Papua New Guinea Life

And So It Ends

2005-12-16T11:04:00.000+10:00

Well, I am writing this back in Australia .. in my home town .. in the bush .. in my ples.

The mountains are smaller and rounder. The countryside browner. The locals whiter. The roads better .. without potholes. The power stays on. The phones work. Things are just .. developed. My little GPS device says the distance back to the my old house in Lae is 2954km but it seems a hell of a lot further. Another world away.

I snuck back in on Tuesday. Selecting a limited few to tell that I was actually coming back to the country. I had previously said that I would be travelling around PNG after my contract finished at the university .. and this was going to be the case for a long time .. but I also had a ticket back since January.

Travelling up on a PMV bus in August to Goroka and I changed my mind to travel back for Christmas .. the reasoning at the time now eludes me, but once I had made my mind, I started to look forward to coming back .. cafes, pubs, broadsheet newspapers, cinemas .. the little things you miss.

And so I stealthily planned my return. My poor old mother was not one I told and her surprise was evident when I met up with her yesterday. I entered the house and gave her a hug. The look of glee and happiness was a special moment .. and I am glad I did it like I did (it is not the first time I have done this, previously I arrived back in the country a few days before I was supposed to).

Being back I can now reflect on what PNG was. Two full years of my life, obviously. Another country, yes. An experience, of course. An adventure, certainly. A challenge, completed. An opportunity to see if I could cope, passed. A great time, indeed. The chance to meet fantastic people, oh yes. A memory bank full of memories. And plenty of stories to tell my kids (if I ever have any). Papua New Guinea was all of this and a lot more. To use a cliché, words can't really do it justice .. though as all the stack of posts to this blog are testament, I have tried.

So as to what the future holds for me. Well for the next few weeks at least there are family and friends to see and be with and there is the frantic Christmas shopping experience to fulfil (I have been asked why didn't I bring PNG presents back .. and my answer is, those things would mean something to me, but would they really mean something for you - better to choose a present for the person). After these then we will see. I have already been offered a job .. but whether this is what I will want to do I will have to find out.

And as to this blog, well as it is two years of thoughts and observations about PNG it will seem weird to continue it if I am not in PNG anymore so I am going to stop posting to it from now on. If you want to follow my more mundane life you will be able to over on my other blog which I have had for some time .. Nomad Tales. Ketch you there.

The My Choice Awards

2005-12-12T09:30:00.000+10:00

and the winners go to ...

Best overall week ...
Going to Manus for work and spending it tripping out to a remote island on a banana boat, heading into Manus island interior via the Manus highway (or goat track) and saving a cuscus from becoming kai kai.

Most scariest moment ...
Climbing two thirds up an active volcano and finally realising that the thing was erupting boulders the size of VW beetles ... a hasty retreat was made.

Most exhausting event ...
Trekking for 7 days over the Kokoda Track, which meant 96 kms overland but climbing up a combined height of two thirds of Mount Everest (and going down again).

Best moment of instant celebrity ...
Flying into a remote highlands village with my white haired mother and being swamped by the entire population.

Best PNG location visited ...
The remote Balaun island, part of the Manus trip. I had always wanted to visited a remote pacific island .. this felt very much like it.

Best non-PNG location visited ...
Biak in Indonesia. Cheap food, cheap accommodation, great scenery, great weather, great company .. all good.

Biggest culture shock moment ...
Eating a cuscus foreleg on the second Mt Wilhelm trip. Nice .. tastes like lamb .. not much of it though.

Biggest culturally awkward moment ...
Expected to cry at a Western Highlands funeral. The tears didn't well up.

Worst health moment ...
Urinating a dark red colour while having Malaria in a place without a doctor.

Lifetime changing award ...
Growing up quickly when driving a car full of computers and having guns pointed at you by rascal gangs on the side of the road.

Most thrilling individual moment ...
Making it to the top of Mount Wilhelm the first time ... I laughed and cried at the same time.

and finally ...

