Starting on Dec. 30, we would be whisked around the South Pacific for one week on a sleek, cruise ship - the Paul Gauguin, operated by Radisson Seven Seas Cruises.
A year earlier, the four of us had compared the moderate-size Paul Gauguin with the less expensive and much larger R3 and R4 of Renaissance Cruises. None of us wanted to be on a huge ship, we decided, in what we perceived might be a crowded atmosphere. Tom also liked the idea that the dress code on the Paul Gauguin is country-club casual (no ties) [or jackets], and we all liked the idea that tips were included, plus wine with dinner, pre/post dinner drinks plus beer and mineral water, soft drinks, a stocked minibar and daily cocktails.
When the skies were clear, we saw ourselves, cameras in hand, leaning over the railing as we sailed close to the banks of lush islands, (the Paul Gauguin’s Polynesia-specific design allows it to sit in the lagoon inside each island’s coral reef, in as little as 19 feet of water).
After landing at Faaa Internationl Airport, a bus whisked us to the ship, docked in Papeete. Before boarding, we took a quick look at the 513-foot-long ship with a maximum of 320 passengers and 211 crew members.
Our 249-square-foot cabin in the middle of the ship's price range, was a quiet and comfortable lair. It had a well-padded couch and chair, and a small table. A sliding door led to a 56-square foot veranda. There was ample storage space, a very firm queen bed, almost too-efficient air conditioning, good water pressure and inexhaustible hot water.
After settling in, we joined Tom and Susan for a late dinner in the large, main dining room, L'Etoile. It was one of three dining areas, and the only one that could accommodate everyone on board without reservations.
We were busy the next morning, trying to make reservations for several nights at the fancier dining room, La Veranda, which is limited to 100 passengers a night. We picked up our complimentary snorkeling gear from the ingenious water sports deck, which is right at the water line, allowing kayakers to take off from the open bay. I was also racing around with my cameras, trying to get pictures of our entrance to Cook’s Bay, Moorea, with its jagged peaks and palm-studded shore. There were activities, lectures and excursions starting immediately.
First, we had to get into the rhythm of the excursions that were offered daily. We chose from a menu of morning or afternoon adventures, typically priced from $50 to $70. We could snorkel with and snuggle velvet-soft stingrays, or feed sharks. We could ride jet skis, or kayak off the water sports platform. We could snorkel over coral beds teeming with rainbow-colored fish, tour each island with local guides, explore the day's stretch of ocean in outrigger canoes, or take more elaborate excursions in helicopters or off-road vehicles. After our adventures, we would unwind over drinks on the deck outside the Palette lounge at 7 p.m., then enjoy an elegantly served dinner.
Most days, we chose to be out and about. The four of us rented a tiny Fiat Panda at the dock in Vaitape, Bora-Bora, and drove around the rim of the volcanic island, which was the mist-shrouded inspiration for the Bali Hai of “South Pacific.”
Some days, Susan would head in one direction - typically an island bus tour - Tom would go kayaking, and Dick and I might snorkel off the islets called motus, where we found ourselves blissfully suspended over living coral and jittery armies of Crayola-colored fish.
On the private Motu Mahana, off Tahaa, a Gilligan's Island paradise awaited us. All passengers were taken by a small ferry to an idyllic white-sand beach with towering palms providing protection from the 80 degree temperatures. A thatch-roof bar offered free drinks in coconut shells, and a lavish buffet lunch. There were kayaks, a roped-off snorkeling area, and local entertainers and vendors.
A group of lithe Tahitian hostesses, called the Gauguines, were ever-present, in local costume, dancing and singing or lecturing about their islands.
We did try all three restaurants, usually having buffet-style breakfast and lunch at the poolside Le Grill, and just once, happily substituting La Veranda for spiffier morning and afternoon meals. The bright, airy restaurant on the sixth deck alternates two French menus based on those found at Apicius, a Parisian restaurant with two Michelin stars owned by the French chef Jean-Pierre Vigato, who acts as a cuisine adviser for the ship. One night I enjoyed foie gras with root celery salad, sautéed prawn with asparagus, halibut mousseline, baby lamb cutlets and, for dessert, chocolate leaves with banana compote and cacao sorbet.
L'Etoile, the general dining room, is larger and a bit more bustling. The food is simpler - including fresh local fish.
Excellent French and California wines are poured continually in all restaurants. We were always pleasantly surprised by the quality and the quantity of the wines.
Over lunch at the Meridien hotel in Tahiti, where some passengers spent their final afternoon waiting for our night flight to Los Angeles, our gang of four decided that we had a wonderful time.
Nothing is perfect - not even paradise. But the Paul Gauguin came close.