Showing posts with label brousse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brousse. Show all posts

Monday, July 13, 2009

From Bourail to Noumea


Olive's house was in the middle of the Caledonian bush or brousse and we had no neighbours except of wild cows, dogs and horses. Zita his dog couldn't stop playing with me because she was young and strong. Every time she brought a piece of stone and deliberately dropped it on somebody's foot(ouch) to invite them to play with her. She never got tired no matter how often and how far you would throw the stone. Bourail and the bushland is said to be the residence of many "Caldoches", the French white people who have been living in New Caledonia for more than 5 generations. As a tourist and foreigner, I tried to be very careful about saying something with a double sense like Caldoche or Kanak(indigenous person). The safest for a foreigner is to always use neutral words and expressions.

The Bourail market was really interesting with the many exotic fruits which remind me a bit of Malaysia or Indonesia. Indigenous women in very colourful traditional dresses sitting around chatting or selling their products was typical for the Bourail market. In my opinion they were more interested, educated and curious than the Australian indigenous people back home. I bought an indigenous vegetable called chou Kanak or indigenous cabbage which looked more like spinach to me. The Caledonian indigenous people were curious and wanted to know much about the indigenous people in Australia. I always had hangups talking about the indigenous people in Australia and was happy as Pierre came to pick me up. The woman was surprised that my friends were white because as I told her that I stayed with friends she probably expected anything else than a "Caldoche". As a foreigner I often prefer not to voice my opinion too clearly because I was not always sure whether irony in that particular case would be suitable to express the double sense of matters.

The bus from Bourail to Noumea was late as usual. Jean Lugand, my third host, expected to pick me up near the cinema where the bus stop was. He was a handsome, kind and neat young man who worked as an engineer for Air Calin. HIs written English was excellent but as I asked him he preferred to speak French. This suited me very well because I liked to practice my French as much as I could while I was in NC. Indeed my French became very fluent and I started to use irony, humour or any type of slapsticks. Jean initially treated me as a couchsurfer and he clearly said that he wouldn't change his life for a couchsurfer. Of course I would never expect any host to change his life for a surfer or guest.

We went out Salsa dancing to the prettiest dancing I could ever imagine. Jean said it was an appealing place with friendly guests and staff. I couldn't agree more with him on that place. It was built in traditional Caledonian architecture in the middle of the sea, so we had to walk a small bridge to cross a small part of the water to be able to enter the disco. We had a salsa course where men and women were separated. Jean was tired and went home earlier. I still stayed and danced with many people then I slowly walked back to Jean's apartment in the noble suburb Anse Vata by the sea.

Anse Vata is a suburb with predominantly European or sometimes Asian residents where you hardly see any indigenous person. Sometimes I could observe a few indigenous people sleeping on the beach. The next day Jean didn't have time for me because he had a business dinner. He gave me the key of his apartment which he normally didn't give to surfers. I'm trustworthy but people who don't know me need some time to find out and I'm glad Jean trusted me. I walked a long way until Baie de Citron and further up but as I had sneekers and jeans on, they didn't admit me to the disco.

The last day of my stay in Noumea I went to the famous municipal market located just on the waterside of Noumea Harbour. It was another beautiful building with a blue roof and water views. Here they had the prawns NC was famous for and plenty of Vietnamese and Indonesian food. So I had quite a good value coffee, breakfast and hot lunch here. After breakfast I was looking for diving and surfing opportunities but it was not as easy as in Sydney. I needed to pay much for a boat which could bring me to the diving and surfing points. Because I was alone I needed to pay the fee for the whole boat because it was off season but school holiday time. All the flights were booked and everything was more expensive because of the school holidays and I couldn't find a flight to the Pine Islands. Finally I decided to just take a day cruise.

