A 3 (or 4 ½) Hour Tour

Last September when our ship was in Noumea, New Caledonia, a colleague asked me if I'd go with her to the Tjibaou Cultural Center, which I understood to be a museum of the history of the island. Thinking that I might pick up some good information on New Caledonian culture that I could share with family and friends, I agreed to go. We were fortunate to avail ourselves of the car and driver provided for the use of our Chief of Staff, who was hopelessly tied up with work on the ship. And thus began a unique adventure in sightseeing.


 

Our driver, a New Caledonia native of French lineage named Eric, was probably bored to tears sitting around waiting for "Number One", as he referred to the COS, to decide to go somewhere in the car standing by just for him. So he offered to give us "a leetle tour" en route to the Cultural Center. This little tour turned into a 4 ½ hour in-depth excursion throughout Noumea, including many places where tourists and visitors never go, as well as a full accounting of Eric's personal history and philosophy of life, the latter being more interesting than the former.


 
Eric grew up in New Caledonia, the son of a Sicilian mother and French father, and later traveled and lived abroad. His first wife was Turkish, and they lived for 13 years in Germany. He has a daughter, Jamilla, who is 19. Later he lived in California, which he didn't like because he thinks the people are too phony and nosy and status conscious. But he loved his visits to Arizona because climate-wise it is most like New Caledonia of any other place he has lived. I felt that on my long runs there, which reminded me of the terrain around Lake Pleasant just outside of Phoenix. The climate is very similar, warm and dry; not hot and humid like Guam.


 
I've forgotten all the details of Eric's subsequent sojourns, but he is now back in New Caledonia where he works as a driver and tour guide, particularly in demand for German tourists since he is fluent in their language. His current wife is Polynesian. Three weeks previously she gave birth to premature twins at 26 weeks gestation (near the lower limit of viability). The wife, whose name sounded to me like Asuncion, was still in hospital and the baby girls were still in neonatal ICU. Meanwhile Eric was working 18 hour days driving VIPs and giving tours and philosophy lessons. Two things were clear: He is deeply in love with his wife, and he is a deeply religious man. He is both a philosopher and theologian, and his French gift of gab, accent included, makes him very entertaining. For him, a highlight of the trip was taking us to a shrine overlooking the city, sporting a statue of the Virgin Mary entitled, "Notre Dame du Pacifique." This shrine was built entirely by private citizens, and Eric proudly proclaimed that she is named not just Our Lady of New Caledonia, but of the whole Pacific! "Thees is only right, because she was built by zee people, and we are all ceeteezens of zee Pacific, no?" He then smugly described how he and his wife attend Mass on this hilltop every Sunday. I thought of our drafty church back in D.C. with the poor acoustics, and figured that in this shrine one could better feel the presence of God.


 

When we finally got to the Cultural Center it was closed for the holiday. Undaunted, Eric talked the guards into letting us in anyway, without paying the 500 Frank entry fee. So we got a (lengthy) privately guided tour where we learned all about Melanesian life and work, as well as a healthy dose of Eric's personal philosophy about race relations and local politics, which could be briefly described as "live and let live." We also learned that this New Caledonian Renaissance man has a bit of medical knowledge as well, because he adroitly steered us away from low-lying wetlands as the time of day approached peak feeding time for mosquitoes. "Vee have some Dengue here, you know?"


 
So the short excursion to the cultural center for some photo ops turned into a 4 ½ tour, but the price was right ($0) and the car was air conditioned, and I did learn a lot and appreciated this quasi-theologian's fresh outlook on life and love. We finished with a private tour of Kanak homes and beaches, as well as a very idyllic beach resort area that became my favorite running destination for the remainder of the port visit.


 

So you just never know when a person or place is going to unexpectedly enter your life, and impact you in an unanticipated yet memorable way. Though we will likely never see Eric again, that day we made a friend. He was on the pier when the ship departed, and we waved to him enthusiastically. I was personally hopeful that with us out of his life he could finally devote his time to his wife and newborn daughter.