#10 - Bora Bora

One day in Bora Bora is just not enough.  The jagged mountain range is magnificent and the crystal clear waters are just as amazing as those depicted in the magazines.   

I’ve always wanted to stay in one of those thatched roof bungalows that hang out over the water in Bora Bora.  And on my bucket list is getting a massage in one of those bungalows where the floor is made of glass and you look down through the face rest at the fishies swimming by.  So as soon as we got off the ship we set out in search of just such a decadent happening.

We got a reservation for a massage at one of the resorts that feature these bungalows and set out for the Sofitel Hotel and Resort on the local open air jitney (driven by Sir Bounce-a-lot).  Upon arrival we were told that their massage facility is on their motu (a private island) nearby.  This is sounding better all the time.  So we followed directions to get on the tiny boat that motored us over to the island.

Jeff and I were the only ones on the boat, along of course with the boat driver.  About half way there, the motor started to sputter, and then sputtered again.   And then there was silence.  Nothing but the sound of small waves lapping gently against the stilled boat.  We looked at the driver with anticipation that there was a plausible explanation for this.  He scratched his head a couple of times, shrugged his shoulders, and said “Nous n’avons plus de petrol, mes amis”.  (French Polynesian for “We’re out of gas, my friends”.)

So we assessed the situation and realized we were about half way between the main hotel and the motu landing.  This was looking to be a very long swim either way.  But then our boat driver uncovered a spare tank of gas, hooked up the hoses to it, and on we continued to the motu.

Arriving on a lush little island we were led through the beautiful foliage to the thatched bungalow which was indeed right over the water.  I undressed and lay face down with my face in the opening of the head rest and looked straight into a bowl of freshly picked hibiscus and frangipani, the fragrant flowers used to make those gorgeous leis.  I was, of course, expecting to see fish.  Not in that bowl, but in the water under the glass floor.   But alas, we were misled just a tad, and the floor was not glass but solid wood.  

So the massage therapist asked if I had ever had a Polynesian massage.  I replied “No”, and asked her to describe it to me.  Of course, at this point it was unlikely I’d jump off the massage table and bolt naked out the door no matter how she described what was about to happen.  And besides I was there to experience yet another type of unique massage.  She said that unlike most other methods that release the knots and tension in one body part at a time, she would use long repetitive strokes.

Okay, I’m in.   So she poured what seemed like a quart of oil all over me so I was really pretty well lubed.  In fact, I was afraid I might slide off the table.  She then proceeded to apply one of those long repetitive strokes starting at my right pinky toe and ending at my scalp.  This happened so fast that I had to sneak a peak to see if she was wearing roller skates.  Did not think it was possible to move from point A to point B so fast.  Then she returned equally as fast from my scalp down to my pinky toe on the other side.

After a few of these fast moves she slowed down when she found the speed bumps that I offered up in my shoulders and back.  She worked diligently on those, resulting in those lumps and bumps surrendering to her touch by the end of the treatment.  And after that she could get back to her to non-stop, express moves from toe to head.

I am glad to say that the return from the motu to the main island of Bora Bora was without incident or motor failure.  That’s a good thing since missing the ship was not in our plan.  And the glass floor massage experience remains on my bucket list.