Wednesday

Last night the people from the big catamaran Que! Barbara, who had come back from a nice little jaunt around the islands – they said Tenia was particularly wonderful, in case you ever need to know – came for a drink on 2XS. Well they didn’t really; they brought their own drinks with them… But I was able to give them a bit of our newly acquired cheese at least. Very nice people, gentle and quiet, from Darwin. We will probably see them again in Vanuatu, such is the way of the Sailing Grey Nomad….

We are leaving Noumea on Friday so we have had to do lots of bureaucratic things today – everything shuts down for Bastille Day and this is our Last Chance Saloon.

In the morning I spent a profitable few hours de-moulding walls and fittings in the bathroom – oh the joy. I also caused Pete a lot of grief by taking not one but two irretrievably broken vacuum cleaners to the rubbish bin. He was very sorry after he agreed to the dumping first one (an Electrolux). It has been sitting for a long time, in many broken parts, in a bin under the bunk in Steve’s cabin, and Pete has always thought that he would be able to fix it. One day. He changed his mind about the Electrolux when I was taking the second one to the bin – this one was threatening to short-circuit the entire wiring of 2XS, and possibly of the entire Port Moselle marina. Maybe, he said, looking at me with anguished expression, I could go and get the many component parts of the Electrolux back out of the bin, so he could put it together again and cobble together a new motor. Well no I couldn’t… I knew that it was at the very bottom of the bin and had seen people coming, with their ordures, to tip yucky things on top of it. I have made enquiries and the only place I can get a proper wet/dry vacuum cleaner which will not die a horrible death on 2XS is at Ducos, the large industrial estate we drove though on our way to Yaté. How keen am I to go there? Not keen enough…

Approaching 12.00 we rode off along the waterfront to do our thing with Customs, Immigration, and Capitainerie (Port Authority.) Oh bad timing – everything closed from 12-1.00. So we rode back to the cruise ship quay, where there is a bright and tempting strip of outdoor cafés offering a wide variety of very tempting looking food, and beer. I was stopped on the way by a New Zealand couple, who were gazing longingly at my bike. I dismounted and said, “Ken Self’s in Hobart, if you want to buy one.” But no…they wanted to hire bikes. The poor things had just flown in from New Zealand, and are leaving on Monday. They had assumed they could hire a car, or a motor bike, or even push bikes, but…everything is shutting down for Bastille Day and every available car is already hired. I suggested they go back towards Port Moselle and get on a ferry for the Ile des Pins…much more fun than moping around Noumea with everything closed.

I had a most delicious noodle dish at the ferry food court for about $8 – astonishing!! It was all freshly cooked before my very eyes, with lots of vegetables and a generous helping of prawns. Pete had some sort of baguette full of pork and beans…well maybe not; I didn’t look too closely, was too happy with my own little noodlebox.

Back to Immigration, where we were greeted by Valérie, our initial Immigrations interrogator on our first day. “Ah!" she said, “Marguerite et Peteur!” When I said we were leaving on Friday, she said, very sternly, “Why??” She helped us fill in our forms, which were in the tiniest print imaginable and sent us on our way to Customs in the most helpful way possible. Our Customs lady was also swift and efficient and helpful and we had only the Capitainerie left to visit. The office was on the third floor of a big grey building further along the way – oh how lucky we are we don’t have to plod along these long long hot roads. Poor John, from The Owl, had a most debilitating walk the other day; he went quite a long way along the wrong road, which is very easy to do, then had to walk back, trying to find the shy little entrance gate to Immigration. Yesterday he asked if he could take my bike for a spin and he came back with a very thoughtful look on his face. The Port Authority chief was a whirlwind of activity. He was shouting away on the phone when we arrived, saying, “Quel bordel!” as he tried to find various bits of paper on his desk. He put the phone down and turned to us. I said we wanted to leave, please, and the shouted, “Ah! Partir c’es mourir un peu!” (Almost: parting is such sweet sorrow…literally: leaving is to die a little.) He stamped our papers with gusto and sent us on our way highly amused and hoping he would calm down a bit on his long weekend break.

Tonight we are going to Au P’tit Café with Ken and John and The Girlfriends, who arrived last night. I have met one of these “girlfriends,” beautiful Gail, John’s wife of 42 years, who is tall with dark hair and a lovely smile. I haven’t met Eleanor yet but Ken has told me she is not tall – she is about 5 foot and plays the trombone, which is about as big as she is. They are coming to 2XS for a drink first at 7.30 because I couldn’t get a booking till – gasp – 8.30… People dine late here… I will be beyond hunger by 8.30!! Thank goodness I had my sustaining lunch of noodles and prawns.