There’s nothing like a spur of the moment trip. It went from “Wouldn’t it be nice” to “I wonder if we could” to “Let’s do it” so quickly that we hadn’t realized we’d made up our minds. A Cruise over New Year.
My daughter once explained to me that the difference between travelling and holidaying was about whether you went for exploration or relaxation. This was definitely a holiday. The end of a difficult year for us, and a chance to wind down, do some thinking, and get our heads straight. Perfect. A Cruise.
And so we sailed out of Sydney Harbour under blue skies. We watched the “on-water” traffic – ferries, leisure craft, container ships – and felt privileged. The relaxation kicked in almost immediately.
A few days later we arrived in our first port. Even though this was a holiday, you can’t prevent an addicted traveller from exploring new places. I hadn’t been to Noumea, so off on a ship tour to explore. A trip to an inland church – lovely stained glass and that peculiar mix of south pacific and European; a drive to the top of a hill for the view (which was less interesting to me than the artistic “graffiti” on the walls of the building); a stop at the beach (with some over water huts, as in a mini Bora Bora) and a stop for café et gateaux. It was lovely to hear the French language again. Unfortunately my favourite cappuchinos in the world were in Paris. I couldn’t help hoping…. Never mind. Noumea is a staple port on South Pacific Cruises, so I will return. Next time I’ll go on the Tchou Tchou train. Maybe I’ll find that elusive cappuchino.
The other ports all were part of Vanuatu. I’d been to Mystery Island before. I don’t know why it’s called that – maybe that’s the mystery. No-one lives on Mystery Island. Every day that a ship (or two) is in port, the locals from the island of Tanna come over on their own boats and set up stalls selling sarongs and straw things, and they braid hair and set up photo opportunities (my favourite is the Cannibal Pot that tourists stand behind with a couple of “cannibals” with spears). The local kids were endlessly singing “Abraham has many sons” and hoping that the tourists would put money into a basket. Which they do– the kids are ultra cute. The more energetic people go snorkelling or swimming. The water is crystal clear.
Next stop was Vila – I’d been here before a couple of times and this time I just went to the market at the docks. And then north (which I hadn’t done before) to Champagne Bay. This was beautiful. A quiet bay and beach with the same crystal water. More singing and more market stalls. For $2 you could get a champagne Bay stamp in your passport. I’m fairly sure that this is illegal, but as we never had our passports checked during the trip, no-one noticed. The photo ops here were with animals – holding a giant turtle (which I did) and standing with a green gecko on your head (which I didn’t).
Further north again to Luganville, which is universally called Santo. Not sure why. Here we went on a Cultural Tour, to see the Water Music. A group of women in traditional sarongs and head wreaths did a percussion performance, in a pool of water. It was amazing how many different sounds they created and it was quite moving. The young daughter of one (aged about 4) stood in a back and splashed to her own rhythm. This was followed by a men’s dance nearby, - also with some young “trainee” warriors. I presume it was school holidays. They took it very seriously as they tried to look fierce. And then a demonstration of kava making, and a tasting for the intrepid. I’d done that before in Fiji – it tasted like mud (or what I imagine mud would taste like) and numbed my mouth as if I’d been to the dentist.
A few days at sea and back to Sydney. After 10 days of brilliant weather, we sailed into the harbour in the rain. It seemed appropriate…
