Being an account of travels from Sydney to Dallas and then driving across Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and California to Los Angeles and then by ship across the Pacific to Sydney
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Thursday
Noumea
New Caledonia
As we came towards Noumea at about 6am it looked
like the whole island was covered by rain but it must have been an optical
illusion because it was all dry and mostly clear sky by the time we docked at
730am.
New Caledonia (so named by Captain Cook because the
mountainous islands reminded him of Scotland) has a population of 250,000
(according to the guide on the one hour rapid tour of Noumea) and 60% of them
live in Noumea. New Caledonia is a department of France, so the residents
behave, justifiably, as though they are living in France. Although the local
currency is not the Euro; New Caledonia has its own currency; the CFP (central
pacific franc; about 100 francs to AUD1.00).
The ship docked at the cruise terminal which
occupies about the equivalent position to the overseas passenger terminal in
Sydney. The terminal is really just a large shelter and inside, waiting for the
passengers, are lots of locals wanting to sell us tickets for tours. There were
not, unlike Pago Pago, Suva and Vila any taxi drivers touting for business.
I went for a walk around the city for 90 minutes
and then came back to the ship. I didn’t get back on board as I was persuaded
to buy a ticket for a one hour tour that was leaving immediately. There were
only two other tourists and me in an eight seat mini bus. Philippe the driver had
obviously done this tour more times that he can remember and would say “on your
right” or “on your left” while himself looking in the opposite direction. We
stopped a couple of times to take photos but otherwise just drove around.
Mercifully neither of the stops was a shopping centre as apparently happened on
tours in other ports. So after an hour I had a fair idea of the layout of
Noumea.
After lunch I went for a walk and saw the locals
enjoying long lunches, with wine on every table, at restaurants around the
city; I didn’t see any native New Caledonians in the smarter restaurants, just
people of European appearance.
Place des Cocotiers is the park which forms the
central square of the city. This is a pleasant space with lots of shade trees
and places to sit comfortably out of the sun. Although at 9am when I first walked
through most of the seats were occupied by people who looked like they had
nothing better to do for the rest of the day and didn’t look like they wanted
to share their seat with anybody else. At lunch time when I walked through
again there were market stalls set up and I could have bought a whole wahoo
fish (about a meter long).
We have two days at sea before arriving in Sydney
on Sunday morning. Officials from the Australian Dept. of Immigration join the
ship here in Noumea and the checking of passenger’s passports takes place at a
leisurely pace all day on Friday. This arrangement, while saving time on
arrival in Sydney, must be a greatly sought after assignment for the
immigration officials. Fly up to Noumea, a couple of days on a ship and stamp 1400
passports.
Based on less than a day here, I quite like Noumea.
Perhaps because it is a place that has other things to do apart from cater to
the needs of the passengers on the ship. In the previous three ports of call it
seemed like if the ship hadn’t been in port then it wouldn’t have been worth it
for the locals to get out of bed that day. In Noumea the visit of the ship is
just another thing that is happening today. Although I certainly stand out as a
visitor, because I’m lighter skinned than the native population and not as
smartly dressed as the European population, I haven’t been subject today to the
constant questioning about my requirements regarding clothes that I’d never
wear, shops, transport, hair braiding (seriously, the last time I could have
been legitimately asked this question was 1974), massages, wooden curios of all
sizes and shapes, postcards of places I haven’t been to and tours to places I
don’t want to visit.
Unless something significant happens in the next
two days at sea (like the ship being torpedoed) this will be my final posting.
In the past five weeks I’ve added five new US states to my states-visited list
to bring the total to nine out of fifty (Hawaii, California, Nevada, Arizona,
New Mexico, Texas, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York); driven 4300kms
across western America, taken about 3000 photos, sailed across the Pacific
Ocean and been to a most wonderful wedding in Las Vegas.
The next time I set foot on solid ground will be in
Sydney. Thanks to all the people who asked if I needed a ride home from the
airport; an understandable error as it is very rare for someone to end a
holiday by arriving in Sydney (or anywhere) by sea.
Before I conclude I must mention a most special
group of people on the ship. Nothing deters them from their daily routine. The
lure of exotic ports meant nothing to them. The thought of walking on the deck
or floating in the pool never enters their head. The temptations of food and
beverages of all types are ignored and they take only enough sustenance to
maintain them at their daily activities. I am referring, of course, to the
bridge players who seem to live in the room on deck 5 filled with card tables.
