We landed yesterday, and it was some time before we were sure of when. The Marquesas are two and one half hours behind the US West Coast. And daylight savings happened a couple of times while we are under way, depending on what country you live in. But we were in the middle, so it hardly mattered until yesterday. Being that far off, I actually experienced a bit of jet lag, though our jet averaged just over 4 knots.

My next few trips will be on proper jets, doing 400 knots. Those plane rides were of great interest to the customs people, who want to be sure I leave their country. I expect it was my smell that put them in the mood to put me on a plane. But now I’ve secured a hotel room, washed myself and my clothes, and I hope to cause no further offense.

This country shares a lot in common with Hawaii, but everything is turned up a notch, the plants more lush and varied, the people more Polynesian, the air more humid, the towns more scenic and rural. Its breathtaking, and made all the more so by the fact that all I hear is French. And as a rule people speaking a language you do not understand seem kinder and more clever than those that you do understand. Does that make me an optimist of humanity, or a pessimist?

I hear the bageuttes here are price controlled, and the lager from Tahiti, Hinano, is not too expensive. So until they put me on that plane you’ll find me under a palm tree with the “long bread” as Holly puts it, and a cold one. Glad to be on my own, surrounded by space and supported by dirt once more!