"It didn't matter if it was Adam or Eve who bit the apple, this was surely Eden."

My fellow cruiser aboard the cruise ship Paul Gauguin was remarking on our first view of Motu Mahana, a tiny private coral atoll off Taha'a in the Society Islands.

It's doubtful, though, that the biblical couple had access to a floating bar, grilled steaks and coconut mai tais. Now that's temptation.

Taha'a, one of the Society Islands, was one of our last ports of call during a memorable 10-night, 11-day cruise aboard Regent Seven Sea's luxury ship.

Gracious and stately, the Paul Gauguin — appropriately named after the French impressionist whose paintings vividly depict Tahitian life — offers year-round cruises around the Society Islands and Tuamotu atolls.

Akin to a five-star, boutique luxury hotel, this floating oasis accommodates 320 passengers with almost equally the same number of attentive crew members, who cater to your every whim. Staterooms are spacious and handsomely appointed with cherry, mahogany and pearwood, and half of them have balconies. Rooms are equipped with European- and American-standard voltage outlets, an important amenity — at least for my spouse, who packed her curlers and two different types of irons: one to straighten her hair and another to press her clothes.

PAPE'ETE

We disembarked in Pape'ete, the downtown area of Tahiti that closely resembles bustling coastal towns in the south of France. Street and store signs are predominantly in French, which is the language mostly heard and spoken around the narrow, cobblestone corridors. English, however, can be used, with some locals having a limited understanding of it.

News shops and open-air cafes line the streets of downtown Pape'ete and despite people's conception that Tahiti is expensive, it doesn't have to be. You just need a little savvy and information.

Although U.S. currency is acceptable in most shops, don't expect a favorable exchange rate. (As of Thursday, the French Pacific franc was trading at about 95 to the dollar.) Not surprising was the abundance of black Tahitian pearls here, but what was a surprise was that they were priced substantially lower than the ones sold here in Hawai'i.

Getting around the downtown area is best done on foot. If you're staying at outlying resorts like the newly renovated, sprawling Tahiti Sheraton, taking a taxi into centreville will cost about $10; Le Truck, the public transport system, costs about $2.

As for the beaches, they're mostly powdery black sand, and the two most popular are Point Venus and Papara.

Visitors should know — and come to expect — that resorts will charge a premium for even the most basic of meals. A hamburger can easily fetch $18, a plate of pasta $21. In comparison, we dined at Les Café Negociants, where we ordered steak et frites for $15 and a loaded cheese plate with all the bread you can eat for $16 for our plats de resistances, the equivalent of an entree; the term "entree" on Tahitian menus refers to appetizers.

However, if you really want to grind on the cheap, check out the Rue du Dr. Cassiau behind Centre Vaima, where "snack bars" offer reasonably priced hamburgers and the ubiquitous casse-croute (about $3 to $5), a sandwich made from a crusty baguette stuffed with ham, tuna, roti (roast pork) or hachis (hamburger) with lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers — or maybe even spaghetti.

Hawai'i residents shouldn't miss out on les roulottes, the Tahitian version of the plate-lunch wagon run amok. A fleet of these roulottes descends on the cruise-ship docks after dark (around 6 p.m.) and sells everything from charbroiled steaks and chicken to Chinese dishes and pizzas, crepes and gaufres (waffles) to grilled fish and poisson cru (similar to poke but made with coconut milk and a splash of lime).

Aboard the Gauguin, we had a choice of three venues for dinner: Le Grill, La Veranda and L'Etoile. We passed on dinner that first night, still full from our lunch of steak et frites, et fromage.

HUAHINE

With the first signs of dawn, the silhouette of Huahine came into sight. Hua, by the way, is said to translate to sex and hine to woman; combined, the term makes reference to a female's private parts, which the island supposedly resembles — or so said one of our excursion guides.

Two mountain ranges of differing heights jut out prominently, joined by a narrow isthmus that's ensconced within a protective coral necklace. Approximately 110 miles northwest of Tahiti, this Society Island was once a whaling port and is now home to eight villages, with the town of Fare being the main hub, followed by Maeva.

Thanks to the more than three decades worth of work by Yoshi Sinoto of the Bishop Museum, Huahine is now home to some of the richest archaeological and cultural sites in French Polynesia.

