Theres No Place Like Home

There comes a time when the only left to do is go home. I guess I cant really last much longer than a few months on the road before feeling the need to know that I have some purpose or home to go back to. Right now, I don't really have either, and while its all very zen here and supremely relaxing, I keep think the same thing: i want to go home! i want to go home! At least I know its real because even in paradise, and it is paradise, I would rather be home. Home; whatever and wherever that is.

I am in still in Lifou because I had planned to take the Havannah boat to Ouvea for the last week and then back to Noumea before my flight; as it turns out, the Havannah makes the once a month trip to Vanuatu after Ouvea and there is no way I want to go that direction. So, I will wait for one of the Betico ferries that pass through on Friday or Monday. I have three chances, and I could get off in Island of Mare if I really want to. The primary consideration at this point is financial because I really cant afford to NOT camp; yet, I cant camp because my tent it too small, therefore too hot, and to sleep in it is to slowly suffocate, sweat and die of mosquitoes. I cant handle being wet all day and being bitten by large horseflies and red ants; everything smells bad, is perpetually moist and I find myself thinking, i just want to go home! i just want to go home!

So, after 4 days in the hotel oasis last week, I went to Easo, about 40K north. I found a lovely camp spot at Lilo Reve, which was a grassy knoll right against the rocky cliffs, with a few perfect sandy beaches at low tide. The local kids could be found here swimming in their underwear and running over the sharp coral with bare feet any time of day. They practiced their English with me, and pointed out passing sea turtles. I also met a couple of French girls that i saw on the boat before and we walked to the naturelle aquarium. This was the most amazing snorkeling I have ever seen; or at least remember. Again, there was nobody there but us. And the next day, we cycles to the Falaise where the rocky cliffs encircled a low bay of gorgeous water and snorkeling spots galore.

I spent a couple of nights camping before riding back on my own to We, and then on to the Baie de Luengoni. Here I met a couple more French girls, and then they saw a couple more French girls, and I found myself calling the Island of Lifou the Island of Lesbos, which was amusing to me because they found me to be strange. However, because it was basically me and them, and without them I would have been completely alone, I appreciated the chance to learn a little more French and have someone to spend the day on the deserted beach with in case there was any trouble. We made a bbq and drank some beers in the green water, floating on the waves like coconuts, brushing the white sand off our knees and heading off for cold showers.

It truly is rustic, and I slept in one of the thatched bungalows just to say I did. Honestly, though, I find myself unnerved by the fact that all of these places are completely unmarked and no tourists in sight except for me, and some other random couple I may chance upon. They beaches are long and white and at best have some stray dogs for company.

Yesterday after finding my boat trip wasn't going to take me in the right direction, i found myself floating back to the hotel where I stayed before. There are more people, and I can watch tv at night. Oh, and there is AC; but for over 100 dollars a day and 15 dollar breakfast of toast and coffee, I really cant afford to be here. The manager offered me a deal to stay for 70 per day until my flight, but I think that may involve going out to dinner with him and I as I said before, I just want to go home.

Another sunny day, luckily, and I may windsurf again or swim out to some snorkeling spots. It really is the most beautiful place Ive ever been, but if someone gave me a plane ticket to go home tomorrow, I would. Strange as it may sound to you and to me, there's no place like home.

The Most Beautiful Plage in the World

Lundi a Mars We to Easo and Joking, L'ille Lifou

I don't even have the words to describe how beautiful and amazing it is here on the beach, and snorkeling in the water, so I will just post some photos so you can see for yourself.

J Arrive en Paradise

Lifou New Caledonia Baie de Chateaubrand

Okay, you can start hating me now! The sun finally came out yesterday and it was superb. My first destination was the beach, and it was all the you imagine: a long stretch of fine white sand, green water surrounded by craggy cliffs. A few people scattered among the shade under the trees. A couple of tourists embracing in the water. I padded out on the sand to the shore- The water was the temperature of a bath, and swimming out with my mask to the dark spots, the coral was filled with all the kinds of blue, yellow, red fish that you see in the aquarium. I was floored!

I spent the day on the beach doing nothing, then wandered over to the aquatic center, again which nether had a sign or any kind of marking but I guessed right by looking at all the boats. Here I got a short lesson in a mix of French and English and took my learner's windsurf to the water. There was a school group of 10 year olds learning to sail, so they got great amusement watching me learn to windsurf while their yellow boats went out and back to the far buoys.

