mmmm Prada

Popped across the ditch to Sydney the other day, just for a couple of days after Christmas.
We went to Bondi Junction, because Sarah's brother had taken us to the Westfield there once before.
She is a bit of a magpie, my Sarah. "mmm shiny, want one, visit again."

Anyway, we did it by train, so now we know how to get to Bondi Junction. Slowly building up a repertoire of train journeys that Sarah is comfortable taking without me. She comes over alone occasionally, and needs to be able to get around without me and my iPhone pretending to be a GPS.

Saw a really cool store there. It's called "Top 3 by Design" and its like the coolest shit you would find at IKEA. Minimalist and funky. Whatever that means. Sarah was a bit ho-hum, but I liked it.

Went to a menswear shop and Sarah got me a couple of shirts. Makes me suspicious. Is this an excuse to get into my wardrobe and start binning the stuff she doesn't like, or is this a pre-emptive strike for the shopping she plans on doing for herself on a future trip? Not sure. Probably both, to be honest.

Our second day, we did our standard pilgrimage. QVB, Myers, David Jones.

Just for a chuckle, we had a look in a Prada store in town. Yikes! Ever been into a shop with no price tags? If you need to ask and all that, right?

Sarah saw a couple she liked the look of. Checked out the pockets, how many compartments. Stuff like that. Then she asked to see one up on a shelf.
Out come the special gloves. Oops. Can't go touching the merchandise. This one is made out of soft lambskin.
Made from the scrotums of 14 lambs, colour-matched at birth, and hand-raised by a brotherhood of Benedictine monks in the foothills of the Pyrenees.
We scarpered.

Back to the airport for a 1650 departure. This is a great time for a flight. Gets into Christchurch at 2200. Much better than the one 2 hours later. You're done everything in time, and easy to be at the airport by just after 3.

Headphones

I haven't blogged for a while.
We have done a bit of travelling, but the odd weekend in Sydney doesn't usually justify blogging about.

In the mean time, there is something that occurred to me on our last trip to Sydney, that may be worth a few lines.

It's all about the headphones.

Many airlines have only one class, particularly on short-haul routes.

As I have probably mentioned before, I work for Air New Zealand, and Sarah works for Qantas.
As a rule we travel on one of these carriers.

Air New Zealand had gone semi-budget on the domestic and trans-tasman routes. These are usually on Airbus A320s. There are all sorts of flash things on the long-haul, the bigger aircraft. "Cuddle class", premier economy and business class. We are waiting for the Dreamliner to arrive, and that will be even better.
But this is about the short-haul.

Most headsets you get on an aircraft are crap. We all accept that.
On the "budget-and-proud-of-it" carriers, they even acknowledge this simple truth. I travelled on Jetblue out of New York, and if you didn't keep your free headset for the next flight, it goes in the bin. That's right! Straight into the bin. "They are crap, people. We are not even going to PRETEND to recycle them." No recycling here, sport!
Others pretend that you are getting the quality product, but we all know that's bollocks.
The normal headsets on our A320 is the standard economy model found on the longer flights.

After every flight, the used ones are gathered up and sent to someone for repacking. In NZ, this job is done by what we used to call a sheltered workshop. This is an organisation designed to give 'challenged' people employment.  I often wonder if the electrics are ever tested, or if they just get cleaned and repacked. How many of us tear open the pack to find a headset that doesn't work, or which sends 100 decibel crackles into your ears if you touch the plug?

Anyway, these headsets are definitely not noise-cancelling. It's like watching tv in a bus station!
While you are watching your movie, you can hear what the wife is saying to you, you can hear the kids 2 rows back, and you can have a conversation with the hostie about what you want to drink and what colour meal you want.

However, these flights also carry a bag of the noise-cancelling sets. These are for the guys who paid extra, or who are frequent flyers. And the people that the hostie knows, or who works at the airport. That would be me. How lucky am I?

Have you ever tried noise-cancelling headphones? Amazing!
Put them on and they are just nice, comfy headsets. But flick that switch, and your head gets sucked into a vacuum. Deathly silent. You don't realise how much ambient noise there is until you turn it off. Wow!

Then turn on the movie or the music, and the experience is complete.
No wife, no kids, no hostie. No interruptions.