RA'IATEA

Pulling up anchor, we set sail for Ra'iatea, which means "expansive sky" and is considered the sacred island of the Society Group. In Polynesian myth, the island was once called Havai'i, and is believed by many to have been the starting point for migrations to Hawai'i, New Zealand and Easter Island.

The 92-square-mile island lies within the same barrier reef as Taha'a, known for its vanilla. And while both are often overlooked by tourists, these two islands offer every bit as much majestic scenery and romanticism as better-known Rangiroa and Bora Bora.

The main town of Ra'iatea is Uturoa, which showcases quaint shops selling pearls that are harvested from the lagoon.

During a 3 1/2-hour excursion, we snorkeled the azure waters, swimming and frolicking among the colorful marine life. The lagoon is well protected by the reef, barring sharks and any other predatory species from entering. However, a small aqua farm did have black-tip sharks, rockfish, puffer fish, blowfish and a seven-finger, escargot-like fish that looked more like the slithery mother in "Alien."

Afterwards, it was off to a black-pearl farm where a tutu-like teacher explained the life and development of a black Tahitian pearl. The process of developing a pearl is a long one, lasting up to five years. No wonder they're so prized and expensive.

RANGIROA

Sailing north to Rangiroa and coming as close to the Marquesas Islands as we have ever been, there it was: the Southern Cross, the ancient mariner's guiding light, which was made famous in the Crosby, Stills & Nash classic tune. We confirmed this is actually what we saw while talking to a local artist and ex-Hawai'i resident, who described it as a bright light that appears as if it's horizontal to the ocean.

Later on the day, we would see something as remarkable. This time, however, it would be under water. In the depths of Rangiroa's so-called open "aquarium," we swam — nervously at first, I must confess — with three- to four-foot black-tip sharks, playful dolphins and gliding manta rays.

We lost all fear and inhibitions while diving 10 to 20 feet to take a couple of snapshots of these stunning creatures. Fortunately, I managed to steady my hands enough to capture a few clear shots of a group of zigzagging sharks. Now, I've got tangible proof and, of course, bragging rights that I swam with sharks. So what if they were just innocuous black-tips.

For the unwilling or ocean-shy, glass-bottom boat tours allow you to marvel at the same wildlife from the surface.

As the largest atoll in Polynesia and the second-largest in the world (the largest is in the Great Chagos Bank in the Indian Ocean), Rangiroa is a diver's paradise. The 393-square-mile aquarium lagoon is home to hundreds of species, ranging from sharks and manta rays to jacks and trumpet fish, puffer fish and eels. And the warm waters, live coral and shallow depths make this spot equally ideal for novice and experienced snorkelers alike.

By land, Rangiroa has two main villages: Avatoru and Tiputa, which, like other towns in the Society Islands, rely heavily on tourism for their stability and economy.

As part of the Tuamotu chain, Rangiroa is one of 41 inhabited islands among the 78 that comprise this vast archipelago, which has a total population of 14,500 residents. And this doesn't include the dogs, who may actually outnumber the people.

Solitary homes sit along the shores and some literally are offshore, perched on 10-foot pilings with no neighbors in sight and no transportation available except for small wooden boats. My spouse and I half-jokingly — and half-seriously — mused about whether these remote thatched huts could be turned into time-shares.

A sense of tranquility and wonderment enveloped us as the sun dipped below the verdant peaks and we pulled anchor, heading south for Bora Bora.

BORA BORA

This would be our second visit here within two weeks. The first time, we stayed at the pristine Bora Bora Nui Resort & Spa. Our over-water bungalow was every bit as romantic, alluring and breathtaking as the pictures seen in travel brochures, magazines and television.

We snorkeled from our back pontoon, watched glorious sunsets and sunrises from our glass-bottomed lanai and sipped on wine, not ever wanting to leave this utopian resort. Like most vacations, our three-night stay in Bora Bora was much too short.

So we were glad that "Pora Pora," which is the correct spelling because the letter "B" does not exist in Tahitian, was one of our ports of call.

Choppy waters and a stinging breeze — it was, after all, winter here, the opposite season of Hawai'i — didn't stop us from taking a Waverunner around this enchanted island, which American writer James A. Michener used as the model for Bali Hai in his novel, "Tales of the South Pacific."

We shuddered each time the sun hid behind clouds and we bounced off wakes, almost stalling at times as we plunged into the waves. The splash of waves was blinding, but it didn't matter. We had Manu, our guide, whom we followed past buoys and through channels, and in him we trusted.

