There are two Tahitis: the big one, home to Papeete, its boulevards and its markets, and the little one, Tahiti Iti, the peninsula that has remained faithful to its fishing villages and roadless valleys. Vairao belongs to the second. Ships that stop here anchor in one of the island's largest lagoons, protected by a long barrier reef, then bring their passengers ashore by boat to the village wharf. The call, still a recent addition to Polynesian itineraries, reveals a side of Tahiti that most cruise passengers never suspect.

A mirror-like lagoon

The first thing you notice when stepping ashore: the calm. The Vairao lagoon spreads like a turquoise sheet between mountain and reef, dotted with outrigger canoes and huts on stilts. People here live from fishing, vanilla and taro, an hour's drive and a world away from the capital. The peninsula's mountains, often wrapped in clouds, plunge straight into the vegetation; no buildings, no garish signs, only gardens overflowing with hibiscus along the coastal ring road.

Teahupoo, the wave at the end of the road

About ten kilometres to the south lies Teahupoo, a tiny village whose name nonetheless echoes around the world. Off its reef rises one of the most famous and most feared waves on the planet, a tube of legendary power that surfers from every continent come to challenge. From the shore, you mostly glimpse the distant spray: to see the wave up close, you need to board one of the local water taxis that approach the pass when the swell allows. Even without swell, the outing is worth it for the beauty of the lagoon and the sight of the mountains seen from the sea.

The Fenua Aihere, the coast without a road

Beyond Teahupoo, the road stops dead. Then begins the Fenua Aihere, "the land of the bush", a coastline reachable only by boat where a few families live among coconut groves, waterfalls and deep bays. Lagoon excursions often go as far as the Vaipoiri grotto, a cave opening at the back of a cove, lined with ferns and fed by cool fresh water. This end of the world, twenty minutes by skiff from the wharf, is no doubt the strongest memory of the call: a Polynesia from before the roads, silent and untouched. The guides, often born here, know every house and every pass along this coast by name.

Vanilla and flavours of the South

Back near the wharf, food lovers will find plenty to fill the end of the day. A renowned vanilla is grown here, which a few producers show visitors, and a local pearl farm demonstrates the grafting of black-lip pearl oysters. Food trucks and small roadside snack bars serve raw fish in coconut milk, grilled tuna and juices pressed from garden fruit. You eat facing the lagoon, feet in the sand or nearly so, as scooters go by with their riders waving to everyone.

Port of call at a glance

When the ship weighs anchor, the peninsula slowly recedes, with its misty ridges and its reef outlined in foam. Many passengers leave with the feeling of having seen the real Tahiti, the one Papeete residents sing about when they speak of the "fenua" of their childhood. Vairao doesn't try to impress anyone; that is precisely what makes it so hard to forget.