I sit, sipping coffee, in a windy anchorage outside of Tahaa. The intrepid crew have been puttering about the Society Islands including Tahiti, Moorea, Huahine and Tahaa. These exotic and remote islands are uninhabited, well not exactly uninhabited, there are about 1,000 wild and exotic honeymooners. Oh yes, and 4,000 or so expatriate French folk. Did I mention that there are a few actual Polynesians too? The high proportion of honeymooners seem to encourage tour operators to spice up the normal tourist activities. I suppose you have to in order to compete with the other, ahem, most popular honeymoon activity. Take, for example, diving. You can't just dive, you must also feed the stingrays or sharks. This results in some, um, different critter behavior. We, Richard, Jennifer and Terry (our latest visitor) paddled up to a site that is famous for the stingrays. Tahitian stingrays are largish with long tails complete with requisite stinger. Generally stingrays do not swim upright. However, when tempted by fish-waving people who are standing about the shallows, stingrays swim vertically climbing the fish-holding person like a coconut tree. This results in a weird ray-person waltz, the person squealing in alarm and the ray wishing the person would hold that fishcicle still. Since our group are not waltzy kind of people, we hung around the fringes of the commotion. Rays would glide by politely inquiring whether we had a snack available. Even though we brought no offerings, the rays came close enough for a touch. They are indescribably soft yet strong. The whole wing is a muscle so you feel this odd mix of power and gentle. Later we braved the depths and puddled about diving the reef. The dive sites in Moorea are the scene of the simply brilliant human invention, shark feedings. Yes, certain people choose to associate plat du jour with human divers. Sigh. Apparently the dive master wanders down to the reef with his herd of newly certified divers. The master has a bag o'chum. No, no, not the recent initiates, the chunks of fish in a bag (well, perhaps both on a good day). Little fish swarm around and nibble the stray bits. The master (I use the term loosely since feeding sharks seems pointedly unmasterful) holds out the bigger chunks for the sharks' grazing pleasure. Diving one of these sites is peculiar. The minute you descend herds of unicorn fish appear in front of your mask with expectant looks in their fishy little faces. Imagine a class of kindergarteners fidgeting at the table, hands folded in mock patience, waiting for their cookies and milk. Unicorn fish take turns swimming in front of you and giving the begging dog look. "Please, please, please, snacks please." Soon the more refined butterfly fish join in. They are a tad more restrained. They hang on the fringes of your peripheral vision like guests at a formal wedding waiting for the dessert buffet to open. "Oh Marge, I think they have cheesecake!" "Oh, oh do I see baklava?!" The last attendees are the sharks. They glide by, acting nonchalant, a bit like teenage boys cruising the wallflowers at a dance. "Dude, hey, dude get a look at that one. She wants me to ask her to feed, er, I mean dance." All in all it is a surreal, twisted, Disney meets Dali experience. Ever notice how much fun commas are? Soon, they will take over, but not entirely overwhelm, sentences. At Moorea we were anchored in a lovely shallow area surrounded by coral gardens. We had just arrived back from a long, long, long hike up to an archaeological site when we heard a little voice. "Allo" said the voice. She can say "allo" since she is French-Canadian from anyone else it would sound affected, however, I am ahead of myself. So, the voice came from a very wet, very pale woman snorkeling by the side of the boat. Since we often see tuckered out honeymooners we thought we were being asked to provide refuge to a tourist who had swum out far beyond her abilities. The voice turned out to belong to Claudie Tremblay a French-Canadian woman on her way to study anthropology in New Zealand. The interesting part is she is looking for an adventure along the way. Mwah, ha, ha, ha. Let's see, shorter watches, shared cooking and she can teach me all about tatoos and kava ceremonies - score! She is now part of our little crew on a trial period to Samoa. If we don't kill her and she doesn't kill us (did I mention she came with a machete and a spear gun) we will continue together to Tonga and New Zealand. Dec.2005- This note has been added to anyone wondering how unknown crew worked out. It didn't. I did learn a few lessons. Even when you ask, "Do you have any food needs?" and the answer is "No", the potential crew may still turn out to be a vegetarian usually in the middle of the ocean. If the crew claims to have quit smoking, they haven't. If they claim to not do drugs, they do. If they drink "only in moderation" yet they buy 22 bottles of hard liquor in Samoa, be wary. Most important, the crew may try, repeatedly, to seduce your boyfriend. Beware of apparently good-natured mermaids, sometimes they have fangs.