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!