Papua New Guinea Village Living

The next morning, I woke up early and had my filling breakfast.  That day, the plan was to pack an overnight bag and head to one of the villages for a bit of cultural submersion.  Unfortunately, Jared was very under the weather.  He was complaining of intense ear pain, cold chills, headache and generally feeling crappy.  I did my best to load him up with medication that I had, but sometime in the afternoon, we threw in the towel and decided to postpone the village trip until the next day.  The rest of the day, I did research on the next leg of the journey, Indonesia, and checked on Jared every hour or so, making sure he was taking my medications at the correct times, and making sure he was eating a bit of what I brought him from the kitchen.  Even though, I wasn’t much of a tourist that day, being stuck at a nice resort and getting in a lot research was not the worst thing.  I decided that even though Jared was sick, I would still head out the next day, so as not to waste an exciting experience (for which I had already paid).
The next day, Jared perked up a bit, and decided to join me on the village trip.  Our escort, William, picked us up in the early afternoon, and drove along the coast.  We disembarked and met the family we were supposed to have stayed with the night before.  I walked around a bit, and watched the kids playing in the water, until our host came and met us.  I can’t remember his name right now, but he was very nice and he walked us up from the beach for about an hour to his village, Orotoaba.  When there, we met his wife, whose face was covered in traditional tattoos, and children, which had actually been his sibling’s children.  He and his wife were unable to have kids, so his sibling’s wife carried and gave them two children!  What an amazing family!  The kids followed us around, as our host showed us the village.  Jared didn’t feel well again, so he went to lie down, while I walked around a bit more.  I have to say, the village was pretty immaculate.  You might imagine rundown shacks packed together with the jungle growing around them.  But it was much the opposite.  The entire village was perfectly groomed.  The grass was cut close, making me think they must somehow have a lawnmower there, but I was told the grass was actually cut by hand with a machete that looks a lot like a sword, in that it’s thin and comes to a point instead of the larger, more common machete’s tip.  The area was larger than a football field; imagine cutting all that by hand!  All the trees in the village had been either cut back or chopped down, so the common area in the village looked like a park with small trees set up in designs and larger trees only growing up on the outskirts of the village.  It was really quite impressive.

The host showed me the river where they cleaned their clothes, and the area from where they got their fresh water.  The village was set on a plateau edged in on two sides by fjords, so he walked me over to both sides of the plateau to look out onto the fjord and ocean in the distance just as the sun was setting.  It was a beautiful backdrop.  I started getting a bit nervous as the sun went down though, because we had to walk a bit through high grassland, and with my unsure footing, I was worried about walking in the dark (I’m a big of a scaredy-cat).  I was able to use the last few rays of sun to make my way back through the grass to the village, followed all the way by the village children.  When I got back, I relaxed a bit on the patio of the bungalow made from sego palm shoots and interwoven dyed palm leaves.  The homes were actually was quite beautiful and well built. 

 After a bit, the host came and announced dinner.  Dinner was a bit interesting.  Firstly, there was a massive amount, way more than we could eat!  There was also an interesting mix between local fare like veggies cooked in coconut milk and salted cooked taro, and well known “classics”, like ramen.  Haha.  As the sun was going down and there was no electricity, I snuggled into the mosquito net-covered bed with the warm breeze blowing through the large open windows of the bungalow, and went to sleep.
Tnext morning, I woke up at about 4:30am for a jaunt through to the jungle to try to spot the native Bird of Paradise, the national bird of Papua New Guinea, and the only place in the world to see all but two species.  As I quietly tried to get my head together, so as not to wake sick Jared, I stumbled toward the eating bungalow for hot coffee to pry open my eyes.  As I was sipping on the coffee, I noticed the sound of drums in the distance, back toward the ocean where I first disembarked…at 4:30am!!  From an hour’s walk away!  Glad I didn’t stay there!  Anyway, after a few minutes of waking up, I turned around and got a shock!  The host had just stepped into the door frame, smiling.  Now remember the purely terrifying smile natives’ display!  Also, he had very dark bloodspot sclera (the white part of the eye), which I noticed the day before, but of which I thought nothing.  Now, with the pitch black, his smile, eyes, and machete in hand, I was a bit freaked!  Haha.  He must have been equally dazed, because it took him a second to say anything; we were both morning zombies at that point.  After I got all my things together though, the two of us set out to the jungle.  On our way, he grabbed his homemade spear…not kidding, in case we ran into any wild boar.  After about a half hour, the sun slowly started shedding light on the path and surroundings.  The walk was probably a little over an hour, during which we only passed maybe two or three people.  He pointed out a few farming spots, grabbed a handful of betel nuts straight from a tree and started munching on them, and we chatted occasionally along the walk.  Towards the end of our walk, he pointed out the Bird of Paradise call and mentioned they were very timid birds and would fly away if they suspected us.  Has anyone ever been bird watching?  Good Lord, it is not my cup of tea.  We ran back and forth in the jungle for two hours, hearing the birds’ call and making our way as quietly as possible in that direction, waiting around looking up into the trees, only to hear the stupid call again back in the area where we had last been, and briskly, and quietly getting back to that area.  Back and forth, back and forth!  Honestly, I think those birds knew exactly what they were doing, and just teased us the whole time.  After the two hours, the closest thing I got was a glimpse of the tail of one before it flew away.  Grr.  Still it was neat to spent time out in the jungle.  I remember the moment when my host stepped off the actual beaten path, to follow the birds’ call, instead of continuing on the trail, and thinking, “um, are we allowed to do that”?  Haha, silly tourist!  After our time in the jungle, we made our way back to the village, quickly stopping for a few more betel nuts.  When we got back, I was exhausted from the early morning and intense heat, and passed out on the patio of the bungalow, before actually crawling into the bed and napping there.  Only 11am and I was already all tuckered out.  After a few hours, I woke up and had lunch, while chatting with my host about his experience with travelers, his village, his family and some of the traditions in his village.  I think my favorite factoid was regarding the traditional female face tattoos.  He said any girl could get a tattoo if she decided, usually around the age of fifteen.  In more recent years, fewer girls were getting them done though.  Only certain women were allowed to perform tattoos.  In years past, each village had a dedicated woman to perform them, but there were fewer now, and a girl from his village had to travel to a different village to get one.  The design of the tattoo was up to the woman placing it, and took several months, during which time the girl getting it placed stayed in that other village.  I asked about male tattoos, which he kind of laughed at and said, “oh, men don’t get tattoos”!  I thought that was so interesting!  In their culture, it was only acceptable for a female to get a tattoo.  After picking his brain a bit, we decided it was time to make our way to the next village.  He walked us back toward the ocean, where we said our goodbyes, and made our way along the beach to the village of Jebo.  There our next host met us, introduced us to his wife, who also had facial tattoos and his children.  This village seemed much smaller, with only a few houses dotted along the beach. 

Jebo lived much more from the ocean, and they had several outrigger canoes washed up along the water.  I asked if I could try to take one out for a spin, to which he agreed!  Now that I think about it, it’s kind of like loaning a perfect stranger your car.  He helped push us into the water, and as we made our way out into the ocean, I looked back to see the locals all gathering on the coast to watch the whiteys try to handle the canoe.  It was very precarious!  In order to sit, you basically had to stack your legs, because it was so narrow.  Your “seat” was really just placing each “cheek” on a side of the canoe. 

