We crossed the International Dateline again on our flight and got to do Sunday all over again in Tahiti. We had booked a hotel in Papeete, the main city and capital - a city about the size of Canandaguia, NY. The city was closed up tight on Sunday, and there was nowhere to eat except MacDonald's (!!!), so we went out by taxi to the Beachcomber International Hotel, a big resort.
Anne had been feeling not-so-good on the flight and worse on Sunday, so she had not really eaten much of anything that day, and it went form bad to worse at dinner. Just as she ordered, she passed out right there at the table, and was quite sick. The staff was great, and made it all very discreet, got a wheelchair, called a doctor, and took us to a small room near reception where she could lie down. Tom had his dinner sent there, so he could eat and not be starving (Tom is not a pretty sight when he is hungry!). The duty manager, Moira, was wonderful and a security guard (William Clark) kept us company while we waited. (He was there more to look after us, not for any security issues!) Turns out, William is a descendant of one of the mutiny on the Bounty participants - really! He did not speak much English, but was a delightful distraction from Anne's discomfort. When the doctor finally arrived, he was great but did not speak much English either, but Moira translated, and he determined that Anne had gastroenteritis (the all-purpose diagnosis for what we would call stomach flu) which was going around Tahiti. He gave her some medicine and said she'd be better in a day or so, and not to eat for another day. We went back to our hotel in a taxi, and had an uncomfortable night, and Anne spent the next day (Monday) in bed.
Tom took a half-day tour of the island on Monday and found a restaurant for dinner for himself. Tuesday morning, we planned to take the ferry to the beautiful island of Moorea (Michener's "Bali Hai"), and Anne felt well enough to check out and go, (thank goodness).