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Cruising Aboard A Working Ship
By Shirley Moscow
I wish I could say that it was love at first sight, but that wouldn’t be the
truth. Love came later, like the slow realization that affection for a good
friend has developed into a romantic attachment. Over 16 days and almost 800
miles, I came to recognize that there is nothing quite like the state-of-the-art
passenger/freighter Aranui 3 and to appreciate her unique qualities.
When I first saw her in the 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. The 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 two unrelated vessels – a freighter and a cruise ship -- sliced both in
half, and put them together….wrong.
Yet, the amazing result is that as a freighter and as a cruise ship the Aranui 3
works perfectly. The vessel offers travelers a comfortable and unique way to
escape into the exotic world of French Polynesia. The Marquesas and Tuamotus are
the small islands that inspired, among others, Herman Melville, Henri Matisse,
Jacques Brel, Thor Heyerdahl, Jack London, James Michener, Robert Louis
Stevenson and, most famously, Paul Gauguin.
Gauguin described the islands as “wild” and they still are. There aren’t many
people; one island we visited has less than 100 inhabitants. And the islanders
are as beautiful and exotic as Gauguin painted them.
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 area 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 the ship are relaxed. Passengers dress casually, even at
mealtimes. The wait staff wears island dress – colorful sarongs, flower crowns,
leis, and seashell jewelry as well as the region’s unique 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 visited black pearl farms.
As the ship sailed into each port, I’d stand on deck to catch the excitement of
the islanders who wait on shore with mounting anticipation for the ship’s
deliveries. I marveled at the athletic skill with which brawny Marquesan
stevedores 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. And when
the Aranui 3 couldn'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.
It’s safe to explore the islands, which boast no dangerous animals or snakes,
only a few insufferable no-nos, invisible mosquito-like insects that show no
mercy. Guided hikes though tropical jungles to archaeological sites can make
this voyage more rigorous than the usual cruise, but also more rewarding. The
archaeological sites with giant tikis bear witness to an ancient civilization
that practiced cannibalism.
Today, the islanders earn their livelihood mostly by fishing and by reviving
traditional handicrafts. Under thatched roof huts, they demonstrate and display
accomplished wood and bone carvings, woven straw hats and handbags, beautiful
beads, and art on tapa, a non-woven fabric made from the bark of trees.
I’d looked forward to cruising aboard a freighter, 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.