danced to a live group playing cheesy synthesized fox-trot renditions of everything from Tahitian classics to (I kid you not) the "Hokey Pokey" and "When the Saints Come Marching In." I've always considered myself a pretty decent dancer but here in Polynesia I am at the bottom of the barrel. There's some second rhythm that Tahitians hear that I can't catch and the whole swiveling and swirling of bodies along with the quick waltz step makes it all confusingly end up somewhere between a super steamy salsa dance and ballroom dancing. Every now and then I get a cavalier (dance partner) who brings out the best in me but usually they give up on me after one dance. Luckily my husband is closer to my level so we just sway back and forth in awe of everyone else. Everyone on the dance floor is smiling, laughing, sweating in the heat and no one cares how bad we dance - they are just happy we're out on the floor enjoying the evening with them.

Note: We forgot the camera last night so for the first time I'm using a stock photo! It's from the US Tahiti Tourism website.

How to Prepare for Natural Disasters Abroad

It's hard to tell if there are more natural disasters these days or if it's just that the information age has let the news of them run wild. From January's Haitian earthquake catastrophe to the floods at Machu Picchu and Southeast Asia's 2004 tsunami, we are constantly reminded that no matter how well humans appear to dominate the earth, it is undeniably the earth that dominates us. Last week I was caught in cyclone Oli here in Tahiti and I am awed and humbled by how helpless I felt during the storm. I also realize how completely unprepared I was for a cyclone even though I have lived in this country for fifteen years. So what to do when a natural catastrophe happens while you're traveling or are in a foreign country? To make myself feel better and to spread the word, I have compiled these tips:

1) Research. Read up on your destination and find out what risks are present. If you're going to a place that's in an earthquake zone, know what to do in case of an earthquake. Will you be in a tsunami zone, visiting during cyclone season or be near an active volcano? There are lots of great tips online and you can educate yourself with the basics of what to do in a worst-case-scenario in well under an hour. Knowledge is power but it can also save your ass.

2) Know where to get in-country information. During cyclone Oli we had no electricity and no cell phone reception. The only means of getting information was by radio. If you're going to a risk area, consider carrying a small battery powered radio (it's great to listen to local radio in foreign countries anyway!). During cyclone Oil I had to listen to my car radio. If you don't speak the local language then at least keep some phone numbers handy such as your embassy or crisis hotlines - if the phones go out these obviously won't help but it can't hurt to have them. The most up to date information on the Internet during a crisis is often on Twitter. If you're lucky to have Internet, figure out the trending topic abbreviation of whatever you're in for and follow it diligently.

3) Pay attention. Many countries now have much more advanced crisis systems than they used to. In Southern Thailand for example there are well-marked tsunami evacuation routes everywhere. Look at these and make a mental note where they are, kind of like checking out where the nearest emergency exit is on an airplane. In your hotel, does that sturdy table look like a good place to crawl under in case of an earthquake? Does the bathroom have the least windows and could you pull the bed's mattress over yourself if a cyclone blew the roof off? All this takes little energy but could potentially save your life at times when you might not be thinking straight.

4) Insurance. Having travel insurance that can help you be evacuated to receive proper medical care can be very reassuring. In most cases you will not be reimbursed for cancelled flights due to weather and even most cruises have a clause that they can change their itineraries die to unseen circumstances without offering a refund. Buying your travel with a credit card (especially American Express) or through a travel agent can also increase your chances of getting money back after a natural catastrophe. Always read the fine print.

It's not fun to be paranoid but it's even less fun to get the daylights scared out of you or worse, hurt or killed. A small amount of effort can really go a long way and is well-worth the time.

For more information on my experiences during Cyclone Oli see my posts on awaiting the storm and after the storm.

Cyclone Oli Hits Tahiti

Between 9pm Wednesday night and 10am Thursday morning Tahitian authorities banned driving on Tahiti and Moorea in anticipation of Cyclone Oli. Winds built up consistently throughout Wednesday but the storm hit us full force in the pitch black of night. It was terrifying. I had my kids in my bed with me in my room on the protected side of the house but none of us slept. Between the storm's noise, the stress and the heat, it was impossible. I found myself getting up several times to check on how the doors were holding and to check on my cats and dogs. The cats actually made a bigger mess and ruckus inside the house than the storm but the major damage to us was in the yard where several of my trees blew over.

The winds seemed just as strong by daylight but the news on RFO (Radio France Overseas)assured us the worse had passed. We went out and shot this video at around 8am.

