By Justin Goldman June 17, Just follow the stars. Even when you consider the six hours I turned back the clock traveling from New York, a. Beds of ice are flush with thick tuna and swordfish steaks, multicolored lagoon fish, oysters, crab, shrimp.
The crowd of shoppers in the red-trimmed warehouse space moves, well, sometimes. It seems as if the entire population of Tahiti , is here this morning, and that these famously amiable people are all taking the time to greet each other individually. I grab a table in the humble back room, where I munch on that piping hot treat, along with an order of the national dish, poisson cru , a sort of South Pacific take on ceviche—citrus-marinated tuna, carrots, and cucumber in coconut milk—which I chase with a cup of coffee mixed with fresh coconut milk.
Why have I never thought to make that before? The coastline is magnificent, all palm trees and placid blue water dotted with canoes and sailboats. After a brief stop to snap a photo of the Grotte de Maraa, a deep cavern full of freshwater framed by hanging ferns that was once explored by Jacques Cousteau, I continue to the small town of Papara.
One bangs a rhythm on a drum, another blows a call through a conch shell, another places a lei around my neck.
Ta, ta, tara tata, ta ta tara, tara ta ta. Then, Tara tara ti, ta ta ta. Before we dig in, I learn a new word: Manuia! Just a few minutes north of the center, near the community of Paea, I stop to meet Tahiarii Pariente, a cultural ambassador in a sarong and surf hoodie and a kukui-nut necklace.
