Au-revoir

Early morning a short heavy breeze pulled on the strings of my tent, followed by a flash lightening the inside. It was still too early for the neighbourhood cocks that usually mark my first wake-up call. Or was there a reasonwhy they shut up, hiding under secure shelter? I was warned. Weather in the South Pacific during wet season is as changable as New Zealand's Fiordland.

It's the day of my departure from Rangiroa atoll. Should I get up now to pack my tent or just grab my blanket and hang on? Too late - I should have known better: when the wind takes up speed, the rain won't stay behind. And already I found myself in a tropical heavy weather front. There are not many things to grab when travelling with a backpack, nor I may put the guilt on the darkness, but one thing for sure: I got totally soaked in my senseless atempt to reach the common kitchen as emergency shelter.

Meanwhile the wind pushes the rain for hours in waves against the small wooden hut with no real windows to close. Soon my reading glasses might need whipers and I am getting worried if there will be the daily flight this afternoon. The airfield just runs along the main island of the atoll, with the lagoon on one side, and the reef and open sea on the other. And that's where the heavy weather is coming from. Clouds are hanging as deep as the tallest coconut trees ... oh yes, I do worry. No phone, 5 km to the airfield, and a 70-year old host looking for himself for a less wet spot in competition with his cats and dogs. Still I need to roll up my tent, hanging right now in the leaking toilet annex. Well, moments like these are part of a globetrotter's journey. Sorry, I need to shut down my Andropad. It's not the rain drops on the surface, but it will soon run out of energy.

So I said au-revoir to papá Nanua to get a lift to the airport by his daughter, as she shows up once a day to look after him. And yes, I had to bow, receiving my third necklace made of cute small white and orange shells. It is a custom that continues around the Polynesian islands - even for a low-budget traveller at a simple place like "Chez Nanua" - getting a warm welcome with the famous Tiare Tahiti flowers, and a farewell with a colorful collar made of shells. It seems it started brightening the sky. Hey, still I'm not superstitious. End of part 1 of this post ... so long, folks.

Well, I made it - on time. Twice eventually, because meanwhile moved on to Auckland. And due to a public holiday I had a quiet day in Papeete, hanging out mostly at the harbour front ... doing what I like most: watching boats coming in and going out, as well as spinning my stories around there whereabout, freight and destinations. Oh, one funny thing. It seems the bigger the sailing yachts, the less the (probably more wealthy) owners take the time to bridge the oceans for their "show-off cruise" in the blue lagoons. They just get them delivered in time, and while jet-setting back home first class, a cargo vessel takes over the lengthy part ... packing the yachts among containers. If Captain Jack Sparrow would know about that opportunity ...

I guess they won't ship them to Auckland, though it is a kind of "Mecca" for super yachts, if it comes to sailing. Regularily they are competing at the America's Cup. Their return in 1987 led to the construction of the KZ1 - a 40.5 meter monohull with 38 tonnes displacement and 32 crew members - and believe it or not, it stood no chance against US1 Stars & Stripes - a 18.3 meter catamaran with only 3 tonnes displacement and a crew of eight!

And while the beaten giant has now a prominent place in front of Auckland's harbour promenade, this years hightech racing boat just came back with the sunset from a test session upon my today's arrival. What an amazing catamaran! Not much difference to a F1 car - no sail but a fixed wing instead.

By the way, the lazy day yesterday also gave me time to "meet" Richard Katz on his visit to Papeete, reading his short stories during his journey to Tahiti and Bora Bora. It seems he didn't like that much "le ville" and describes a place corrupted by the French franc. Needless to add: it is also nowadys more than visible that over the decades neither the economic, nor the financial dependence eased. Still - as a century ago - only in Papeete "time is money". And departing this morning from Papeete I gained one hour in time ... only to realise a few hours later that same day, I lost a day. Indeed, this time I crossed the date line from east to west: departing on the 6th, arriving same day on the 7th! Confused?