A must see in Noumea is the Centre Culturelle de Tjibaou or Cultural Centre. It is a a piece of land located by the sea, a beautiful spot with interesting indigenous shows, landscape gardening and the real indigenous houses. Just the bus ride along the coast provided a different side of coastal Noumea. I initially thought that Noumea was not worth a visit. But this city is multicultural and -ethnic, so even a cruise ship full of Australians will just be absorbed in the ethnic diversity of Noumea. I spent the last day with Jean and invited him to dinner at Baie de Citron. He was very caring and organised a shuttle bus to catch the very early flight. Public transportation was extremely unreliable in New Caledonia s I couldn't thank him moer for that. I was really prepared to catch an expensive taxi at the risk that they rip me off as a tourist. Thank you Jean for your hospitality and it was a great pity that I couldn't spend much time with you to get to know you better.

The New Caledonian Bush - Oliver


The long distance bus in New Caledonia is quite a horror. Firstly they are never on time and if you arrive at the station, you will be totally confused by the disorganised and unlogical manner of both passengers and drivers. I arrived early and still didn't get a proper seat because everything was so messy. Thank God that Bourail was not too far. At least I have learnt that I needed a rented car to explore New Caledonian Bushland or brousse. It was so stupid that I haven't brought my driver's license with me. I arrived in Bourail about 8.30 pm.

The bus was full of indigenous people whose way of thinking and behaviour I found difficult to follow. But they were very polite, good French speaking and friendly. After we arrived at Bourail bus terminal it was time to say good bye to them. A gentle nice young Frenchman approached me and said:" Soraya, is that you?" Well, Oliver looked like a daring playboy on his profile picture but in real life he just looked like the Frenchie next door. Oliver's friends were already waiting at the nearby cava bar, a really cosy place where people sat outdoors around the crackling fire chatting their time away. They asked me whether I knew cava and I told them about my experience with Alain.

Soon I felt quite comfortable among these people and I was treated more like a friend than a stranger sleeping over. In multi-ethnic and -cultural New Caledonia you hardly stand out as a tourist, especially if you speak French. I began to really understand why French people liked to live in New Caledonia despite the extremely high cost of living compared to the infrastructure or economic standard of the country.

We arrived at Oliver's house which was about 3 km outside of Bourail. Zita, the dog truly welcomed me with her strong temperament. Mimi, the cat couldn't stop caressing her body to my legs. Olive's business partner and housemate Fred was as hospitable and friendly as he was. He had a simple but catching humour, exactly the contrast of the more serene Oliver. He was as much a host as Oliver to me and made me feel rather like a friend than a stranger sleeping over. Couchsurfing really gave me the opportunity to make instant friends and this extremely positive New Caledonia experience gave me the feeling that all hosting and surfing experiences were as wonderful as this one. I slept in Olive's office and later I heard that Fred used to sleep here but took the guest couch instead.

Olive's friends felt more like friends than hosts to me and I had the feeling that I knew them for a long time. As a surfer I would behave exactly as I would at a friend's place. The kitchen was not particularly organised and I cleaned and washed the dishes. Fred was very surprised and happy because I did this but it is just something very natural for me to do.

The next day Oliver and Fred helped his friend Pierre to build a party shack on his private property. He invited me to join. The property was in the middle of the bushland and provided an amazing view over the Ile de Verts or Green Island in the mmiddle of the ocean. While they were working, I went to the beach but walked back soon to help them taking photos of their construction work. The photo shots started from the first stone laid with Pierre's signature and date of construction. We also visited Pierre's brother's party shack and private beach in another part of the bushland. How amazed and surprised I was by the shack because it provided a kitchen and shower next to a sheltered party shack. This beautiful private bay area with mountains in the background was called Baie Tisse or the Bay of parties. A very tricky wordplay because the French word betise which is pronounced the same means stupidity.

I was so impressed by the vast space of the private bushland. Similar to Queensland we had to pass a barrier to enter this huge private property. We had so many parties and I enjoyed their company so much that I nearly cried as I had to leave Bourail. The bus was 2 hours late as usual.....