Tuesday

Another one of the big cruise ships is in. There are lots of Australians wandering around the waterfront. I have seen several groups peering intently in the water around the stinkpipe, admiring the fish and taking photos of them.

I have been busy, while Pete has been focused on his paperwork. I decided to go and look in pharmacies – maybe Homyped might make some sort of strong sandal-like footwear, for female feet? But no…all of the sandals in the pharmacies are delicate. I haven’t worn my new lilac-and-white creations yet; they are on the deck, glowing faintly, and not looking at all inviting for my needy feet.

Not far from the marina there is a large optometrist shop. Aha – I had a small brainwave. Pete is worried about losing his glasses. He actually lost his other pair in the dark on Lord Howe Island when picking us up in the tender. Splish, splash, gone. So he fashioned a way of keeping his one and only pair safely attached on his head, with a shoe-lace and some green electrical tape. So I bought him a proper strap thingy for attaching his glasses to his head. Very pleased with myself, I was. And did his face light up with joy? Well no ofcourse not…he likes and trusts his own creation and will keep it this way, thank you very much.

Next I went along to Hervé’s cabine and – miracle – it was open and our gas bottles were filled and ready to pick up. I trotted back to the marina and unleashed a trolley. I don’t know how I thought I was going to pull the whole heavy load back to 2XS – the trolley is heavy enough without gas bottles on board. Noumea has lots of idle large chaps hanging around the waterfront, but none of them look in the least keen to earn a franc or two lugging trolleys. I was very lucky; Egills was there, from Panache IV, and he very kindly heave-hoed the contraption back to 2XS. He is a lawyer from Melbourne, specialising in Town Planning law – he is therefore very busy and is really enjoying his extended long service leave Island Time.

I also had some time to chat to our SaucyMiss, Claudine. Her eyes misted when I told her we were going to Vanuatu. “Oh it is so beautiful..” she sighed. It turns out she comes from there – he mother is Vanuan and her father French. She misses it very much, but there are more job opportunities for her here in Noumea. She says we will love it in Vanuatu and we will find it infinitely cheaper, especially the local fruit and veggie markets. I asked how locals manage here, and she said, “We live on debts.”

Last night we had pre-dinner drinks with the men from The Owl, which arrived recently. Ken and John are expecting their “girlfriends” later today – by “girlfriends” read wives of 42 years… They very much enjoyed Pete’s gin and tonics. I tried to creep down to the galley to put another lot of rice on, to extend our dinner, but I was shouted down – they were all quite happy with biscuits and cheese and yes please another drink. Maybe they were wise not to stay for dinner; it was a strange meal, comprising leftover fried rice and some fillets of the Elizabeth Reef fish cooked in Cajun spices…

After dinner we watched an episode of West Wing and then – exhaustion took over; it must have been at least 10.30. We woke at 6.30, and said, “Oh what a beautiful time of day!” and went straight back to sleep. Well I didn’t think I went back to sleep at all; I thought I lay there thinking, “Time to get up, places to go, people to see!” but when I did start to stir, Pete said, “What time do you think it is?” “Well, 6.35!” Ummm no…it was 9.00… (It is midday now and I have to tell you I am very much inclined to just lie back on the couch with my book while Pete mutters away at his account ledgers and…just catch a zzzz or two…)

We are listening to a local radio station, and how mellow and lovely it is! They are playing lots of different music: from Yves Montand (ie ancient…), Schubert Lieder (even older…), some very gentle reggae, Smoke on the Water, the Doors, modern French chansons, a rap version of Lili Marlene. The announcer, Marguerite M(didn’t catch it), has a very gentle, easy manner, and in between songs, she discusses films and books with a whole series of lovely, nicely spoken people who are totally unknown to us. There don’t seem to be any ads; if there are, they are very mild and sound like part of the program. Tomorrow, she told us as she signed off from her morning session, the theme will be FRUIT. Songs and stories, all about fruit. There is now a male presenter, Bertrand, and he is discussing TV programs, specifically “Dexter, le serial killeur.”

