Five Go Mad

Robyn and I are off on a bit of a holiday treat to catch a bit of sun and warmth somewhere.  There’s a bit of wedding anniversary in there (30^th) from March, a bit of celebration at scoring some paid employment, and a bit of marking a milestone or two with our kids achieving things towards being all grown up. Also, vitamin D is my favourite vitamin.  As an investment against the advance of age induced memory loss I sometimes like to write a few things down on the way to, you know, look at later; probably with some surprise.

Launched from the Novotel at Auckland airport so as to avoid all that rushing about in the middle of the night trying to remember if it’s two hours or one hour before check-in, and what about if there’s traffic and, WTF how much for a taxi?  Caught up with Robyn at the bar after work where ‘Rob’ was chatting her up.  She bussed up from New Plymouth to avoid the risk of flights cancelled etc. it being New Plymouth airport after all plus it seems to be fog season in Auckland.  Anyhoo, I dealt swiftly and humanely with Rob and after advice of a half hour wait for a table at the Hotel scoured the departure lounge for some sort of ‘slow’ food, failed and got room service.  I have no memory of it so it must have been adequate in every way.  After playing around with the weirdo glass ‘privacy’ screen between the shower and the bedroom that they have at that hotel, noted the lack of impression I was making on Robyn and went to bed.

Check in Air New Zealand at 7:30 am. All good but dropped my boarding pass somewhere in the long duty-free hard sell pen between security and breakfast. Fortunately noticed just as the comfy seats were in sight, turned back towards that glittery shrine of travel consumerism and, low and behold, was rewarded for my vigilance and attention by spotting my golden ticket on the floor exactly equidistant between the buy two for $99.95 spirits and the generic flowery/ sexy perfumery stand.  Oh the satisfaction in not causing a crisis.  Breakfast and coffee.  Discovered that Burger King bacon and egg muffins are identical in every way to Macdonalds bacon and egg muffins.  And they have sausages!  Spent most of our float time before ‘go to gate’ agonising over duty free.  Decided it really wasn’t worth lugging a whole litre of limoncello to the islands for a few nightcaps and besides, I figured if you’re going to another country to stay for a bit and play tourist, it’s a bit mean to rob the locals of their margins by going BYO.  Setting aside a bottle of whisky and that limoncello for the return trip is OK though! I mean it’s 1000mls for the price of 750, bargain!

Walking to the gate through the construction site that is our county’s main port I’m glad that the upgrade is happening.  When it’s finished, my 79 year old self will hopefully not have to walk the current 1.7km to the gates for the tiny planes. Maybe there will be mag-lev travellators!  The plane is a 737 or something but does look quite small for a flight to a whole other country, even though it’s only 3 hours plus a bit.

Air New Zealand does what it’s best at and no worries on the flight. Felt brave enough to watch ‘A Quiet Place’. Disturbing. Didn’t like the bit when- spoiler alert- the Dad gets it.  Not so worried about the little kid getting it though. Weird that.

Tontouta airport, Noumea after a long snaking decent in. Big mountains to avoid so happy for them to put in all the turns they needed. Entry easy, waived through all the way to meet up with George our transfer driver to the smaller domestic airport in town.  Begloved and bejewelled George had a couple of residents to take home on the way so we got a trip through the ‘burbs of Noumea with his friendly relaxed commentary. He got lots of waves and toots so fairly well known in these parts I guess.

Magenta airport, about 50 mins. from the international via the back-streets. A few hours to kill until the check-in roller door opens so we hang out in the Le Cafeteria upstairs.  Magenta airport is like a cross between Palmerston North airport and a railway station. Le Cafetaria was all yellow painted walls and formica tables so quite homey. Jambon panini (which was a baguette) and an OJ for lunch and watched the planes.  These were tinier propeller jobs (the same sort as flies into New Plymouth) and obviously provide a regular domestic service to the other islands for locals as much as tourists.  The planes came and went while we waited.  There’s no messing about, on landing; the plane just taxis up (with no arm waving baton type person to point where), the engine stops and the door opens. Voila. The pilot puts up one of those reflective windscreen sun-visors. It would only have looked cooler if the sun-shade had a picture of giant sunglasses on it.  The baggage trollies are pushed about by  hand empty or full. No faffing about. Lots of chilly bins come off we noticed. Not sure what that’s all about.

The Air Caledonie livery is all orange.  I had to laugh when a cabin crew member dressed in a full length bright fluorescent orange dress had to don a flouro safety vest to walk out on the tarmac.  If anything it made her less noticeable. The airport had a pretty impressive parking lot with a super modern looking French military plane and chopper. Both better than anything lil’ old NZ’s got.  Slightly sinister.

We queued at the appointed time to check-in at the same time as two other departing flights before us to other islands. Three check-in officials going through the motions checking id, weighing and tagging cabin bags, ticketing and more ticketing for the tagged cabin bags.  Quite a few families to check in with their chilly bins and lots of small bags & boxes and children.  Several seemed related to the airline staff with kisses for the very cute children, hugs and waves. Embarked on our plane with only a handful of others.  It had a new-plane smell. Very sharp. Grunty too, I suspect in order to deal with short runways (along with good brakes as we were to discover).  20  minute flight. Postcard picture stuff over turquoise water, boats aplenty, white sandbanks, a barrier reef and green tufted islands all over the shop.

Ile des Pins around 4pm by this stage. Short runway, just a bit of paving over the top of the dirt really, although it did have those white lines that mark the ends. Full brakes on landing to stop before the white lines. Fairly full on but quite normal in that French kind of way; “que monsieur?”. Out in a flash to a small relaxed airport. Island style with flash luggage; breathing fresh tourists in, old tourists out. A rolling road in the transfer bus (all Ford transits oddly- I thought there’d be more of those outrageous French vehicles) through a cutting in bush, seen from the air like a gash, carrying road and powerlines. Pointy Caledonian pines cluster above the jungle.

The first impression of Le Meridien is a bridge over an inlet at the entrance. Its upper part is wooden poles bedecked with ropes and woven pieces streaming in the wind. Very windswept and interesting (props to Billy Connelly for the phase, cheers mate).  It’s actually a concrete bridge all done up but I’m happy to go along with the story; to those people who said I’m not romantic, I accept your apology. Walking in 100m from drop off to reception, last off the bus, Robyn and I take in palm trees, greenery, birds squawking in a tropical kind of way.  It’s warm but not hot, a bit of breeze, sun low in an ocean sky. There’s an infinity pool which acts as a runway strip to the view of blue lagoon, white sand, more palm trees and a ridge of pointy pines in the distance.  The resort seems smaller than I thought, more intimate, probably because the only accommodation obvious is one two story block of about 10 units by the pool. The rest is tucked among trees as little bungalows plus a bigger lodge behind in the park.  No roads and so no cars cluttering up the place helps with that villagey vibe.

We got a personalised check in with an iced tea. They come to you with the obligatory bits of paper. “Don’t worry about your luggage monsieur, madame we will take care of it for you”.  We sit in the lounge, sip refreshment and look out trying not to gawp and give the game away. First time in the islands. It seems to be mostly French tourists, families, a youngish Aussie couple (with their duty free supplies), a few Japanese and a couple of kiwis. English speakers are the minority by some margin.  The bulk of staff are locals with the senior people French. Vodafone cellphone charges here are punitive (zone 3 red-alert whoop whoop) so flight-mode stays on the whole time and wifi used (only available at the bar- quell damage!).  The location on the island is on a lagoon well away from amenities (there are no amenities).

Pictures at Ten! (no pictures at 10)