•TAHITI: THE PLAYGROUND OF NATURE 



315 



borne palm ; and afar, on mountain slope, 

 branched the glossy fei. 



After sundown we experienced one of 

 the greatest pleasures of the tropics — 

 travel by moonlight. When the elements 

 of the air are in a placid mood, an even- 

 ing stroll is a delight. Waving palms and 

 gently sighing wind, roar of surf on dis- 

 tant reef, and ceaseless wash of tide, com- 

 bined with pictures of contentment and 

 hospitable greetings of young and old 

 from roadside and dooryard, produce 

 sensations foreign to the most radiant 

 day. 



A NIGHT IN A NATIVE HOME 



At such a time Tairua reached the 

 home of Matariro. Both the latter and 

 his wife saluted my guide with kisses, 

 and then the whole family sat on the ve- 

 randa while the long-absent son told of 

 his wanderings in alien lands. I was 

 given the choice of two beds and invited 

 to retire when I pleased. My bed was a 

 comfortable, ample couch, such as I saw 

 afterward throughout frequented parts 

 of Tahiti. 



Matariro's home was a one-story, un- 

 painted wooden structure with a balus- 

 traded porch. The floor and walls were 

 bare, and the whole was roofed with gal- 

 vanized-iron sheeting, the usual covering 

 for wooden buildings in the South Pacific. 



Until the French occupied Tahiti its 

 people were content to live in bamboo 

 houses with roofs of thatched pandanus 

 or coconut branches, or in dwellings con- 

 structed wholly of the two latter ma- 

 terials. The primeval style of habitation 

 is still the more popular with the ma- 

 jority, but in Papeete modernity prevails. 

 In the country, too, in addition to the all- 

 board house, there is a growing fondness 

 for attractive combinations of reed, bam- 

 boo, and lumber. 



Some of the native owners of homes 

 of European design prefer to live in a 

 primitive structure in the rear and main- 

 tain the new domicile chiefly as a mark 

 of respectability and affluence. 



CHINESE STORES ALWAYS MARK THE 

 VILLAGE SQUARE 



Matariro's residence was within a few 

 kilometers of the straggling village of 

 Papara. Like all other Tahitian villages. 



it had only one street, and that was part 

 of the island's main highway. On each 

 side of this was an irregular row of 

 houses, the best one belonging to the dis- 

 trict chief, in this case Tati Salmon, who 

 is mentioned by Stevenson. 



In my tramps in Tahiti I neve* knew 

 when I had crossed what might properly 

 be called the line between village and 

 plantation. But practically every village 

 center was marked by a group of two 

 or three smoky-looking Chinese stores. 

 W nerever they stood, there was the vil- 

 lage square, where the gossipers gathered 

 and, in the harvesting season, the per- 

 fume of vanilla beans drying on canvas 

 spread before the open doors, made the 

 place fragrant. 



There the native exchanged his coco- 

 nuts and scented pods for bread and 

 brown sugar and American canned sal- 

 mon or Xew Zealand canned butter and 

 beef, and there the traveler was refreshed 

 by coffee or tea, figure-eight doughnuts, 

 and twisted roll. 



THE DAILY MENU IN THE TAHITI 

 HOUSEHOLD 



In Polynesia hospitality exhibits itself 

 in many novel ways. In Tahiti, for ex- 

 ample, the host sometimes spreads a new 

 tablecloth at every meal. When a house- 

 wife wants to grace the family board, she 

 goes into the yard and gathers for that 

 purpose a banana branch or a few hibis- 

 cus leaves. 



When I was called to breakfast at 

 Matariro's I greeted a half dozen per- 

 sons squatting before a banana leaf on 

 the floor of the back veranda. I wa^ 

 given a small table to myself. As I had 

 said I did not care for coffee. I was 

 served with orange tea and coconut milk. 

 The first was brewed from the leaves of 

 the wild orange tree, and made a pleasant 

 drink. Like the coffee, it was prepared 

 in a palm-thatched kitchen without walls 

 and was served in a bowl. 



In common with all Tahitians. my 

 hosts were very fond of coffee and they 

 always had it for breakfast. With it 

 they ate unbuttered bread. 



The islanders were taught to eat bread 

 by the Chinese, and so wherever it is 

 possible for a baker's cart to go. coffee 

 and rolls form the morning's refresh- 