Yesterday I asked Brigitte, my chatty coiffeuse, about crime in New Caledonia. She immediately talked about alcoholism and how the best strategy is avoidance. As in, keep away from rowdy drunk people anywhere anytime. Recently a down-and-out young man was brutally killed while taking a kip on a bench in the Place des Cocotiers. This has outraged the city; it was all cruel and unusual but maybe not unexpected, amongst the small population of street people. But another crime recently has horrified Noumea. She thought I would have heard about it. A young Australian sailor, she told, me, of previously unblemished reputation and character, got very drunk and killed an old local lady, who was nothing but an innocent bystander. What on earth could have happened, we wondered, to create such a violent and unexpected situation? I will have to try to find this news item…I wasn’t quite clear about how recent this was.

On my way to the ablutions block this morning, I passed The Owl and found John chatting to a young man with strawberry blond hair, in a ponytail. He was looking totally bewildered so I – so helpful, always – trotted over to translate. John was saying, “I think the people on the boat next to us are German because they have an Alsatian dog.” The young bloke just blinked and didn’t get it, so I leapt in with a French description – “Un chien alsacien; grand, comme un loup.” (A big Alsatian dog, like a wolf.” Total incomprehension, then he looked at me, pleadingly and said, in very broken English, “I don’t speak French.” Poor bugger only speaks German…he isn’t going to get on very well here, is he??

This afternoon I was as busy as a bee, ferrying washing back on forth on my bike. Three big backpacks full. It wasn’t far to go, just to the end of the fuel wharf, a very pleasant jaunt, coming and going. Esther, the dreamy laundress, had gone on leave. Her laundry was being minded by a very nice Japanese-looking French-speaking man, who was profitably spending his time hitting very small pebbles into the sea with a golf club. He was very tickled with my bike mission, and helped me fold sheets quite efficiently. Everything was clean but I was very disappointed that Esther hadn’t found the energy to fold anything. Everything was just stuffed into baskets. I said this to my folding friend, and he said, demonstrating, that I could smooth things with my hands. Well yes this would be a good thing to do as things came out of the drying process…too late once they have been crushed in a basket. Well, he suggested, ever-helpful, maybe if I didn’t bring so much washing to be done all at once. A bit hard once one is out at sea…but I just bit my tongue and handed over my (VERY VERY) large number of francs.

When I got back and unloaded, I decided to go to the supermarket deli section to get some cheese. I haven’t found any other place to buy cheese at all in Noumea, and the Casino Supermarche have a most wonderful selection of cheeses and general charcuterie. So expensive it makes one’s eyeballs roll a bit in one’s head… But I got a bit of this and a bit of that and rode back to 2XS with a very satisfying selection, plus a baguette which smells just wonderful, and a tube of Noumea-brand toothpaste (why not?) to try, all for a bit less than $50.

On the way to the shop I stopped at the ATM, very close to the marina, just next to the market, which we pass and use just about every day. A very large and extremely smelly man ran up to intercept me – “No, madame, this one is out of order!” As we were chatting about the unkindness of ATMS, I noticed, shyly nestled into the wall in total camouflage colours – a letterbox! I wonder if anyone ever puts mail into it? Or if the postman can find it, blending carefully into the wall next to the ATM?

You might think all of this domestic Noumea stuff is terribly boring…and you might be surprised to hear that I am having some of the happiest days of my life. Pete, however, is not. He is sitting at the other end of the table sighing deeply and muttering imprecations – bits of paper are not where they should be, the computer is doing weirdo things, as computers do, his biro has rolled off the table and disappeared completely. But I don’t have anything to bother or annoy me; I love living on the marina, riding my bike, having couchtime with my book, doing domestic tasks and solving problems which would have little charm at home but which are endlessly fascinating in a foreign country.