Now just to be clear, these are not the full-arsed switch on noise cancelers. But they ARE a shitload better than the budgie ones.

Now, here's my observation.

You sit back in cattle class, and nobody cares about you, except for the obligatory drinks and food runs.
Doesn't matter if the flight is 2 hours or 10 hours. Same principal. You could be a serial killer back there and be onto your third victim before anybody notices. And that's only because you chose somebody that had pre-ordered a special meal, and the crew eventually turned up to deliver it.

(Special! Now that's what I call an oxymoron! I was always amused by our list of "special" meals. The first on the list was "bland". Seriously, how can that be special? Isn't bland the default for airline food?)

Anyway...

But if you sit up the front, or you are one of the select group mentioned above, and you get those good headsets? Then see what happens? No sooner do you put on that magical headset designed specifically to shut out the world, that the hostie turns up for a chat!

Come and chat when I only have the crappy headphones on, and I will happily talk to you while still listening to the movie. But oh no. Nobody wants to talk to the peasants with the crappy headset on. But put on the good ones, and you can't get a break from the 'customer service'.

What is that about?

Now before I get strung up by my friendly waitresses, let me clarify. I'm not picking on the lovely girls out of Christchurch. There are a couple there that I would happily open a magnum of conversation and spend the entire flight with.
This is a general comment about all hosties. I think it's part of their training to engage the top end traveller, and how better to spot them than to tag them with the fat headphones. Saves accidentally giving the good stuff to some peasant who won't fly again.

4th Mar

After checking out of the hotel, we spend the afternoon waiting in the foyer for the shuttle to arrive.

Sarah has another wee battle. There was no separate voucher for this extra night; we told them it must be included from the first two nights we were here. As a result, they didn’t have a record of our breakfast being prepaid. Luckily they accepted it all when Sarah presented the itinerary from our travel agent. We also had to point out again about the city tax. Clearly these people are not used to that one being pre-paid.

The concept of getting an earlier shuttle seems lost on them as well. Eventually, it arrived, and we are off to the airport. But at least it did arrive, and our names were on the manifest. Back to zero on the sphincter scale

Five minutes later and we were at the airport. The check-in is out the front, with only a roof for protection. We are dropped at the Air New Zealand zone. There are two queues. One for Business and Koru, one for economy. There is a security officer at the entrance to the first queue, and heaps of people in the other queue.

I have to say that I have never seen Sarah move so quickly. “Koru Club!” as she ducked over there.

“What? Where? Who?”. Where did she go?

Anyway, the officer checks our credentials, and we are at the check-in counter moments later. All is well and off we go into the building. We find our way upstairs to the lounge. Air New Zealand share this with everybody else who fly in, but at least it’s air conditioned, has a nice view of the runway and sea beyond, and there are snacks and drinks.

The aircraft arrives, and we wander down to look in the duty free shop before we board. Quite a quick turnaround here. There is another ambulance case coming in, this time a baby.

When we board, we se a cabin crew member that I recognise. He transferred to London base when it opened, but is obviously back in AKL now. I’m sure he’s originally from CHC.

When we get to our seat, we meet Margot Black, another mainlander who is based in AKL. Nice to see a friendly face. Have a chat, she gives us J‑class headsets and a glass of bubbly, and we are set for the flight.

As always, the Air New Zealand food is good, and there are a couple of movies to watch.

Heading home.

So that’s it, boys and girls. The trip is over, and I survived.

Guess what? She is planning the next one.

Will it be the Indian train next?

Perhaps a cruise around the Hawaiian Islands?

There is talk of a week in Bangkok.

Who knows?

Maybe all of the above

3rd Mar

Last day onboard.

Went to breakfast in our standard restaurant on our floor. Saw most of the couples we had dined with over the week, except for Mr and Mrs G.I. Joe. Haven't seen them since they went cruising the lagoon. Maybe they are still peddling their way back to the ship.

Had to be out of our rooms by 0930, and ready to disembark by 0955.

We arrive on level 3 on time, and swipe out for the last time. Sarah says it feels like leaving boarding school.

One of the staff meets us at the bottom of the gangplank, shows us to our luggage, and tells us our shuttle will be here in 5 minutes. It is, and we board the van with 2 other couples. We are on our way again. A military operation, Sarah is impressed.