At last another deluge came down and since the children were getting out of the water, so did I. They swarmed the beach like little brown water babies, taking showers under the rain spouts, spraying each other with the hose, splashing in the rain; their thick curly hair flying; laughing and running in to each other. At last they swarmed me to find out how are you? and ou est chez vous? They passed me again as I rode the 12 K back to the hotel, yelling from the school bus windows BOZO! BOZO!

Although I was a bit sunburned, it was a perfect day, the one I had dreamed of for so long, and although its costing me a small fortune, at last I have my beach, the sun and the tranquility I sought starting with the gray skies of Seattle to the long roads of New Zealand. Ahhhh.....

L'IIle Lifou

Lifou, Loyalty Islands

Just so you all don't hate me too much, I don't have a tan yet and I still haven't even been swimming! I know its going to hard to believe but its true. I have learned a new meaning to the word rain, as in buckets. Yesterday I took a ride down to the southern part of the island Lifou, about 30ks and on the way back it literally felt like someone was throwing buckets of water on me- full buckets! I don't know if you can imagine that. the saving grace is that its not cold and yes the beaches are deserted, the water is green and the houses are simple thatched roof affairs with colorful dresses drying on the line, chickens in the yard, boys splashing in puddles and colorful flowers growing in the roadside. Its has most things you would expect to see in a place that never dips below 80 degrees, people perpetually in shorts and sandals, a slow pace to life, lots of friendly waving and greeting of bonjour.

I went to the local vente de vanille to have short tour of the plantation and caves. The local owner showed me the vanilla and explained how they grew and lowered, and the process for drying it and selling. Then we went on a walk into the foret where he pointed out native plants and their various medicinal uses. At last we reached the grotte, or cave, and here was a magnificent view from the dark and dewy mouth over a 10 m drop to the bottom of the valley below. I managed to slip just at the edge and almost went over. We were lucky to be there as the first downpour of the day came down and we were thankfully inside the cave.

I learned a few more things about the native peoples- there are three territory here and each has its own chief. This chief governs politically but has no legal power. There are complex rules about how much and what kind of contact each member has with the chief, such as who can eat with him, or only speak a greeting. Within the territory you have numerous tribus which own the land; that means that nobody can ever buy land or develop it for money. In that way the traditional culture is completely preserved because once people build their homes they lack for nothing- they can fish or grow food easily and basically work when they want. As it turns out the women work alot and the men next to nothing, and there is big drinking problems here. Otherwise the pace of life is very simple and slow. I guess the biggest objective of the day would be going to market or doing the laundry.

I will wait here until the next boat comes through. The Havannah is the one I took, the slower cargo ship which makes a circuit every week from Noumea to mare, lifou and ovea. I cant believe I survived the 20 hour trip from Noumea. I watched the line of the ocean go from the bottom of the window to the top, and managed to not throw while sleeping. I am considering seeing Ouvea, which is the next island, but really just an islet half moon shaped with smaller island around it. I think what I am really missing is the scuba diving here and all the things beneath the water.

However, at least Americans have a good reputation here because they helped rid NC of the French colonists who had basically made the native people slaves in their own land. Many people have said that I am the first American they have ever met, and I have been making sure that I say upfront I am American, and not Australian, and also that I am a writer. This got me an executive tour of the Havannah boat and the to met the captains.

How Weird and Wonderful It Is

Noumea, NC Lundi 23 du Mars

There are a couple of things not going well for me right now:
the weather: did I mention that this is cyclone season? When it rains, it really comes down, flooding roads and causing mountains to slid down.

French: why is this language so hard for anglophones? Why is a word like art completely unintelligible between the English speaking and French speaking? If I had a dollar for every time someone screwed up their face in pain listening to me talk, this trip would be almost affordable!

cost: wow, third world accommodations for US prices! cool!

tourists not welcome: so it seems the country isn't really set up for welcoming tourists. Streets are not marked, roads are blocked and deviation signs blown down, and wouldn't it be better if you just moved along now; white girl on a bike. Are you some kind of alien life form?

Yet, for some strange reason I am having fun! The mosquitoes annihilate me- so what? I get drenched in rain and almost blown off the mountain- oh well! I spend more time taking rides from friendly French tourists than actually riding and yet still I am unfazed. This kind of place makes me have to interact; I have to ask questions about where the road goes, when the bus leaves, where the next camping ground is. Nothing is instinctual and I cant just skip down to the tourist office for the right brochure. And I have to do it in french, in the rain, in a swarm of mosquitoes in blinding heat.

