Yellow (Nouméa)

And as we begin today's reflection on our travels, dear reader, I am without a title for this post. Not that I was not inspired, but that I was inspired too much. Was it colour, was it sound, was it an art work or was it the near nude 80 year old guy on the beach? Once seen, never unseen. Skin crawl. More of that later. The songs span the decades from disco through to the 90s.

For the ornithologists: a pair of St Helena waxbills. I was very excited!

The day commenced as all days should with sunrise, a tad earlier than we are used back in Sydney and the curtains and frosted glass don't keep out all of the light. After pretending it wasn't morning for an hour so, we headed for breakfast. As I wrote before, quite an amazing selection: bacon, tuna, ham, fruit, pastries, hash browns (not real hash judging by the reactions of those eating them), cereals, cakes, cheeses, eggs and an interesting collection of fruit juice, the combinations of which one could only guess.

Once the day had begun it was time to continue. The forecast was for an overcast sky so no snorkelling. Instead it was the Tjibaou Cultural Centre (TCC) - we have free entry because we stayed at Le Méridien Resort. Just a short cab ride from the resort. Everything, it appears, is a short cab ride from the resort. This time we headed in the opposite direction to Nouméa and were able to appreciate the other side of the island. The trip wasn't that long and unlike yesterday, we didn't have a smart arse driver. Straight there, no dramas.

The Centre itself is quite amazing. Like Sydney's Opera House, there was a design competition and the final three are on display. I'm not sure why they bothered with the other two finalists; the winner was a lay down misère from my perspective. One finalist borrowed a little too much from colonial heritage, as the type of thing they were trying to negate with the cultural centre. Wouldn't it be exceptional if we could do something like this in Australia? Nah, that would suppose a government with vision and heart. Not going to happen in my lifetime. Sadly.

From a distance, and in all the promo shots we saw, the structure itself looks like it is made of metal. I actually remarked walking down towards the entrance that I wouldn't want to be there in a thunder storm. The entire structure is in fact made form timber. It has weathered to that grey colour and looks like metal. Each of the curved structures houses a gallery. Some are permanent like the library or the display of the finalists, pre-construction. Others house temporary exhibitions.

Not sure why he is unhappy

The TCC contains a large number of exhibition rooms and the grounds are structured around walks and traditional carvings and buildings. Every second visitor on Saturday was a nun. No, seriously. Given the number of phallic carvings I mused as to whether this was their form of sex education. The dude to the right meets you at the door. Nothing to see here folks.

Some of the exhibitions seem a bit esoteric, but their link is the Kanak/New Caledonia culture. The first room contained a history of the artist Aloi Pilioko, the Prince-Artist and his 'long time companion' Nicolai Mitushushkin. Some cultures might have used the term partner or gay lover, but not here. Remember Israel Folau?

Aloi clesrly loved yellow. Nothing wrong with that all. If you think I'm obsessed, he's taken it to another level. House, car, art work, toilet seat, hair, all yellow. Hence today's title. And it's the only decent song Cold Play ever released.

Then there was this dude. I'm not sure what's going on. He has a giant bird landing on his head. He doesn't look happy either. You might need to expand the picture my myopic reader to gain full understanding. Perhaps bis poor mood results from his dick being tucked into his belt. Not comfortable. I mean, as a teenager there were times when it was necessary, but never comfortable. And he doesn't appear to be a teenager.

We spent a couple of hours wandering through the exhibitions, permanent and temporary. It is a beautiful site sitting on the side of the lagoon and the building really lends itself to purpose.

Ring my bell

There was the bell exhibition. Nope. I have no idea. But I wanted to run along the hall and ring every bell as I passed. However, Jayne the adult in the relationship, wouldn't let me. All I could hear was Anita Ward singing, "Ring my bell, ring my bell." There's one for the disco generation. Circa 1979. And here's a picture to go with the  memory.

No, the choice of title is still not over. Next contender is The Police. There was a display called Letter to Facebook. I didn't understand the last part, but the former was depicted by a series of over-sized bottles, well flagons, filled with messages. Cue Sting, "Message in a bottle, yeah."

Message in a bottle

Enough of being inside - it was time to check out the permanent buildings. These structures were made all the more amazing by a video of how they were actually constructed. No nails, no hammers, no power tools. No scaffolding. Definitely no WHS, but amazing structures.

This guy was the welcome committee

No ropes, no shoes.

And a couple more phallic symbols just to help the nuns focus on the real purpose of their visit. And that doesn't include the numerous male calendars on the wall in Aloi's bathroom. More dicks than a group of Year 9 boys.

After a vain attempt to locate a leather and pearl bracelet that I saw in the plane magazine, and a successful attempt to obtain more cash since the majority of transport modes here only accept cash, we returned to the resort for a couple of French Rosés and a bowl of frites while we sat overlooking the lagoon at Le Faré,  the  more relaxed  in-resort eating option.  After that, it was time to read on the balcony and do some blogging.

I think that's probably enough for one day. We are dining at the ritzy French restaurant tonight because it is closed tomorrow night. But tomorrow night we have a whole new adventure. We are seeing Viken Arman perform live at the resort - for guests only (blue wrist bands required for entry). Do yourself a favour, google it kids. Or follow this link.

à demain