Palm Trees, Stars, and the Unexpected King of Tahiti.

One of the strangest, most surreal travel memories I’ve ever had? The night I ended up at the King of Tahiti’s house. Yeah. That happened.

I was working on a cruise ship—and we were scheduled to to dock in Papeete for three days. I couldn’t believe my luck. 3 days!! Andy, our percussionist in the band—a quiet, uber talented guy who always seemed to know people in the places most of us couldn’t pronounce—mentioned offhand that he was related to the king. “Might go over to his house,” he said, like he was inviting us for a backyard BBQ. My jaw hit the floor. I immediately started begging him to take me along.

I was still new to travel then. Green. Wide-eyed. The kind of person who still thought duty-free shops were exotic. But Andy liked my enthusiasm, and soon, plans were made. His family in Papeete would host a group of us—some musicians, a few of my close friends who worked in the spa, and me.

We docked right in the center of the city. We all followed Andy off the ship, and waiting for us in this man—towering, welcoming, draped in tradition and presence. He looked like something out of a time before time. The kind of man who doesn’t need to speak to command a room. I didn’t know it then, but this wouldn't be the last time I’d see him. His name was Miko