Best thing discovered ...
Meeting some of the best friends I have ever made .. including some fantastic locals with lion hearts and some brilliant ex-pats including some very special people. See you on the other side.

Not The Shipping News

2005-12-09T09:59:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I finally shipped off my surplus cargo .. by plane. The original plan I highlighted had to be amended .. because of the cost! What a rort. For one cubic metre of cargo I was looking down the cost of exactly 3,782 kina (approx Au$1550) with a removalist company. Yeah, in their dreams.

So the amendment meant that I would ditch my clam shell. A shame but too bloody heavy. Besides I also decided to do some checking up about what the status was with these things being sent into Australia. This led me down the path of checking out the Australian Customs Service webpage and having a look at what is prohibited from being brought into Australia (a very confusing topic here, with many opinions, as anyone who has ever visited Australia probably has discovered).

On their prohibited and restricted imports page they give you a quick list (though still pretty long) of what you can't bring in (amusingly next to Chemical Weapons and Nuclear products, we have novelty erasers, novelty money boxes, the Australian flag and anything with ANZAC on it). This wasn't much help apart from informing me I needed to check with the Department of Environment and Heritage on what the story is with these shells.

On their site they state that anything already banned or requiring a permit under the Convention of International Trade of Endangered Species (CITES) would be restricted. I still wasn't sure if clam shells were covered or not and a quick look at the CITES website confirmed that I should just shoot an email off to DEH and ask them what the story was (I have no idea what the scientific name for the shell is).

Amazingly for a government department my email got a reply the next working day:

Dear JCD,

There is an exemption for up to 3 specimens of Giant Clam shell (not exceeding 3 kgs) for importation into Australia as personal baggage. However, if you wish to ship the specimen, then you will require a personal item CITES import permit from us. I have attached the application form. Please note that you will need to provide information in your application that satisfies us that it was leagally aquired.

Regards

Katie

My shell was not going to be covered by personal baggage and under 3 kilos. Also the "leagally[sic] aquired[sic]" was a bit of a worry (though this confirmed that even in the Australian public service they are lazy spell checkers). I bought it off some Telikom guy in Lorengau, Manus for 20 kina. He didn't write a receipt. A bit more of an examination of the form and it became apparent that I also needed to get an export permit from PNG customs as well and I needed all this done before I got the import permit from DEH which in itself was going to cost $30, and they take credit card, but my credit card has expired .. anyway it was all a bit much. The shells can stay in their country of origin.

So the end result was that I ended up with two plywood boxes which in themselves weigh a lot and just personal effects to send back. I decided to ring Air Niugini and find out more about something others have told me about .. unaccompanied luggage. They gave me a per kilo price and then the on top fee prices and this definitely sounded like the go.

So yesterday I loaded up the repacked four cardboard boxes (plywood ones can stay as well) in the work vehicle and headed off to town to a courier company. I wanted to get it weighed there and see what they could do it for (too much of course). The total weight they gave me was 74, so next stop was the bank and then out to the airport.

Out at the Air Niugini cargo desk I got it weighed again and was surprised to find their scales giving me a total weight of 60 kilos. I didn't say anything, though was thinking the couriers were a bunch of dodgy dealers with dodgy weights, not unlike that bad dude in Karate Kid II, with the weights made of foam (I should go back and smash ice bricks and save the cute Japanese girl from them .. honour!).

So to cut a long (and a bit boring) story short the total cost of sending it as unaccompanied baggage turned out to be K600. Much more reasonable.

So You Wanna Volunteer?

2005-12-07T12:48:00.000+10:00

Time's nearly up on my little adventure into the world of international volunteering. So in the effort to encourage (or discourage) would be volunteers who might be interested in dedicating a couple of years of their life to go and live in a country not as fortunate as their own, and have all sorts of adventures, and life altering experiences, all potentially good or bad, here are three insights I offer to impart on the more pragmatic side of volunteers and volunteering.