We drop one couple at the Intercontinental, and we get off at the Sofitel. The van leaves with the 3rd couple.

We sign in, but our room won't be ready till 1400. No problem, we assume our familiar position in the oversized comfy seats in the foyer. Then down to the pool bar for a drink. Saw Captain Jack again. Did I mention that I want his job?

The Bounty

Went to a couple of talks during the week from a guy who did his degree at Auckland. We think he is either an Amrikan or an Aussie. Either way, he has definitely been on the islands too long. Gone troppo? No, he's just a nut bar.

The first talk was about the Polynesian islands in the time of Captain Cook. The most interesting thing was that the islands with ready access to rocks, would trade adzes with those with access to shell. The shell makes good fishhooks. Fragile and brittle, but the best they had.

His second talk was about the famous mutiny. He gave quite a good background to the English society at the time, as well as the habit for tribes to trade the sexual favours of their young women for useful knick-knacks.

Surprisingly, one of the most popular forms of currency was the simple nail. This was the islanders' first introduction to metal, and was quite the game-changer.

Take a nail, flatten it with an adze, and you have a carving tool better than anything they have ever had, particularly for detailed work. Even better, bend the nail, and you have the best fishhook ever. Forget the fragile shell hooks that always break. These things are indestructible by comparison.

So. Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'getting nailed', doesn't it? I'm guessing that's the origin.

In fact, trading nails for a bit of afternoon delight was so popular, that the ship owners would issue a handful of nails to each sailor before they set off from old Blighty. Those ships that were forced to outstay their welcome due weather or repairs were in greater danger of sinking, as the sailors would steal nails from the ship itself to pay their “bills”. 

2nd Mar

A relaxing day. Maybe we will stay onboard, maybe we will visit the island to see if there are any stalls or shops to look at.

We see G.I. and Mrs Joe on the pool deck, and they stop to chat for a while. They are heading off to do the golf-buggy-with-water-wings tour this afternoon, so we will see tonight if they agree with my comments from yesterday.

We end up going over to look at the stalls on the dock. Sarah doesn't see anything that bites her, so we are on the next tender back. It doesn't help that the island is at brain-baking temperatures.

We have dinner with one of the couples we met at dinner the first night, as well as a couple they had met. The new couple had built themselves a boat, and circumcised the world, including a visit to good old noo zilland. We had some good stories to swap.

After dinner we finished packing, and left our check in bags outside our rooms. We then went to a concert by one of the regions professional concert parties.

Great drumming rhythms. Love that kind of sound. Then some hula dancing. Boy those girls have some real fly‑swatting action going there. Ai carumba!

OK. Time for bed, says Zebidy.

1st Mar

Moved to another island overnight.

Quite a few people felt seedy last night, so I was not alone.

It turned out that they took their sweet time to get there, so we were literally crawling along. Must be something to do with the departure and arrival slots.

Somebody suggested that if we had powered along at a decent clip, there would have been less rocking. Who knows?

Once we woke up, all was well.

We had met a couple two nights ago at dinner, John and Lynn. They had been doing snorkelling, jet skiing and all sorts of athletic excursions. I have taken to calling him G.I. Joe.

Anyway, I decided to be a bit G.I. Joe myself today. I am going jet skiing.

We meet in the theatre, with a bunch of people doing other excursions, and head down to level 3 to hop onto the tender.

Did I mention that these tenders are the lifeboats from onboard. There seem to be a range of different types, depending on need. There were the landing craft from the first island, and these are the more traditional enclosed numbers with windows and a roof. You can even go upstairs onto the roof to sit if you want some more baking.

Off we go for the 3 minute ride to the dock. There are a few stalls set up to sell you pearl jewellery and clothes. Sarah might enjoy this. Something else I didn't mention. Sarah is not with me today. There was no way to convince her to sit on the back of one of these things. G.I. Joe will say she has over-thought this. Again.

Anyway, no time to loiter. Got to hop onto another boat. This one has whale and dolphin watch on the side. Are you sure this is the right boat? Yes, let's go.

So we are off, putt-putting our way past the ship, around the headland. We soon get to another inlet, where we will be moored tomorrow. There is one of the Love Boats parked here. The Ocean Princess. Past that we go. I can see some more of those Bures on sticks, heading out towards the reef. There are navigation markers keeping us well away from them. Must be a posh hotel, wanting to keep the noisy peasants away from the pampered elite.