I have no idea how people managed these things before the stabilizing bar, because the ocean was doing its best to throw us over.  Also, and I know this just sounds like I was bad at it (which I wasn’t!), but I swear paddling is backwards in these things.  Each time I paddled on the right side of the canoe, the canoe turned right, and vice versa.  In an attempt to go straight out, I basically just made one big, unintended circle, before just succumbing to the ocean and letting it drag us back to shore.  The locals were all big smiles, but at least I didn’t tip!   After a bit of lounging on the beach, our host called us to the bungalow patio for dinner, which, yes, was lobster that he just happened to pick up off the beach a bit earlier with local vegetables cooked in coconut milk.  Yum!  We chatted with him over dinner, when he told us that he learned all of English from hosting!  His father had originally hosted, and introduced him to other cultures when he was a young boy, and when he grew up, he built his own guesthouse and now hosts people himself!  What a great tradition to pass down.  After the sun set, we all headed to bed.The next morning, we woke up early for breakfast, and packed up to head back to Tufi.  The boat came early to pick us up, and after our goodbyes, we drove back to the resort where we met the divers again.  We had another breakfast with everyone and shared stories.  That day was the Tufi Cultural Experience, so we all made our way back down to the docks, got in the boat, and drove over to a new fjord.  While waiting there, a series of outriggers pulled up, being paddled by locals in traditional attire, including leaf and flower covering and large intricate beaded tops for the women, with local flowers decorating their hair. 
 
We all piled onto the platforms built over the outriggers, and they paddled us up a stream to their village, dubbed McLaren Harbour.  Once there, we all piled out and were greeted by the locals with an intense assault where they came sprinting, wielding spears, and yelling at us in their language.  Finally our local guide, translated their yelling to “are you a friend?  If not, we will eat you.”  The answer was obvious…eat him, not me!  After we passed the “friend or foe” test, we were escorted through to the village to more locals dressed in traditional clothing made from the land.  We stepped through their entry gate, made of flowers, and the children threw flower peddles on us. 

 They told us stories about their heritage, and showed us how they used their most valued natural resource, the sego palm.  The same sego palm, that all the villages use to make their homes, were abundant to their village.  They even used the shredded interior of the tree to make a pseudo-flour, which they used for baking, called sego loaf. 





They would shave out the inside of the palm and soak and kneed the shavings in water, strain it, hand-scoop out the thick creamy paste coming out, form it into a loaf wrapped in banana leaves, and dry it out over a fire.  When it was done, the soggy drippy paste from before has become a hard, dough-like substance that could be sliced off, ground up, and used like flour.  I thought it was fascinating to see how they had learned to use every bit of their most abundant resource to sustain their way of life.

The demonstration ended with a traditional song and dance, performed by all men except for one little old lady with the biggest smile.  They were all decorated with brightly colored leaves and flowers and crowns of bird feathers, playing drums and singing rhythmically as they danced around one another. 
As we walked out, more locals gathered to sell some of their crafts, including my favorite: a miniature outrigger with a sail made of paper-thin, bark.  It was such a perfect replica, but looked so fragile I knew it would disintegrate into mulch when I tried to travel with it.  We thanked everyone for their hospitality, waved our goodbyes and hopped back into the outriggers to be paddle downriver to our boat.  The lot of us piled into one speedboat and headed to our lunch destination, Komoa beach, for a BBQ of fish, meats and vegetables.  We spent the rest of the afternoon digesting, relaxing in the sun and snorkeling around the beach.  As the sun made its way toward the horizon, we made our way back to the Tufi Dive Resort for packing and one last dinner with the whole group.

The next morning, everyone had their bags packed, enjoyed and early breakfast, and either walked or were shuttled the quarter of a mile to the airport.  We all stood around chatting, exchanging details, and waiting for the plane.  When the plane landed, we say the new travelers disembark and be greeted by Wayne and Debbie.  As we made our way toward the plane, Wayne and Debbie drove past and we all gave enthusiastic waves and yelled our thank you's, and I recalled my first impression when I arrived in Tufi; that they must have really gotten on with those few people leaving.  Turned out, we were all those people too!  It was such a wonderful stay, and everyone was so hospitable.  No one might have ever heard of Tufi or the Tufi Dive Resort, but it’s a gem of a secret!

Tufi Dive Resort

The flight to Tufi was easy, I pretty much slept the entire way, which was actually kind of a shame; I’ve read a lot of on traveling there and supposedly getting to see the landscape via plane is really a treat.  Unfortunately, I’m one of those people that believe airlines put some sort of sleeping gas in the air conditioning ducts, because I will often pass out on a plane before we even take off.  Anyway, we landed in Tufi with a bit of a thud, as the “tarmac” is more like a soggy “sandmac”.  Right when I disembarked, a nice Australian couple, Debbie and Wayne, met us to drive us over to the resort.  As we drove away from the airport Debbie and Wayne waved to all the people leaving from the resort, and I found myself thinking that they must have really gotten along with those particular people staying there.  Anyway, about 90 seconds later, we pulled into the Tufi Dive Resort. 

There is really nothing around, no stores, restaurants, roads, grocery stores, nothing.  We followed our hosts into the resort and to the balconied dining area overlooking the ocean and fjord on the backside of the resort.  It was a really amazing view with cliffs in the distance beyond the water and lush green tropical fruit-yielding trees naturally cropping up along the plateaus.  They handed out the itinerary for diving/snorkeling for the next two days, and then the local village overnight stays that I had booked as well for the last three nights.  I chatted with them a bit about running the resort etc; apparently, they were from Cairns (pronounced “cans”), in Australia, and came to visit the resort the year before.  A few months after they left, they had a mutual friend who also visited, on their recommendation, who notified them that the management wanted to take a few months and sail off traveling themselves, and were looking for someone to run the resort while they were gone.  That’s how they found themselves living in Tufi, Papua New Guinea, running a resort!  Such a cool story!  I keep hoping that will happen to me somewhere!  Anyway, after the rundown, they showed me to the breakfast area where I chowed down on warm muffins, pancakes with REAL MAPLE SYRUP!!  Fruits, nuts and lots of other yummy breakfast foods.  After breakfast, we were showed to our room.  It was easily the nicest place I’ve stayed at on this trip.  There was a balcony overlooking the ocean,

FREE SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER, AND SOAP!!!  Hallelujah, haha.  A plush bed with big fluffy pillows, a nice shower where I didn’t have to wear flip flops, and tons of towels to use to my heart’s content!  I know you’re are all reading this thinking, those are pretty basic hotel amenities, but a) not for me and b) you have to imagine in with the VIEW…or else it’s a just a bamboo house with a lot of rooms.  Oh, yeah, it was made out of wood and bamboo with woven and dyed sego palm leaves, so HA!  Anyway, that was pretty great to see.  Also, it was personalized; my name was on the front door! 

I think the first things I did was take a long, hot shower and lie down in the bed for a while!  After a sufficient rest, I went out for lunch (in the resort, it wasn’t very big) and walked around a bit down to the dock area where you could dive or snorkel.  A lot of the locals “commuted” to the resort in their outrigger canoes to sell food or work, or just sit by the water all day, which means they took the trunk of a tree and hollowed it out, squished into it with one leg on top of the other, and paddled from their home village over to the resort area on the ocean’s waters.  The outrigger canoes were so thin, but they did place a wooden stabilizer than extended off to one side and usually a sail made of something makeshift.  They were pretty neat to see. 

