Half a world away, the Tahitian Islands offer winter-weary travelers some fun in the sun.

By Drew Limsky

I really should have exhibited a little more self-control in the Swiss Air lounge, the holding area for Tahiti Nui Airlines. But I'm a sucker for miniature Lindt chocolates. My binge in the lounge would be a harbinger of the next two weeks in the Tahitian islands. Usually such a far-flung trip would spell complication, but this particular trip to the South Pacific would be one of ease—boats would always pull up to the dock on time, encounters with locals would invariably be friendly and schools of brilliantly colored fish would join me for each swim, as if on cue.

When most people say Tahiti, what they really mean are the French Polynesian islands that dot the sea over an area the size of Europe. I flew into the international gateway of Tahiti on Air Tahiti Nui (with direct flights from Los Angeles and New York), where the pampering is beyond compare. Most people just spend a single night here before venturing off to a more secluded destination, but I stayed a second night in Tahiti at the luxuriously renovated Sheraton (www.sheratontahiti.com) so I could experience an island tour that took me away from the bustling, Frenchified port town of Papeete to sweeping black-sand beaches and the Faarumai waterfalls, natural springs and the Arahoho blowhole, coconut stands and a fern-bordered walkway that led to a swimmable grotto called Maraa.

I'd been in French Polynesia less than 48 hours, and I couldn't take my eyes off the mountains of Moorea. They are at once hard and soft, and somehow familiar, like an image from a half-forgotten dream. The needle-tipped mountains—with vertical folds making them seem violently crumpled—are blanketed by an unearthly hue of green.

My next destination was the breathtaking Moorea, a seven-minute flight or a half-hour ferry from Tahiti. I chose to arrive by sea—a good plan, since water is what these lagoon islands are all about. Moorea is a vaguely heart-shaped island with a pair of improbably scenic bays—Cook's and Opunohu, the latter of which was the setting for the 1984 version of Mutiny on the Bounty—cutting deeply into the coast. Between them rises the nearly 3,000-foot-high Mt. Rotui. Be sure to rent a car or open-style buggy to drive to Belvedere Lookout for the full effect.

The Sheraton Moorea (www.sheratonmoorea.com), which has to be one of the most comfortable, logically designed resorts in the world, affords magical mountain and canyon vistas, and sunset views for those lucky enough to score an odd-numbered overwater bungalow between 101 and 109. The accommodations boast claw-footed soaking tubs and unique two-level decks, so your lounge chairs are set just inches above the stunning, shallow waters (about four to five feet in most places) of the lagoon. I grabbed a snorkel and some fins and, for an hour, swam over purple-fringed coral with scores of new friends—yellow Ragoon butterflyfish, wispy Moorish fish and, my favorite, the blue-green bullhead parrotfish— joining me for the ride.

From Moorea, I island-hopped to Huahine, the lush island to the west. The figure-eight-shaped land mass is the site of the annual outrigger canoe race each fall and, from my expansive deck at the Te Tiare Beach Resort (www.tetiarebeachresort.com), I could see the muscular oarsmen whizzing by, doing their drills. Huahine lacks the luxurious hotels of its sister islands, but the deep overwater bungalows at Te Tiare are spacious and feature awe-inspiring views of the waves washing over the reef at sunset. My impression of Huahine only improved when I joined Nomade Yachting's Bora Bora Cruise and was dropped off at Hana Iti beach, a gorgeous crescent perfect for swimming and sunning.

Nomade offers the best Tahitian cruising experience by far. With its 30-odd cabins (as opposed to the monster ships that troll these waters), the Ti'a Moana is able to deliver personalized service as staffers ply you with fine French cuisine, glasses of champagne at sunset and cold towels each time you re-embark after an excursion. There was a couple from Long Island, N.Y., on the boat. The trip was a bit of culture shock to them, owing, in part, to Tomita, the strapping rae-rae (transgendered) waitress who had once played pro volleyball in the men's division and giggled whenever she saw me.

Each day brought surprise breakfast buffets or cocktail parties prepared in the lagoon, with tables and chairs set right down in the water. One afternoon outing consisted of a Polynesian lunch of a very tasty poisson cru (raw fish salad with coconut milk and lime juice). I kayaked everywhere—from the ship to the motus (islets) and back again. Next to one motu, I kayaked to the outer reef where the waves broke hard. Coral was jutting out everywhere, and it was razor sharp—like gnarled fingernails sticking out of the shallows. There wasn't much to buy in port, but I did come home with a mother-of-pearl fishhook necklace that makes me feel exotic when I wear it on Miami Beach. My photos of port are even better: Whenever we pulled alongside a dock, local kids would climb up the Tia Moana's ropes and backflip off the prow.

I found myself nearly in tears one day as we all played volleyball on a public motu called Iriru, because I was on the other side of the world on this dot of land playing the most multicultural volleyball game imaginable, as my teammates and opponents included prosperous Italians and lithe, native Tahitian girls; a heavyset Spanish man on his honeymoon and the dark-skinned, light-eyed "captains" who ferried us around between the ship and the motus on tenders; a gawky teenage French boy on holiday with his parents; and, dominating the game, Tomita in a stylish pareo (wraparound skirt) and sleeveless turtleneck, her enormous manicured hands spiking and bumping like nobody's business. Nearby, three beautiful little boys, probably around 8 years old, sat in a row and laughed at their own private jokes for hours.

I ended my Tahitian trip on Bora Bora, where I stayed at the Bora Bora Lagoon Resort (www.boraboralagoon.com). The benefit of the resort’s location on a motu became immediately clear: Because it is not on the main island but faces it, guests are treated to a dead-on view of the double-horned Mount Pahia. In fact, no resort has a better view of this iconic and breathtaking sight. The resort has a beautiful free-form pool (the largest I saw at any Tahitian resort), and its grounds are so lush that you have to push leaves out of the way to get to the well-equipped gym or to have a coconut milk and flower bath in the terrific Maru spa, which is designed as a treehouse.

As for accommodations, my doors opened up to a view of sea and sky and nothing else. My bed was comfortable, the bathtub large, and I was continually drawn to the glass coffee table over a glass-bottomed floor (you could remove the tabletop to hear the wavelets and feed the fish).

During my stay, I also checked in to the high-style Meridien (www.starwoodhotels.com/lemeriden), which felicitously faces Mount Otemanu's iconic spire (at 2,385 feet, the highest point on Bora Bora). The resort—quite French in flavor—contains the area's most ambitious architecture, with thatched roofs in an arrangement of shapes, grand asymmetrical staircases that descend to the splendid white-sand beaches and beautiful restaurants that seem to float above a clear interior lagoon favored by anglefish the size of dinner plates. But, the resort's best amenities are the complimentary outrigger sailboats. I lounged on a canvas net while a skipper maneuvered over turquoise waters that suddenly turned a deep shade of blue when the depth increased, as if nature had painted a distinct line in one inspired stroke.