Loco

As if to make up for the boredom and monotony of my Pacific crossing the last week has been a whirlwind of activity, shady deals and cultural diversity: from Polynesian men with tattoos covering half of their faces, and a transvestite waitress who wore her lip liner in an evil clown style, to an alcoholic pearl dealer offering me his hand in marriage.

Since my last blog I have been on land not once but three times! I spent a few days on Nuka Hiva in Les Marquises, 24 hours on the tiny coral atoll of Ahe in the Tuamotu Archipelago and the best part of a week in sunny Tahiti. I knew all those hours at sea would be worth it in the long run.

In between land the sailing has been approximately the same, water in all directions and saltiness all round. Salty hair, skin, and clothes, I am always salty, like some kind of delicious bar snack. In fact it occurred to me this week, during another of my deep thought night shifts that I share quite a lot with the humble peanut of late, salty, dry roasted by the sun, and a brilliant accompaniment to beer.

This dream was shattered though when curiosity got the better of me and like the filthy and disgusting individual I am I licked my arm, only to discover that I am far less delicious than I had hoped.

The arrival of land on the horizon couldn’t have come at a better time as I was seriously beginning to doubt my own sanity (as demonstrated by the peanut analogy and by the worrying fact that I caught myself pulling faces at my own reflection while on the graveyard shift). However, Nuka Hiva is a tiny island with an even tinier town, so my few days there were a slow reintroduction into the world of civilisation.

Though small and quiet, with only one restaurant and 2.5 shops, it was amazing to have more than four people to talk to, and more than 44ft to move in one direction. On the downside I did have to shower and at least consider brushing my hair.

That’s one thing that I definitely don’t miss about civilization. I’ve grown quite fond of the semi hobo look, so much so that I continued modelling my vagabond chic on land. However, I also fully embraced French Polynesian culture by eating brie and baguettes, and drinking red wine. So I must have looked quite a site; barefoot, and dirty on the beach, like a shipwrecked sailor that’s just raided a deli.

I celebrated my birthday in style by traipsing through the jungle with the heavily tattooed descendants of cannibals (seriously, Google it) in order to see what I was assured is the third highest waterfall in the world. Standing at 310 metres I suppose it was pretty big, but I was more interested in swimming in the nearby pools and re-enacting an advert for new improved herbal infused all natural essence of aloe organic fusion key amino tropical jungle protective conditioning shampoo.

While I busied myself with this important task I failed to notice that the pool in which I swam was also home to a family of massive eels, with savage pointy teeth and evil Wayne Rooney faces. My vision of paradise came crashing down around me as I ran screaming from the pool. You will be pleased to hear that I escaped wound free, and with remarkably shiny hair. An amazing birthday, and not one I’ll forget in a hurry.

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One response to “Dry Roasted in Polynesia”

1. Nick Parker says:
   May 17th, 2008 at 2:13 pm

   Kate- “Peanuts and Pearls” was a fabulous blog. I really, really enjoyed reading it, – thankyou!!
   Nick