As I walked around the dock area, I would smile to people and say hello, and received the most jarring petrifying smile in return.  In about 0.5 seconds, I noticed that when people smiled their mouths were blood red and their teeth were shiny and completely black/very deep dark red.  It looked like they had just finished tearing the head off of a small animal with their bare teeth!  I quickly learned after asking around at the resort, that all the locals eat something called betel nut.  Alone it looks like a harmless green nut, about the size of a walnut.  It can be eaten as is, pulled off the tree, but the locals will mix it with lye, which produces its red color and completely rots the teeth, because if its acidity.  The betel nut contains psychoactive properties, giving the eater a bit of a high.  Both men and women munch on the mix throughout the day.  In that sense, it’s not super surprising there isn’t a lot of infrastructure around.  Anyway, after a bit of a wander, I went back to the resort, and Wayne approached asking if I’d like an upgraded room!!  Um, yes please!  I hadn’t unpacked too much, so it was easy to move everything 25 feet down to a different room.  This room was much larger, with a four poster bed, draped with mosquito netting, and a larger, more private balcony with a hammock, table and chairs, and a bigger bathroom!  Wahoo!!!  About eight other people started trickling in, having returned from a dive trip early in the morning.  Most people lounged around in the pool chatting, until dinner.  They were all traveling together with a dive company run out of Brisbane, Australia.  Most were from Brisbane, with a few from Cairns.  As the sun went down, I took a ton of pictures of the sunset over the fjord, and got ready for dinner in the large open dining area overlooking the water.  We all ate together at communal tables, so it was easy to get to know everybody.  We were the only people there not involved with the dive trip from Brisbane.  Everybody was really nice, and some had traveled and dived all over the world!  After dinner, everybody was pretty pooped, so we all went to bed in preparation for an early morning.
The next day, everyone rose and made their way to the breakfast area for a big hearty breakfast.  At about seven, we started making our way down to the docks for a day on the water.  I was the only professional snorkeler in the group…it’s really hard to get the technique down, so most would have had a hard time keep up. ;)  Our first reef stop of the day was Cyclone.  We all disembarked with our respective guides.  Everyone had been talking excitedly about the different sharks they hoped to see, specifically a hammerhead, which if you don’t know (as I didn’t until I started snorkeling a lot while traveling) is one of the most aggressive sharks around.  As I was prepping, I mentioned to my guide that I was actually petrified of sharks and would not see it as a great experience to run around looking for them.  All the local guys on the boat, kind of giggled, making me think we wouldn’t actually see anything scary.  We hopped in the water, and immediately started to see the kingdom of sea life below the water.  The reef was a bit farther from the surface that I normally like, but I was still able to see a lot of fish none-the-less.  Then I got a tap on the shoulder, and my guide pointed into the distance, where I could just make out a white-tipped shark.  Oh good Lord, did I absolutely PANIC!!  I freaked out.  The boat was pretty far at that point, but I made a bee line for it.  Realizing it was too far for me to beat the shark, I turned around and basically swam in circles, in an attempt to create enough centrifugal force to actually life myself up out of the water, which did not work as I had hoped.  My guide came over and tried to calm me, while I tried to calm my breathing and keep myself from crying, because I wouldn’t be able to see the shark!  After a bit, the shark started swimming away, and I hesitantly continued on, constantly on the lookout for sharks.  I still enjoyed the swim, but was also still freaked out.  My favorite part was actually toward the end of the swim, as the reef came closer to the surface and I was able to interact more with the coral and sea life. 

After the swim, I got back on the boat, and we all have some lunch and hot coffee to get warm.  We then drove to the next reef, Mullaway’s.  I preferred this reef, because everything was much closer to the surface.  Divers always say they prefer diving for many reasons, one being they feel like they are more connected with the fish.  I like reefs closer to the surface for the same reason; I’m able to actually “duck dive” and swim through the coral and the fish, rather than just observing from the surface.  I saw a lot more fish, so bright and colorful, turtles, and yes a few more sharks, which I did not like at all. 

My favorite fish is the parrot fish, because it’s neon multi-colored!  I actually saw a few in a fish market, and they look completely different and bleak; maybe there’s something about the ocean that enhances their color, or maybe it’s, you know, life that enhances their color.  Anyway, after the swim, we all piled on the boat and made our way back to the Tufi Dive Resort.  On the way, Jared mentioned that his ear was giving him some trouble.  I got a bit of an infection whilst island hopping, so I had ear drops on me, which I was able to loan him (this tidbit will come into play later).  Once we got back to the resort, I took a bit of a nap and read on the hammock, while he went off and did a “muck dive” along the dock.  It sounds kind of gross, but it’s supposedly quite nice, as a lot of fish will congregate around the dock area, and there is a lot to see.  In the late afternoon, a man named William approached tell me that he was a sort of village “liason”, and could guide us through the small village around the resort.  On the spot, I decided to take him up on the offer, and he took about 45 minutes showing us around the area, including the school, clinic, and dentist’s office (whom I personally think should be FIRED given the wretched state of people’s teeth in the area).  He also showed us to people’s houses, including a local woman who made lots of crafts and jewelry; I even got to chat with the school master, who unfortunately kind of seemed to try to hassle money out me, of which I wasn’t a huge fan.  We walked across the actual airport “sandmac” to a few homes, and looped back to the resort.  The whole thing was very short, as there weren’t a lot of people living in the area, but it was still nice to see.  After the tour, I again delved into the pool for some pre-dinner mixing and lounging.  Dinner was great and we were all able to get to know one another better at the communal table. 

The next morning, was another early start for more diving/snorkeling.  After a good breakfast, we all headed down to the dock.  I was crossing my fingers that day for no sharks at the same time as everyone else was crossing their fingers for lots of sharks.  People keep telling me that I just have to put myself in a situation with sharks, so as to see how majestic and BLAH BLAH BLAH!!  I don’t like it!!  I had the one experience in Belize where we snorkeled with sharks.  At the time, my friend Nicole promised not to let go of my hand and I still had a minor panic attack, crying into my snorkel gear.  The day before, I saw sharks and did not like it.  In fact, I found that it actually took away from my experience, as each time I saw them, I freaked out, and was left the rest of the time watching the horizon for sharks instead of just keeping my head down and enjoying the scenery beneath me.  Anyway, the shark thing was not gonna happen for me, which no one seemed to understand.  We made our way out to Safari reef in the morning, which everyone was very excited about as this dive group had actually first discovered this reef several years before.  We all jumped in the water, and immediately I started spotting sharks.  The current there was much stronger than it had been the day before.  I found myself barely paying any attention to the little colorful fish, and focusing more on where the next shark would pop up.  I ended up calling it quits earlier than I had to, because I wasn’t enjoying the swim as much as I’d hoped.  I could have been a bit disappointed, but I wasn’t!  I instead spent a bit of time lying on the top deck of the boat, reading, and enjoying the sun’s rays!  Not long after I started my sunbathing, Jared came out of the water saying that his ear was giving him a lot of trouble and he wasn’t able to pressurize underwater, so he had to give up.  I gave him more of my “ear beer”, and continued with the very important business of tanning!  After a bit, the rest of the group surfaced, and we had our lunch and coffee.  The next reef was Paul’s reef, which I “officially” opted out of, and instead just swam around the boat with my snorkel gear, lounged in the water, and read on top of the boat.  Jared didn’t go in the water either for fear his ear would get damaged.  After some nice leisure swimming, the rest of the group returned.  We all made our way back to the resort for pool time and dinner prep!  That night was actually New Year’s Eve, so we were all pretty hyped, and once we cleaned up, we all made our way to the bar!  Jared wasn’t feeling very well, with his ear, so he opted out of the festivities.  Dinner was a massive buffet of surf and turf, with lobster, fish cutlets, and tenderloin steaks, with lots of veggies and desserts!  Some of people decided the night wouldn’t be complete without a drag show.  Yes, a drag show.  All the men in the group went hunting through the female’s wardrobes in an effort to find the most scandalous outfits.  Jared did come for a bit of dinner, but skipped the rest.  We had a beauty pageant style drag-off full of dancing and general silliness, followed by more booze, singing, and fireworks at midnight! 

The night was low-key but fun, and it was nice to hang out with new friends.  Our next Papua New Guinea step was three nights of cultural experiences in local villages!

