House on the corner, deep green lawn completely shaded with what looks like an old elm, circled by some colorful annuals, pale verdigris folded tin roof. Maybe a few shrubs in the corner. In my mind I’m hearing Sly croon “Hot Fun in the Summertime”, kids squealing and laughing, Mayberry USA. Hard to say why my Fujinons keep lingering each time I sweep the waterfront from Escape Velocity, but they do. Ok the kids are speaking French, they’re naked in that French way, and there is a palm tree plantation on an improbably steep mountainside that soars above the village to shred the clouds. The halfmoon shaped cliffs seem to cradle the little town in brilliant sunshine while tiny white dots we know are goats make their way over the peaks high above us. What is it with goats? It seems just minutes ago they were busy trimming the grass on the soccer field at sea level. Yes, I said soccer field. How they found enough flat space for that is beyond me but then again, I know that in the Southside of Pittsburgh they shoehorned a football field into a ninety yard long space by only allowing offensive plays toward the only end zone available.
So, as I was saying, Vaitahu, Tahuata, has a church with a nice steeple, a post office and nice tidy houses but where this feeling of nostalgia comes from I’m sure I don’t know. Now if only the williwaws would stop funneling down off the mountains scaring me half to death with their 25 kt gusts I could find myself quite comfortable here. Oh, and how about a little wifi, s’il vous plait?