The Voyage of Yacht Zulu: Arriving in Noumea, New Caledonia

November 11, 2009
Crash landing; The dentist from hell; Night at the magic circus from Samoa; Water sports at the beaches of Anse Vata

Crash landing

We virtually crash land in Noumea! Coming into the slip for immigration Zulu will not go into reverse. Russ goes into his ultra calm state at the onslaught of calamity. We crash headlong into the dock, knock the faucet clean off its pipe, and send water spraying all over the place. Ensemble we send the French dock hands into grand animation with frenzied line handling. Boats on either side of us are on deck to watch the show. The pressure is on. Excuse the pun.

The Kanak maintenance crew arrives promptly to shut down the Fountains of Trevi. “C’est rien problem.” It is no problem they say as they fix the faucet in a playful way, laughing as they get drenched in the spray. I thought we are off the hook. But no, we are charged $20 for providing the morning’s entertainment.

The Port Moselle Marina organizes immigration etc., and as luck has it, it goes very smoothly now that all my lovely fresh Fiji produce has been removed from me. That is alright. We are snug in a slip with hot showers at hand, a bakery, dentist, circus around the corner, and Brassiere overlooking the marina.

Zulu snug in a slip—in the middle of front row boats--after creating dockside waterworks by crash landing as reverse gear fails us, and knocking the faucet clean off the pipe. We provide the morning entertainment at a $20 cost to us.

Where to go first? A La Veille France patisserie, confiserie. Old France pastry and confectionary. I have to introduce you visually. So will say no more.

The sign prompting us we have arrived at the essence of “gastronomique” extraordinaire.

Look, but don’t touch. Except for a chocolate ginger square?

Where to start? How about the mini glazed mixed fruit or strawberry tartlet?

The Mille Feuille is my first choice always. I can’t resist. Custard between two flakey pastry layers with vanilla icing and trickles of chocolate on the top.

We revel in the boulangerie buying wonderful fresh, warm Pain d'Compagne-- crunchy, wholesome, country brown bread baguettes with a touch of rye--pastries to die for; and later fresh wonderful cheeses and market produce that puts you into a mouth watering state of "gastronomique" extraordinaire, all at a shocking prices.

The French know how to live to the fullest here. Noumea is perhaps less impacted by tourists than Tahiti even though, like Tahiti, it is the economical, administrative, and cultural capital of an archipelago.

I find the architecture--a mix of colonial, dressed stone, pioneer, and modern--is more interesting and people are friendlier than Tahiti. The Kanaks, with their woolly hair, are Rasta followers. Ja mon. Peace. Lots of smiles.

Fashion is where it is at too. I like it. I am moved to step out of my frumpy shorts and plane t-shirts and Tevas into something chic with a zing. I pass the pearl shop on the way back to the marina. I linger awhile and briefly imagine wearing this necklace before hurriedly moving on.

This necklace is calling me. I linger awhile, but hurry on escaping its lure.

Fancy a cultured Tahitian pearl for a ring? Select one here in Noumea. Or better still just window shop.

Instead of pearls I find a dentist. The one the woman at Port Moselle Marina recommended I go to. I need a crown.

The dentist from hell

It all started by me taking a bite out of a date in the store of all stores, Carrefour, in Tahiti. The whole side of my top molar broke off and became one with a mouthful of date and pip. How to swallow or how to get rid of the whole package discretely?

I get the tooth repaired promptly by a gentle, petite woman dentist from Nice for US$200.

“Le dent et vivant, mais fragile.” The tooth is alive, but fragile she says. It has a few composite repairs, but does not need a crown she concludes. Who am I to question the lady in the white jacket?

“Faire attention how you chew!” Watch out how you chew she advises. Sure OK! Smoothies for a life time.

Barely out of Suwarrow has the composite repair broken away in one clean chunk. That US$200 bucks is now gone with the wind!

Enter Pago Pago where I take a bus to the LBJ hospital and pay US$10 to get a hospital card, and walk into the dental clinic. 15 minutes later I am in the chair with a woman dentist the size of a giant redwood tree. Her broad neck anchors a face with a triple chin on football player-like shoulders.

She works away meticulously, crafting a temporary filling, which I am sure will last an eternity. Her assistant, wearing a mask, has the sneezes. She coughs, whoops, sniffs all the time while passing the dental instruments.

“I hope you’re not coming down with something!” the dentist says.

“I think she’s coming up with something.” Another staff member offers. We smile. Funny but not so funny.

The repair could have lasted all the way to NZ, but there is always the chance it won’t and I hear that dentists in NZ are very expensive, so follow up on a recommendation to see someone in Noumea.

I ring the bell at the dental office . A very, very neat and stylish assistant ushers me in. Her hair is professionally pulled back, a cross-over buttoned down starched aubergine cotton top and crisp white skirt completes her uniform. Her name is Kelly. The place smells fresh and clean. The walls are painted a crisp apple-lime green and ceilings white. This is a positive sign I think. Dentist chic.

Between my bad French and Kelly’s attempt at English, Dr. Buscano (not the correct spelling of his name), could make me a crown in three appointments for US$1500 cash!

“Tomorrow is a ‘oliday’ and Jeudi aussi.” Kelly announces as she looks for appointments for me.