While I am sitting in this boat, I let my arm hang over the side. Don’t worry, no “Jaws” moment here! The spray is coming up the sides, and occasionally onto me. Then I notice something odd. You know how when you wade into a pool or the sea, it takes a moment to acclimatise? Not the “Brass Monkey” mid-winter kind of acclimatising you find in Southland. Just that whole Canterbury “Ooh, it’s not too bad. It’s ok now. It’s quite nice really” kind of acclimatising. Not here. This actually feels like a warm bath! I know! I will never get used to the sea being hot. Just like that whole ice-cream at midnight in KUL thing. “Does not compute, Will Robinson!”

So we get past the hotel, and back to hug the shore. Soon we are pulling into another hotel, this time not so delicate. There are jet skis lined up, along with some other craft.

2 surfboards lashed together, side by side. Then 2 beach chairs on top, with a canopy overhead. Then an outboard motor plugged on the back. They look like something Tim the Toolman would make, except his outboard would be massive.

Half the group that came on our boat are getting onto these golf-buggies with water wings. Now it's our turn to saddle up.

There seems to be a woman in charge of this wee business, and she is asking us if we can drive. Well, yeah. Oh, you mean THESE things? No, not really. Too late, I have been drafted into the 'advanced' group. Oh, crap!

Actually, I have ridden one of these before. At Akaroa, in a previous life.

Just like a horse, getting on without looking like a plank is harder than it looks.

So I make it in one piece, and end up facing the right way. Bonus.

There is a strap to put around the wrist, the other end connected to a dead man switch. Fall off, and the engine cuts out. Hit the go button, and twist the grip to rev a little. Nothing. It doesn't twist. I'm sure the last one I rode was just like motorbike controls. Not this one. The only other choice is the handbrake lever. Yep, that's the throttle. Ok. Ready to set off.

We start slowly, following our guide, getting the hang of the controls. I'm 3rd of 4 jet skis following him. They call them wave runners here. I'm still figuring out the combination of steer and lean to get the turns right. We start getting faster, and I'm keeping up. The guy behind me, not so much. Never mind, it's not a race. Just as I think I'm getting the hang of it, I hit a series of waves thrown up by someone ahead, and scare the bejesus out of myself. Bang, bang, bang.

Oy vey!

Because I don't swim, I am nervous about turning too sharply and capsizing it. As you may know, there are 2 types of jet ski. The stand up model that bounces around and folds like a clam when you fall off. And you will fall off. That's why I will only ever try the other type. The more sedate, big-arsed sit-down model that can take a passenger. That's what I'm on. All the other punters came in pairs, so 2 to a bike. I'm here alone, as previously discussed.

These are really fun. And kinda scary. I want one of these things when I grow up!

So off we go, zigging, zagging, chasing the guy in front. I don't know how far around the island we went. Maybe half way. Eventually we stop and regroup, and start back. Our guide decides that our advanced group can go on the OTHER side of the reef. Say what?

Suck it up, people. Let's play!

Through a gap in the reef, and suddenly we are in open sea. Cool. Waves are bigger. Bang! Keep in line, keep up. A few spots of rain, then suddenly we are going full noise, open sea, rain storm. Why can't somebody invent sunnies with wipers? At least I'm wearing my sunnies. Not getting rain in my eyes. Still hard to see where I'm going, though.

As quickly as the rain started, it was over. I'm soaked, but I'll be dry in a couple of minutes. We soon pull into a motu for refreshments. The learners class and the golf cart squadron have beaten us to it. A snack of sliced pineapple, juice, and a pitstop. Where we parked our bikes, a stingray comes up to us. Then another, and then a third. People are petting them, the guides are feeding them. Cool.

On our way back, our guide asks us to stop, and gather around. There are some sharks wandering around, and we just float there and watch them for a couple of minutes as they swim under and around us, engines off. No danger, just respecting another critter in the water. Then it’s back to the mainland, and we are done. I have a new respect for the gunfighters of the old west. Boy, my trigger finger is tired!

Actually, I'm quite buggered. Trying not to kill myself was exhausting!

As we were heading to dinner, we met John and Lynn, as well as the two couples from the first night dinner, who were here on a tour organized by Brown University. Sarah refers to them as The Academics.

