Thick bamboo and trees heavy with guava droop down over the highway that slices through the spine of New Caledonia’s mainland, Grand Terre.
The mountains in front are that deep tropical green, pinching at the centre to form a ridge down the centre of the island. Ahead of us, a dog stares unflinchingly at the oncoming vehicle, standing guard of his turf from the centre of the road. “C’est bon” – it’s all good, says my French driver for the fourth time today.
He’s super laid back, as is the rest of the country. The most startling noise is the car horn which seems reserved for saying hi to the locals as they walk alongside the road. Honking might be considered road rage in Auckland City, but it’s another Pacific pleasantry that gives New Caledonia it’s charm.
It plays out like a game. On one occasion, a local gets their wave in first and I lunge out the window to overcompensate for my tardiness. I prefer to make the first move – where my wave is met with confusion as the locals consider whether they know me. It is magic when they realise that I am just a friendly stranger. An arm lurches skyward, a smile beams and an overhead swinging wave ensues long after I have driven by. Due to the popularity of Noumea among tourists, many of the wild landscapes and personal interactions here are overlooked. That’s why I’ve come to the conclusion that road-tripping and camping around Grand Terre is the best way to see it. Travelling slow and stopping often.
By all means start your road trip in Noumea. The capital could easily be mistaken for a small city in France but for the bougainvillea and tropical fruit trees that line the streets. Lunch is a two hour affair, bread is served with every meal, and petanque is played at the end of the day.
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