Due to the time difference, the wet dog bed and airport noizes, we were up and ready to leave Chez Fifi at 7.30. However, the owner waved a baguette at us and we dared not refuse (not that I am one to refuse food in any case).

So we had a cup of tea (Nestle powdered milk being in evidence here as well) and French bread with strawberry jam. We might as well not have bothered as later, it would all come out again. But I am getting ahead of myself. We spoke to a German surfer dude and he, like everyone else, said to leave Tahiti as soon as possible and head straight for Moorea, which was our plan anyway.

When we went to pay, we were summoned by a dragon of a woman, the lady of the house. She sat like Buddah in a messy kitchen, two turtles splashing around uncomfortably in a too small aquarium. She had a tube up her nose to breathe, and reminded me of the wheezing smoker in the British Heart Foundation ads.

She mumbled 'Do you have room?', which must have been an enigmatic question to test our powers of deduction, a bit like Yoda training a Jedi Knight in Star Wars. So I answered: 'Yes, we stayed here last night'. However, she repeated with furrowed brow, now more Jabbah the Hut than Yoda, 'Do you have room?' I tried again: 'Yes, we have vacated the room'.

She paused, and this time the answer seemed to please her because she barked '6527', being, as we correctly guessed, the extortionate amount charged for the wet dog room.

We took off in search of Le Truck, basically trucks which serve as buses. I had some trouble getting my bag on as it was quite busy. We got off in central Papeete, found an ATM and the Quantas office (the latter wonderfully airconditioned - I could've stayed there all day) and tried to call Motel Albert, but there was no answer, so we got on the ferry.

When we set off, it was a little choppy and we smiled at each other. However, the smiles were soon wiped off our faces as the waves got higher and the ferry was rolling left and right, up and down. Keiron turned a funny shade of green and my brains seemed to be running around in my head like egg yolk.

I know it's gross but I have to tell you this: Keiron was ill and I had given him my one sturdy Sainsbury bag (I'm sure Mr Sainsbury never thought they'd be used for this particular purpose), thinking I would last the trip. Unfortunately I didn't and I had to make due with a flimsy Argentinian plastic bag... which had holes in it. Yuk. No wonder everyone is so pleased to see Moorea, they just want to get off the bloody ship! Thinking about it still makes my head wobbly.

On the quay, we sat down to recuperate until we had a more or less normal colour again and I booked a reservation in Motel Albert with a nice sounding lady. The bus was another 'le truck' and we had to wait a bit for it to leave. During that time, we met the mystery couple (from the UK) that shared our bathroom at Chez Fifi the previous night!

The driver dropped us off right in front of the driveway to Motel Albert, together with a French lady from Strasbourg with two kids (only one was hers we learned later). The nice voiced lady was very pleasant and had no Jabba the Hutt resemblance at all, which was reassuring.

She showed us the 'room' and Keiron and I thought we had died and gone to heaven: a little bungalow in a lush garden, our own verandah and kitchen, two big double beds, a huge clean shower, even towels! Then, we heard a rooster crowing and knew that no place is perfect, but it was still pretty close... And all that at the same price as the wet dog room...

We both had a shower, the water was hot and I nearly purred with contentment. We took off and found a supermarché, as we will be cooking for ourselves most nights. They had great stuff, all improted from France and all ridiculously pricey, as we had been warned.

Back at our little home, we whiled away the time by planning our activities, washing some clothes, update diaries and make our own dinner (we felt ok to eat again but only just, the subject of boats was off limits for the next few days!). We had company -a little green lizzard- and a tropical downpour. The nice lady had even left us some fresh grapefruit... tropical paradise indeed.

We went to bed quite early as we had had a rough night at Chez Fifi and the time difference was still playing with our biorhythm.