Tahiti Journal

Tuesday
Day Five

Part of me likes the feeling of being startled and shaken. It’s why I’ve been attempting to record it all raw as I initially experience it. I know that by degrees, I’ll grow accustomed to many things, oddities will become commonplace and the things I can’t change, I’ll accept in some form. In some ways, this is the allure of travel—that change of perspective and fresh eyes on the world. Acute awareness—all senses alert. Even over alert. But you know then that you are alive and existing in a whole new way and that already you are being changed by the place you now get to be.


By Monday evening, we realized that the low rumble we were hearing was the ocean breaking of the coral reef that forms the lagoon around the island of Tahiti. It had taken that long for all the extra weekend and Mother’s Day traffic to die down enough for our ears to pick up this new tone. We are incredibly close to the ocean. Our neighbor behind us has that ocean we’re hearing in their front yard. I am taunted every day with a glimpse of the ocean I can see through their open passageway between their garage and their house. I have to go to a certain place on my porch and stand on my tiptoes to see it. Then I get this thimble sized view of blue. Then I stand there and can’t believe how far I have to walk pushing the three boys in our five star five year old Graco stroller to actually put my toes in that ocean. We can’t just wander through people’s yards accidentally to get there. Houses are surrounded by fences. Locked gates block strangers like us from entering. Little alley ways ultimately end with a fence. When I have internet access, I’m thinking of using google translator to find some way of writing out a request to the neighbors to please, please, please just let me walk those three boys through their yard to their beach. But I don’t even know how to get past the gate. I haven’t seen a doorbell on them yet!

And then there’s the problem of dogs. Big dogs. Little dogs. Lots of snarling, barking dogs. We’re holding our own walking the road next to passing car, passing car, passing car, but if it weren’t for those fences, I don’t think I’d walk anywhere ever without Eric or a big, big stick because of the dogs. I’ve been using my morning runs as scouting expeditions—where to get food close by, where to take the boys to see something. Different paths that will take us to public beaches. It hasn’t been a week yet. But, we have managed to touch ocean three times in spite of dogs, gates and fences.

No worries. We had a baked chicken, rice, tossed salad and fresh bread for dinner. It has taken us until today to be able to enjoy such luxury. It took some finger pointing and nodding with the landlord to accomplish this small feat. We couldn’t figure out how to get our propane oven to work. Until today with his help. Thankfully, I remembered to ask about la cuisenere this time when he stopped by with the contract and I feel wildly successful with my Tahitian homemaking. It makes me feel a little better about the laundry that has been hanging three days and still is not completely dry yet. Wet clothes may be the new fashion if I can keep it from going moldy in the closet.

I can’t decide if this is like camping or being on a mission with kids or both. What I do know is I’m already very happy for our family. It’s hard to say what kinds of specifics the kids will remember about their time here, but I think they will remember a feeling of it all—a happy family-centered, good feeling even though there have been times when tears well up and fall down your cheek because that pizza you so wanted turns out not to be the pizza you wanted. It is already clear that while some things are more difficult to accomplish, some of our family lifestyle is much less complicated. We have nothing but time to spend with each other. We often have no where to be, but with each other. So this day ends with Benjamin and Isaac giving Dylan raspberries on his belly, Eric reading Fergus Crane to Benjamin, me snuggled with Isaac and Dylan reading about trains and salty breezes tickling our skin. There is no television, dishwasher, bathtub, dryer, car—except for occasionally—or places to run around to be. There is the five of us together.