Baie Maa - New Caledonia
The Great Check in
Adventure
As participants on the Down Under Go East Rally, we had sailed from
the Gold Coast and arrived in Noumea on a Sunday morning. Unfortunately, The
immigration, Customs and Quarantine departments of New Caledonia do not work on
a Sunday. That means we were not allowed to get off our boat or have visitors
aboard.
Fortunately the organizer of the Down Under Go East Rally, John
Hembrow, suggested that we call the Port
Moselle marina in Noumea, to advise them we wanted to check in. He would then
contact the yacht agent, Noumea Yacht services and find out arrangements for
the 15 or so boats that had arrived in Noumea.
Unfortunately, when I called Port Moselle Marina, they told us that
we should not delay in coming to their office as the immigration department
stops work at 11.00am. They told Neville from Bossa Noava the same. He had crew
flying out, so we didn’t want to be stuck on the boats for another day. There
was no mention of the rally all being checked in at the marina office or when
that would happen. Also quite unfortunate was that we had been told we should
take any trash or rubbish with us to Quarantine, as they would want to dispose
of it properly.
Fortunately, Neville and I set off without further ado. We took all
our crew passports and necessary paper work for each of our boats. We arrived
at the marina office and fortunately the lady there spoke very good English.
Fortunately she had obviously given instructions on where to find the three
offices we needed to attend many, many times and also gave us a pretty good
French map.
Unfortunately, it was quite a walk to the immigration office. All
the signs and street names etc… are in French. Unfortunately together, Neville
and I only know about five words of French. Unfortunately for Neville, the bag
of rubbish he had to carry contained many empty wine bottles. Unfortunately for
me I had 2 bags of rubbish. We got many strange looks as we marched up the man
street of Noumea, one with a rattling bag of bottles, the other with two
bulging bags, a back pack and trying to read a French map as we marched along.
Fortunately, by some considerable stroke of luck, we found the
four-storey police station we had been told to look for and there, across the
road was the doorway that lead to the immigration office. We hauled our trash
and ourselves up the stairs to a small waiting room. Then a bit of a regroup
while we got out all the forms we had with us.
Unfortunately, this is when I realised I didn’t have my reading
glasses and Neville realised he didn’t have a pen. We did get some curious looks as Neville and
I kept exchanging forms, glasses and the pen backwards and forwards.
Fortunately, I heard an Australian talking in the next room and soon
realised that you had to go into the next office to let them know you were
here. This is where I handed in one form and had all the Easy Tiger’s crew’s
passports stamped.
Unfortunately, the ladies in the immigration office know very little
English. They did try to explain how to find the customs office to Neville, who
shall we say could have better hearing. He said they told him to go to a yellow
house. After walking in a circle with about a fifty metre radius we saw a
yellow building with something like Agricultures on the sign. That had to be it
I thought, but unfortunately the people in that office looked at us and our
smelly bags of rubbish, as if we had just dropped in from Mars.
Fortunately, a young guy in the next room had enough English to
explain that we were in the wrong place and we should go down the dual lane
road. We did this and then found another yellow building with a very small sign
on it that said what I thought was costumes but on entry found it was customs.
While waiting at the counter, I managed to make eye contact with a guy sitting
in the office out the back. He slightly nodded and raised an eyebrow so I crept
towards his desk. He didn’t seem to mind so I explained, using all my five
words of French, that we had come by bateau and we were looking for customs to
check in. He motioned to a stack of forms on his desk, which fortunately
Neville recognized as one the forms we had filled out back at immigration.
Unfortunately this is where a mild case of panic set in for me as I
couldn’t find the form for Easy Tiger’s clearance out of Australia. Going
through my stack of papers in a quick flurry still didn’t produce the right
one. The guy at the desk was definitely not going to sign us off without
it. What is French for “Oh shit, I think
I’ve lost the most important form?”. The fourth search through my well
organized boat papers file revealed it tucked in behind something far less
critical.
Fortunately as this was going on another Aussie yachter came into
the office enquiring as to whether this was customs. We said yes and told him
we would see him at Quarantine where ever that was. Fortunately; He said he had
just come from there and gave us instructions on how to get there.
Unfortunately at Quarantine, they didn’t speak much English. We waited for some French people in front of
us who were asking if it was ok to bring a sprig of wattle in to New Caledonia.
They were whisked off to another office by the muscle shirt wearing Freddie
Mercury look alike who was working the counter.
When Freddie came back, I asked very politely whether he spoke English.
With a “non” thrown over his shoulder he disappeared into the back offices of
the building.
Fortunately it wasn’t long before the wattle people and a big dark
skinned man in uniform came out. He took a look at us, took a whiff of our
rapidly degrading rubbish and gestured us into the office he had just come
from. Just as we were about to commence proceedings with him, a young lady came
running down the corridor. She said some rapid fire French to the big guy, who
we had just handed our garbage to. She looked at Neville and I and fired rapid
French our way. Looking at her smile and blue eyes with the French accent… I
missed everything she said. On her third repetition I picked up the words
Rally, Mellanie and marina.
Unfortunately, putting two and two together, I worked out that she
was saying because we are on the rally, we must meet Melanie at the marina so
that she can inspect our boat. Damn. We had better hightail it back to the
marina or miss our boat inspection. Almost as an afterthought I asked the nice
lady if we could leave our rubbish there. She said “of course” but the big guy
wasn’t too happy about it, especially when he heard the clunk of the wine
bottles in Neville’s bag. That meant it wasn’t separated so he’d have to sort
through it.
Fortunately we knew the way back to the marina and it was a lot
easier walking without toting the smelly rubbish bags. Fortunately when we did
arrive at the marina office, we saw the other rally participants standing in a
line that went out the door and around the building. We asked what they were
lining up for and they said to get checked in by immigration and Customs as
arranged by the rally organisers!
Unfortunately We had walked about 5 kilometres, carrying stinking
rubbish, struggling to make ourselves understood to carry out our check in to
New Caledonia, when we could have got it all done right here! But as Neville and I said to each other, it
wouldn’t have been half the adventure.
(sorry, there are not enough bars where we are...not those bars! internet bars. Having trouble loading photos...more to come)
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