Every morning at 9am the room is packed to overflowing for the bridge lessons
(given by Jacqui; I’ve seen her and you wouldn’t want to say “four no trumps”
to her unless you really meant it) and then for what is described as
“unsupervised play”; as though they had been learning mountaineering and were
being allowed out by themselves on the north face of the Eiger. Port visits
were ignored and those that did go ashore blamed this lapse in continuous play on
unbearable threats made by their spouses. A couple of days ago I came across an
old gent on deck 4 looking a bit lost. He told me that he was trying to find
his wife. He said “she’s a bridge player” as though he was telling me that he’d
married insanity and wanted it to be crystal clear that any loss of marbles
wasn’t on his side of the family. I guided him to the bridge room on level 5
and, I’m ashamed to say, left to him alone to interrupt his wife and face her
fury when he inevitably distracted her at a critical point in the game.
While their behavior appears unusual, especially
given the opportunities surrounding them, they are spending their holiday doing
exactly what they want to do and I suppose that’s what a holiday should be.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Wednesday
Easo
Lifou Island
New Caledonia
Lifou Island is part of New Caledonia and about
150km North East of Noumea. Easo is a very small village on the North West
coast of Lifou.
The ship anchored at 7am about 1km offshore and the
passengers went ashore in four of the life boats. This procedure had the added
pleasure of allowing me to watch the boofheads who didn’t read the instructions
distributed last night on going ashore or listen to the instructions given this
morning being asked to go and get the identification required to go ashore and
a boat ticket (the ticketing system lasted until lunchtime, after that it was
just turn up on A deck, which is a crew deck below deck 1).
I decided to go ashore as soon as possible, which
was about 8.15am, because it was very windy and I thought that it might get so
windy that they would stop passengers from going ashore. We landed at a jetty on
a beach that was about 500m long. It is the only beach on this side of the
island as far as I can see; and that’s probably about 10km from the top deck of
the ship.
I walked up to the church on the promontory that we
could see clearly from the ship. The path wasn’t too steep but if it was
pouring rain and just a bit windier than it was today then you’d be giving
serious consideration to having a lie in on Sunday morning instead of going to
this church. The statue on the roof of the church was blown into the sea during
a cyclone some years ago and the locals thought it was lost forever. However,
scuba divers visiting the island found the statue and using large air lift bags
raised the statue to the surface and somehow got it ashore, up the hill and
back on to the roof.
I then walked to a small bay across the promontory rom
where I had come ashore (the promontory being only 500m wide at that point).
This bay had only a tiny beach that was difficult to get down to but the whole
bay was filled with coral sitting in water that was as clear as gin. Steps down
on to the beach and into the water are being constructed but are currently
roped off with a ‘do not enter’ sign; this was ignored by all visitors.
As I was one of the first people to see the sights
and to be heading back to the beach while vast shoals of later arrivals were
heading ashore meant that everyone who came toward me asked me how far it was
to the church, was the climb difficult, was it open (no), what else there was
to see (the bay with the coral) and so on. I felt like a one man Easo tourist
office. Speaking of which there were locals fulfilling this function sitting at
a table just near the beach that my interrogators would have walked past on
leaving the boat. As today I was in a rare amiable mood I patiently gave the
required details to all and sundry.
The locals were offering for sale much the same
merchandise that I’d seen for sale at the last three ports, except this all had
“greetings from Lifou” on it. There was also food for sale. Being part of New
Caledonia and therefore part of France, the food included baguettes and quiche.
I put some money into the local economy by buying a can of that famous French
beverage Cola de Coca.
Back to the ship for lunch and a change of camera.
I went back to the island on boat number 10, which is my assigned life boat. I
was happy to see that it is sea-worthy. I wasn’t so happy to see that the rated
capacity is 150 persons when used as a lifeboat. Today it was a squeeze to seat
60 people so I don’t see how 150 would fit unless their bodies are going to be
stacked like firewood.
Once ashore I walked back to the coral bay and took
some photos using a polarizing filter on the lens which cuts out reflections
from the water and also darkens the sky.
On my first visit ashore I went for a swim and the
water was surprisingly “refreshing”; other passengers said it was cold. The
beach was sand but once in the water it was mostly broken coral underfoot.
At 5pm the ship lifted its anchor and we started
towards Noumea.
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Tuesday
Port Vila
Vanuatu
The ship docked about 3km from the main shopping
area of Vila. As the passengers exited the port gate we were surrounded by taxi
drivers and tour guides. It looked like every motorized vehicle in Vila was at
the gates looking for someone to take for a ride (both literally and
figuratively). The recommended fare for the journey to town, one way, is USD15;
which I thought a bit steep for 3km although I could have reduced that amount
by sharing. Although in the mob outside the gate I heard the trip being offered
for USD5 by the more enterprising or desperate drivers.
