Things We Loved This Month: Adventures in French Polynesia
Bob’s Bar
An undeniable highlight of my time in French Polynesia was my visit to The Brando, an eco-resort on the private island of Tetiaroa, which has been on my travel bucket list ever since I wrote about Barack Obama penning his memoirs at the property. And no, it’s not a greenwashing scheme—this is a genuinely environmentally-focused resort on the late actor Marlon Brando‘s private island, with the singular goal of minimizing its carbon footprint through exploration, discovery, education and conservation. I could wax poetic about the pure magic of this place for ages, but I’ll do my best to restrain myself.
The entire place is nothing short of dreamy (okay, failing already with the restraint), and I found myself particularly taken with the nondescript Bob’s Bar, an unassuming beach shack serving drinks and bites. The menu takes the form of an imagined travel journal Marlon Brando left behind in the 1970s, with a selection of his favored cocktails and dishes, and some quirky anecdotes—this is also where I learned that the famed actor liked to take a five-gallon tub of ice cream into a kayak, and simply sit there dining while floating around. New life goals.
As I plopped down on one of the benches in front of the bar one day, I wondered aloud who Bob actually was—he seemed quite mysterious. In reality, however, not so much—the bartender kindly informed me that Bob was just Brando’s friend-slash-assistant-slash-island manager. A man of all trades!
To say that the bartenders and pool staff go above and beyond isn’t enough. I’ve always scoffed at travel reviews and writing that fawn over how a place makes you feel like family, but I finally get it, because you really do feel like a part of the Brando family at this hotel. While we got lucky with sunny skies for most of our stay, our last day was pretty much one giant downpour. After our flight was delayed (weather, obviously), we set up camp at Bob’s Bar (don’t forget to order the burger; it really is that good), where several other guests who were also awaiting departure had the same idea. Despite the gusty winds and deluge of rain coming down on us, it felt like just another adventure at the Brando, chatting amongst the other guests and staff about our impending departure and sipping on some of the best cocktails I’ve ever tasted. (Try one of the health mocktails but add rum; you won’t regret it.) As I cozied up with a plate of fries, my aforementioned beverage and Kindle, I briefly wondered if I should attempt to locate a dry towel—I said nothing aloud, but mere seconds later, Lambert, from the pool desk (an absolute star of our stay) appeared with a stack of fresh towels. Mind readers, I’m telling you! Unfortunately, my not-so-silent wish that the prop plane would be grounded in the weather and I’d just have to stay at the Brando indefinitely were not answered in similar fashion.
