Branded

French Polynesia has burned itself into my soul. It has become a state that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I have learned how life can and should be lived. I am marked in soul and on body. This morning I showed up at one of the world's best tattoo studios in the center of Papeete and had myself literally branded by this paradise. My left shin is now adorned with a manta ray in modern Polynesian design, featuring symbols for water, strength, family, and changeability, among others. I gave the artist creative freedom, as he belongs to the very best in his field - and one always gives an artist free hands. The customer is satisfied.

I have always maintained that if I am to have tattoos, it should be out here in Polynesia, where Europeans rediscovered the tattoo culture in the late 1700s and brought it back to the old country. In recent weeks, I have sought information about the tradition behind it, delved into the meanings of the various symbols, and chosen a tattoo artist who is not only incredibly skilled but also carries his people's culture and traditions with such pride that they can share it with foreigners without compromising their own values. Several Polynesians have told me about the impressive tattoos on their own bodies and given me their blessing to borrow from their culture, as long as my tattoo is entirely my own. A true tattoo out here is personal, tells the bearer’s story, and should not be copied. I feel honored by these encounters with such wonderful and beautiful people who clearly stand strong in life and their heritage.

As a diver for two and a half decades, there was no doubt about the motif: The female manta ray represents to me the most beautiful and graceful creature underwater. A majesty with an enormous wingspan, gliding through the water without fear of anyone or anything. They are just there. That I encountered several out in the passes of Rangiroa and Fakarava only strengthened my conviction that my first tattoo should of course be this impressive animal.

I am now leaving French Polynesia with a sting in my heart. I have left a part of myself here in the Pacific, and I am not sure that I will ever truly return home from here. Something out here will never leave, and I will live with that.

It is, after all, a stroke of luck in misfortune that my project to be a crew member on a Danish boat here fell through last New Year. Certainly, it would have been an adventure to sail, but I would have only been surrounded by Danes (and Danes are the world champions at creating national bubbles) and would not have had the opportunity to meet all the wonderful people I have by traveling in the way I have now.

Now it’s time for the longest stretch of the Pacific journey: New Zealand.

Mauruuru, beautiful French Polynesia ❤️