29th Feb

A very lazy day.

Popped over to the island for a look around. 30 minutes later we were waiting on the dock for the tender to come back.

The 'shops' go about 100m either side of the wharf, and that's about all she wrote.

Sarah wanted to look at the pearl shops, but the one onboard seems better.

Geography 101

Back to the reef quandary. I went to a talk about the types of islands. Now I understand. First, you will see on any map of this area, that the islands are in strings, going up and to the left. Up, and to the left. This is because... No. Let's go back a step.

Islands are volcanic. They are created when lava pours from a hotspot way under the sea floor, and makes it's way to the seabed. Like any volcano, it forms a cone, as it gets bigger. More and more lava comes out, the bigger the cone. Some are big enough to appear above sea level. Some? Not so much.

Now, back to the strings. The entire area is on a tectonic plate, which is moving. You guessed it, up and to the left. Northwest. Apparently it moves at about the speed your fingernails grow.

The tectonic plate is above the source of the lava, so that as the plate moves northwest, it leaves a trail of islands behind it.

If you have ever seen those guys making mini donuts at the mall, you will know what I mean. The dough blob is a predefined amount, which is squirted into the hot oil. The shape is set, and the new donut floats off, while another one is made in its place. That's the islands, a series of donuts floating along in a row. The islands in each string that are the oldest, are the ones at the top left of each string. The first donuts off the rank.

Now, because of the water temperature, as well as the alignment of other chemical planets, coral grows on the shores of these islands. Coral needs something solid to grow on, and it likes to grow towards the sun, so the shore is the perfect place. This is called a fringe reef.

Over time, the island itself starts to erode. Solid rock from lava will stay longer, but much of the other flotsam that makes up the land will erode more quickly. After a couple of million years, the shore line will have receded from the reef, sometimes a long way. The reef hasn’t moved, but the island is much smaller now, and there is a lagoon between the island and the reef. It is now a barrier reef.

Another couple of million years later, and the island may have disappeared altogether, leaving just the reef. It is now an atoll.

Look at that map of the pacific again, and the older islands to the north west, are either atolls, or they have barrier reefs and lagoons. The ones towards the bottom right are younger, and have no decent lagoons, and sometimes only fringe reefs. The aging process of an island chain is laid out in front of your eyes. Cool huh?

28th Feb

Today we went to shore on the tender, to catch a trip on the "glass-bottomed" boat. It takes about a dozen passengers, and heads off to the reef at the point of the island. We stopped overtop the coral, and could see it just a couple of feet below us. Much of it colourless (I assume dead), and then fresh coral on top, rich in vibrant colours. A few tiny fish as well, very colourful. 

Often we would see zig-zagging slots in the coral. On second look they were shellfish of some kind. Oyster, clam, something. They appeared to be built into the reef, as though the coral had grown over them, trapping them while they slept. On third look, they were actually alive, the shell opening and closing in a steady rhythm. Hope they don’t plan on moving any time soon.

 The driver then dived overboard with snorkel gear, and, using a handful of fish‑food, lured the locals to our viewing windows. Suddenly gathered were hundreds of fish, all sizes, all types, all colours, all right there. We even saw a small moray eel ducking in and out of caves and crevices in the coral.

Sarah says she will never need to go to an aquarium again. This is just amazing. Every fish you saw on “Finding Nemo”? Right here!

The driver then showed us the reason for the distinct colour change in the water. Where we were, directly over the reef, the water was aquamarine. We rolled a few metres, and the sea floor disappeared over a cliff below us. The water above this was a dark navy blue. You could see the distinct line between the two colours. On the other side of the island, apparently the sea floor goes down more gradually, creating 3 colours on the surface.

On the way back, the driver handed the controls over to one of the passengers, while he sat in her seat, singing and playing the ukulele.

An odd thing while taking the tender to and from the island. There are local guys who ride canoes and paddle around. These are very narrow, but have an outrigger off to the side for stability. It looks like it would take a lot of effort to paddle anywhere. No wonder they are so athletic, these guys.

Anyway, as we take off, they jump into our wave wake, and just ride it. I guess it's like the way bikes would get into a slipstream behind a truck. Very dangerous, they need to be literally inches behind the truck to stay inside the vortex to avoiding the wind resistance. But cyclists still need to pedal, just not as hard.