One Night in Dangerous Port Moresby (Papua New Guinea)

I’m so sorry this has taken so long for me to post, I’ve been trying to settle into a new life, and have consequently shirked my blog responsibilities. 
Papua New Guinea was easily the most pain-in-the-neck place to plan.  I bought a ticket to the capital, Port Moresby, before doing any actual research.  Turns out, Papua New Guinea is not exactly a backpacker location; in fact, it’s not really that much of a tourist location at all.  The is a large expat community living there, mostly extracting minerals and gas, but Port Moresby is so riddle with crime that they all live in compounds, have drivers, and don’t leave their compounds at night.  I looked into some tour options, which were all wildly expensive, tours for about $5,000.  I spent ages trying to plan everything, even looking into contacting locals directly, whose contact information I got from travel forums, to stay with, live with their families, and eat the same food for a few days and pay them directly.  In one instance, a man was highly recommended on a few different travel forums.  When I contacted him to stay at his home, in a small village with no roads (you have to canoe to his home), no running water, and no electricity, he tried to charge me $3,600 for four nights.  WHAT!?!?!?  I was able to bring his price down significantly, but opted out of staying with him in the end, just because he was so clearly willing to swindle me in the first place. Anyway, I have no idea how, but I found a man from the US who helped me arrange and book the entire trip.  We would be there for nine days and eight nights.  There were tons of things that I wanted to see, but was eventually talked out by the man that helped me, because of timing restrictions.  The country is exceedingly difficult to move around within.  Firstly, you can only really travel from town to town via airplane, because there are no roads connecting them, and secondly you can’t just hop around from town to town on planes, even if you tried.  Most of the locations only receive flights from the capital, Port Moresby, so you have to waste an entire day flying from whatever destination back to Port Moresby and then to the next location.  Ug, frustrating!!  The first and last nights I had to stay in Port Moresby, but there was zero in the way of hostels and no one was doing Air B&B, because it was close to Christmas, so my only option seemed to be hotels.  I got really lucky for this first night and was able to find a Couchsurfer to stay with, but the last night I was out of luck and had to book a hotel for $384 Kina, which is $145 US dollars.  You might not think $145 is a lot to pay for a night in a hotel, but a) hostels average about $10-25, and b) this hotel was NOT a luxury hotel.  It was actually the cheapest accommodation in Port Moresby.  I was in the end, able to plan the entire trip from my homestay in Italy and once it was all booked, I threw my hands up in defeat or victory, I couldn’t quite tell, and committed to not thinking about how much I had just spent.  Anyway, on to the actual trip!
Leaving Vanuatu, I got on the plane to Brisbane and had an overnight eight hour layover.  Because of the long layover, I had to actually pick my bag up from customs, and find a nice soft looking sofa in the departure terminal where I could cozy up with my eye mask and ear plugs.  It was no Auckland New Zealand International Terminal with plush couches and unattended Duty Free, but I was still able to get a decent night of sleep.  The next morning, I hopped on the flight to Port Moresby.  I can’t exactly recall, but I seem to remember that I had the treasured window seat with two empty seats next to me!  Jackpot!  The flight landed with no issues and I started waiting in the exit line, and happened to start a quick chat with a man and his wife, who were expats working in Port Moresby, also exiting the plane.  The asked about my plans in Papua New Guinea, and then told about how dangerous the city was, not to take a cab from the airport, not to walk around at all in the city etc.  Granted, this information is pretty much what I had read and heard from others, but I find that people often blow third world countries out of proportion and travel more defensively and are easily scared; I did not expect to hear the same advice from people that lived there.  As I exited and started the wait in customs, an Australian expat working there as well started to chat with me and asked “you here on vacation?”, when I said yes, his exact response was “why?  WHY?”.  Oh Jesus.  Needless to say, I was a bit on edge as I walked out of the airport, but I just held my head high, and walked as if I knew where I was going.  I had arranged for the man with whom I was Couchsurfing to pick me up at the airport, but didn’t exactly know what he looked like or what type of car he owned.  After a few seconds in the hot, sunny air, trying to squeeze through the rows of people awaiting other arrivals, I heard my name, and turned around to see a man staring right at me and say my name again.  It was my Couchsurfing host, Aisa!  Thank God.  He escorted me to his nice car, we piled in and he drove to his house.  Along to way, I asked him about some of the things I had heard in regards to dangers and precautions in Port Moresby, all of which he confirmed.  He reported that he had almost been assaulted while driving his car.  He had lived there for a bit under a year with his wife and son, they were all Pakistani by the way, and that none of them liked living there.  His son did go to school with other expat kids, but the security measures they had to take were through the roof.  He talked about living in the compound, and the one place to socialize with other people, the Yacht Club.  Expats were not allowed to even go to the beach where the locals frequented for fear of both petty crime and violent crime.  Apparently, there is just basically zero regulation and law enforcement, so there are no repercussions for crime.  He discussed the government’s influence there, which I always find interesting.  He said the odd thing about Papua New Guinea, is that there is a lot of money floating around, due to the mining and mineral exportation by all these foreign companies.  However, unlike most corrupt governments, which will AT LEAST provide nice things for “their own”, like schools, clubs, sports, nice neighborhoods etc, they did none of that in Port Moresby.  According to him, all the “elite”, wealthy families sent the kids to school in Australia, and themselves spent much time out of the country.  He also reported the government’s unwillingness to build roads between locations outside of the Capital and infrastructure for the people to prosper.  He told us about the “Rascals”, which is the name for the gang that runs the city, and how commonplace it is to have at least one family member in the gang. 
We arrived at his compound, and his house, which was amazing.  It was a modern two story condo, built on the side of a hill, with a fantastic view of the harbor with all the sailboats in the distance, and the city layout.  There were floor to ceiling windows along the side of the house.  The place was big, clean, and homey.  We settled in, and he made us lunch, after which, we watched The Interview, and then he drove us over to the Yacht club for sunset and a few beers.  That was literally the only thing to do around the city; he wouldn’t have even been able to take us on a driving tour of the city, because anything off the main roads was dangerous.  After a bit of chatter, we headed back to his house for a really good traditional Pakistani dinner and a kung fu movie, before calling it a night.  We had to wake up quite early in the morning for an 8am flight; despite what you think though, we had to show up about two hours before the flight actually left, because often they depart early without actually informing any of the passengers…yea.  Our host though was SO gracious, he offered to wake up early too and drive us back to the airport, probably about 12 hours after he picked us up.  Wow, nice guy.  My first and only (thus far) Couchsurfing experience was definitely positive!  Off to start the (hopefully) safe and adventurous part of Papua New Guinea at the Tufi Dive Resort!

Ain’t No Christmas Party Like a Vanuatu Christmas Party, Cuz a Vanuatu Christmas Party Don’t Stop (Vanuatu)

