Ah, France. Bicycles and baguettes, café au lait and croissants, the morning market full of freshly caught fish and crabs, pineapples, coconuts, mangoes and yams . . .
Yams? Coconuts? Well, this particular piece of France is a Pacific island only two and a-half hours from Auckland. Janice Murphy dusts off her high-school French and visits New Caledonia.
Sun, sand, warm weather, and two for the price of one - it's the sort of deal nobody in my family can resist.
And so it is that my sister and I fly out of Auckland to New Caledonia for a week's holiday.
There's just time to eat and watch a movie before we fly over Noumea, headed for the airport at Tontouta, 50km away.
It isn't the perfect start to a holiday.
Air New Zealand has issued incorrect arrival cards, so queues lengthen as we fill in new ones.
Then Monsieur Immigration swaps my forms with another passenger's, which causes a flap at Customs.
But at last we hop on to the waiting bus to our hotel at Anse Vata.
It takes the best part of an hour to get to Noumea, and we pass the peloton of a cycle race, accompanied by a traffic officer on a motorcycle, lights flashing.
I think of the poor cyclists at home, at best ignored by car drivers, at worst targeted or even hit by idiots trying to scare them.
Downtown Noumea looks lovely as we fly through on the bus.
Beautiful bays, marinas full of yachts, and the eye-catching Mr Boeuf, a bull in a superman suit flying over the restaurant that bears his name.
At the Nouvata Park Hotel we join most of the other passengers from our flight. My sister and I get a sea-view room, with balcony.
The pool is huge and inviting but we aren't tempted. We want to hit the shops.
The bus service between Anse Vata and downtown Noumea is excellent. Tickets cost 400F ($NZ6.60), or 370F if you buy before you get on the bus.
Don't make my mistake of accidentally reusing a ticket.
The driver scolds you, everybody stares and the machine stamps a long, nasty message including the word "fraud".
Shopping is our specialist subject - we are international bargain-hunters - and we keep thinking we have missed something.
It takes us a while to realise there really isn't much to buy. Prices are at least as dear as at home, and it's the weekend, so many shops are closed.
A street market makes an interesting detour. A band plays Pacific-style reggae as we trawl the stalls, though we head home unburdened by bargains.
The Casino supermarket at Port Plaisance, on the way home, is another story.
Baguettes, pastries and breads, French wine, cheeses, ham and sausage - we stock up on yummy food and a few Number 1 beers to keep our hotel bills down. (We're unsure what a beer costs in the bar; it seems to be about $NZ8 at happy hour.)
Baguettes are sold unwrapped, as bread once was here, and people carry them home in their hands, even in the rain. They don't seem to droop.
The checkout chick scans my groceries and I pay before realising they do not provide bags. I buy a reusable one for 100F.
That night we eat at one of the little restaurants along Anse Vata's beachside road. We order poulets frites and each get half a fried chicken, a large and very fresh salad and fries. It's very good and we do it justice.
Determined to find something to buy, we head for town in the morning but it's Sunday, it's raining and most things are closed.
Following signs of life down to La Baie de la Moselle, we stumble across the famed but unsignposted morning market.
Bread, fresh fruit and vegetables are piled high alongside mountains of fish and crabs, and huge yellow and brown mottled crayfish.
New Zealand oysters are on offer for much the same price as at home. Alas, we have no cooking facilities, so we stick to buying fruit.
Back at the hotel, we head to the pool. A handsome man appears from a hole in the deck where he has just plugged in a CD player.
Several women join us in the coolish water, smiling and laughing but speaking only French. Music starts - the handsome man is an aquacise instructor.
The women beckon us over and we join the free class. We can't really understand the instructions, but we imitate the others and it all works.
Feeling virtuous, we head for dinner at Le Roof, at the end of a pier opposite the hotel. It's just after 6.30pm, and the staff are having a meeting before starting work at 7pm, but they seat us at a table on the corner of the pier, with sea on two sides.
The food is lovely and the service top-notch, but the best part is watching the fish swimming under us. Schools of small silver fish are herded around by larger orange ones, until three dogfish patrol past, scaring them off.
From the edge of the pool of light, a stingray watches them all before cruising slowly through the thick of things.
At last, we hit the shops on a weekday, but on our budget we don't find much to buy, so we take a break in La Place des Cocotiers (Coconut Square).
This beautiful green area is made up of four squares full of shady places to relax and watch the world go by.
It seems all of Noumea comes here to eat their lunchtime baguettes under the century-old flame trees.
On the road
It's up and check out at 7am, because today we are off to the northeast of the island. Our car turns out to be a manual, which flusters me as I have never had to change gear right-handed.
But we negotiate the morning traffic and Noumea's one-way system without incident, except when I get in the wrong queue at a set of toll gates, having somehow missed the huge blue sign saying "SAV Pass".