These are all now hindsight views on the ideals that I originally thought this caper would be like. Most of them proved to be false.

All volunteers will be like me?

Not quite. While it is probably true your average volunteer demographic is made up of mainly a left leaning, want-to-change-the-world, pinko, style people, this is about where the similarity lies between you and the other vols you will come across. The canvas of personalities and characters is about as wide across volunteers as they are across any group of people.

One thing is for sure is even though people are not as similiar as you would have imagined you will still make great friends with them and quite likely from new age groups. This is because you get two classes of volunteer age groups, the people who have yet to settle down and pop out the kids and want to have an experience before they do so and the people who are older and have already done the kid thing and are ready to have an experience while they are still upright enough to do so.

So what you will experience by volunteering is something quite bizarre and something that does not usually happen .. you will have friends who are your parent's/children's age.

All volunteering agencies are the same, right?

Pick and choose if you have a choice. There is more than one volunteer organisation around. For Australians for example there is Australian Volunteers International (the mob I came to PNG with), Australian Business Volunteers and the government set up Australian Youth Ambassadors. They each have their own niche and offer a slightly different experience.

AVI is typically for two years and you get enough to live on. ABV is for short-term periods and you get semi-decent pay (though still a lot less than you would be used to) and the Youthie guys are for one year and seem to get the best treatment (they are after all run directly by AusAID and are Alexander Downer's babies).

For other countries the story I gather is similar, the ones on a similar vein as AVI are: The Brits with VSO, the Yanks with the well-known Peace Corps, the Japanese with their JICA program and the Canadians and CUSO. There is also the United Nations Volunteers.

My advice is to have a shop around.

There will be volunteer romance aplenty?

For the potential single volunteers here's a little tip, do your research well and pick a position/location where there are actually other volunteers already based .. and which has members of the opposite sex .. and about your own age .. and single as well. This may then heighten the chances of finding a bit of romance amongst the foreignness.

And hey who isn't thinking this if they're a potential volunteer and single ... "hmmm, I'm a goin' to go overseas for a couple of years .. yeah, work will keep me busy enough ... she'll be right ... no need to worry ... ah shit, I hope there are some chicks!".

Don't despair though if you do end up getting stuck in one sex volunteer town, there are a couple of options available. Firstly cast your net a bit wider and see what else is available in other parts of the country and secondly go it with a local. Beware though the second option can have many hidden traps, much more than the usual romance worries. I have discussed this in regard to PNG women in more detail previously, depending on where you go the problems will be different.

So there you go, would be vol, some insights from the informed. I hope it helps.

I Want a Mummy

2005-12-05T13:44:00.000+10:00

Something I have been meaning to mention for a while. PNG has some really cool stuff you just won't see everywhere. Up in Aseki for example, about a four hour drive from Lae (apparently over some very shocking roads) there is a place where the locals used to smoke the bodies of their dead underneath cliff ledges.

This practice died out only recently with the missionaries arriving (I may be wrong but I don't think it's in the good book to keep your mama and papa on a shelf) but it is still quite possible to go and visit the ones that have been there for while.

Anyway a mate of mine who used to be in Lae, and now over in Madang, went there for a trip a couple of years ago and put heaps of pictures on his website. So if you are keen to see some mummy action from this part of the world head over to 1001nights.net and click on the Smoked bodies of Engibena link.

I might just have to get up there myself sooner or later. It is very slack of me not to have done so already.

Post No. 300

2005-12-04T18:47:00.000+10:00

A day filled with nothing, I needed it, especially the two hour nap this afternoon (can a sleep for two hours be classed as a nap?). Visitors have come and gone. Parties and going out have been done. A big mess to clean up and sore head to soothe. Last night I hosted a go-finish party .. for myself.

Good times and a great final party to finish up with. It was actually the first time I have had a party with work colleagues and friends and it worked well (except my colleagues kids gobbling all the pizza brought by my mates before they had a chance to eat some .. I must admit that I like hosting parties, but catering is not my forté).