Vanuatu is probably the least known island national to Americans than any other we’ve visited.  I think only one of my friends had ever heard of it, shout out to Eliza, but other than that no one even knew it existed.  In fact, neither Jared nor I knew about it until we traveled to Australia last year.  It’s surprisingly close to the eastern coast of Australia, about as far as New Zealand, though closer to the equator, so it’s has tropical weather; it’s a popular vacation destination for Aussies and Kiwis.  We were again able to fly directly from Fiji to the main island of Efate in Vanuatu, and arrived midafternoon.  The first thing I heard was someone mention that the flight left behind 40 passengers’ bags!  That can’t be right; that’s outrageous!!  It, in fact, was true, and we lined up with pretty much every other passenger to give our information to the airline company.  We weren’t too upset about having lost our bags, but some of the other passengers were livid, mostly I think because they were carrying Christmas presents.  Anyway, after that whole ordeal, we met our transfer, Terry, who owned the hostel where we stayed.  He drove us through the capital city of Port Vila.  We made it down a very treacherous road to our hostel Wai Melomelo, and settled into our room.  After taking cool down showers, we set off to walk around the neighborhood and find the grocery store.  Having to deal with the baggage situation somewhat soaked up a lot of the day, so it was already early evening when we set out.  The grocery store was one of the nicest we had seen in a lot of the islands, so we browsed a bunch, finding our gem food item of a large empanada/calzone stuffed with curried meat for a grand total of 60 cents.  We stocked up on those and grabbed some other items for the next few days before heading back to the hostel for dinner.  Another pre-dinner cool down shower, and possibly the worst dinner I’ve ever made (and that’s saying a lot!).  We had tuna and pasta with tomato sauce, which you might think is the easiest possible dish to make, but something was wrong with one of the ingredients (we thought the sauce) and the whole thing had the metallic taste of a coin, I couldn’t even finish and Jared wouldn’t eat my leftovers, which meant there was a really big problem with the food.  Anyway, that night we settled into bed early.
The next morning, we made an easy breakfast and spent the day walking through town.  The directions to get into town were a bit confusing, something about finding a small dirt path off of a main road then stairs and boom you’re in town, so we asked for directions along the way. We found “the path”, which we definitely would have missed, because it looked like it went to a person’s backyard.  It did, in fact, go through backyards, a teenie alleyway with jagged, sharp, broken and rusted pieces of metal fence reaching out to snag your skin and clothes, and then back behind the jail, in easily the sketchiest part of a walk we’ve been on in ages; we both agreed that if we were going to mugged, it would happen in that location.  Finally we found some steep stairs heavily obscured by overgrowth before landing boom…definitely not in town.  So we kept walking and walking and THENNNN we made it to town.  It was a bit of a hike from the hostel, but there was absolutely nothing by our hostel except more houses, the grocery store and a big graveyard.  In town, we found tons of souvenir and duty free shops and lots of palangis walking around.  Vanuatu’s main economy comes from tourism, and everyday…literally, we were told every single day, a huge tour ship arrives, offloading tourists to meander the streets of Port Vila for a day.  I will note that Port Villa is both the capital and the largest port in the island, and for being their sole major port, I saw absolutely no ships ever, except the cruise ships; there was no importing or exporting of goods that I could see at all.  Anyway, we walked from one end to the other, and spent most of our time in the tourist office making plans for our stay in Vanuatu.  Jared had booked a diving spot on one of the outer islands, Santo, but I couldn’t find a flight there for less that $400-500, so I opted out, instead deciding to stick to the main island for exploring.  On that note actually, at some point, I think in the airport, I saw a sign that said “Port Vila is not Vanuatu”; clearly it was for tourists to encourage them to purchase tickets to some of the outer islands, but I gotta say, if I was a native from Port Vila, I’d be pissed!!  Anyway, Jared got his accommodation and confirmed his activities, we made some plans for the next day and looked into Christmas options, and I figured out my solo options for staying on the main island of Efate.  We walked around a bit more, discovering Jungle Café, an awesome palangi run coffee shop with wifi and awesome “ice” coffee, which really meant cold coffee topped with ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate powder; of course it’s not a dessert…it’s just ice coffee!  We played around on the internet a bit, while I savored my coffee.  We made the walk back to the hostel only midafternoon, but we were already tired; I think the heat and excessive constant sweating really takes it out of you.  First move after returning to the hostel was taking a shower.  As you can tell, the heat and humidity there was overwhelming.  Our hostel was not by the water, and for the most part, we were fine with living in a constant state of wetness, but the issue is not so much being soaked all the time, as being HOT allllll the time.  If you are staying in that type of heat, you need some source of water.  Anyway, I made a different, much better dinner that night of tuna with coconut milk and curry.  FYI, coconut milk neutralizes metallic taste, so we were actually able to salvage the previous night’s dinner, before calling it an early night with a movie.
The morning of the next day was a bit frazzled.  We were supposed to get driven to the airport by Terry, the owner of the hostel, to pick up a rental car for the day.  Things started off slowly though.  Terry was late driving us, and then I guess misunderstood us and drove us to an area with different rental car companies, instead of the airport where we had already reserved a car through the tourist office.  Got to the rental company late, then tried to pick up our luggage, which we were told still hadn’t made it to Port Vila.  After three sweaty days in the same clothes, we were not ecstatic, but we were owed $70, so they told us we had to go back into the main part of town to pick up our money; oh and no, they couldn’t give us a copy of the paperwork (aka the proof that our bags had been lost), because the copy machine was broken, but they would definitely call ahead to the office and let them know we were coming.  UG!  Ok, luckily, we had this nice rental car, so we headed into town, parked, and had to walk for ages to find the stupid office.  When we finally arrived, shocker!  They had no idea we were coming, didn’t understand why we couldn’t show proof that our bags were missing blah blah standard bureaucratic cock up.  The woman, moving at a snail’s pace, called the airport and had a back-and-forth with them about why we were in their office…didn’t we know this type of thing is processed at the airport not at that office?  Oh, hell no!!  We were not driving back to the airport.  By this point, we were already so late that we were missing a cultural village demonstration in one of the villages outside of town, which we had reserved the day before through the tourism office.  Anyway, then the woman claimed a man was being called in to process our complaint, and he’d be there…in an hour!  At which, point, Jared threw his own little temper tantrum and sauntered out (I really must teach him that when throwing a temper tantrum actually leaving the scene of where you need to get stuff done is not effective); anyway, I got on the phone with the guy, trying to explain a) our situation and b) that we were fine waiting an hour for him to come in, AS LONG AS he brought whatever he needed us to sign, AND $140 in cash for compensation so we could all shake hands and be done.  With that, he was totally confused; why did we need $140 again?  Oh god.  Thankfully, a woman with a bit of brains finally stepped in, wrote our names and passport info on a paper, got out the petty cash safe and handed us our compensation, apologizing for a clear breakdown in human brain function.  SO, a few hours late, we set out for the long walk back to the car, and discovered total gridlock on the one road through town.  It was one way also, so there was no getting around it. Well, you know what fixes most problems of frustration in sweltering heat? Non-dessert dessert ice coffee!!!!  And a bit of wifi.  We hung around hoping the traffic might clear a bit, which it did not, so after at least being in slightly better moods, we set out in the car.  Once we got out of town, the drive was actually quite nice.  We stopped in at a few locations, hoping for some sort of village cultural experience, but they were all very touristy and focused on odd highlights, like fruit tree identification (“yes, that is a banana tree”) and garden walks, so we moved on around the island.  As with most of the other islands we’ve visited, there was one road that circumvented the island.  One of the highlights of the island (according to all the guided tour itineraries, which we were kind of trying to follow) was Eton beach.  As we drove, I spotted a sign saying Eton “something” with an arrow directing cars off the highway, so I slammed on the brakes, and made my way down the road toward the ocean.  After about a minute, we realized the land on which we were driving was actually being sold off as private lots, so there was a bit of construction going on; we weren’t sure if there was the right place to be, but after asking, one of the construction workers told us we could access the beach farther along the road, so we kept going until the end, and found ourselves in front of a great lagoon beach with no one around.  We took advantage and swam around to our hearts content, swimming through coral rocks and out to the reef, before hopping back in the car.  On our way out, we spotted what looked like an expat family getting together for a nice buffet lunch.  In reality, I think we were actually on someone’s private property that they had purchased and on which they were going to build.  Oops, but we didn’t have to pay and they didn’t say a word, so we made our way back to the main road and continued driving.  Farther along, we found the actual Eton Beach area for tourists, which was on the privately owned land of a local village, and required and entrance fee, so we dodged that bullet!  Though, to be honest, I usually don’t mind paying the villages for things like that; they made very little money, and I don’t see why they shouldn’t profit for allowing foreigners on their land.  However, we did get into a bit of a sticky situation (which, by the way, I knew was going to go down in the manner in which it did, but Jared was baffled);  we spotted a really nice looking beach with a bunch of kids splashing around in the water, so I pulled off the main road into a village.  