What I will tell you is that I took the 5 hour bus ride to Koumac and my arrival at the bus station was entertainment for generations to come. Nobody said anything or looked directly, Kanaks are much to shy for that, but I could feel the line of heads turn to watch me try and figure out how to get on the bus. A nice French guy gave me some tips, which involved: you wont find a beach and you will be the only tourist for miles. hmmm. I started to get a shaky feeling looking at the long empty roads and very teeny tiny villages.

I did find a pretty nice campground on the first night, and I was the only one, but the worst part was when I set up the tent it started raining inside the tent. This was really strange because it was blinding hot outside. Everything was soaked and I could not figure out why except that i t had to be the mosquito powder I put on EVERYTHING in preparation. You see, it doesn't help to prepare.

I ran into the night to try and find the owner to please let me have a bungalow for over a hundred dollars a night. But I had TV and AC and it was worth it. Even if I did feel a little strange handing over an assortment of green and blue money and said pick one because I couldn't understand how much it was. Which is another good point, don't do this in front of the ATM. Idiot!

The ride into the bush was a little unnerving. Imagine absolutely no signs of human existence for 20 miles except for passing cars. Then it started raining- hard. I wanted to try and find a ride, but neither a bus was coming; and I couldn't camp and amid a horde of laughing girls in front of the market, I had to go over the pass. I was really scared. I was tired, too, and my brain was screaming turn back! turn back! but i had to go on, and it was over before too long. I have never been so happy to see the ocean in my life.

On the other side was a collection of small villages and road side stands of small sculptures and honesty boxes. It was fun to wave at people which is the custom on the east coast. At last I found a nice bungalow, albeit as far from the main house as possible; through puddles and mud up to my knees. The rain was thundering on the roof so hard I had nightmares of hurricanes. At night, a mouse jumped on me in toilet. I didn't sleep well

but i met a nice french couple to have dinner and breakfast with and they gave me a ride to the next town. I gave up and got a room in the only real hotel on the east coast and again spent a ton to be comfortable. oh well

I had planned to catch the bus back to noumea since rain isn't fun and it didn't seem like such a great place to be cycling around and there was NO beach, but the bus passed me in the road. Luckily a nice French couple who lived in Noumea gave me a ride, bought me lunch and gave me a bed for the night, including lots of tips about what to do and where etc. This morning I got back to the hostel in Noumea and thought I had missed the ferry to Lifou, but got on the cargo ship tonight! so I leave tonight at 7 pm and arrive at 2 pm tomorrow and the weather shows lots of rain, but I will at least be somewhere prettier with a white sand beach and friendly people. The real NC they say, and as long as I can get back and not stuck in a hurricane, I will be happy.

There is so much more to say about the people and place but to be honest I haven't really gotten to speak with the real kanaks as the white and black is separate but I hope so in Lifou. wish me luck!

Noumea, New Caledonia

juedi 19 mars Nouvelle Caledonie

I'm up at 6 am again watching the sunrise from, the balcony of the hostel over the lagoon in Noumea capital city of Nouvelle Caledonie. I took some yesterday to try and speak French and get to know what this s,all south pacific island is all about. From what I can tell, the people are an indigenous nix of tribes migrating as part of the south pacific peoples from originally Taiwan I believe in those piroges, which if you can imagine the catamaran of wood dugout canoes and stitched sails? They are those who populated the Polynesia, Melanesia and new Zealand before heading north to Hawaii. I don't think they are related to Aboriginal Australians although they look the same- dark skin, heavy brow, wide saucer eyes and lots of hair, sometimes blondish. Here they are called Kanaks, and intermixed among them you have immigrants from east asia, fiji, samoa and expats from France. The melange of faces and colors is very interesting. The darn thing is they all speak that horrible French language which does not naturally appear on my lips as I hoped. Merde!

The original Kanak culture is probably most similar to Papua New Guinea and Irian Jaya. They have the sculpture traditions in wood and everything looks like a monument to the penis. They don't actually wear those gourds over their penises, but they do jump from high places at the time of the yam harvest. They live in circular structures with pointed tops, worship yams, wear skirts of grass and eat food roasted slowly in the ground. Supposedly they offer food and lodging to tourists in a traditional manner and I hope to experience this.

I saw all of this of course not in the hostel but in the museums which were really really amazing. After sweating to death on my local cycling tour, I came back to scour maps and amuse myself by trying to call places and make reservations in French. truly hilarious! Then I spoke to the hostel manager and she delivered quite a persuasive sermon in English about what i should do which is not something the cycle tourist ever wants to hear because it involves the dreaded word: bus. However I had to think for a moment of how much I really wanted to suffer in the most beautiful place on Earth and remembering the hideous 50 k ride from the airport on a busy road surrounded by mountains and not a touch of magic blue ocean and white sand beaches in sight: I am taking the bus!