People behind us have to back up and let us out, and my red face isn't just due to the heat.
I keep seeing road signs saying 70 (or 90, or 50) "Rappell", but I don't know what rappell means, so I take things cautiously. I later find out it means "Caution".
Around one corner appears a sign: "Nids de poule". My sluggish brain slowly translates this as "nests of chicken" and then I am upon them: potholes.
If you need a co-driver on a rally, don't ask my sister.
Our conversations go like this. -Me: How far to Sarramea?She: How would I know?Me: Well, it was about 50km from Noumea to Tontouta.
How far is it compared to that?
She: It's not on the map.
Me: Yes it is.
She: Wait till I put my glasses on. Oh, there it is.
Me: Well, how far is it?She: How would I know?We are on our way to Hotel Evasion 130, in the lovely mountain town of Sarramea, where we were expected at 8.30am.
But we are very late - the car arrived 45min after we expected it and I am driving cautiously.
The kindly receptionist feeds us anyway when we arrive two hours late, and we enjoy our breakfast by the pool with the rushing creek nearby.
I decide to carry on through the bush-clad mountains and up the coast to our next stop, Poindimie, where we will stay at the brand-new Tieti Tera resort.
The navigator says it doesn't look like a main road, but I want scenery and off I go. Road conditions are quite good despite recent heavy rain.
We see teams of workers at slip sites but never anybody working. As we descend to the coast we follow a long viaduct winding down from the mountains to the sea.
This is "The Snake" which carries ore from the mines to the east coast port of Kouaoua, where we think the next turnoff is.
We are wrong, and we drive to and fro in the almost deserted streets looking for the way out.
As we pass a group of smiling ladies for the fourth time, they wave. We stop and they draw a map for us.
A blob on our tourist map has obscured the turnoff, which is just before the town. Off we head over the river and two steep "cols" and down to the east coast again.
The road turns to dirt, and as we pass through what might be the centre of an open-cast mine, I worry we are off-track but, as my navigator points out, it would be fairly hard to get lost.
We haven't seen any side roads. Pressing on to Tieti, I get anxious, as I haven't seen any signs for the resort.
"Don't panic; there'll be signs. It won't be a secret hotel," the navigator says scornfully.
Eventually, I recognise the resort from what I've seen on the Internet. But it is not properly open yet - staff are in training - and there are no signs.
Our comfortable, modern room has a large balcony facing the sea and swimming pool; we make use of all three immediately.
Here we have dinner with the charming Fabiola Pouihamboutte, from the Northern Province Tourism Board, who seems to know all the staff personally.
The waitresses might be in training, but the service is great.
Next morning, we drive north to Hienghene to visit the cultural centre. Everywhere along the road, people wave and say bonjour.
With sea on one side, rainforest on the other and waterfalls galore, it reminds us of the West Coast. The roads here are not quite so good and I have trouble avoiding the nids de poule.
After a huge, delicious breakfast at the Koulnoue Village Hotel at Hienghene, right by the beach, we visit the Hienghene Cultural Centre. There, for the first time, we see traditional-style huts and Kanak carvings.
It's really, really hot, so we drive our air-conditioned Peugeot back to Tieti Tera, where we can't decide whether to swim in the pool or at the beach, so we do both.
The sea is warmer. Too soon, we have to leave for Noumea, this time via the town of Bourail and a fully sealed road.
Our map promises fruit bats along the way, but we don't see any. Besides, we'd rather find some public toilets, but we can't.
Our last night is spent back at Anse Vata in La Promenade, where our booking does not seem to exist.
Never mind; they find us a lovely one-bedroom apartment with a well-equipped kitchen, laundry and glorious beach view, spoilt only by a strong smell of urine emanating from around the bedroom door.
This hotel is full of Aussie soldiers making full use of the bar facilities. They are funny and polite but some are very drunk.
We stroll along the beach and watch children building sand maisons, then at the apartment we watch the Highlanders, with French commentary.
They lose. Quelle surprise.
It's a reminder that we, too, are getting back to business as usual; our tropical island holiday is almost over.
But we will always remember the warm sea, the stunning scenery and the charming people of New Caledonia.
Janice Murphy's road trip was courtesy of New Caledonia Tourism.
New Caledonia facts
• New Caledonia lies in the Pacific Ocean, two and a-half hours' flying time from Auckland.
• It is part of the French Republic and its population is about 250,000, 40% of whom live in the capital, Noumea.
• No visa is required for New Zealand citizens who are staying for three months or less.
• The climate is mild year-round: New Caledonia is sometimes known as the land of eternal spring, though to Otago folk, its 20degC-30degC would make it the land of eternal summer.
• New Caledonia has the world's largest lagoon, enclosed by a coral reef stretching over 24,000sq km.