Straight away, I introduced myself to a man who walked over to the car and informed us, that we would have to pay for coming on to the land.  We didn’t have time to stick around and swim etc, so we thanked him anyway, and just decided to move on, BUT just as we were leaving, Jared wanted to take a few photos, so instead of just taking a shot through the window of the car when it was back on the road, he got out of the car, walked under the fence to the beach and stood on the village’s property to take pictures.  That was our downfall.  The man came running over to Jared, outside of my earshot, and when I saw Jared’s arms waving in the air, I knew things weren’t going well.  I guess the man tried to make us both pay, and Jared said I shouldn’t have to, then the man shorted his changed.  Anyway, the second Jared took that step across the fence, I knew we had a duty to pay, but he was more reluctant that me to admit that.  Off to our next locale, we stopped at the Blue Lagoon, which was a nice salt water wading pool for locals and tourists alike.  There were some rope swings for added fun, which I super gracefully slipped and rolled down a few steps, while attempting to grab.  We continued the drive along the coastline of beach, occasionally stopping for some photos at some of the volcanic rock beaches and getting some nice views of the outer lying islands.  Normally, when driving, it would take us flying by a spot before we realized it was scenic at which point we’d hook a U-turn and return, the same such moment happened just before the longest steepest hill I’ve ever driven down.  There was definitely no turning around, so we got all the way to the bottom before turning around and making the slow climb back up; I couldn’t even move beyond first gear, but the top of the hill did reveal the best view of the island we had seen thus far, which of course we had to pay for, as it was private land.  We returned to the bottom of the hill after trying to get our entrance fee’s-worth of photos, and arrived at the Mele Waterfalls, which was actually Trip Advisor’s first or second recommended site in Port Vila, but it was unfortunately closed.  Our last stop of the day was a bit further down the road at the Tanna Coffee store where we purchased a surprisingly good cup of coffee and cake and chatted with the ex pat family that owned the plantation. We got back to the hostel early evening and enjoyed another good dinner before heading to bed.  That night was Friday night, so we heard some of the neighbors starting to party and celebrate the season.  We fell asleep to the sound of music, singing and firecrackers.
We also woke up to music, singing and firecrackers; that party did not stop until around seven in the morning!  Boy Vanuatu…ans…ites (??) know how to party!  Just think there was also a litter of kids running around the area; man I can only IMAGINE how that would have gone down in a small neighborhood in the US…not well.  Anyway, early that morning, Jared had to go to the airport for a trip to Espiritu Santo, one of the larger outer islands of Vanuatu for some diving.  I drove him to the airport just in time to drop off the rental car and waited around for a bit for Terry to pick me up and drive me back to Wai Melomelo.  I didn’t do much the rest of the day except go to the grocery store and get some Christmas shopping done in town.  I spent a few hours reading by the bay and listening to the locals walking by enjoying the evening.  Of course, however, the first night Jared wasn’t around and the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in real life appeared crawling along the walls of my room.  Thankfully, I scared the bejesus out of an unsuspecting male walking around and had him come in to scare the spider away for the night.
My time much of the next day was also occupied by reading, as it was Sunday and pretty much everything was closed as usual in the islands.  A few new people did move into the hostel, and we spent the evening drinking some of their duty free liquor and hanging out. 
Monday morning I decided I could waste my days no more in lovely Vanuatu.  The other travelers and I headed out to town and over to one of the city’s resorts, Iririki Resort.  There were several resorts sprinkled along the harbor coast, but Iririki Resort actually occupied its own small island set in the middle of the harbor.  There was a ferry from the city center over to the island, taking just a few minutes, and costing about $7, BUT the amazing part was that once across, the resort gave you a $7 voucher to use at their restaurant.  In fact, the resort was the most inclusive and welcoming of any I’ve been to; normally, resorts are not really the type of establishments to welcome in people off the streets to use their facilities, but Iririki let visitors use their beach, snorkel equipment, kayaks and even small catamarans for free!  We spent a few hours on the beach and kayaked over to the snorkeling area, before heading to the pool and restaurant for free pizza (the pizzas cost $7 each, so with the voucher they were free!).  We lounged around the pool until the evening came when the resort started handing out free appetizers to everyone around the pool and a cocktail!!  Coolest resort-we-weren’t-staying-at ever!  Anyway, we all indulged in our freebies before hopping back on the ferry and returning to the hostel for a small snack and bed.
I woke up to a rainy start that next morning, and hoped it would clear up for my sailing trip to Moso/Tranquility Island that day!  Finally, the skies opened up, the rain stopped, and my pickup came right on time.  We drove around picking up the last few guests and made our way about 45 minutes outside of town to a small ferry boat out to our sail boat.  I have to say, I really dislike when I join a “sailing trip”, and we use the motor the entire time, which has happened every single time I’ve been on sailing tour trips.  Anyway though, the group was mostly couples and families, but everyone was very nice and chatty.  Our first stop of the day was a turtle sanctuary right on the beach, which was both super cute with the teenie weenie turtles the size of a chicken egg and also a bit tragic; the turtles were kept in little tubs and small above ground pool things.  There could be a hundred of them in a container the size of a bathtub all swimming all over one another.  There were gathered as hatchlings, the smallest we saw were six days old, and they are reintroduced to the ocean after months, when they can fend for themselves.  After a round of terrible photos, we made our way back to the boat and around the island to a small deserted beach where we spent the next few hours snorkeling and having a beach BBQ.  The day rounded out nicely as we returned from Tranquility Island to the mainland and drove back to Port Vila, where I was shuttled back to an empty hostel for the evening.
How many more night-nights till Christmas?!?!?  ONE!!!  Which meant last minute shopping.  Jared was coming back into town that afternoon, so I had a few hours in the morning to finish up a few things I needed to do before the big day, and get back to the hostel with enough time to shower and look inconspicuous before Jared arrived.  When Jared got back, I checked out some of his photos and vids, quick did a bit of laundry, before the two of us spent a bit of time in town.  We stopped at the grocery store for a few dinner items, had dinner and got into bed early for SANTA!!!  We did not get to bed as easily as we hoped though, because the neighbors started celebrating again.  Honestly, we were kinda bummed they didn’t invite us!  But again, the party went on all through the night.  I don’t know how they expected Santa to sneak in with all that racket, but they seemed to enjoy themselves none-the-less.  Jared also got attacked by fire ants or something in bed, so he didn’t sleep especially well. 
When Christmas morning rolled around, I was as siked as if I’d just gotten back from the party, but Jared did not have the excited and prompt start to the day that I had hoped.  In fact, he basically missed the breakfast that I had spent the previous three days learning to make.  Has anyone ever pouched eggs in plain water before; oh right, without anything but a mug, knife, fork, and spoon?  It is not as easy as it looks, especially without good equipment.  The first time I attempted the whole thing just fell apart, and the rest of the attempts weren’t much better; I watched a few youtube videos and kept trying, until I got one right.  Anyway, didn’t matter because he slept in too late, BUT when he finally did get up I got to surprise him with his gifts, which included the Christmas stocking that he made himself last year and thought he’d thrown away (he had, I just fished it out of the garbage), hiking socks, a loofa, and Doritos, very exciting stuff.  After the gift opening portion of Christmas, came the eating portion of Christmas!  We had arranged to go to a resort in town on the water, Moorings Hotel, for their Christmas buffet lunch, so we got Christmas-pretty and walked down to the resort, completely ruining our pretty and turning into sweaty messes.  We made it down to the resort with plenty of time before lunch started and even met up with Nina, a woman we met in Tonga who had mentioned she was going to visit Vanuatu over Christmas as well; we had played a bit of Facebook tag, but could never coordinate well, because I only had internet sporadically, so we were happy she turned up.  The three of us spent the next few hours filling up on great food, especially a fantastic smoked ham, grilled chicken,  shrimp wrapped in bacon, steamed veggies with gravy, cheese and coconut cream veggies, couscous, fried rice, some veggie thing that looked like sushi, and thinly sliced fish and beef.  We were able to have a few rounds of that whilst listening to a Christmas carols sung by a man who sounded exactly like Rick Astley.  Honestly, if he doesn’t sell himself as a Rick Astley cover, I think he’s missing out on a business opportunity there.  Anyway, by the time dessert rolled around, we were basically rolling around ourselves, suffering from the classic holiday ailment, over-eating-itis, but were able to squeeze in a few ginger bread cookies…and raspberry merengue cookies…and sweet crackers with a whipped cream and passion fruits sauce…and chocolate crumbed pie with merengue and pineapple jelly filling.  You know what they say, there’s always room for dessert.  Washed down with a few cups of coffee, and we were officially in pain.  We sat around, unable to move much, until we were the only ones left, and switched to a waterfront cabana for good sunset seating.  At that point, we started mixing in a few festive cocktails and some good conversation with random guests until finally, we all decided to move the party allllll the way to the other side of town to a waterfront bar.  Though Jared and I were tired and trying to figure out ways to wiggle out of it, we ended up joining and had a great time drinking beers and shots till late with a group of Australians.  The walk home was long, drunken, and creepy in the pitch black through bush and backyards, but good for our digestion.

