Considered by many the world’s most beautiful island, the Society Island of Bora Bora in the nation of French Polynesia is only 4 miles by 2½ miles. This stunning land is made up of a central island and a barrier reef of motus, or islets, each one variously connected to the next depending on the tides. Its deep lagoon glows countless shades of turquoise and emerald, and its palm-lined shores and steep forested slopes rise up dramatically to the pillar-like peak of Mt. Otemanu at 2,379 feet. American novelist James Michener put the island on many travelers’ itineraries in the 1950s when he called it “the South Pacific at its unforgettable best.” Rugged mountain roads through lush landscapes lead to spellbinding cliffside views.
Long before Michener’s acclaim, the island saw the arrival of Polynesia’s Tongan people in the 4th century. Though Europeans sighted the remote land in 1722, it was James Cook who landed here in 1770. Missionaries from London followed 50 years later, eventually establishing a Protestant church. France annexed Bora Bora as a colony in 1888. During World War II, the United States used the island as a military base, but combat never reached the remote outpost. Today, French Polynesia is an overseas collectivity of France. Bora Bora’s port town of Vaitape, on the west coast, faces the main channel that leads into the lagoon.
Life moves slowly on Bora Bora and in its main town of Vaitape. The mantra here is “aita pea pea,” or “not to worry.” Indeed, worries tend to melt away amid the dreamlike atmosphere. Visitors who embrace the island’s leisurely pace get the most out of their visit, better able to savor the tropical beauty, the ever-changing hues of the turquoise waters and the emerald-draped hills. Locals celebrate their culture and traditions with elaborate, colorful costumes and songs and dances that date back centuries. Many of the most elaborate dances are dedicated to local Polynesian gods, who are further commemorated by temples in the nearby jungle.
French and Tahitian are most widely spoken on Bora Bora, and its people are welcoming and open. So proud are they to call their island home, they want visitors to get its spelling right: As there is no “B” in the Tahitian language, its correct name is Pora Pora. But “aita pea pea,” as the locals say. After all, they know that it’s Bora Bora with a “B” that evokes dreams of tropical splendor.
It’s hard for any visitor to choose what makes the strongest first impression upon arrival in Bora Bora: the needle-like peak of Mt. Otemanu in the island’s center, soaring from emerald slopes, or the turquoise, sapphire and indigo hues of the waters that surround it. The island is encircled by a multihued lagoon that is protected from the open ocean by a ring of tiny barrier islands, or motus. In a sea of lush and magnificent islands, Bora Bora surely stands out for its beauty.
The grass huts in which the island’s original Polynesians lived have been replicated over the shallow waters of the lagoon. Built on stilts and connected by boardwalks that emerge from the motus, these tiny structures have become the island’s most iconic sight. The island’s main town of Vaitape is home to most of the population. Just 20 feet above sea level, it is lined with markets brimming with fresh fruit and French pastries. Cars, bicycles, two-seater buggies and even motorboats can be rented for exploring the rainforest roads and crystalline lagoon.
Ease into the slow and languid pace of life in Bora Bora or explore the breathtaking island wilderness. To get a feel for island life, stroll the simple streets of Vaitape, perhaps stopping to sample firi firi, the local doughnut. Visit the ruins of a marae, a traditional Polynesian temple, at Faanui Bay. Nearby, you might hike into the hills to view a pair of World War II coastal defense guns. Or call ahead to make an appointment to view the small private collection of model ships at the Musée de la Marine (Marine Museum).
Bora Bora offers countless opportunities to experience the aquatic life beneath its blue waters, too. Don some snorkel gear to explore colorful, pristine reefs and their resident parrot, trumpet and angel fish. Head into the lagoon to feed the rays and the blackfin lagoon sharks. Or simply find a white-sand beach to relax and swim. For a bird’s-eye view of it all, you might join a thrilling helicopter excursion.
Historically, the cuisine and the products of Bora Bora have been limited by what has been obtained from the sea, the land and the coconut trees. Today’s dining scene combines French, Polynesian and international dishes. Many restaurants have beachside or waterview settings.
