Norwegian Spirit - Day 2
Mo'orea
As the stingray circled around my body, playfully lapping its wings to gently brush against me, the surrealness of this moment was otherworldly.
The joy radiated from my core, a glow that I imagined could be seen like those illuminating rainbows that streak across a grey sky, and the pot of gold was my swimming costume-clad body immersed in the crystal waters.
I was in awe, marvelling at this experience. Was I really here in the stunning lagoon of Moorea? As a black-tipped reef shark languidly swam by, welcoming me to his underwater world, I felt connected to the world in a way that I’d never felt before. I was completely, intoxicatingly under a spell.
Sea Blooz
Nothing can quite prepare you for the colours of the water in French Polynesia. Blue is such an incomplete, inadequate description. It was if every shade of turquoise, green and cobalt in a Pantone colour swatch had swirled and intertwined to create a magical mosaic. And, just for fun, the creator decided to add another exquisite touch – transforming this palette crystal clear.
It was early morning and the Norwegian Spirit had anchored off Moorea, ready to transport passengers to their shore excursions. I had chosen the ‘swim with stingray and beach lunch’ and clambered aboard the tender, ready for the day. I’d been up early, admiring the island from my stateroom balcony and I was itching to get closer.
Soon, I was aboard another vessel, making our way from the port to places unknown. As the boat glided further from land, I was transfixed by the sheer beauty. The crew onboard sang in perfect Polynesian harmony, as the tour leader gave a running commentary. We sailed into bays and past over-water bungalows, something I’d only seen in brochures and postcards. Again, it was hard to believe I was here, but I continued to remind myself to stay in the moment and take it all in.
Stingrays and sharks
We arrived at the ‘spot’ and given a thorough safety briefing (I know people associate stingrays with the tragic death of Steve Irwin, but I had no fear). The water was refreshing, enveloping me and receiving my intrusion. The sea is my happy place, where I feel most at peace and at-one with nature and I was mindful that I was a visitor. Carefully I swam, immersed in this paradise.
As if on cue, alien-like flying creatures appeared, effortlessly moving toward our tour guide. They knew him, and knew he had some tasty fish for them. I was told to stand still and not be afraid, and to touch the animals on the top of their body. The poisonous barb is not at the end of their tails as I assumed but at the base, so unless you grab a ray and try to hold it, you’re not going to be harmed.
Suddenly a stingray approached, majestically circling. The tour guide was all smiles, saying, “Look, he’s massaging you!” In awe, I reached out and touched the fish, his skin slimy and soft. It’s a moment that I will never, ever forget.
The day was still young, and our next stop was at a sandy private beach. It was glorious! Again, the Polynesian hospitality made all feel welcome with song, a ceviche cooking demonstration, and a tasty barbecue. I spent most of the day swimming and marvelling at this paradise.
Back on board
Wow! Huge, bright and, at it was obvious within a second why the dining room is called Windows. The back wall featured expansive arched windows, providing diners with the most incredible wake views. Yup, this would do just fine.
The service was impeccable, and the food great. A wide selection that was so good that my dining companions and I couldn’t decide on what desserts to order so we ordered all five! Trust me, the sugar-free carrot cake was scrumptious.
How can I be hungry again?
The evening zoomed by, filled with cocktails and laughs and before l knew it, the midnight hour had come. It must have been a combination of the long day on shore, drinks and the sway, and somehow, I drifted off to sleep without even remembering closing my eyes.With a start I woke up. It was 2:11am. I’d left the balcony door open and the ocean was roaring. For the second time that day, that unusual pang of hunger struck once more. Hmmmm, should I head down to the 24-hour eatery, The Local for a snack? My stomach growled in agreement.
Sheepishly, I walked down the two flights to Deck 7. A friendly smile welcomed me, seating me in a booth. “Chicken wings and Reuben sandwich please.” Minutes later, my food was set before me, and with a slight feeling of guilt, tucked in.
And with every bite, the guilt dissipated. Where else in the world can you sit at 2:23 am eating wings with an ocean view, served by wonderful crew who pass you a wet-wipe to clean your sticky fingers?
"Enjoy it now Honey," I reminded myself "it’s the cruising way of life!"
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