Today we planted our flag at Moorea Beach Club on Pampelonne.
Beach beds, umbrellas, tropical drinks, a fantastic lunch—no expense was spared in our pursuit of the authentic Saint-Tropez experience. The day disappeared into long walks with the girls, snorkeling, swimming, and searching the shoreline for sea glass.
We also met a remarkable 68-year-old woman who had just traveled from France to Fiji on an extraordinary long-distance journey primarily involving a bicycle. The precise logistics escaped us, but the woman herself was more convincing than the story sounded: we met her emerging from the Mediterranean after a two-mile open-water swim.
Watching her reinforced something I’ve increasingly come to believe: the fountain of youth isn’t contained in a pill or bottle, and no company can sell it to you.
It’s continual locomotion throughout life.
Keep moving. Lift things. Walk places. Swim across bays. At 68, apparently undertake journeys across the world.
Eventually the sun began to fall and we surrendered our little piece of Pampelonne. We headed home for tortellini and an episode of The Rings of Power.
No grand cultural revelation. No museum. No historical monument.
Just sunshine, saltwater, our girls, and an entire day with nowhere else to be.
About as perfect a beach day as I’ve ever had.