These guys are different. They can get in the wake behind us, if they enjoy diesel exhaust. But I saw one today that got onto the wave and sat on our shoulder, literally beside us. And then he stopped paddling! Bizarre! He rode our side wave pretty much from the island to the ship, and I just don't understand the physics! He wasn't in a slipstream, he was beside us. He wasn't just reducing his energy requirement, he cut it to zero! He would only use the paddle if he wanted to adjust his position on the wave, or if he wanted to pull up further. A single stroke and he moved up about 2 feet. We were going pretty fast, and he just sat on our shoulder the whole way, with his paddle out of the water.

Surely there is some way to harness this energy!

27th Feb

It's 0630 and we are on the move again. This time just a short hop to the next island.

We will be parked up away from the beach, with a shuttle service of little boats taking us to the beach for a barby.

The beach is on an island. They call them motus. This one is a private island for guests of the cruise line.

I don't know why, but every island in this area seems to have a coral reef encircling it. The reef comes to about sea level, so you could easily miss it. The giveaway is the surf breaking on this imaginary line, a few hundred metres from shore. Must have been a bitch for navigating, but it creates a perfectly calm lagoon around each island, and protects the beach from the full force of the sea.

It's like these islands have their own geographical ring of confidence. They should be sponsored by Colgate.

A motu is basically a blip in the reef, a tiny island, with a few trees.

The one we went to is just spectacular. It's tiny. You could literally throw a stone across it, from anywhere. It's covered in coconut trees, so I guess you are always in danger of being clocked by one if you are sitting in the wrong place.

More important, the company has a set up a professional BBQ area, bar, and bathrooms.

It's difficult to avoid that whole 'to die for' thing again.

I call it our “gotu motu”. It really can't be missed. You arrive in a small boat (called a tender) that has a fold‑down ramp at the front like a WWII landing craft. It stops a few feet short of the beach, so you will get your feet wet. We were met with a bottle of water and a glass of punch as we waded ashore. Just to our left is a guy standing guard over a floating chilli bin, decorated with palm fronds, and overflowing with alcoholic nirvana. Did I mention that all drinks on this cruise (with a few top shelf exceptions) are free?

I'm sure Dunkirk was nothing like this, but I could definitely see the parallel. I guess some old geezers could come here with their zimmer frames to relive past glory. What a reunion that would be!

Anybody who wants to can borrow snorkel gear from onboard. There were quite a few people on our gotu motu with their faces under water, scudding around in the shallows, letting the current do the driving.

Here’s a cunning plan for any entrepreneurs out there. I can imagine that those doyens of good taste and design who came up with the baseball cap with beer can holders and a hose, could do something with the simple snorkel. Who wants to take that thing out of their mouths to take another swig of beer, or sip of an overly decorated cocktail? All they need to do is some kind of device to switch between breathing air and breathing Mojito.

There could be a bladder, like your mum used to drink her wine out of, strapped to the back of the snorkel, like a water-pillow. Always handy, and keeping the back of your head cool to boot.

As a safety feature, when they pass out through heat exhaustion, (it couldn't possibly be the alcohol), they can float around, face down but still breathing through the snorkel. The salt water keeps them floating pretty high in the water, so they will never sink. At intervals, the tender can drive around and check on all these floaters. If the booze bladder strapped to the back of their neck is empty, then they can use a net or a hook and drag them in for a refill or their wake up call. No more accidental drownings in shallow water.

Brilliant! The best way to mix alcohol and water sports since the invention of the ice cube.

Watch your step, folks. Here comes another bloody segue!

There are two things to know about me. First, I'm colour-blind. Not the Film Noir kind, where everything is in black and white or sepia, but the common or garden type, where there are issues distinguishing between colour groups. Reds, browns, greens. Reds, purples, blues. Basically anything either side of red.

This has two effects. First, when looking at any colour, while you are absolutely sure you know what it is, I am usually guessing. I make my guesses based on experience. For example, once when at school, I was asked to draw a tree. I had a set of colouring pencils, and managed to find the green and brown pencils for the trunk and the leaves. I chose the dark one for the trunk, and the light one for the leaves. Unfortunately, the pencil set had a dark green and a light brown. Doh! Bad example.

