Discovery Of Tahiti
p. 50 · Read in the full issue
Charm of Old French Tropical Town
IHAVE achieved two records. I have visited Tahiti, which I always have wanted to see; and I was the first civilian to step ashore there from a Catalina.
But I should have preferred arrival by sea. Our flying-boat was too high, and came in with a certainty of approach which gave far too little opportunity of recognising landmarks and places we have been told to watch for. The strip of water between Moorea and Papeete looked like a mere channel, and Papeete itself, at first glance from the air, was disappointing. There seemed so little of it.
Later, when I had discovered the town from the ground, I realised how much it is sheltered by trees and creepers, and
how easy it is to make an error from a first glance.
From where I stood in the “blister,” the harbour I had read about looked small for a Cat. as big as ours; but the skipper made a casual dummy run, and then sat down as though he were landing at his own base. They had been expecting an American General on the plane, and there was something of a bustle, with a Navy crash-boat, and some excitement ashore, where French Army and Navy uniforms and an occasional civilian seemed to be jockeying for posi tion. But they concealed their disap pointment very successfully and politely when they discovered we had no one more important aboard than a PX Major from Noumea on the look-out for curios.
The Major had been there before, and knew not only his Customs P’s and Q’s, but also some very important people, such as taxi-drivers, restaurant proprietors and others who struggle for the opportunity to render six dollars’ worth of service for a 50 cents carton of cigarettes.
Once through the gates we went our appointed ways; and mine must surely have been the most fortunate and plea sant of any visitor to that enchanting island for many years. Despite an epi demic of dengue and ’flu which had obliged the authorities to restrict the activities of theatres, restaurants and places of amusement, gracious hospitality and friendliness from New Zealanders who have lived in Tahiti for many years, and Americans who adopted us for four days, turned what might easily have become a period of boring and aimless wandering into one of positive delight. rERE are few signs of war and war time suffering. The stores are full, or moderately so, of things to eat, to drink and to wear. Prom the number of cars and buses rushing about the island, there would appear to be no short age of gasoline; and in the restaurants we could buy steaks without red ration
points so dear to the American house wife. Even whisky could be had if you knew where to go for it. especially if you went with a carton of cigarettes in your hand.
They have wine, rum, and beer. The wine is red or white, and just wine; the rum is made locally, and somewhere in the process they drop in some fish-hooks and gelignite; but the beer is excellent, and reminded me of the stuff they had in 'the pubs long, long ago, before the Government in NZ decided that only thirsty people should, drink beer. After my last experience with NZ beer, I can not imagine any other reason why people should drink beer there, and a man would need to be really thirsty at that.
These were the general impressions.
These, and my amazement that nobody yet seems to have bothered to notice the beauty of the town of Papeete itself, ana the size of the place. Beautiful old houses, shaded streets, vines, creepers, trees and flowering shrubs concealing what there may be of age and decay.
Somehow it all fitted with what I had been told and what I had read. With a gentle squeeze here, and a stretch there, it was all just as I expected it to be. And as for the people themselves, they seem to be no different from the Polynesians I have seen in the Lau Group; in Apia and in Nukualofa, in Rarotonga or in Aitutaki, except for the well-known beauty of the Chinese-Tahitian half castes.
But,nobody had ever told me of the murals at Rivnac’s, or of the birds at the Guild home, or of the lovely native-wood furniture in some of the homes I visited, nor of the tolerant way people there will smile at the mention of Gauguin.
WHEN people ask me now what im pressed me most in Tahiti (and if they don’t ask me I tell them), I mention first the Woolff murals; and then my surprise that a place so much bally-hooed for so many vears could be so much better than anything that has so far been written about it; and. lastly, my utter amazement that an artist called Mordvinoff seems to be so completely unknown among those who love the Poly nesian people. Only an artist who loves them could possibly do such wonderful work.
I do not mention these things as an artist resentful that such as Woolff and Mordvinoff should be unknown. As an amateur ethnologist my tastes are earthy, and it is probable that some wise person will rise in just wrath and hold me to deserved ridicule for such naive expres sions of opinion concerning matters of which I have no expert knowledge.
Should this be my fate, I shall not com plain—unless they try to support their arguments with praise of the muck per petuated by Gauguin. 0 ON the way home we met your famous Captarh P. G. Taylor\in Borabora— patiently swimming about in the lagoon, while they drained the tanks of his Catalina (a shin identical with ours).
They had pumped in a lot of water with his gas.
He took us aboard, and showed us the improvements he had made and the extra gas-tanks in the body, the new instru ment panel and the charts of his flight from the coast of Mexico to Borabora.
Right in the middle was a long blank area on the chart where the navigator had blandly written “asleep.” He had slept for a thousand miles!—H.
Lieut. H. J. Avenell, a former resident of the Territory of New Guinea, and now on the staff of ANGAU, recently spent three weeks’ leave in Queensland.