Highlights from the night include the kids rounding up masses of frangipani flowers from backyard trees, some cane toad whacking and bush knife testing. My knife, I am sending home, works a treat .. you can even hack off tree limbs (as demonstrated below by a mate, after kids playing in the guava tree broke a branch).

Power Not to the People

2005-12-01T18:29:00.000+10:00

In one final show of defiance, I am being reminded why this is a developing country. So far this week, out of the 32 working hours available (between 8 and 4 .. government work hours) we have had 14 hours of power.

For the other 18 I have been twiddling my thumbs trying to find something to do. The crossword has proved useful.

Computers are great handy tools, but without power they are big paperweights. The reason; a combination of load shedding while they replace a faulty big-mother transformer in town and a full day out on tuesday after a small distribution transformer blew up. The university seems to cop a hefty amount of power out from load shedding, PNG power must think we are all now on holidays with the students.

Anyway, that big diesel generator I kept plugging for, needs to be bought .. soon methinks. Not that I really care anymore.

Update - Friday 2 Dec

And today .. well 6 hours without power. Mi les.

Slushie Sense

2005-11-30T10:26:00.000+10:00

Some sense has come across finally in PNG .. or at least to a couple of its members of parliament. Member for Nuku, Mr Andrew Kumbakor, had previously proposed an increase to the MP's "slush fund" from 500,000 kina to 1.5 million kina per year. Now he has had the sense to withdraw the bill.

In case you didn't know, the 500,000 is for the MPs to do as so he or she wishes for their electorate and here is the best part for the member .. without any accountability. You can see why it is popular to become a MP here. "woohoo, I have 500,000 to give back to my wantoks, after all, they helped me get elected anyway".

The reasoning behind the increase was of course that the MPs needed it so they could provide services to their community. Despite the fact that after the 500,000 now being in place for the last 4 or 5 years many electorates have seen zero benefits.

If the thing hadn't been withdrawn it looks like it would almost have been passed unanimously. All the MPs were supporting it, all the public was in anger. Most saying correctly that there was already existing methods of allocating funds for projects, without the need for an unaccountable slush fund.

Global corruption watchdog Transparency International was the driving force behind getting the bill rejected or withdrawn. Their petitions in the daily newspapers seems to have been a major factor in helping the conscience of Mr Kumbakor, and justifiably the PNG chairman of TI, Mike Manning, is quite a happy chappie at the moment.

On the same day that the slush fund bill was withdrawn, another controversial bill was also withdrawn. This time the member of Lagaip-Porgera, Mr Karpa Yarka, had put forward a bill to amend the Leadership Code. It would have allowed MPs to be exempt from dismissal from the parliament in case they were found guilty of an offence.

More sense. Can it be true that there are MPs in this country who have a conscience, and not just looking to board the good-time gravy train?

Black & White & Read All Over

2005-11-28T09:12:00.000+10:00

The joy of weekend newspapers came flooding back to me over the weekend. It has taken a while but I have finally got around to buying one of those big half-a-tree weekend papers that do make their way up here.

On Saturday I picked up The Sydney Morning Herald and hooked in reading the reviews, the magazine, the (old) news and doing the puzzles. Admittedly the paper was actually last weekends, but only the news was out of date, the rest was great, and of course it cost a pretty price (K18.90) but hey I enjoyed it.

Then yesterday I discovered that my flat-mate had the same idea. But this time he managed to pick up this weekend's Weekend Australian. Noice. More puzzles and stories and reviews to keep us busy for the entire week. And the Australian only cost 13 kina.

Not sure why I didn't do this before and then I remembered that every time I have previously looked at the news stand at the big in town supermarket they have only stocked out of date (by at least two weeks) Queensland Courier Mails (and I am not reading that rubbish). It just seems you have to time it right to get the best paper. ie Sunday morning.