Halfway through our tour, we stopped at a little motu where Manu demonstrated the art of husking coconuts against a stick that protruded from the ground. The stick's pointed edge stood waist high, giving Manu enough leverage to scrape the coconut and strip it of its fibrous husk. Thankfully, this wasn't one of those hands-on, you-try demonstrations.

We gnawed on fresh coconut meat and passed a halved shell filled with milk around the circle of fellow adventurers. Then we scrambled back on our Wave-runners, feeling refreshed and prepared for the last leg of our tour around the island.

As we rounded the bend, Mount Otemanu, which means "sea of birds," majestically rose from the ocean, providing the most picturesque backdrop for many a photo. One Italian tourist raised her hands, shook her head and beamed — nothing was lost in translation here. It was stunning, and words weren't necessary.

Our second day in Bora Bora, an excursion with Teremoana Tours would have us feeding and swimming with manta rays and sharks. A mixup in our itinerary, however, would send us down another adventure in the town of Vaitape.

After waiting on the dock for a half hour, we realized that we had literally missed the boat. With no cell phone, we were temporarily stranded, a tourist's worst fear. It was at this time that a tour operator by the name of Daniel began to set up shop, hanging billboards and photos that promoted his Bora Bora Photo Lagoon safari. Learning of our circumstance, the blonde-haired French native called Teremoana on our behalf. The company would eventually dispatch a cab driver who whisked us away, not telling us where we were going, only reassuring us that it was "no problem."

As we drove along a bumpy road that hugged the coastline, we passed by decrepit shacks and a slow-traveling pickup truck that was loaded down with huge strips of aluminum that a man stood on to prevent from flying on to the road.

After a 15-minute ride, our driver pulled over, parking along the side of a home. He got out of his Mercedes SUV and entered the house. We waited in the car until he waved us in. As we walked toward the backyard, we could hear a woman in the house giggling. It turned out that she was our driver's wife, and we were at his house. He pointed to the beach and told us to wait there, adding that someone would pick us up and connect us with the tour group.

After 10 minutes and a lot of back-and-forth "now-what?"-type perplexed looks, a boat taxi arrived, and the driver quickly shuttled us to a tour group. However, it wasn't the one run by Teremoana but by another company. We learned that the Teremoana boat was full but they had kindly arranged for us to go with another party that would provide the same experience.

Getting to this point was half the fun; the other half was seeing sharks and manta rays in their natural elements, and having a picnic on a tiny motu.

Saying nana (goodbye) to Bora Bora was even harder this second time around, and as Michener so succinctly put it, "Anyone who has ever been there wants to go back."

We certainly do.

TAHA'A

We would spend only nine hours anchored here, and half of that was spent on the private motu Mahana. Short of seeing Mr. Rourke and Tatoo on the dock, this was fantasy island.

Gauguin staff members welcomed us with mimosas and huge coconut mai tais as we disembarked from the tender. It would be a hedonistic day of drinking, eating ... and more drinking and eating.

Curving palm trees surround the tiny lagoon, while the calm crystal-clear water invitingly lures you in. Massages were available, but the idyllic scene was all that was needed to relax and soothe the body. OK, mai tais and grilled steaks and fish helped, too.

P.O. Box 416, Pape'ete, Tahiti, French Polynesia (689) 864-848; toll-free reservations, (866) 716-8140.

MO'OREA

It was a cliche. Mo'orea's craggy peaks and lush hillsides, all surrounded by emerald water, is the picture-perfect postcard image that most people envision of Polynesia. It would not disappoint.

Early Polynesians called this island Tahiti-Iti, "the little fish of Tahiti." And while it may be small, the views are huge. Triangular in shape, Mo'orea measures approximately 10 miles on each side, revealing leafy vegetation and talcum-like sandy beaches.

Rental cars are available for about $60 for four hours, which is plenty of time, given that the scenic coastal road — the only major road here — is only 37 miles long.

Lookout points, from Toatea and Mount Rotui, reveal breathtaking views of the island, stretching out from Cook's Bay to Opunohu Bay. A trip to Belve-dere, in the center of the island, affords panoramic views in all directions. And along the way, marae — ancient temples — have been restored, with Titiroa and Ahu o Mahine being the two most popular.

Surely, the gods were smiling when they created Mo'orea.

This was, indeed, Eden.