I did a thing for a whole year, now I’m gonna write about it.

And start a newsletter!

I was back in Melbourne for a short sojourn while I waited for a visa. As of September, I’ve spent over a year in French Polynesia, and in that time I’ve written a short diary entry for every single day.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I’d forget for a whole week or ten days, and then I’d have to piece together the past days like a detective, scouring my photos, messages and calendar for clues.

“A ha!” I’d say, seeing a bank transaction for a missing date, wishing I had a magnifying glass to dramatise my discovery. “We ate pain au chocolate and almond croissants in Maharepa that day.”

I’d make a new page in my Notion diary, pick a relevant emoji, and write a handful of words.

I’ve had so many people ask me what life is like there. I feel myself getting stuck when I try to describe my life on the spot. I have a much easier time when I can use photos, artwork and the written word.

I’m finding social media more and more depressing to be on these days. It leaves me feeling more flat than anything. But I like the idea of sharing my writing, sharing my works-in-progress with friends and family and random strangers on the internet.

So here is my offer to you. A weekly newsletter, from paradise, with random observations, slices of life, sketches and paintings, and who knows what else.

If you’d like to follow along, you can subscribe below.

To kick us off, I’ve written about the biggest culture shocks moving overseas for the first time, not speaking a word of French. Enjoy!

Living in French Polynesia: Year 1 Culture Shocks

1. The French bureaucracy

I’d heard horror stories about the inefficiency of French bureaucracy and the public service, and I got to experience this first-hand when I went for my visa. It took three months to process. Three months. I sat in Melbourne, freezing my titties off, waiting for a visa for three months.

When we went to get a scooter registered and Martin’s permit updated, we discovered that the office is only open for 3 hours in the morning, Monday-Thursday. There is no information online about opening hours. There is no phone number. There’s no address. You just rock up and hope someone is there. Two times out of three there won’t be anyone, and there will be no explanation as to why.

There’s a form for everything but you can’t find that form anywhere. No information exists on the internet. If you go into the office and ask in person, you’re very likely to receive incorrect information.

It makes Centrelink look efficient in comparison.

2. The postal service

I like to call it the coconut post. The image I have in my head is of my letters being stuffed into a hollowed-out coconut, attached to the leg of a swallow (European), and then thrown towards the ocean in the direction of Australia.

3-4 months later, the letter arrives. I got a Christmas card in April that nana had sent in November.

Don’t even think about trying to get stuff shipped; by the time it arrives (if it even arrives at all) ordering would have been a long distant memory. I was chatting with someone who got a parcel one year after she ordered it. One year! They were shoes for her kid, who was about double the size by the time they arrived.

3. The dogs and cats

No one seems to spay or neuter their pets, and as a result you see plenty of kittens and puppies along the side of the road. It’s heartbreaking. Small packs of dogs gang together, sometimes heavily pregnant with drooping nipples, sometimes covered in fleas and with patches of fur missing.

Dogs will bark viciously at you from front yards, tied to short leashes. Occasionally you have to bark back. Our neighbour has five dogs that bark all hours of the day and the early morning which drives me batty.

There are very few ‘breed’ dogs; most are mutts, some cuter than others. It’s a far cry from the spoiled French Bulldogs drinking their puppaccinos in the cafes of South Yarra.

That being said, we recently adopted our own mutt - she’s so loving and adorable, and she has an extra claw on her back paw, so she’s also part mutant! The resident guard dog, Moika, was found on the street. Sometimes I wish I could adopt them all.

3 of the house pets - Kahn (now deceased), Moika and Tsilla.

4. Island time

People like to do things early in the morning to escape the heat. Trying to visit someone after lunch feels almost rude, and we accidentally interrupted a couple of siestas visiting at this time.

At the same time, the pace is relaxed. My life quickly went from the restaurants, bars, cafes of Fitzroy to dips in the lagoon, lazy afternoon naps in oppressive heat, and the occasional meal out (which starts feeling like a special occasion).

Time moves strangely. Like it’s being stretched and warped. The mornings feel endless, filled with breakfast and children and painting and coffees. The afternoons rush by, before you know it the sun is setting behind the mountain and night has fallen.

It's always siesta time for the animals

5. The cost (everything is expensive!)

If you’re hoping for cheap island life, Moorea will disappoint. The prices are about on par with Melbourne for most things, although there wouldn’t be a lot of locals on Melbourne wages.

Fruit and vegetables are best bought on the side of the road, where they’re fresher and a touch more affordable. The selection can sometimes be a bit dicey; sometimes the tables will be overflowing with mangoes, lettuce, tomato, fresh herbs, bok choy and cabbage. Sometimes they’ll only have a few sad, wrinkly eggplants. Sometimes your fruit shopping will be accompanied by a side of music…

Fish, too, can be purchased freshly caught. We’ve bought entire mahi mahi and slabs of red tuna for half the price per kilo of what’s in the supermarket.

In the supermarket itself, the selection of cheeses (imported from France) is excellent. Some familiar faces, like Tim Tams, are found everywhere. Some things which would be a staple in Australia are almost impossible to find; no Tasty cheese, no curry paste, no frozen dumplings. I regularly find myself missing Kimchi on Brunswick Street, a small but surprisingly well stocked grocery store bursting with the flavours I miss.

6. The colours

Everything is bright. The lagoon under the midday sun is a turquoise that looks fake, like it’s been photoshopped for a postcard. We like to joke that the government dumps chemicals into the water to appease the tourists.

The emerald green mountains form a backdrop as the road curves around the bays. The sand on the beach is bright, blinding white. People wear bright patterned maxi dresses with big red hibiscuses tucked behind their ear. Houses are painted blue and green and red and occasionally bubble-gum pink.

It’s a shocking feast for the eyes after the Melbourne uniform of black Kathmandu puffer jackets, black Lululemon tights, beige tote bags and black and white Nikes. Concrete and steel, red brick and power lines.

7. The nature

Despite the brightness of everything on land, the birds and land animals are (surprisingly) not very diverse. At least, compared to Australia. Seeing the magpies, galahs, cockatoos, currawongs, wattle birds, rosellas and budgies in the inner city suburbs reminds me how varied (and very weird) the Australian wildlife is. The main bird I see on our island are the wild chickens and roosters.

Once you’re in the water, it’s a different story. The seascapes are staggering in their variety. Different species of colourful corals, fish, spiral worms, sharks, turtles, dolphins, rays, shellfish, octopuses (octopi?) and each year the passing humpback whales.

Read more about the lagoon fish here.

The trees are mostly introduced, including fruit trees like mango, coconut, banana, papaya. The mountains are slowly being taken over with invasive species, like falcata and miconia. The gardens are full of hibiscus flowers in red and beige, frangipane in all shades of white, pink, and gold, the Tahiti tiare, which is similar in scent to a gardenia, but with seven petals.

Unlike Australia, everything is lush and green year round.

Which feels more like home?

It’s strange to say that while Melbourne will always feel like home, because my friends and family are there, it doesn’t feel like home for me right now. The things that I miss now just feel extra special when I’m back (great Asian food, fresh, cheap berries, the palette of the bush). For now, I’m happy on my little island.

1 year ago - thoughts on arrival

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