The Shipping News

2005-11-26T12:14:00.000+10:00

Time to crate up my shite. Books, DVDs, clothes, camping equipment, bush knife, letters, cards and two halves of a bloody heavy giant clam shell.

I got a couple of plywood boxes made especially to hold the shells I brought back from Manus. If I loaded them and the rest of the stuff into cardboard boxes, it would fall out the bottom. Unfortunately I told them not to bother with handles. I will now have to get them to stick some on.

The next problem is how to get them back. My next-door neighbour who has just gone pinis, had half a dozen boxes totalling 160 kilos and he told me after ringing around, he eventually had to get them posted back - air mail. Can you imagine being in a post office for three hours with the clerk sticking on 2,000 kina worth of stamps onto your packages. Well this is what he went through.

Fortunately I have access to a car and yesterday I went around town and visited a couple of spots to find out the story with shipping this stuff back. Luckily there is a guy in town who does it, part of a removalist mod, and they measure by volume not weight and send by ship. Exactly what I want.

I think he is used to dealing with large volumes though and not under a cubic metre like I have. I am waiting for a quote.

Up Close and Personal

2005-11-25T14:41:00.000+10:00

I have been checking out Google Earth ... as you do. I am supposed to be busy during my last few weeks of work, and I am, but you know how it is. Besides I blame a mate who mentioned it the other night, when he told me to look at the difference between Port Moresby and Jayapura (at least I now know for certain which is the bigger city on this big island of New Guinea).

Anyway, I am sure there is a good work related reason .. just give me a few minutes. But I thought now that I have been tinkering with it I would say how that it is a great program .. except if you want to get up close and personal in PNG.

Example:

Here is where I used to live in Sydney - right in the middle of the image from an altitude of about 350m.

Lovely spot, near the water close to the centre of the city, with lots of pubs and a massive tollway out the back (see that big square roof on the left, that is where you cough up your $4 something). Anyway notice the resolution. You can see cars parked and a bus clearly visable at the right of the image. That is good resolution.

Now here is where I used to live in London from the same height of 350m. Not as nice a spot in this case, sandwiched as it was between the A4 motorway and the District Line (oncoming tube can be seen in bottom left). But again pretty good resolution, not quite as clear but not bad.

And here we have where I live in PNG from the same height again. I think if you squint you can see something. Perhaps it is blurred on purpose. Sensitive military area or something - Igam barracks is nearby afterall.

Drink. Drive. Drunk. Drove.

2005-11-24T11:06:00.000+10:00

Time to highlight a niche of life I have neglected about PNG - the old drink driving thing (no reason why I have suddenly decided to post about this .. although did go out the other night).

After two years of careful observation I think I can safely make a few conclusions about life without breathalysers. Some people seem to get on fine without them. Others are a true worry.

One in the former category is the driver of my regular ride into town to the yacht club. I have seen him knock back quite a bit and not have any problems getting home. At first, with my upbringing of a "thou shalt not drink and drive" mantra being hammered home through the media, it was a bit of a worry - getting into the car of someone with quite a few beers under the belt, or as many as myself at least, and knowing they will be driving for the next 10 minutes or so to get you back home. But then you grow in confidence, as you discover they seem to have learnt to either not be affected or not let it show.

Then there is the latter category - too legless to walk, certainly should not be driving type. One night driving into town, about 7, we followed a vehicle that veered all over the place - head on into on-coming cars, before swerving abruptly just before impact, slowing down, speeding up, around double lane round-abouts in the wrong lane. If the guy made it home I would be surprised.

The thing with PNG though is this is expected. The drink driving thing I mean. The completely drunk driving is I dare say not, but alas there is no highway patrol which seems to operate at night anyway.

From what I hear it stems all the way from the grassroots (the ones that have access to a vehicle at least) to the top. There is a good story (although probably now a tad embellished) I heard recounted about how a charitable organisation from Australia decided to donate quite a lot of breathalysers to the Port Moresby police back in the 1990s. This was something new for them, and they even got training in how to correctly use them.

