Day 13 · At Sea · 19 April 2007

A day at sea can sound boring until you realize boring is exactly what you need.

After nine straight days of shore excursions, hikes, heat, history, wet landings, mosquitoes, and meals large enough to require strategy, we were ready for a break.

The children, however, still had energy.

This remains one of life’s great mysteries.

The Pool Becomes Jello

At sea, the Aranui pool returned to its full sloshing personality. The water moved around like a bowl of jello, which made swimming far more exciting for the children than any normal pool could be.

They loved being jostled around.

I loved that they were happily contained.

Mila, the children’s activity coordinator, kept them busy with activities and journals. Since we were leaving the ship a day early, this was our last full day onboard.

Lunch With the Crew

Traditionally, near the end of the Aranui voyage, passengers can invite crew members to eat with them.

We wanted to invite the four staff who served our children, along with Mila, to the early children’s lunch. The children wanted to say goodbye to their new ship friends and the four French girls they had met onboard.

The idea grew.

Then it became too many people.

The cook was not impressed.

After some gentle pushing and Mila’s help, the staff chef agreed to prepare the meal for our family and the crew members.

It was traditional Tahitian and Marquesan food: raw fish in lime juice, cooked bananas, breadfruit, and fried fish.

At my request, we ate with our fingers.

Some of the staff needed reminding because utensils had become habit.

I was not giving up this chance.

Gifts We Did Not Expect

When we sat down, each place setting had a wrapped gift.

The children opened them with immediate enthusiasm. Each of us received an Aranui T-shirt, except Eli, who received shoes with red and green lights that flashed when he walked.

He spent the rest of lunch zipping around to activate them.

We asked whether this was normal.

They said it happened rarely.

Apparently, families of seven were rare too. Staff told us they did not remember another family onboard with more than three children.

So we had become something between passengers and an event.

Cargo Lessons

At 4:00 PM, the man responsible for cargo gave a question-and-answer session. He had 25 years of experience on the Aranui 1, 2, and 3.

We learned that over 2,000 tons of cargo had gone to the Marquesas, but less than 300 tons were returning as copra and fruit. The difference was obvious. At the start, water splashed constantly against our porthole. Now our window sat a couple of feet above the waterline.

The ship had transported 22 vehicles, and the strangest cargo he remembered was a helicopter. On this voyage, eight cows and a horse had also been moved between islands.

This was not just a cruise.

It was a lifeline with dessert.

One Last Dinner

Our final dinner onboard was elaborate: salad, fish, and chocolate mousse.

The Aranui had both a chef and a pastry chef, which explains why my waistline was now negotiating surrender.

We said goodbye to new friends and promised more farewells at the beach picnic in Rangiroa the next day.

The ship rocked on through the night.

Our last full day aboard had been quiet, generous, and unexpectedly emotional.

Also filling.

Very filling.