Say bonjour to perfect Papeete

TAHITI'S capital, Papeete, deserves more than passing consideration as you head to tropical island jewels like Bora Bora and Mourea, writes Elizabeth Meryment.

Tropical luxury ... the Sofitel pool boasts stunning ocean views. Picture: Elizabeth Meryment

"NOBODY stays in Papeete," a local tells me mournfully with a shake of the head. "It's always straight to the islands, every time." Well, it's hardly any wonder, when the islands in question are those spectacular little jewels that include Bora Bora, Moorea and Raiatea, a collection of aquatic wonders the French describe as "the diamonds on the fingers" of their empire.

 But we all must start somewhere, and when travelling to French Polynesia, Papeete is the town – city would be too strong a word – where regional carrier Air Tahiti Nui disgorges its passengers. And, thankfully, the francophone port is not without its charms.

We arrive late on Sunday night after an eight-hour flight from Sydney to find ourselves in a tropical downpour. It's a bit like Cairns in a cyclone: very wet and very hot, the air scented with frangipani and that ubiquitous Tahitian gardenia, the tiare. There's more than a hint of fecundity here: puddles form rapidly on the ground, wild bougainvillea blooms beside the tarmac and palm fronds drip in the sweet night. Although it's after 10pm, the whole town appears to be out to greet us.

Pretty young women with leis around their necks hand out flowers for us to put behind our ears (is it the right or left ear for singles, we wonder) and we're welcomed by melodic French voices. "Bonjour ... bonsoir." So it's not quite like Cairns after all.

We're staying at the upmarket Sofitel Tahiti Resort, about 10 minutes from the airport. The town centre is another 10 minutes beyond; we hardly have time to enjoy the hotel in the morning before deciding to venture out to the vibrant and famous local town market, Le Marche.

Like the markets of many countries, this one offers an excellent window into the souls – or at least the stomachs – of the locals. The best time to visit is early on Sunday mornings, when Tahitians are out in force buying up for the weekly ma'a tahiti, or feast, when families gather after church.

No matter what time you visit, stock up on sweet-sour ladyfinger bananas that sell for 100 French Pacific francs ($1.40) a kilo. There's abundant local fruit, including pineapples, jackfruit, coconuts, melons and green mangoes. The air is heavy with the scent of the vanilla beans that grow on the nearby "vanilla island" of Taha'a and which are sold here in small bottles. And if you're staying a while, it's a must to buy a bunch of the riotous bird-of-paradise flowers that almost dance out at shoppers as they pass.

Outside, or if you venture up the market's rickety old stairs, stallholders and shops sell all manner of local arts and crafts. There are beads, shells and necklaces, and lovers of the muu-muu should come armed with cash. And, gents, sartorial splendour is yours in the form of an amazing array of tropical-print shirts.

The French flavour of the island is more evident outside the market, where cafes with red sunshades and wicker chairs serve hair-raisingly strong espressos, as well as omelettes, steak-frites and delicious baguettes reminiscent of those sold in Paris. But Papeete does not have a Parisian feel. Rather, it is more akin to that other French outpost of the Pacific, Noumea (although a little smaller), Port Louis in Mauritius or even to some southern French ports such as Marseille.

Here, as in those ports, the buildings have the peculiar colourless and shapeless form that afflicts so much French colonial architecture. Indeed, the town's light and shade is supplied largely by the populace, a curious blend of European expats, including a brigade of wizened French women with camel-hide tans who strut up and down the busy boulevards.

French Polynesians – mostly young – amble about at island speed, in large groups, stopping occasionally to gather in the emerald parks under clumps of shady trees. The pace is always relaxed, even on the busiest streets, and at the markets, there are often four or five people sitting chatting behind a stall, even if there are no customers. The sensation of being portside is enhanced by the sea-salt smell that never seems far away. A large harbour fringes the town centre, and just across from the market is the dock where tankers, pleasure cruisers and ferries jostle for position.

There are some decent restaurants around – we try the Quai des Iles, which offers a strange but pleasant assortment of Caribbean and Indian dishes – but it might be more economical to eat at local cafes and the market (avoid buying local lagoon fish, however: Westerners, apparently, are allergic to them). While we're dining at the Quai des Iles, a huge troupe performing some rather energetic traditional dances happens by, which is a treat.

My favourite part of this stay in Papeete, however, occurs back at the resort. While Tahitian hotels can't generally compete with those on Bora Bora or Moorea (where accommodation in overwater bungalows is the highlight), the Sofitel has the advantage of a glorious pool with sea views towards Moorea.

One afternoon after a long day of sightseeing, we head to the pool. After a few quiet laps, and as the sun sets in golden hues over the island, cocktails are served. In this warm, tropical air, nobody minds if one is still wearing a bikini after five. This, it seems, is my kind of town.

Elizabeth Meryment was a guest of Sofitel and Air Tahiti Nui.