Also outside the port gate, along both sides of the
road to the town for about 400m, there were scores of stalls all selling
essentially the same trinkets, clothes and other stuff that the locals hope
that heat affected tourists will think it essential to buy.
I decided to walk as I’m a bit sick of walking
round and round on deck 3. Shortly after I set off it started to rain. I
sheltered under a tree, knowing from my vast knowledge of Vanuatu weather data
that rain here may be intense but doesn’t last for long. It got heavier. And
then it got heavier still. As the rain got heavier the shelter provided by the
tree reduced proportionately. Just as I became resigned to taking one of the
taxis cruising past the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started and I walked
on.
The government obviously doesn’t have enough money
to properly maintain the roads so they certainly don’t have any money to splash
out on footpaths; it was a walk and sometimes a scramble around to the town.
The shops were a mixture of “duty free” ranging
from the air conditioned to the dim, dingy and dodgy as well as lots of
souvenir and clothing shops that are all selling the same stock. There were a
few cafes and restaurants but nothing that was particularly appealing.
I went into a supermarket. To remind visitors that
Vanuatu was formerly jointly administered by the French and the British (an
unusual arrangement known as a condominium) there was a large display of tinned
meat, advertised with the slogan “tin meat blong Vanuatu” and not too far away a
tempting display of French breads and pastries.
The most common form of commerce was people sitting
under umbrellas or in small booths selling mobile phone credit. I must have
walked past ten before I turned around to go back to the ship. This is in
addition to every other shop also advertising mobile phone credits.
The Vanuatu market was in a large open-sided
structure in the main street. Fruit and vegetables were for sale; the most
popular items being bananas, coconuts, yams, taro and sweet potato. The vendors
looked like they are well-used to having their photos taken tourists who don’t
buy anything. Although later I did see a woman with a bag of coconuts getting
back on the ship. Maybe she was hungry; she looked like she’d already eaten all
the food on the ship.
After wandering around for an hour or so and
finding that it wasn’t quite as exotic we’d led to believe by the briefing
given on the ship yesterday, I walked back to the ship.
Surprisingly, a significant proportion of the passengers
walking around at these tropical ports are not wearing hats, they all seem to
be Americans. Unsurprisingly, there are many sunburnt people at the end of each
day in port. Tomorrow we are going to anchor off Lifou island (one of the
islands of New Caledonia) where there is a beach for swimming (and not much
else); that should make for hundreds of sunburnt Americans tomorrow night.
Monday, 15 October 2012
Monday
At sea
After breakfast I was sitting in a deck chair and
reading and there was a mad woman standing at the railing and she kept
insisting that those walking past her stop and look at the flying fish. I don’t
know what she was seeing but there were no flying fish. These fish don’t appear
to be very big; but as we’re looking down from the railing of the ship which is
20m above the water the fish are probably at least 150mm long. The flying fish
that I have seen have always been flying perpendicular to the ship’s direction
of travel; probably because the ship’s sudden arrival in their particular bit
of the South Pacific has frightened the living daylights out of the fish and
they are getting away as far as they can fly and swim.
The social highlight of today’s calendar of events
is described as the Black and White Officers’ Ball. I’m looking forward to
seeing all the black and white officers tonight; if there aren’t some officers of
each colour lined up to greet the passengers then I’ll know that this event
should have been described as the Officers’ Black and White Ball.
Except when we are near a port I haven’t seen any
other ships or any other indication of civilization; no floating rubbish,
flotsam, jetsam; nothing.
I now wish I’d thought to prepare some messages in
bottles and drop them of the over the side of the ship a few times during the
voyage. Although there are lots of signs on the outdoor areas of the ship
saying that nothing should be thrown off the ship. This is probably more to do
with the risk of injury to other passengers on the ship than it is to do with
potential pollution of the ocean. When it is windy, which it is 99% of the time
when the ship is moving, then anything thrown off the ship is likely to be
blown back on board.
Smoking is only permitted in a few designated areas
of the ship (not in cabins) and I haven’t seen many smokers. There are usually
a few on the aft pool deck late at night (getting a last nicotine fix before
bed) and early in the morning (first of the day). Smoking is also permitted in
some parts of the casino on deck 5; but only if you are playing. So you can’t
smoke if you are watching someone use a poker machine or play blackjack but you
can smoke if you are playing. I wonder how many smokers have picked up a
gambling problem while at sea.
When I went for a swim this afternoon (and I’m one
of the few men of any age not wearing Speedos) the ship was rolling a bit and
the water was moving about. If I used the railing of the ship as a visual
reference then it appeared that although the water in the pool still had a
reasonably flat surface it was at an angle from the horizontal of about 15
degrees; very disconcerting.
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