The second effect is that I don't see colours that should go together. Look at any colour blindness test and you will see a series of dots that create a pattern, a letter or a number. I can't see most of them. What this means is that most colours blend into the background for me. Except for blue. It must be the only set of rods or cones that perform as advertised. I love blue. I can spot any shade of blue from 100 paces. But I really love bright blues. Cobalt blue is my favouritist.

Now, the second thing about me. While on this cruise, I am reading the biography of Steve Jobs. From early in his career, both he and his machines have had a common tag line. I can easily use that same tagline to describe these islands.

"Insanely Great!"

Looking at these beautiful blue seas, under this beautiful blue sky.

Spec-frickin-tacular.

"Insanely Great!"

Blue, man, blue.

Now, be honest. Wasn’t that a hell of a segue, just to say that I like blue?

26th Feb

Wake up about 7ish.

We are on our way to the first stopover. I can feel the ship moving, and am debating whether to use the patch we bought for this situation. I read the instructions. Behind the ear, wash your hands afterwards, no alcohol. That hardly seems fair.

I think I'll be ok without it. I've got those ginger chews that are a natural remedy. They don't last long, but this cruise is only very short hops. Bonus is I love the ginger chews. Just give me a packet of crystallized ginger, and I'm sure the effect will be the same. Yum!

Breakfast in our room today. 

Save getting up early. 

I know! 0700 is hardly a sleep in.

We pull in to our first island at about 0900, and won't be leaving till sparrows tomorrow.

Spending the day onboard. Just taking in the view of this amazing place. Photos really can't do it justice.

ALL ABOARD!

Can I just say this?

O. M. G!

We have been on a cruise before. Remember last year? Alaska? At the time Sarah was a little critical of how that company handled the whole embarkation thing. A bit too much figuring it out for ourselves for our liking, thanks. The rest was good. Just the getting onboard part.

Not here! No comparison.

Before we even got out of the shuttle I saw our bags going up the conveyer belt into the ship.

We head to the gangplank, get the obligatory photo taken, and step aboard with a moist towel. I know, right?

X-ray the hand luggage, and directed to the elevator. 5th floor, please.

Go over there into the auditorium, take this glass of bubbly, go to the nice lady at that desk and give her your passports.

Here's your room keys, and this young lady will show you to your room. On the way, this is where you come for your evacuation exercise at 5.30 this afternoon

As an aside, what is the fastest way to get off an Italian cruise ship? Answer? Follow the captain. Sorry about that. Now back to today.

The cabin is very nice. Lots of space, lots of storage. After the last cabin we had on a cruise ship, space is definitely important.

Unpack. So little luggage, so many cupboards. Bowl of fruit on the table. Nice.

Took a wander around the ship. All staff are so welcoming. "Welcome aboard" every time we pass somebody in uniform. Reminds Sarah of the Atlantis Hotel in Dubai. This kind of genuine customer service is lost in those places where everyone is in such a hurry.
Most waiting staff here seem to be Filipino, so they will all have good English.

Cruises always seem to have a photographer. I don't remember one appearing on any episode of The Love Boat, but they exist all right.
The one on this boat is an Indian. The only other one onboard. Sarah is not impressed. 
As you may know from the dire lack of photos of Sarah anywhere, that she's not a fan of being photographed. Now there is this guy who will spot her a mile off, and hunt her out, camera in hand.
As you can imagine, she will also be saying "Bloody Indians" more than once on this cruise. She started taking detours to avoid him. The more she avoided him, the more he hunted. It became a game of cat and mouse between them.

By the way, I'm not going to mention any of the islands we stop at. There's no point. Either I won't get it right, or you won't have heard of it. Suffice it to say that most have names with more "a's" than is healthy, and the odd apostrophe for good measure.

Lets just think about this customer service comment for a moment. Both Sarah and I have been immersed in the Customer Service machine for years. The airline industry fits squarely into that category.

I think the difference is this. Airlines have escalating costs. The cost of fuel seems to double every 12 minutes. Landing charges seem to be linked to fuel costs as well. Almost without exception, airlines really struggle to remain profitable. As a result, they focus on the one cost they feel able to control. Wages. They cut wages, and cut staffing numbers. Fewer people doing more work for less money.