So out onto the streets the cops went one night to put into action the new equipment. They set up a road block on one of the main thoroughfares in town and stopped all cars passing through. Anyone over the limit was taken away and locked up. It seemed like a great success and proved just how many people drink and drive.

The problem was half of the people caught were politicians. After they were released a bill was put forward and then passed banning the use of breathalysers.

It seems though there are attempts to bring them back, according to this old article I have found at any rate. Since I have been here I have not heard anything new about it and I could probably safely say it has been forgotten about.

As to whether they should be back is another question. As the article stats the only way to go out at night is with your own vehicle, due to the law and order issue and no night public transport (although in Moresby there are at least cabs that can be caught, although I am not if they operate at night).

On the other side of the argument there are claims that it is just a need for re-education. The designated driver scenario seems to have taken hold down south or at least getting someone to come and pick you up and there shouldn't be any reason why it can't here.

At the moment though, while it can be got away with, "designated driver" is certainly a phrase you won't hear around here.

Mercenary, Mis-Fit or Missionary

2005-11-23T15:35:00.000+10:00

Which one is Corey?

"I'm a junior at Davis College which is located in Johnson City, NY next to Binghamton. I am planning to go to Papua New Guinea full time, Lord willing, after I graduate from College in two years. I am looking foward to see what God is going to do in my heart and life this year. He is AWESOME! HE is my LORD and SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST. I must decrease and He must increase!"

I guess he is in the middle, with bible in hand

There is lots more to check out about Corey's PNG Discovery Trip. He got to see "God work in amazing ways" while here and got possibly challenged by the devil with his post PNG bout of Malaria. Thankfully he survived and is coming back. PNG really needs more missionaries like him.

No sarcasm intended .. or not much anyway.

The Core's A Bit Rotten

2005-11-22T15:58:00.000+10:00

You know it is time to leave when you start to find out more than you want to know. After numerous offers to stay (almost pleadingly sometimes) I am glad the end is nigh. There is one thing I really can't stand and after thinking this place was not as bad as elsewhere it is turning out that in the end it is not.

Wantokism, nepotism or straight out corruption, whatever name used its previous occasional wiffs are now turning into something more fetor like. It has been lingering for a while in various small guises, but now some previously unplumbed depths of rottenness are being uncovered. Like I said before it takes until we have an accountant poring over our books that we dredge it up. Unfortunately now the finger can't be pointed elsewhere.

I am not going to go into details, but lets just say my trust in certain people has now been greatly tarnished. And it certainly makes me feel ashamed. I'll see if my leaving and some exit interviews will be able to make a difference, or at least highlight these issues with people who should know.

It is good though to first shout out here anonymously.

The Season Of The Go-Finish

2005-11-21T09:19:00.000+10:00

The guards are changing, an end of an era, the closing of a chapter ... yada, yada, cliché, etc.

It is all a bit sad though. Lots of people who have been here since I first came are all heading off roughly around the same time. Doing a count I have tallied up eight mates around the country who are leaving for good within a month of each other.

Just here on campus there are three of us. Me and the other two who are departing during this week, including my good mate and next-door neighbour, Martin. I am going to miss popping around to his house, having a tea, or a beer, or a campari and soda and having whinge about Howard or Costello or Abbott, or hearing stories from taim bipo (before independence). Like I said a closing of a chapter is happening. I will make sure I continue the talks at some stage in the future down in Melbourne with him and the fam.

Yesterday we had a send off for another long-termer, who I will stick into the hardcore volunteer category (three years now completed in PNG and nearly four years in Vanuatu before). He is a little different, as even though he is heading off back to the Netherlands, he will most likely be back somewhere in the Pacific, either in PNG or in Samoa. He loves this part of the world too much.

The send off involved a mumu and lots of home brew, which unfortunately was mostly a tad warm (PNG Power gave us an 8 hour blackout). We still drank a fair few litres of it. Quite a lot (although not as bad as the other time 18 litres between four of us, was it?).

