Kia Ora Sept Issue

Travel Isle of Pines
in Sydney and was looking for a quieter pace.
“On the first day Albert, a Swiss-German
designer, who’d been running a dive business
on the island, chatted me up,” she says.
“My five days turned into 10 and I’ve
pretty much lived here ever since. But look
how beautiful it is,” she says, gesturing to
the lush Kuto Bay property where she and
Albert, who’s called Chichu (Jesus) by the
locals because of his long hair, have carved
out a low-key existence.
Along with writing books about the island
and welcoming cruise passengers, Roots
screen prints T-shirts and sarongs she
sells from a small shop at the front of the
property. It all seems so romantic, I’m
tempted to ask if she wants to swap lives.
We drive around the island, stopping
every few minutes for Zerena to yell a
cheery bonjour to passersby.
“That’s my brother/cousin/uncle,” is a
refrain I hear numerous times during my
two days here. “I’m pretty much related to
everyone here,” she laughs.
It’s hard to believe but not everyone was
so enamoured with this sub-tropical slice
of serenity.
Inspired by the British models of
deportation to Australia, in the 1800s
French authorities decided prisoners could
be reformed through work in the colonies.
More than 3000 prisoners were plucked
from the streets of Paris and exiled to a
brick prison not far from the main port,
Kuto Bay.
We wander through the former settlement,
where tangled vines sprout from crumbling
walls and papaya trees grow where the roof
once was. Zerena tells me the near constant
sunshine was of little comfort to the prisoners:
“Most of those who survived couldn’t wait to
leave, fleeing mainly to Australia.”
——
‘On the first day Albert
chatted me up... My five
days turned into 10 and I’ve
pretty much lived here ever
since. But look how
beautiful it is.’
——
Clockwise from top
left: Queen Hortense’s
Grotto; a local
performer; a profusion
of flowers, including
bougainvillea.
Opposite: The lush
Le Méridien gardens.
Prisoners weren’t the only things the
French brought with them. They also
converted the locals to Catholicism.
The whitewashed church at Vao aside,
the most obvious example of this is the
silvery statue of Saint Maurice which marks
the spot where the island’s first Catholic
service was held.
Here, traditional religion and local
Melanesian culture collide – the statue is
surrounded by carved poles, gifts from the
island’s eight different tribes.
A full stomach is never a reason to forgo
a meal here, so we head to Relais de
Kuberka, a family-run gite which combines
hut-style accommodation with a restaurant.
Not being of the meat-eating persuasion,
I say non to the local specialty, escargot
(snails), opting instead for a hunk of fresh
mullet with a side of ubiquitous roasted
yam. Much larger than our kumara, these
carb-heavy vegetables with bark-like skin
are such a feature of island life, there’s an
annual festival dedicated to them.
52 Kia Ora September 2017 53