We had originally planned on getting an early start the morning after Christmas in order to head over to Iririki Resort and try our hand at sailing the small catamarans; unfortunately, we were predictably hungover, and seeing as how we are no longer veteran drinker, morning movement was dragging.  I would also like to blame our laziness on the weather, which I can legitimately, seeing as how it did rain a lot of the morning, but truthfully, the rain didn’t start until well after we should have been up and running.  Our day didn’t actually start until the early afternoon, when we figured we’d try to get something done or at least walk around town.  Turns out the day after Christmas is completely dead in Port Vila, which isn’t surprising given how they party at night.  We walked over with Jared’s laundry, and absolutely nothing was open.  Honestly, I had a craving for that non-dessert ice coffee! Instead, we decided to head back Moorings Hotel where we spent Christmas to get some internet, and eat some greasy hangover food.  We spent a few hours there and finally decided to walk back to Wai Melomelo a bit before dusk, picking up a cheap dinner along the way, and watching TV and movies until we went to bed.

The next morning was our last in Vanuatu.  We woke up early and packed all of our things, ate the last of our food for breakfast, and were taken to the airport.  As we checked in, the attendant at the desk asked if we had purchased our “transit visas” for Australia…our what?  Oops.  No problem, she said; we could purchase them at the airport through their staff.  Phew!  Off she went to arrange our visas, which cost $50.  Turned out that if we had known about the visa requirement and purchased it ourselves online, it was FREE!!  Yes, free.  But instead, we had to pay $50 so THEY could type into a computer our names, passport numbers and birthday.  Clearly, that work warranted $50.  Anyway, obviously we were pissed at our oversight, but traveling like this is a learning experience, and we have now learned to be more vigilant in regards to issues of transit.  As we waited around in the airport, I could tell something was brewing, because Jared kept eyeing the duty free section of purchased items (if you bought anything from the duty free shops in town, you could only pick it up at the airport on your way out).  Jared might be new to Christmas trickery (not the same as normal lying, because it’s in relation to Christmas gifts and for that reason is considered benevolent), but I am NOT!!  Turned out, Santa left my gift at the airport!  A shiny new digital camera!  Perfect to start our next, and most anxiety-riddled leg of the trip, Papua New Guinea. 

Fiji Time Actually Means Doing Nothing At All (Fiji)