For a light lunch and a unique experience, head to Bloody Mary’s on Povai Bay. The floors are sand, the stools are coconuts and the shade comes courtesy of a thatched roof. Choose your meal from the display as you enter. At Maikai Bora Bora, sample a modern take on Polynesian cuisine in a stylish dining room. For a French midday meal, find Le St. James behind the small shopping center in Vaitape.
Island keepsakes, crafts and art are a pleasure to seek out. Visit Bora Art Upstairs for painting, carvings and other work by local artists. Find the perfect pearl at Pearla Joaillerie, owned by pearl aficionado Laurent Rebstock. Bora i Te Fanau Tahi showcases and sells crafts such as baskets, bracelets and more, strictly produced by women of the island.
This year, ditch the film canister, the baggy, and the recycled spice jar for a pretty little weed box from Jonathan Adler. Santa would want you to be stylishly stoned. Mary Jane Jar, $50.
The current zeal of the City’s Department of Licenses for the strict enforcement of licensing regulations against small avant-garde creative ventures has so far resulted in the temporary closing of three off-Broadway theatres, the suspension of poetry readings at Le Metro, and a general malaise among culturally minded New Yorkers as to what may be afoot. A spokesman for the License Department insists this recent chain of events that some fear is a crackdown on avant-garde culture is merely evidence that the Department has no intention of smothering New York’s artistic underground in a welter of red tape, by simply doing its duty it is offering the public an object lesson in the transforming-potential of creeping bureacratism.
Already poet Allen Ginsberg is talking like Jane Jacobs. Filmmaker Jonas Mekas is occupied with considerations of courtroom strategy, and Diane Di Prima and Allan Marlowe of the American Theatre for Poets are immersed in the technicalities of leases, restraining orders, and the legal differentiation between artistic and commercial programs.
The best minds of their generation are not being destroyed by madness but distracted by legal and political maneuvering. Ginsberg, who has taken the lead in organizing support for the right of poets to read their work at places like Le Metro, has certainly spent more time in the last few weeks conferring with lawyers, city administrators, and politicians than in writing poems. Not long back from a meditative sojourn on the Ganges, he now discusses city ordinances, legalities and political strategy with an exactness and expertness that would stagger the most formidable Village committee woman.
Le Metro, where poets like Ginsberg, Peter Orlovsky, Paul Blackburn, Carol Berge, occasionally Gregory Corso used to gather regularly to read their work to each other, was served with a summons by the License Department a couple of months ago. The basis of the change was that by allowing the poetry readings, Le Metro, which only has a restaurant license, was acting like a coffee house without a coffee house license…
Following rumors about David Chang taking his Momofuku empire to midtown, Diner’s Journal reports that a new Momo entity will indeed open in the space formerly occupied by Town in the Chambers Hotel. Guests of the hotel could be eating Momo room service as early as six weeks from now, but the restaurant itself is not slated to open until at least late fall.
The new venture is expected to be French-Vietnamese fusion, cheffed by Tien Ho, the former chef de cuisine as Ssam Bar. But the concept isn’t written in stone. Quoth Chang: “Who knows, it could start out to be French Vietnamese, and the way we do things, it could be a crab shack in a year.” Sounds exciting… particularly for a hotel in midtown.
Can’t wait to hear what angry NY GOP Congressman Peter King will have to say about newly revealed plans to dedicate a memorial to Michael Jackson at the Hoyt-Schermerhorn station, where Martin Scorcese once directed the “Bad” video. Last year, City Councilwoman Letitia James proposed renaming the stop outright after the King of Pop, but her proposal didn’t get very far–the MTA cited a policy of not naming stations after people, because it’s confusing, and also because then surely we’d all have to endure the ranting and raving of Peter King, who is famous for calling Jackson a pedophile to any media outlet who would listen in the immediate aftermath of the pop star’s death.
However, the Downtown Brooklyn Partnership seems to have found a loophole: the Jackson memorial set for the H-S station entrance will be displayed on private property adjacent to what the MTA owns. Benenson Capital, who own the wall where the mural will be painted, will chose the artist, a process that has not yet begun. May we suggest the Michael Jackson scarecrow guy? [NYP]