Despite what a shambles French Polynesia's politics are in right now, the country was superbly organized when dealing with Cyclone Oli. RFO broadcasted 24 hours a day keeping everyone up to date, hotlines were installed and a few thousand people were evacuated from their homes. The worst news I heard was that some people on Tahiti's east coast were afraid to evacuate because a group of young people were going around and robbing people's vacated homes. How evil is that? But overall people helped each other out and there was an extremely strong sense of community during the crisis.

EDT (Electricite de Tahiti) were also heroes and spent over 10 hours into the middle of the night repairing the electric poles that had been taken down by trees in my small community of a few hundred people. There was still a lot of wind into the night last night (I had another tree get blown over - a 5m high soursop tree - after I shot this video) but now at 5am on Friday, it's dead calm. The storm hit the Austral Islands last night with estimated wind speeds of up to 250 km/hr and 9 meter ocean swell. My thoughts have been with them all night and I have not yet heard news of the dammage.



Once again iMovie is blocking me from adding subtitles so you'll have to make do with my translations below.

White pickup truck scene:
There are cops down there so you'll get a ticket if they catch you driving. [note: the fine was 16,100 CFP, about US$185]
And there's no store, it's closed so don't bother.

Interview with Lesta:
Lesta: No we didn't sleep, we stayed up. At about 3am I found my boat on top of my greenhouse, my vanilla greenhouse. It went up like that on to my greenhouse.

Cyclone Oli On It's Way to Teahupoo

At around 2pm today February 3rd, Tahiti was put on red alert for approaching Cyclone Oli. We've been on orange alert since yesterday and the weather has been degrading since early this morning so this is no surprise. The storm is supposed to pass about 200 to 250 km to the south of us and we are to expect winds around 110km or upward. I'm on the west side of Tahiti Iti where we are getting good gusts of west wind but are fortunately protected from the huge north swells that have flooded the Papeete waterfront and are causing damage on the east coast. Here is a video of the not-so-calm before the storm.



I can't figure out how to get subtitles on my movie program (sorry I'm in the middle of a cyclone!) so here is a short summary of what Finne (who I interview) says:
Finne:
Apparently the news says it's going to gain force later and tonight it'll be 150km/hr and at 150 km/hr everything is going to blow away.
Celeste: And here in Teahupoo do you think it will be bad?
Finne: Yeah. The wind is coming from the west so we're going to be right in the middle of it.

Wind blows.

Finne: It's the strongest when it comes from the valley.
Celeste: And is that gust coming from the valley?
Finne: Yes!

FIFO Pacific International Film Festival

Today I drove an hour and a half to Papeete for the final day of the FIFO Pacific International Documentary Film Festival; all I can say is WOW. The festival showcases films from around the Pacific from Australia and Papua New Guinea to Hawaii, French Polynesia and everywhere in between.

FIFO Films are chosen for the competition several months prior to the six-day festival and an international panel of judges vote for the winner. A 1000 CFP (about US$12) ticket gets you a day pass that allows you to watch as many films as you want in the handful of small theaters on the Papeete waterfront. Most of the documentaries run between half an hour and an hour an a half.

Here are trailers of a few 2010 selections:

This was the winner of the festival: Te Henua E Noho, There Once Was an Island, a sad story, brilliantly documented, about Takuu, a Polynesian atoll off of Papua New Guinea that is indisputably drowning in rising sea levels.

Te Henua e Noho Film Trailer from On The Level Productions on Vimeo.

Lost in Wonderland: I LOVED this film about the incredibly masculine and rich life of a cross dressing, justice-driven lawyer in New Zealand

Lost In Wonderland Trailer from Costa Botes on Vimeo.

From Australia, Bastardy was one of the festival highlights. The film tells the story of Jack, an Aboriginal heroin addict who lives on the streets and juggles a successful acting career with a life of crime.



Noho Hewa is a rare and militant look at the US "occupation" of the Hawaiian Islands



The Topp Twins, Untouchable Girls is another fantastic film about some very entertaining twin lesbian sisters in New Zealand




All the films are in English or subtitled in English. Unfortunately there aren't any trailers on the web for some of the French produced films and smaller productions. My favorite film was Les Possedes de Faaite, which brilliantly traced the history of the shocking witch burnings that took place on the remote atoll of Faaite in the Tuamotu Archipelgo in 1987. The film goes deep into the psyche of remote island living (that I am, for obvious reasons, fascinated by) and the effects Christianity has when mixed with Polynesian beliefs. I've been scouring the web to find a copy of this film on DVD but with no luck! If anyone knows where I can find a copy of it please send me a message.

For more info about the festival go to the FIFO website.