Fiji!! Land of….I don’t know actually, but it’s the most recognized Pacific island country that we’ve been to thus far, so everyone at least knows of it and where it is located.  Finally the flight to Fiji didn’t require us to fly through New Zealand, though that meant I didn’t get to pillage the Duty Free beauty products; we had a direct flight from Tonga getting us into Fiji midafternoon.  We were collected by a taxi driver and driven into the capital city of Suva.  Normally when people fly into Fiji, they land in Nadi (pronounced “Nandi”, I have no idea why), but because we were flying from Tonga, we came in backwards.  Our hostel wasn’t far from the main part of town, and we quickly settled in and made our way out to look around town and plan our next move.  Immediately in Fiji, we noticed a drastic different in the economic landscape.  There were more paved than unpaved roads, nicely built bridges, chain stores, big grocery shops and people with shoes; Fiji was easily the richest country we had visited thus far in the Pacific.  Walking into town, we browsed the large market area and the bus stop, also the main strip full of actual malls, with several levels and air conditioning, big restaurants and brightly lit bars.  It was pretty nice, but definitely had a city vibe and was a bit gritty, so we decided that instead of staying an extra full day and leaving the day after, we might just look into our options for leaving the next morning.  We went back to the hostel, and did a bit of guidebook reading before dinner and bed.
It was raining the next morning, so we checked out of the hostel early, waited for a lull in the rain to make a mad dash to the bus stop with all of our stuff.  Jared decided he want to try to go diving in Fiji off the coast of Pacific Harbour, a small town on the south side of the island, while I opted to skip Pacific Harbour, as the only thing to really do there was dive.  Instead, I looked up the nicest beach on the island, Natadola, and decided to continue on the same bus farther along the coast.  I had seen in the decade old guidebook that there was a small backpacker’s accommodation, but without internet at hostels, you’re always sort of taking a gamble.  Also, neither Jared nor I assumed we’d have internet where ever we visited, so in order to meet back up again in Nadi, our final destination, we came up with the cockamamie idea of meeting everyday outside of the Nadi Police station at 7pm; if the other person doesn’t show, they hadn’t arrived from their destination yet.  We thought it was a perfectly acceptable idea, but other people seemed to raise eyebrows.  Anyway, that was the plan upon Jared’s departure from the bus.  I continued on for another two hours maybe, mostly chatting with a British writer who had ventured to a teenie resort off the coast to cure a case of writer’s block.  When I got off the bus at the Natadola sign, I was picked up by a man with a pickup truck who said he was a cab.  I told him I’d walk to the beach, thinking it was about a 10-15 minute walk; turned out it was a 15 minute drive, so I did take the ride.  I have to say, a lot of this type of travel does leave you a bit vulnerable to scary moments.  I just try to stay as vigilant as possible, keep mace handy and pray for the good faith of people.  So far, so good thankfully.  He chatted a bit on the ride toward the beach, telling me there were definitely no backpacker or budget accommodations anywhere near this beach, but that I could always stay with him and his family that night for a small amount if I wanted.  I did contemplate that a bit, but in the end decided against it.   He dropped me off by the beach, and I toted my bags up and down, popping in to the three different resorts along the beach, only to find out my cheapest option was about $250 a night; yikes, definitely outside of my budget.  I lingered around a bit, before asking someone to call me a cab back to the highway.  I ended up catching a ride with “the chef” who looked about 18 years old, but was nice, despite his questionable choice of conversational topic, about an Australian woman who married a Fijian, came to visit Fiji and was murdered and hacked up to pieces.  Definitely NOT the story to bring up when driving a single female traveler.  Needless to say, I was happy when we made it to the bus stop.  I waited a while for the bus; a few people, including a handful of backpackers returning from the beach joined as well.  The next large town to find accommodation was Nadi, though when the bus came around, I didn’t actually know where exactly to stay.  Luckily, some of the other travelers helped me by making suggestions in the area.  The bus dropped us off in the center of town, where we had to pick up another bus to get to the hostel area, which ended up being about 15-20 minutes outside of town by the airport surprisingly, but also right on the water.  When I finally checked into the hostel and settled in with their free wifi, I messaged Jared in case he ended up finding wifi, and it turned out neither of us had much luck that day with our original plans, but we did both find wifi!  Jared found lots of hostels and all of them we sold out; luckily, a manager allowed him to set up his tent on the porch for a significantly discounted rate.  In a panic, he actually booked himself into a hostel in Nadi, which by sheer luck ended up being only two doors down from where I was staying. 
The next few days I spent at the hostel in Nadi were incredibly uneventful.  Suffice to say, every day I pretty much laid by the pool, played on the internet, and read a lot.  I looked in to other options like trekking in the highlands and daytrip to islands, but everything was just so expensive, and I needed to start cutting down a bit instead of splurging on $200-500 excursions all the time, so I decided against them; even taking a daytrip up the mountain to hike, a total of two hours of actual hiking, would cost $150, outrageous.  Anyway, Jared came three days later, at which point I switched to his hostel as he had already paid his deposit and couldn’t switch to mine.  His diving plans completely fell through, as the weather was crappy the entire time and every day’s dive was cancelled.  He did spend the next three days going out every morning to surf off of the island of Tavarua.  I thought about doing that, for nothing more than just breaking up the monotony of poolside tanning, but decided against it due to pricing; he came back every day happy but completely cut up from falling on the reef, also deterring me from going out.  His feet got banged up, because he mostly hops off the board as he goes down; I actually dive off the board as I go down in the hopes that I won’t get caught in a wave and so I can get far enough from the board so I don’t get wacked in the head, so I would have ripped off half my flesh attempting to surf on a reef.  Anyway, at night, we rotated between our hostel and the next one for kava drinking and fire dancing shows. 
We had however planned to get off the main island for a few days, so when that day came, we packed  our small bags and were able to leave our big packs at the hostel.  A tourism bus came by in the morning and picked up all the different travelers along that road, as it was basically lined with several different accommodations.  We were collectively transported to Denarau Island where all the fancy resorts and spas are, including the Hard Rock Café, so suffice to say it was sufficiently Americanized.  We boarded a large catamaran bound for the Yasawa Islands.  Jared had booked a 4 night 5 day package (ours was the least number of days allowed, but it does increase), which included unlimited cruises to any of the 20 volcanic islands, which I thought was awesome!  We only had a few days, so we were a bit limited, but you could conceivably spend a much longer time there and float around to every island to your heart’s content!  I dunno, normally I’ve never just seen an unlimited amount of cruising allowed on vacation packages.  Anyway, since we did have to be a bit more prepared due to our time limitation, we planned our days well.  Our first stop was one of the farthest islands in the chain, Nacula, known for its blue lagoon surrounding the island.  The boat cruise took a bit over four hours, stopping at each island to pick up or drop off other people.  When our stop finally came, we got into a smaller boat with a few others and headed to our accommodation, the Safe Landing Resort, where we were greeted on the beach by a village band and men in grass skirts and traditional weapons, like a “neck breaker”, which obviously Jared explained to me, because I thought it was just a fancier looking club.  Anyway, straight away we were served lunch; there are no stores on any of the islands so you are at the mercy of the resort’s restaurant.  We lucked out, as our meal was both tasty and very filling.  After lunch, the weather messed around a bit, quickly changing for scorching heat and sunshine to light drizzles, so we alternated between beach lounges, hammocks, and the covered restaurant.  There were a few activities in which travelers could participate, like jewelry making; we tried to watch a bit, but got pretty bored, because they were not interactive like we had hoped.  Toward the end of the afternoon, we joined in on a volleyball game before a traditional umu dinner of taro, potatoes, and manioke, with roasted chicken, different salads and roasted vegetables.  It was buffet style, so in true Jared and Kathleen fashion, we made ourselves pretty uncomfortable by the end.  That was Friday night which meant post dinner entertainment of a traditional dance by the locals.  Jared told the MC it was my birthday soon, I will say he was specifically asked he wasn’t just trying to humiliate me spontaneously, so I was pulled up for the first dance consisting of lots of male gyration and war shouts, so that was…that.  Unfortunately, the whole thing was entertaining, but the women were definitely the most unmotivated of performers we’ve seen so far.  The women are always the best part, but these looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.  Anyway, at the end of the evening, we just showered and headed to bed.
After a hearty breakfast the next morning, we set out with a couple girls from the resort on a short hike to the other side of the island and the blue lagoon.  We were told there were two ways across, one about a 45 minute walk, the other an hour and a half.  We asked about the quicker route and were instructed to go “just around the point”.  As we walked along the beach and approached the point, we met a man cleaning his boat and directly across from him a path leading inland.  When we asked him how to get across, he pointed down the path, which did look like the logical route, as “around the point” kind of looked like it would lead us into the water surrounded by sharp rocks.  The path we took lead us up a mild incline and across the island via the ridge line of smaller and larger hills.  The walk itself was really quite nice with great views, and there was a strong breeze keeping us cool.  Despite the fact that we never saw a path diverge from the one we took, an hour and a half came and went, and we still had a bit of a walk to go, so clearly we had somehow taken the wrong path, but we were still happy.  We really just wanted to get in the water as seeing the perfect blue of the lagoon from above was a pretty big tease.  Finally, we descended off the hills down onto the beach and were able to enjoy the gorgeous water.  There were almost no people around, which is always nice.  Unfortunately, because we had taken the long route there and were unsure of how to get back, we couldn’t stay very long, but we enjoyed every minute.  The beach and water were actually just like our side of the island, there was just more area between the beach and the beginning of the reef life.  Thankfully, we asked how to get back and quickly found the alternate path.  The walk back was very easy, and took us along the floor of the island, around the hills rather than up and over.  As we approached our side of the island, we found out that we were in fact supposed to go “just around the point”, but the longer hike was much more scenic and we enjoyed it all.  We hoped to make it back in time for lunch, and though we were about 30 minutes late, they did serve us individually.  We had definitely wanted to return to the other side of the island, but the tide got pretty high, making the short route unpassable around the point, plus poor Jared’s feet looked mutilated and were starting to attract flies…no I’m not kidding, so we opted to give his feet some respite, oh right I forgot to mention, his flip flops were basically not functioning anymore so he had to walk on the volcanic rock bare feet.  I’m not sure if you know volcanic rock, but it is really sharp and uncomfortable to walk on without good shoes.  Anyway, instead of going back, we laid on our beach and went swimming and relaxed the day away.  That night, after another good dinner, a few of us decided to pitch in and purchase a bag of kava, so we were taught how to make and drink kava in the traditional Fijian way.  I think I touched on kava in Tonga, but this one was, at least for me, more informative.  We learned how to prepare the kava and well as the rituals to drinking it.  There is a chief, which for our purpose was just randomly selected and Jared got that title, and a “spokesperson” who speaks for the chief.  Whenever the spokesperson wants to drink, or thinks the chief wants to drink, he yells out “Taki”, at which time, the chief claps once, receives his cup of kava, says “Bula!” which means “welcome” or “thank you”, and drinks the whole cup of kava from his own cup, then claps three times.  Next the spokesperson does the exact same thing: clap, Bula!, drink, three claps.  The only difference is that the chief gets his own glass, everyone else has to share a cup, yuck, though you sort of have to throw hygiene out the window from the start, as you watch the man prepare the kava by dunking his hands in the water and rubbing the kava around in the filter and water with his hands.  Anyway, I mentioned before that kava has narcotic properties.  Kava is drunk every night by a lot of men in the villages.  Women are not really supposed to drink kava; we are not exactly sure why, but heard a pretty ridiculous story recently about kava originally growing out of the vagina of a dead woman, so, you know, LOGICALLY women can’t drink it because of that…?  The first glass always makes your mouth and throat numb and after that it takes quite a few glasses to have any other effect.  We have yet to make it far; the taste is not very good.  It’s made from a root of a bush stamped down into a fine dust.  The dust is then places in a cloth bag and washed around in the water.  Based on the description, it tastes exactly like you might imagine.  A few of the more common descriptions include “dirty water” and “wet wood”.  Anyway, we all had a good time watching the people who had never tried it attempt to choke it down.  I think everyone stayed up late, but the kava got me tired, so I just showered up and headed to bed for the night. 
The next day, we were headed to Wayalailai, another island farther south in the Yasawas.  We had our breakfast and spent the next few hours reading and relaxing while awaiting the boat.  That afternoon, we boarded the small transport boat out to the larger catamaran.  The cruise took about 3 hours back south, during which time Jared was hit by some sort of virus, developing a fever, sore throat, and malaise.  When we finally arrived at Wayalailai, he was out of commission.  We had a bit of tea at the restaurant and he went to lie down while I walked the beach, which was covered in coral making it great for finding awesome shells, but a bit painful when walking into the water.  After collecting quite a few really neat shells, I made my way back for a big buffet dinner.  Just before bed, Jared spiked a pretty high fever, so we spent the next bit of the night in misery as I soaked all my clothes trying to bring his temperature down until he finally, begrudgingly, got into the shower, successfully getting better after a bit. 
The next day was MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!  But I basically spent the whole day by myself, because Jared was confined to bed.  I woke up early and ate breakfast before going on a short, but steep hike up to the tallest peak on the island, with great views.  I lounged the rest of day away on the beach.
Our last day on the island, Jared felt a bit better.  We participated in some jewelry weaving taught by the local women, before heading back to the main island again.  Our last day in Fiji was spent much like the rest, with sunning and reading and playing on the internet to plan future adventures, mostly in Indonesia, but that story is best left for later; Fiji was probably my most unproductive island, but you can’t complain when you lying by a pool or in a hammock on the beach in Fiji.  Up next was Vanuatu.