So off I go on a bus today at 11:30 am to the northern part of the Gran terre to Koumac. I will cycle around the west side where supposedly the road hugs the coast, people are friendly and there are plentiful swimming beaches. Can you believe I haven't ever jumped in the water yet? truly a tragedy but I am waiting for the right moment and place. I will come back to Noumea and then ferry oer to Ille Lifou for a week which is really supposed to be heaven. So far I have seen the nickel factor in the industrial zone, suburban sprawl in 2 lane roundabouts of death, exhaust pumping trucks and a unmarked and confusing maze of rundown buildings in the centre ville which look surprisingly familiar to any other warm country in a third world country. so with my goals in focus, off to a beach of startling beauty where I can gasp in delight and not from choking on traffic fumes!

Stay tuned!

Auckland and surrounding area Part Duex March 16th, 2009

Tomorrow I leave for Noumea, and in case you haven't located it, here is a link:

http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/01-09/smiles-and-sweat-in-new-caledonia-new-caledonia.html

I spent a relaxing few days back in Auckland, carbo-loading and making sure I have the right equipment for New Caledonia. I am sure I don't; I don't know a thing about the place but I do have a Lonely Planet guide and a mosquito net. That should be enough!

We had a nice drive along the coast near Auckland, and ate the best fish and chips in NZ! The best part was just being with friends and spending a relaxing day not thinking about much. I watched an amazing video about a potter-railroad builder www.drivingcreekrailway.co.nz which blew me away! Also, I checked out a few videos on motorcycle touring...hmmm

Coromandel Peninsula

March 13th, 2009

Karangahake Gorge http://www.karangahakegorge.co.nz/

Friday the 13th! I didn't even realize that this was an ominous day. This is day 3 of some hard riding. My odometer reset some miles back so I haven't been counting the distances anymore, but by the looks on the map, I have come a long way, baby. Having less gear makes the hills just doable, not easy by any stretch of the imagination. The elevation maps look like an EKG chart, with sharp spikes up and down. They look and feel like sheer vertical climbs. I think I was a little over-excited the first two days with less gear, I felt like a champ! However, today, I had not a drop of energy and was found lolling about in the lounge until check out time, gulping cups of tea and coffee with inordinate amounts of sugar. I think I cleared out the sugar jars.

However, yesterday was the day to end all days of cycling. It was a top contender, if not the winner, of an awesome day of cycling in New Zealand hands down. I spent the night in a very remote cabin in the middle of nowhere. I was the only out there in the gorge with a wood fire stove. For the first time ever, I managed to start a fire! Then, I began the climb out of Colville back to Coromandel where I loaded up on smoked salmon and cheese, then conquered the climb of the country on the pass to Whitianga. A short ferry ride, and I was on my way through some very scenic beaches- Cooks Beach, Hahei Beach, Cathedral Cove and Hot Water Beach. Not only did I enjoy the actual cycling, the scenery was spectacular with roads hugging the coastline, sunlight sparking on clear green ocean water and bright blue skies. It was even warm! Ah, a summer day at last, right in time for autumn.

Trudging through the hills at Armstrong-like speeds, I was mentally patting myself on the back for this awesome idea- less gear, no tent, no camping and the luxury of backpacking and sleeping on a bed. The kiwis do know a thing or two and I have grown to love these independent backpacker hostels, which are more often than not, a large Victorian house converted to a homey establishment for solo travelers! With free tea, coffee and milk to boot, I don't even have to go shopping for dinner! Maybe that was why I was so tired today- mental note: muesli is not enough for dinner. I made up for it today though with a fish sandwich, chips, toasted panini and spinach quiche pie, with cookie and licorice whips for dessert. It was all very good, but my stomach muscles hurt from gorging myself Whangamata.

I will post some photos soon. I feel great about this last cycling trip- it has been a highlight and has given me some new insight in to the benefits of not being fully self-supported and weighed down with gear. It may be good practice for whats to come in...New Caledonia! No, I haven't changed my mind yet! Back to Auckland tomorrow via Thames, and then a few days to prep and pack up for the flight on Tuesday AM.

Auckland and Substitute Grandmas

Marchish 2009 Auckland City, NZ

After my ride around the East Cape, I bused in to Auckland City, where I was whisked away to a lovely home of my dad's good friend Paul, and his mother Kari. It was just a moment before we set off for an 80's party where there was two spits- one for pig and one for a lamb. It was hard to tell the costumes from the regualar wear, as many attendees dressed up as I have seen on the road- you know, men in work shorts, tall socks and boots? Was this a costume or not? It was a very funny and active night, dancing to Abba, Foriegner and Hall and Oats among the various wigs, sunglasses and unitards.

