Yesterday was a day steeped in discovery. I had the privilege of visiting Taputapuatea, the only UNESCO World Heritage Site in French Polynesia. Standing among ancient stones where navigators once charted the stars and ceremonies honored the gods, I could feel the deep pulse of Polynesian history still alive, still whispering through the warm ocean breeze.
Later, I had the chance to tour a black pearl farm, an experience I found utterly fascinating.
I had no idea that oysters, once harvested, no longer naturally produce pearls or that even in Japan, all pearls today are farmed by delicately implanting a nucleus inside the oyster’s shell.
The process is an art form, born of patience and nature’s mystery, and seeing it up close gave me a whole new respect for these luminous treasures.
Today, we’ve moved slightly, anchoring nearby, and from my balcony, I now face Raiatea, lush, small, and so far, my favorite island on this journey.
It is impossibly green, wild yet tender, a place where time feels slower, softer, like a prayer unfolding across the hills.
Raiatea and her sister island, Taha’a, share one great lagoon, their shores protected by a ring of coral reef and scattered with motus, tiny islets that shimmer like dreams across the turquoise water. Just off our starboard side floats Motu Mahaea, a quiet pearl of its own.
Later today, a special event awaits: a traditional beach barbecue on a nearby motu, a classic Polynesian celebration of sand, sea, and simplicity.
But for now, in the hush of early morning I find myself lingering here, savoring the stillness, letting the spirit of this sacred place settle deep into my soul.
In a world that races forward, Raiatea reminds me:
Sometimes the greatest journeys are the ones where you simply stay still.