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Noumea-the nightmare
I was warned; a few months ago when I contemplated visting New Caledonia I checked with my tried and trusted travel agent Carl from the Flight Centre and he concurred that like Tahiti, the mainland wasn't nearly as nice as the outlying islands. I recall asking if they were somewhat grubby/grotty and he didn't deny it then.Nevertherless I have harboured a romantic notion of things French since all those years ago when I visited France several times on my OE and craved cafe au lait and croissants before they became available in NZ. (yes we are going back awhile).So we bought one of the 2 for 1 deals going back in July and finally arrived there in Labour weekend. Because our trip was only 3 nights we accepted a horribly early rise for the 8.30am flight on Saturday morning.Delayed due to the discrepency between the "captain's manifest" and the numbers of passengers counted (at least 5 times) by the crew, we arrived 3 hours later at an overcast and windy Noumea and a forecast of showers, but were undaunted at that point.We were bundled aboard the arc en ciel transfer bus and bumped and rattled our way along the heavily rutted roads of this tropical paradise and I was reminded of Fiji.The bright but dusty plumes of Bougainvillia, Jacaranda, and Acacia coloured the otherwise grubby countryside dotted with shacks and indeterminate green creepers that looked like secondary growth gone mad. Closer to Noumea we saw what looked like new housing estates of bright coloured but basic concrete houses; possibly a government initiative to house the Kanaks? About 45 minutes from the airport we rattled our way through city streets of buildings of either faded grandeur or just the fast deterioration that happens in tropical places. Dusty, dry and only the souls to be seen were clusters of Kanaks at most street corners or in the shade; many sporting rastafarian hair and clothing.We arrived at our hotel, the (NC) Nouvata Park Hotel to be informed by the unsmiling Kanak woman at the desk that our room wasn't ready and we could come back in an hour's time. We could see others checking in were being given the key/card to their rooms no problem. She vaguely pointed to a room (which turned out to be locked) where we could store our luggage.Outside the wind was gusty, the sky overcast and threatening rain and we craved a rest and some sustenance. Not wanting to be the tourists from hell, we politely stood outside the luggage door until we attracted the attention of another more helpful staff member, stored our luggage and headed off, hoping we had indeed passed a watering hole of sorts on our way in. Remember we had risen that morning very early and by now it was around 1.30 NZ time but by NC time it was 11.30am.Luckily we had already purchased XPF (Pacific French Francs) months earlier when the NZ$ was strong and were able to snack at a local cafe. We were not surprised at the exorbitant prices. New Caledonia has no tax (on pay) system and therefore everything is very expensive because the government loads a goods and services tax everything. Definately not a shoppers paradise nor for budget travellers!We returned to the hotel and were again told the room wasn't ready. When I asked for another room I was told the hotel was fully booked and this wasn't possible. (this turned out to be blatently untrue but somehow this didn't surprise us much). However as our presence was becoming awkward for them they fiddled with their screens and found our room was ready.While we were waiting there some fellow Kiwi travellers approached us and asked if we has just flown in. When we replied yes, they told us this was astonishing because there was an airport strike on and we must have been the last plane to land.............it turned out this group had been there since Tuesday last and had just been told their flights were cancelled due to a strike.Also on the 2 for 1 package, these people were desperately trying to re-book alternative flights out. Problem was that everything local was closed down either because it was the weekend or the strike. One lucky/clever couple from Martin has phoned their travel agent at home and were now booked on the same return flight as us.....hopefully. Apart from a couple of male staff at our hotel, who were doing their best, there was precious little assistance offered to this group of Kiwis and now most were at the end of their emotional and financial tethers. Some hadn't any travel insurance because it was only for 4 days...be warned! Apparently strikes are quite common. At this point we were confident that we would be fine. The weather though, wasn't.The predicted showers arrived and by Monday torrential rain set in. So no touring out to view the gorgeous coral reef for us. We struck up a good comraderie with the other kiwis though and met each evening for cocktails. It was here we picked up tips on which bus to catch into town and which restuarants to try. There was a motley collection of dilapidated, shabby buildings on the waterfront that served as eating establishments and most of these were closed while we were there. This area is called Anse Vata and is probably considered