I spent a couple of well rested days in the company of Paul and Kari. I quickly realized (again) and how misinformed I am in the areas of nutrition and home-making. Since Kari is from Norway, which is where my great-grandmother is from, she stepped in to guide me in the making of traditional meatballs. Having missed out on bonding or learning basically anything from my own grandparents (and probably most people who ever tried to impress upon basic life skills), I had fun with Kari as we prepared the dinner. For an older lady, she is surprisingly sprightly and spunky. From what I could gather through her thick accent, she is well-travelled including cycle touring.

With a bit of home-y feelings in my soul, I packed up just the basics for a 5 day tour around the Coromandel Peninsula. I wont be camping, rather staying hostels, and thus with a lighter load may be able to go a little faster and farther. Anyway, should be back by next weekend in time hopefully for another strange party and in time to get off to...New Caledonia?

Until the next blog post, see if you can figure out where this place is...Prize to anyone who has either heard of it and knows where it is located.

I Just Want to Remember this Moment

I had a hard 3 days of hills and beaches and it was so remote here. I thought, "This is really New Zealand." Making it to the beach was a profound sense of accomplishment, and confirmed to me, that I belong near the beach. I wont forget this area of small Maori communities, fishing villages, beautiful Maraes and green green water of rough seas.

The East Cape

March, 2009 Gisborne to Opotiki 3 days 334 kms

I could barely decide what to do- go see Dad in Auckland or not? What about riding? What about quitting? I was meandering Wellington in a daze, thinking too much and getting blown about by gusts of wind whipping through Cook Strait. Ever one to things the hard way, I got a haircut and had it styled to lovely to go out onto the streets and have it in my eyes, mouth and knots in minutes. In the end, I decided to take a bus to Napier, no, Gisborne and try to ride the East Cape in 3 days and bus over to Auckland by Saturday night before he left Monday morning.

Why was I so conflicted about everything? I had plenty of time to think about in miles and miles of cycling, and a 10 hour bus ride. I read another book, "Down Under" by Bill Bryson and liked his arm chair travelling formula. Basically, research about the place, and then arrive in town, eat, get drunk and make a living writing books about it. Simple! Absorbed in Australia, I finished 400 pages by the time I made it to Gisborne. Which by the way, is a recommendable surf town meets arts community in Maori country.

Impressions of the north island versus the south island first and foremost is it is way more Maori and multi-cultural. In simpler terms, everyone is not white European. Cool! I saw women with the chin tattoos, men with full face tattoos and girls practicing dancing with the hand waves and buggy eyes. Many towns were small, and not centered on either tourists or something you could discover by driving through quickly. I felt people were a little rude to be honest, but had my first camping on a lawn in someone's house. I had done this tons in Europe but with the ample campground facilities, never saw the need; however, I found myself exhausted in a Te Puia Springs and the hotel was closed because the owner died- so what to do?

Luckily, the tourist center called her friend Chickadee and I camped on her lawn. She was gracious to let me watch TV, make me dinner and tea, and invite her friend over so we could chat a bit about the area. I wanted to ask so many questions and learn more about the traditions; but again, this was not something so readily available on the surface. I would need to stay longer. I thought it hadn't been anything that special, but was touched when Chickadee insisted I call her until I reached Auckland so she would know I was safe.

I really burned it out to make Opotiki in 3 days. I pushed myself much harder than I have the whole trip. I wavered between thinking, "I am finally in shape!" and "I want to scream!" Another key difference in the North Island: "rolling hills." That sounds so sweet, doesn't it? "Gentle undulations" and "ups and downs." Yes, bloody hills from hell. Although the book said this was THE most beautiful coast for cycling the world (that's why I decided at least I have to see this area), I wasn't sure it was that awesome. It was pretty, and I really felt I achieved something when I made it to the beaches and at last, Opotiki. Tired, sweaty, smelly and with legs bulging like Popeye, I wasted no time to get a bed in a backpackers (hostel).

Now, I was a simple bed in a sweet Victorian house with free Internet, a homey kitchen, books and NO INSECTS! Yes! And I don't have to set up the tent! So, maybe I am just sick of camping, or being alone, or sick of the rain, or who knows what, but I wont go home just yet although I have been spending a way too much time day dreaming about a beach bungalow I will one day rent in San Diego with a full body tan (not just bike shorts to sock tops).