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Getting to the airport is proving a little ominous though. During clan disturbances in the night, a bridge was burned on the main road, so we have to take a diversion through the outlying villages and some rather narrow, rudimentary tracks. Again we pick up a few police constables for protection during our journey. David and I are both enjoying the change of scenery and a different route, and view the whole thing as an adventure, but Peter is once more fearful for our safety. Obviously we are far too naïve to realise the dangers we are in. At the airport, Peter is concerned when we meander around chatting to the locals, and makes us enter the locked and barbed wire protected airstrip enclosure until the plane arrives. Leave a Comment
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I consider this to be good time to answer the call of nature, and I am shown to the village loo. They certainly don’t believe in modesty: the 4” hole in the ground is located on the top of a mound, the highest point in the village, with very little foliage to shield your private moments. Unlike The Gambia, where the entire village would come running to watch a white lady drop her knickers, I am pleased to find that the two people within sight, sound and smell of my deed are thoughtful enough to reposition themselves to the other side of the nearest hut. With such a small depository and uneven ground on which to balance on my haunches, a good aim helps. This is not the best instance to suffer from the runs, but timing was never my stomach’s strong point. Leave a Comment
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The walk from the village to reach the road is at best described as ‘interesting’. The 45° slope down to the river is mainly compacted mud, and even though Erewan tries to cut ‘steps’ in the mud with his machete, we slip and slide all over the place. It takes an absolute age to get us all down and then we have to cross a fast-flowing river by jumping from stone to stone. It’s a miracle that none of us ended up covered in mud or soaking wet. Mark has radioed ahead for the bus to pick us up; he has decided to cut our walk a little short today as the conditions are so treacherous. Leave a Comment
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After checking in to the hotel and re-packing the bare necessities into smaller bags for the flight to the Highlands, we inspect the travel document Steven gave us for the rest of the visit in PNG. The return ticket show the incorrect date and time, but there is no reply from the office telephone number Steven gave us. We also try his home number, only to be told that he is spending the night in the office. We keep trying right throughout the early evening, but to no avail.
Back in the room after dinner, we continue to try Steven’s office number, but we have no joy until David has the bright idea of double checking the number Steven wrote down against the one in the telephone directory. Steven had transposed two of the numbers, but when we do finally get through, all he says is “we’ll sort it out in the morning”. Leave a Comment
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At the lodge gates, a bilum (string bag) seller joins me, or rather, follows me, all down the track to the hotel. He doesn’t speak to me and persistently walks three steps behind. It is very unnerving and I tell myself that ‘if he was going to attack me, he would have done so as soon as we got round the first bend, out of sight of the road and the lodge.’ It doesn’t really convince me that he is harmless, but I get less and less nervous the nearer I get to the reception. In the car park he joins the lodge workers who are having a fag break and I breathe a sigh of relief as I enter the bar. Leave a Comment
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 Warning in Pidgin - NO
BEETLENUT CHEWING! by jadedmuse
But that's not the offensive part - what annoys everyone is that the person chewing beetlenut has to eventually spit it out, and most PNGers spit wherever they feel like it, making an unsightly mess not to mention the damage and teeth rot imposed upon the person doing the chewing.
This sign also serves as a cool example of the curious "Pidgin English" widely used throughout PNG. (if you click on the photo you'll see both the pidgin version and the regular English version of the Beetlenut warning) Leave a Comment
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 My 1st photo taken with new
camera battery! by jadedmuse
Of course there weren't any shops up there in the Highlands and our next destination was to stay at another wilderness lodge along one of the Sepik river tributaries, so I knew my luck had run out. I could not believe I was going to be facing 2 weeks without my camera...no photos to bring back with me as a reminder of this trip....
Well, our guide must have contacted someone who contacted someone who put in a call to someone who knew someone in Port Moresby (pause for air!), because the day after I made this discovery, we were headed to the airport strip in Tari ready to take off for the next destination, when a local villager came running up to me excitedly waving his hands in the air.
I was escorted to a makeshift office where lo and behold - there was a new camera battery, sealed in its package - waiting for me to claim it before boarding the plane.
It was the talk of the airport. Everyone apparently knew about this special delivery (it must have come in with the flight from Moresby).
Needless to say, my vacation was saved by this miracle and I learned the valuable lesson about how important it is check my camera batteries and even bring an extra one along, just in case.
This is a true story. Even as I relate it, I can't believe it happened. It was what I call a strange miracle.
Miracles like this don't happen every day! Leave a Comment
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There is much consternation in the bus when a fracas is spotted ahead. A man from Medang, driving a hire car has been robbed at knifepoint. Unfortunately he fought with the robber and ended up badly injured. The locals love a drama and are revelling in this tale. The raider has driven off in the hire car, and we make a road block with the three buses to try to catch him. Peter holds his machete tight and admits that “we are very scared”. Luckily (for us) the local inhabitants trap the gangster first, tie him to the bumper of the car and beat him senseless. They are now waiting to hand him over to the police, who will probably batter him further. We gingerly move on, willing the throng of people to disperse so that we can get through. Peter is still scared and keeps sounding his horn to break up the crowd. Leave a Comment
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 by jadedmuse
But use caution if you actually want to try smoking them....remember that this is raw, unprocessed tobacco and extremely carcinogenic.
The locals warned us that you can get a slight buzz off of them. Leave a Comment
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 by jadedmuse
Obviously he got them!
Moral of the story: be on the lookout for hungry birds hoping to join you for a bit of breakfast.... Leave a Comment
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