The result is that everybody who works for an airline is buzzing around like the mad hatter. I was going to say that they look as if they are in an ant farm, but that would require a few more staff than are currently found at an airport.
"I'm late! I'm late! For a very important..."
No time to stop and greet passengers. 
People complain about the stress of passengers at airports, but maybe the dearth of staff to help is a major contributor to that. 
I’m just saying!

25th Feb

We get up early for breakfast, so that we can take the 0830 shuttle into Papeete. We were booked for a 1200 pickup to come back. Like a couple of the towns we saw on our cruise to Alaska, this one starts at the port, and all visible shops seem to be only a block or two from there. There are black pearl shops up the wazoo. Oh, and a McDonald's. Sarah bought some makeup at a chemist. Surprisingly cheap, compared to home. By 0900 we are about ready to head back. So we suffer through some more pearl shops, sit in the sun, sit in the shade, and sit in a tourist centre with great a/c, and wait for our shuttle.

Sorry to say it, but Papeete is a really grotty little town. If we had come to stay here for a holiday, it would not only have been exorbitantly expensive, but very disappointing. Sitting by the pool or the beach at a hotel is great, but the town itself? Not so much.

To be honest, many island towns seem to be tired and grotty. I don’t know why. Must be a budget thing. I think shops and buildings live much longer here than they do in bigger places. The Macca’s, for example, must have been built decades ago. I know our one at Merivale was also built decades ago, but it has been remodelled and refreshed many times. This one will never have had anything done to it. The mop is probably original, as well. Blech!

We certainly found the shuttle a sight for sore eyes. Who do I see about getting the last three hours of my life back?

After lunch we sort out our stuff and head to the port to board the ship. Sarah had a wee argument with reception because they charged us the “city tax”. We had to show that it had been prepaid, so Sarah demanded a refund. It translates to about NZD4.

By the way, the shuttle arrived as advertised. We move back down the sphincter scale. Rest easy.

Groundhog day

It's the 24^th again, and we get up early, so that we don't miss breakfast.

Just like the movies, it's breakfast down in the restaurant, grass roof, no walls, swimming pool 6 paces that way, and the beach is 20 paces that way. And the view out to sea? Spec-frickin-tacular.

After that, we had a snooze, and sat by the pool for a couple of drinks.

One great thing about the drinks here. In this heat, they obviously need ice‑buckets, right? Actually no. Look at this clear plastic bag in the photo. They use these instead. Throw in some ice, then drop a couple of Stellas in, and you are good to go. When you’re finished, toss the ice, and fold the bag up for next time. Excellent!

By the way, for the cinematic philistines among us, the Stella Artois reference is a nod to Brando, who bought an island here.

“STELLLLL-AAA!” …   

Still Nothing?

Peasants!

Spotted this guy by the pool. At one point he went down to the beach and blew through his shell in some kind of ceremony. A conch, I assume. Anyway, he has this wispy plaited goatee coming off his chin, and it just keeps on going. It’s about a foot long, and he has shells and feathers plaited into it. I know that Johnny Depp used Keith Richards as the inspiration for his pirate personality, but he must have used this guy for the look. I started referring to him as Captain Jack. He seems to be a fixture at this hotel. We saw him on a few occasions, always near the beach and the pool bar.

I want his job!

We had dinner in a Tepenyaki restaurant in the hotel, called Le Sakura. Anybody been to a tepenyaki restaurant? Do it. Seriously. I would recommend the Yamigen at the Crowne Plaza in Christchurch, but it might be tricky getting a booking any time soon.

For those who have been living in a cave, this is Japanese performance barbecue. These guys do things with knives and spatulas that defy gravity.

Remember that old Tom cruise movie “Cocktail”? Think that, but with knives, salt shakers and eggs. Yes, eggs.

Just like those nutbars who juggle chainsaws, some things were just never intended for throwing!

The food is great. Some would say to die for. Really? Why would you say that?

I must say, though, that I have NEVER had chicken as tender as this. I have no idea what he has done to it. I can only imagine a group of young chickens, all lined up on comfy benches, getting deep muscle massages from some young chicks, completely oblivious to what their futures hold.

Now let's just think about this.

Tepenyaki!

• We come to a Polynesian island,
• where everyone speaks French.
• We come to eat Japanese food,
• In a restaurant run by a Chinese chef.

Weird huh?