Fifty Shades of Blue: Chasing Color in Paradise

I have been trying to explain the blue of Tetiaroa since 1997. The photographs have been trying too, with equally limited success. Every time I look at one, I think, “Yes, that is lovely. It still wasn’t quite like that.”

This is the memory behind those colours: a journey through French Polynesia that began with considerable travelling, took a disappointing turn in Rangiroa and ended somewhere I still struggle to describe.

---

Getting there took a little patience

The journey began in Frankfurt and continued through London Heathrow and Los Angeles to Papeete. Four airports and around thirty hours later, I had reached French Polynesia. At that point, even a rather ordinary seat could start to look inviting.

Rangiroa was next. I had high hopes. The destination and my expectations were about to have a small disagreement.

---

Rangiroa: Rough Around the Edges

I arrived imagining soft sand, shade and an easy island escape. Instead, I remember sharp coral underfoot, mosquitoes around the bungalow and a lagoon outing that did not deliver what I had hoped for.

After one windswept day and one restless night, I was ready to move on. Rangiroa may have suited other visitors perfectly. On that visit, it was not doing a great deal for me. This was less a verdict on the atoll than a mismatch between the holiday in my head and the one I had booked.

---

Moorea: Old Friends and Fresh Laughs

Moorea was a welcome change. I met up with friends from Germany, shared stories and enjoyed familiar company. After Rangiroa, laughter and a beer were doing quite a good job of improving the itinerary.

Sometimes a place becomes part of the journey because of its scenery. Sometimes the people there make the difference. Moorea gave me both.

---

Tetiaroa: Marlon Brando’s Blue Eden

Then there was Tetiaroa, the atoll associated with Marlon Brando. The name kept drawing my attention, and eventually curiosity won the discussion with my budget.

I spent nearly 700 Deutsche Mark and boarded a noisy little Twin Otter. It was not the sort of aircraft in which you could forget you were flying. The short runway on Onetahi gave the arrival an appropriately memorable finish.

Then the door opened, and there was the lagoon. After all the travelling and the mixed feelings about Rangiroa, I had arrived somewhere that made me stop thinking about the effort of getting there.

---

A small aircraft, a very large impression

The airstrip, palms and modest old hotel belong to my memories of 1997. They are not a description of today’s resort. That earlier simplicity was part of the experience: I had not arrived to find a long programme of things to do.

Mostly, I wanted to look. For once, that was quite enough.

---

The water was showing off

The colours seemed to change wherever I looked. Shallow water, deeper channels, light moving across the lagoon: calling it all “blue” felt rather inadequate. It was like describing a good meal as “food.” Technically correct, but missing the point.

I took photographs, of course. I wanted something to bring home and show people. Unfortunately, the camera and the lagoon had different ideas about what could fit into a picture.

For another view, The Brando’s atoll pages show the setting. They describe the modern destination, rather than the old hotel I knew.

What stayed with me was the feeling of being there. The quiet, the colours and the sense that I did not need to improve the moment by doing something else.

---

---

A different shade of holiday

Rangiroa had reminded me that a famous island name is no guarantee of finding the holiday you expected. Moorea brought me back to friends. Tetiaroa gave me something quieter, and much harder to put into a sentence.

I would not turn the whole journey into one perfect postcard. The awkward bits belonged to it too. They make arriving at that lagoon all the more memorable.

And if you ask me what colour it was, I may still need a little time.

The wider Tetiaroa story

For the atoll’s geography, its connection with Marlon Brando and links to official visitor information, start with my main Tetiaroa guide. That keeps the practical background together, while this story stays where it belongs: in my memories of 1997.

There was also a day when island solitude became rather more demanding than simply admiring the water. Read my walk around Tiaraunu for the version involving two baguettes and some questionable planning.