Moorea

Moorea is ringed by a reef-sheltered lagoon of clear, calm water that stays around 26°C to 29°C all year, so swimming is easy every month. What you swim in is the lagoon itself, usually straight off a guesthouse jetty or a resort's overwater deck, more than a long run of sand. The best public beach is Temae on the north-east corner, a stretch of pale sand with turquoise shallows. The north-west around Hauru Point and Tiahura has the other sandy strips, with the small motu offshore within wading or kayaking distance.

Beyond those, much of the shoreline is coral, rock or narrow strips of sand in front of private land, so where you stay matters. Days revolve around the water: snorkelling over coral gardens, paddling out to the motu, boat trips to the sandbars. Visitors expecting miles of open beach to walk will find a quieter, more enclosed kind of beach life.

Eating on Moorea is simple and pleasant rather than a reason to come. The dish to look for is poisson cru, raw tuna in lime and coconut milk, served almost everywhere, along with grilled mahi-mahi and lagoon fish. Evening food trucks known as roulottes, small family snack counters and roadside fruit stands, with the island's sweet pineapples and fresh coconuts, give the most local meals. A Sunday ma'a Tahiti, food cooked in an earth oven, is worth seeking out.

The rest is a small set of French-leaning restaurants around Cook's Bay and Hauru Point and the dining rooms of the big resorts, competent but narrow. Choice thins quickly, many places close early, and couples staying a week often cook from the supermarket in their guesthouse.

Moorea's heritage is small and set mostly in the landscape. The Opunohu valley holds a group of restored marae, the stone platforms of ancient Polynesian worship, along with archery platforms and house foundations under the chestnut trees, and they give a quiet sense of the island before Europeans. At Papetoai, an octagonal church stands on the site of one of the earliest Protestant missions in the South Pacific. Beyond these, a cultural village with crafts and demonstrations and a few small galleries make up the list. Visitors come for the island's setting, and a day or two covers its sights.

There is almost no nightlife on Moorea. Evenings mean a sunset drink at a resort bar or a beach terrace near Hauru Point, dinner, and bed early, since most days start with the morning light on the lagoon. A few hotel bars stay open after dinner, but there are no clubs and nothing runs late. Anyone wanting a night out has to cross to Papeete, and the ferry schedule makes that impractical.

Moorea's landscape is the reason people come. Sharp, green volcanic peaks such as Mount Rotui and Mouaroa rise straight out of the lagoon, split by Cook's Bay and Opunohu Bay, and the Belvedere lookout above them shows the whole composition at once. Trails climb through pineapple plantations and rainforest to ridges like the Three Coconuts pass, and guided hikes go higher onto steep, rope-assisted routes.

The lagoon is just as much of a draw. Snorkellers and divers meet stingrays and blacktip reef sharks in waist-deep water, turtles and dense coral, while outer-reef dives bring lemon sharks. From about July to November humpback whales come close to shore to calve, and dolphins are seen all year. Kayaks, paddleboards and outrigger canoes are part of daily life.

Day trips mean one place: Tahiti, about half an hour to three quarters of an hour by ferry. Papeete has its covered market, waterfront and cathedral, and with a hire car you can follow the coast to Point Venus, the black-sand beaches and the quieter peninsula of Tahiti Iti. Beyond that the other islands of French Polynesia are flights away and are trips in their own right, not days out, so most visitors simply stay on Moorea.

Moorea is safe, relaxed and warm, and the lagoon is calm and shallow in many places, which suits children who can snorkel or paddle. Meeting rays on the sandbars and spotting fish from a kayak delight most older children. Polynesian culture is fond of children, and a self-catering guesthouse with a garden makes family life simple.

There is little made for children, though: no zoos, aquariums or parks beyond the water itself. Coral and sea urchins call for reef shoes, and the long flight is a lot for small ones. The island's image and many of its resorts lean towards couples and honeymooners, so families do best in houses or pensions near the northern sandy beaches.

One road of about 60km circles the island along the coast, with little traffic, so with a hire car, scooter or electric bike everything is close: Cook's Bay, the Belvedere and the northern beaches are all within half an hour of each other. Arrival is easy too, by a short ferry crossing from Papeete or a brief flight. The catch is public transport, which is little more than buses timed to the ferries, so visitors without a vehicle depend on taxis, hotel shuttles and tours. Cycling the flat coast road is pleasant, though there are few pavements.

Shopping is small and specific. The one serious purchase is Tahitian black pearls, sold in jewellers and pearl shops around Cook's Bay and Hauru Point. Beyond that there are pareos and hand-printed fabrics, monoi oil, vanilla, carved wood and shell crafts in small galleries and roadside stalls. There is no shopping street, mall or market of any size, and anyone wanting more than gifts and pearls finds a larger choice in Papeete's market.

Moorea is a very expensive place to stay. Resort rooms and overwater bungalows cost as much as top hotels anywhere, restaurant meals are expensive, and almost everything in the shops is imported, from wine to groceries. Car hire, boat trips and dives add up fast. Family-run pensions, self-catering houses, the evening roulottes and the local supermarket lower the cost a good deal, but even a careful trip here costs well above most of Europe.

Live performance on Moorea means Tahitian dance and drumming, usually at resort dinner shows and the island's cultural village. The dancing is skilled and the tradition is genuine, with hip-swaying ori Tahiti, fire dancing and pounding to'ere drums, but it is staged for guests. There is no theatre or concert life on the island. In July the great Heiva festival of dance and song takes place across the water in Papeete, and some Moorea villages hold their own smaller celebrations.

Moorea is built for slowing down. Days follow the light on the lagoon, nothing is far, there is little noise beyond roosters and the reef, and the overwater bungalows and garden pensions invite long hours of doing very little. The larger resorts have spas, some set over the water, and the island's own touch is taurumi, a traditional Polynesian massage, often given with monoi, the coconut oil scented with tiare flowers.

There are no thermal baths or bathing traditions, and outside the resorts spa choice is small, so the island suits visitors who want calm and a good massage rather than a full spa programme.