FURTHER: A TRAVEL BLOG: Ukeleles, mandolins and Hinano beer

I have always dreamed of visiting Tahiti. In my mind it has always been the quintessential south seas island. Our first day in this tropical paradise did not disappoint. The red-eye flight from LA dropped us in Papeete at 5AM. After a prolonged visit at the Hertz rental car desk we finally got into our tiny Peugeot and slightly bleary-eyed, drove into the gray dawn. The road from F'aaa International airport wound around the north coast of Tahiti to the French colonial city center of Papeete. We found our guesthouse without too much trouble, dropped our bags and zipped off to the Sunday morning market.

After parking the car, we were distracted by a french patisserie that advertised brioche, croissant and cafe au lait. Reasoning our way through early morning sleepless airline haze we decided it was a good idea to stop, sit and imbibe. We treated ourselves to raison filled brioche and what was probably the best, flakiest, lightest almond pastry ever, washed down with a delicious aromatic cup of cafe au lait. I thought to myself, "Welcome to Tahiti". After our brief repast, we walked a short block to the Grand Marche of Papeete.

The tall metal framed building (think Eiffel tower with a tin roof) rises in the center of town. Outside, the street was a chaotic scene of umbrella shaded stalls with vendors hawking their wares to the passersby. There were seemingly an endless number of tables heaped with farm fresh produce. Others had elaborate floral arrangements of fragrant tropical flowers. We stopped to watch ladies popping open plumeria blossoms to string them on leis. Another street offered snacks like fresh spring rolls and pork sandwiches to keep the shoppers going. We waded through the crowd to enter the cavernous space. Our first impression was the smell of the sea. The aisle was lined with several stalls of colorful fresh fish on beds of ice. Parrot fish, tuna and what looked like red snapper were the main offerings. A few stalls featured shelled mollusks on a string.

Not being in the market for food, we soon left. Walking out I spied the steeple of a cathedral so off we went to join the locals in their Sunday worship. Standing outside the door, it sounded like a host of angels singing hosannas. Peeking in, we saw the packed congregation singing high mass. The energy and enthusiasm was infectious and I found myself humming along. When mass let out, we moved down the street to the seaside to sit on a bench and eat our fresh spring roll.

Deb wanted to check out the famous black pearls of Tahiti so we wandered around the town for a bit until the pearl market opened. "Black pearls" is somewhat of a misnomer as the "black"pearl is anything but black. Colors range from opalescent to a lustrous deep silvery color. Depending on shape, size, color and flaws the pearls ranged in cost from tens of dollars to several thousand dollars.

Feeling a little tired from the red-eye flight and lack of sleep we decided to check back with the guest house to see when our room might be available. We were pleasantly surprised to find it would be ready in a manner of minutes. After a brief wait, we were shown to our room which overlooked azure pool and garden filled with tropical fruit trees. The room was huge and immaculate rwith wainscoting and wall of closets built with exotic hardwoods. The clean white sheets beckoned so we crawled into bed for an afternoon siesta.

A few hours later we awoke...starving. We asked the proprietress for a recommendation and after a short walk settled into a sidewalk brasserie down by the port. After filling our bellies with house brewed beer and seafood salad, we meandered along the main boulevard to be treated to a local x-games like competition of bikes flipping into a giant air bag and a crazy exhibition of front wheel stands over a measured course. After a few minutes we tired of the pumping beat of the music and started back to our guesthouse.

Our guesthouse was up a slightly gritty backroad of the capital city, but it felt real. (You all know we like to keep it real) A few blocks from our lodging, we heard the strains of a ukelele and mandolin accompanied by four part harmonies. Being the unabashed travelers that we are, we leaned over the gate to listen. We were soon acknowledged by the owner of the house who then insisted we come in and have a beer. We were offered small wooden stools and invited to join the circle of musicians. It is difficult to express the cross cultural magic that followed. The players riffed off of each other and smiled at us with their eyes. It seemed that the more we got into the music, the harder they played. Noting how enthralled we were with the music, the mandolin player presented me with a drum made from a hollowed log that both I and Deb pounded on, albeit lightly, because we were intimidated by the caliber of the musicians. A few beers and few hours later we staggered off into the twilight feeling that we had experienced in some small measure the essence of the south seas...and this was just our first day.