the better area than much of Noumea because it houses many of the hotels. There was a paved promenade on the beach side and this was good for strolling along, although the gusty winds made it difficult to stay upright at times. There were two recommended restaurants but like most of the commerical establishments here, were hard to spot because of the lack of branding or advertising telling us what they were. I confess I actually began appreciating our commercial signs like tip Top and Coke Cola indicating dairies. Here of course all names were in French. Now I understand French and was probably overconfident of my abilities here but I still struggled to find any basic retail food shops. Eventually we found a patisserie in the next bay and one open in the town centre. The centre itself was a odd mixture of shabby dimly lit shops stuffed full of faded dresses in pacific print fabric plus poor quality $2.00-type shops stock and in both the latin quarter and beyond the central park were western style retail shops with all the latest fashions but at insane prices. The cars were exlusively french of course; Citroen, Renault or Peugot. Not a Toyota in sight. New vehicles were priced at millions of francs literally. At the markets in the centre of town we were able to pick up some delicious almond croissants for 120 francs (about 1.80 NZ which is cheap in NC) and some cafe au laits and croissants for the two of us for 680 at one place and 740 francs at another. This would be around $11.00 NZ, so also quite cheap. With only 3 nights /2 whole days we had to learn currency conversion fast and also where the best places were. We walked lots and also smelt lots of raw sewerage and diesel; the scourge of island nations with poor infrastructure and standards.Meanwhile we dodged the wind and the rain, and gave up on the television. The TV (yes, I know one doesn't travel overseas to watch TV) was a collection of French movies (all dubbed) and one English channel from Western Australia that constantly turned into a mosaic due to rain fade or disappeared altogether and was replaced by a message informing the viewer this channel was scrambled. We searched for the World Cup match and saw only the ceremony with the South Africa the winner. No score mentioned anywhere on the screen until we spotted it the following day in a news report. We had no idea that the french had lost against Argentina until we saw the ceremony and figured it out.Final day........we were now looking forward to returning home. We booked into the recommended restaurant down the road and dined there for around 8000 francs ( 150NZ). Ray's steak was severly undercooked though and he had to complain. It was raw and cold inside. Then he spotted a large cockroach crawling up the wall. I quickly called a waiter who discretely removed it before the young Japanese woman sitting there returned to her seat.We had borrowed a hotel umbrella for the rain and when we returned it at the counter later were told all flights were now cancelled and in fact there was a general strike.NZ was starting to look like paradise by now. When we woke up the next day (Tuesday 23rd Oct) I was contemplating having to search for a chemist and begin the (possibly nightmarish) process of getting more of my prescription medications, when Ray returned from the hotel lobby with the news that it was all on again, The strike was off and we had to rush downstairs and catch the transfer bus asap. The time was around 7.15am and the next few hours were spent waiting for the bus, travelling across that bumpy terrain, and then at the airport. We were scheduled to catch the 10.30 flight out and by 10.15 were still in a long queue checking in. Most of thie queue were Kiwis and true to our nature someone got hold of the departure forms and passed then along the queue so we could all fill them out the the remaining few minutes we had. No asssitance from the airport staff; quite the contrary in fact. They, like the woman at our hotel, looked either disinterested or downright officious. Those Kiwis who has missed their flights over the weekend and who hadn't been able to confirm their new flights were told to stand aside and wait for spare seats....and a distraught group missed out. It really was a case of those with the right connections..........Only when we were actually on the plane did I believe we were really going home. There was a lively group of Kanak schoolchildren behind us on the plane and as we increased speed and took off they screamed in excitement and I am guessing this pretty much reflected the relief the rest of us were feeling.So we got out yesterday on schedule but at no time did we feel reassured that this would actually happen. Our group of Kiwis were all doing their best to cope and we were all reassuring each other as best we could but some were still left behind. I doubt New Caledonia will see any of this group of Kiwis again or anyone they talk to. I am now looking forward to the weekend so I can de-stress from my holiday in paradise.We could perhaps be forgiven for thinking that the French simply didn't care enough about tourists, especially non French ones.
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