“First we kill za tooth, zen we construct en impress, zen we fit za new one.” She iterates the process.

Killing the tooth goes well. I arrive next for my ‘construct en impress’ appointment with high hopes. I sink down in the comfy couch and read Marie Claire magazines and thrice excuse Dr. Buscano the Italian-named French dentist’s request to slip someone in before my appointment. Little do I know Monsieur Dentist would have to make up for time lost somehow to stay on schedule with the rest of his patients. And I am the one he’ll make up time on.

At last I am in the chair. Kelly seems preoccupied elsewhere. Monsieur Dentist begins work with a vengeance, as if he is in a quarry or nickel mine with gum boots on and time is running out. He uses nothing to numb the gums and grinds into them roughly every now and then. I taste the strong blood, metal, composite mixture. Chunks of tooth are flying into my eyes. A bouillabaisse of tooth, temporary fillings, and water pour down my gullet. Kelly is still not at her post using the slurpy tool that sucks things out. I am choking. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I am crying.

Monsieur Dentist is getting mad that I am in pain and choking and stops dead in motion.

“You want a long rendezvous yes? So now I must travail!!!!!” He admonishes.
The dentist from hell proceeds to finish his ‘construct en impress’ exercise virtually ripping out all my top teeth and gums in the process. Torture in the Tower of London would have been a walk in the park for him.

At last he finishes.

“Vous est tres miserable?” He asks. “Oui, je suis tres, tres, tres miserable.” I answer with tears still streaming down my cheeks, unable to open my eyes properly for all the quarry grit abrading the eyeballs. Miserable I am!

I do not want to totally show how mad I am at him, because he still needs one last ‘rendezvous’ to finish the job. So I swallow--excuse this pun--this insufferable experience.

“Don’t worry if the temporary tooth falls out before you come back.” He warns. No worries. I just have a weekend to go through. I again swallow—choke-- insult to injury. It’s a good round off.

Last ‘rendezvous’ shows up sooner than I want and I am extra polite to him. Kind of like a person is to their abductor. Shove, push, pull, push again, and with virtually his shoes in my mouth as well. This time Kelly sits and watches torture at large.

On with the glue and that ping ping sound tells me the glue job is setting. In with the blue paper and I am requested to bite down and slide my teeth around on it.

“You feel any problem?” He asks—after asking Kelly to translate-- expecting negative as he hands me a mirror to look at his creation.

I sit forward in disgust, hand him back the mirror without looking, and get up out of the chair. The tooth does not even touch the bottom one when I bite down. It is way too short.

I walk to his office to pay the cash. “Do you want a receipt?” He asks. “Mais oui si’l vous plait.”

“Are you coming back to Noumea again?” He asks as I finish counting out the US$1500 greenbacks. I think guilt has set in. Ping, ping ping.

“I will give you a new tooth when you come back next year.” He tries to make right.

That would be nice, but I don’t think so right now. I want something to remember you by!

“Oui Merci.” I thank him. Ja sure!

I walk out into the sunlight feeling like I just experienced highway robbery with a touch of assault and battery by a dentist from hell.

What to do next for comic relief? Go to the circus.

A night at the magic circus from Samoa

I decide rather than see the circus acts in the big, shiny red ten that I will be a bystander at the fun rides and photograph little ones having a happy night. It is comic relief for me. So join the ride!

I decide to miss the magic acts in the tent and instead be a bystander at the fun rides.

Let’s go! Dodge em.

Exhilaration at its best. Butterflies! But my friend is missing the ride!

Ooops the big boy is going to get hit!

It took a lot to get these two young girl friends together. What with getting someone else to look after little brother, finding out one was short on money, therefore missing out on the first ride, and eventually making the second. Can’t wait to ride now!

Here they go. The ride of their lives. Look to the left. Look to the right. Dodge em!

A tiny darling girl glides by in her ‘service incendie’. Fire truck?

A little Kanak boy rides his 4x4 with ease like he does it every day.

Baby boat girl rides as if she is one with the star lights. See the head sail? She’s cruising.

A young Kanak Mom and French Dad look on with nostalgia at their little girl gliding by.

I meet Russ afterward at the Le bout du monde—boats of the world--Bar Brasserie for a refreshing drink.

We look out at the huge Bayou charter cat in reflection.

We have made quite the entrance to Noumea. It is time now to reflect. To relax. To drink in the French surroundings.

Water sports at the beaches

We add the balm of beaches to days that follow and go to the Baie des Citron and Anse Vata. The former has a narrow, long strip of course gray-white sandy beach that gently curves along the lines of a shallow, sheltered bay. Families picnic and swim along the shores. The beach is lined with cafes and restaurants.

The latter, too, has a long course narrow gray-white beach lined with coconut trees. It is shallow, but not that sheltered and is a mecca for water sports of all kind. I spend a whole day watching the wildest wind surfers and kite sailors I've yet seen. It takes the cake over the Gorge in Eastern Washington. And the wind blows steadily like the dickens. You can count on it.

I walk, and swim, and lie down on the beach and listen to the wind and waves. I’m refreshed.

Russ and I then hike to the top of mount Ouen Toro, not too far from the beach. From the top we look out over the whole of Noumea and turn to see a beautiful panorama of ocean and islands beyond. We can trace the way we sailed in.