Mark's Pages

"Like Tahiti, Raiatea had a coastal road ringing the island, which was fifteen miles long and nine across. After walking through the rain a few minutes, I stuck out my thumb. A battered Citroen pulled over, driven by a barefoot Frenchwoman named Christine. She'd come to Raiatea for a visit twenty years before and never left. 'No stress. No Shoes. Easy Life. Why leave? Maybe some day I find another island, farther away.' We reached Uturoa, the only town on the island. I asked Christine what there was to do there on a wet afternoon. 'To do? Rien. Same as in sunny weather. That is why I like it. What do you want to do?'"

— Tony Horwitz, Blue Latitudes