Off the Beaten Path in Tahiti: A Budget-Friendly Solo Travel Experience
Quite often my travel destinations are chosen simply because I'm a sucker for a good deal, and that’s exactly how I found myself in Tahiti.
When Air Tahiti Nui ran a sale for half-price of the typical flight from L.A., I snapped up two seats without any idea who else might go, where I’d stay, or even what there was to do there. And that’s what made it all the more exciting.
The answer to the first question became “just me” when my daughter chose to spend her spring break on a mission trip and my situationship opted not to go citing financial reasons. (My manager said “No way I’d let a girl I was dating go to Tahiti without me no matter the cost!”)
But my philosophy has always been never to let the fact that someone else isn’t doing something with me stop me from doing what I want. And the many red flags ignored in that relationship are a story for another time. So this post is about my second solo fun trip with nothing but a backpack and a desire to experience new things.
The first new experience was sliding down a glass chute stuck on the side of a building 1,000 feet above The City of Angels.
Continuing my push for the cheapest airfare meant that I ended up with an 8-hour layover at LAX and I decided not to spend it in the airport. Instead, I grabbed a ride to the second-tallest skyscraper in L.A. which had a public observation deck and what was called the Skyslide. It was a short, but exciting way to pass some time and take in great views, but unfortunately, after the coronavirus pandemic, it closed down.
After grabbing dinner and green St. Patrick’s Day drinks with a friend who lived in West Hollywood, I headed back to LAX for a midnight flight that brought me bleary-eyed to Fa'a'ā International Airport at 6 a.m. their time. My memories of being greeted by music, dancers, and leis are fuzzy but nice.
Tahiti is the largest island in French Polynesia. The majority of the population is descended from the original Polynesian settlers, but in 1880 France claimed it as a colony, so the primary language is French. Although I am originally from Louisiana, I know only a few Cajun French phrases and some French from my years of ballet lessons, so by no means could I hold a conversation in French with someone.
But, like a typical American, I just assumed people there would also know English and luckily I found a taxi driver who knew enough that between the two of us, we could figure out that I needed to get to the ferry. I was headed to stay on the nearby island of Moʻorea based on a tip from a friend.
But, there was no rush, and I wanted to see a bit of the main island so my driver drove me around the town of Papeʻete and to the local market. I find one of the quickest ways to immerse yourself in another geography is to go to their market where you can find everything from fresh food to local crafts and the 155-year-old Le Marché did not disappoint. I was able to grab some snacks and some Tahitian black pearl jewelry for a fraction of the cost I later saw at resort stores.
Then it was just a two-block walk over to the waterfront where I located the ferry ticket booth. It is possible to fly to Moʻorea, but a ferry ride sounded much more relaxing. It also allows you to bring a car over from the main island, which I didn’t do because my only plan at that point was to lie around on a beach.
As the ferry drew slowly close to Moʻorea, though, all I saw was jungle. The island boasts eight mountains covered in lush, tropical vegetation. I began to feel like I was in a movie where a rag-tag team of scientists, soldiers and adventurers would find dinosaurs or King Kong or both on the other side of the mountain.
When we docked, I half expected to hear drums in the distance, but all was quiet. A little too quiet and too small for someone who’d thought they would just cab it to their resort and park on the beach. I quickly realized that I was going to need transportation, and luckily the small rental car place nearby had one car left.
It was my first time driving in another country – usually, I’m in places where I can use public transportation or taxis – and the dashboard only showed kilometers. But the speed limit signs were also in kilometers, so all I had to do was match them and my non-metric brain could work just fine. I was also grateful it wasn’t the British who had colonized the island. And there was little chance I would get lost since there is only one main road that circles the island, so I quickly found my way to home base at Green Lodge.
At that point, a fun book to read and a massage on the beach were my only set plans for the next three days.
The first thing that probably comes to mind for many people when they think of Tahiti is a hut over the water, and those are certainly available if you want to book a chain hotel and spend the bucks. But, that’s not exactly the vibe I was going for on this trip.
Green Lodge is a collection of four private bungalows and a main house all circling a pool. Breakfast was served on the véranda of the main house, and if you let the owners know in advance you could also reserve a spot for dinner there. It was a perfect place to enjoy time by yourself or to get to know your fellow travelers in the swimming pool and around the pool table in the main house. There was direct access to the ocean, but the beach wasn’t much to write about. Still perfect for reading that book and enjoying the sound of the waves.
Since I had a car, though, I figured I should get my rental dollars worth and explore more of Moʻorea. Someone recommended a spot on the other side of the island for a better beach. A hand-painted sign that I drove past once was the only way to find the spot where I paid a very small amount for someone to take me in a little boat across a lagoon to a small island where you could bring your own lunch and rest in your own private beach hut. A couple of times a day the local proprietor would feed the sting rays and black tip sharks while we snorkeled in amongst them and a small pack of local dogs watched in bemusement between their afternoon naps. I can’t seem to find the place online, so you’ll just have to rely on word-of-mouth like I did if you decide to go.
Another day I drove up many blind switchbacks on a two-way road the width of one lane to reach Belvedere Watch Point. It’s the highest spot you can drive to on the island and offers a panoramic view of Mont Rotui and the island’s two central bays, Opunohu Bay and Cook’s Bay. On my way up, I saw a couple of places that looked like parking for trailheads, so I stopped in one on my way back down, tuning out the murder podcast voice in my head that said “Then she walked into the woods and was never heard from again.”
Slipping past the moss-covered remains of some past homestead, I did indeed find a trail that followed a small creek up into the tropical forest where I saw wild-growing exotic flowers like I’ve only ever seen before in a flower shop, but not another human soul. I stopped to literally hug a massive tree at one point because I felt so in touch with the earth.
As one should after any good hike, I then sampled a local beer at a roadside pizza spot and picked the tropical mud off my boots. The photos of the hike are still some of my favorites I’ve taken. And the memory is forever tops when I think of the trip that I thought was going to be all about the beach.
And despite my aversion to things that are too “touristy,” on my last night on Moʻorea I went to the Tiki Village, a recreation of a Polynesian village where I had dinner of traditional Tahitian dishes and enjoyed a show of ʻōteʻa dancers and fire twirlers. Sometimes the tourist traps are worth it.
One thing I didn’t do that I will if I ever make it back, is visit the local Manutea rum distillery that has been built next to a pineapple juice factory at the foot of Mount Tohivea. But I did pick up a bottle in the duty-free before I flew back home!