Nineteen Hours Away

Nineteen hours from the din of car horns. Nineteen hours from the gridlock of winter rush hour. Nineteen hours from the chaos of life in Downtown Toronto lies a magical place only felt in our daydreams - a place so blissful, so enchanting, so perfect that to even think of it ignites a cherished memory for a year past. This is Moorea... Nineteen hours away.

Never have I seen such clear waters, such lush forests, such white sand, such a blue horizon. Moorea is the stuff dreams are made of, the kind of place that inspires novels and movies. I for one was just awed by my trip over there, and it was already wonderful the moment I stepped on the warm, immaculate sand... and it just kept getting better.

My wife and I stayed at the Sheraton Moorea Resort and Spa which is now the Hilton Moorea Resort and Spa, and you know what? I am so glad we did. We had originally booked to stay at a garden hut (or bungalow as the resort calls it) for 10 nights during our 12 night stay. We had reserved 2 nights in an overwater hut because it was so darn expensive. But, we were determined to thoroughly enjoy those 2 nights. We didn't come all the way here to not experience the overwater huts. Anyway, as we checked in at the resort lobby, I overheard that several of the normally booked overwater huts had become available because some celebrity cancelled at the last minute. Apparently, the huts were already pre-paid and that infinitely rich mogul didn't really care if the huts were occupied or not. So, I asked the concierge if I could upgrade 5 of my garden hut nights to the overwater hut. And, to my surprise he replied, "Sure, no problem. In fact we can give you the overwater hut for your entire stay without the upgrade price!" As you can imagine, I was floored. It was a pleasant surprise to say the least - one of many, many surprises waiting to be uncovered.

The staff immediately took care of us with a refreshing glass of iced lemon tea before ushering us to a waiting golf cart. Then before we knew it, we were whisked away through the innards of the resort. We passed by all the cute little garden huts dotting the resort village as the winding road took us further out into the beach. And then we saw them in the distant horizon - the legendary overwater huts that we always see gracing the covers of travel magazines. And now, I can smell them, touch them and know that I am one of only a few lucky bastards that has tasted them.