My own go-finish is closing in. Only two weeks away now for a big party at my place and then another week at work. The invites were sent out a little while a go and I am guessing with all the work colleagues and the mates left around the place, it should be a fairly big do. One last one at least before the coconut trees fade with the tropical sunset.

Clashed

2005-11-19T16:42:00.000+10:00

Discovered a new drinking hole last night, and unlike everywhere else to drink it is not a night club, a club, a hotel or some rough back street beer house. It is a Bar. A proper one, with bar, bar stools, loose collection of tables and chairs, music and that is it.

Its name is Clashes, and so far the location is being spread by word of mouth. Nil publicity. And it seems to working, attracting a good clientele of well off working locals.

My only question is why this only kicked off now when I am close to finishing up.

I Want One ...

2005-11-18T15:49:00.000+10:00

... and it would be good for PNG too.

If you missed it the $100 laptop made its debut yesterday and personally I think this is one of the best ideas I have ever come across. A rugged portable, cheap, wind-up laptop that can be distributed to the developing world, and it uses Linux to boot (screw you Microsoft).

What a brilliant, brilliant invention. It is so good I want to get one and use it for travelling. It is small to cart around and I can type my emails and blog stories up anywhere and not worry about power converters and adapters - hey it is wind-up - and then transfer it to a USB flash drive and go to an internet cafe and upload.

And of course, after my discussion yesterday with the new German director of IT here at the Uni, his dream of giving a laptop to every student and using wi-fi to connect them campus wide suddenly does not sound like the pipe-dream I was nodding away to at the time.

Time-Line Last Night

2005-11-17T11:54:00.000+10:00

Settled in for a night in front of the box (still got it, left over from the Ashes).

Was ready to cheer and whoop to see Aus beat U-R-Gay (a banner at the stadium had this on it and I laughed myself silly ... simple things ..) and qualify for the world cup.

Dinner was had early. Beer was ready and cold in the fridge.

Watched the hour of pre-game rubbish (there is only so much you can discuss surely).

Saw the size of the crowd and the patriotism and parochialism and wished I was there (it's really a fantastic stadium, isn't it ... at least I can say I was there for the 110,000 crowd to watch Aus get beaten by NZ in 'the greatest rugby game ever', although I needed a telescope and tissues to stop the nose bleeds cause of the altitude up the back of those wing tiers, much better now that they have gone and the roof is all the way around).

Chewed the nails after the kick-off and thought we were rubbish. What was with all those free kicks we were giving away (I am suddenly now an expert football, when did this happen?).

Leapt out of my chair when we scored (a spilt second before I thought Kewell had botched it). Got looks from the flatmate, he was less animated.

Ready to get beer at half-time .. and then black-out.

Hunted around for candles, found the last two, got some light flickering.

Went next-door and complained with the neighbour, he is not as bothered by sport.

Had a campari there, chatted and the power came back on.

The power goes off two minutes later, but only it seems for my neighbour's and my house, everywhere else has lights a blazing.

Wander down and check the power box in pouring rain, all looks good there.

Go back and have another campari and wait.

Ring PNG Power ask them what the story is, they said they will check it out.

Go home and lie down try to listen to the game on the radio. The radio has run out of batteries. Add batteries, along with candles, to the shopping list.

Send text message to mate in town to keep me updated on the score.

Wait, for the power to come back on. Curse PNG Power Ltd (just like I did during the day, after standing in line for 15 minutes to pay my bill, only to be told "the system is down" when I got to the counter).

Get message that it has gone to extra-time and then into a shoot-out.

Discover that we have won the game via text message. Can't believe it.

The power comes on two minutes later! Manage to watch some of the post-match interviews and analysis. Very happy chappie.

Cursing PNG Power has now been tempered by the result.

Connecting The Dots

2005-11-16T09:44:00.000+10:00

Alleged terrorists have been training out near Bourke, New South Wales, at the start of the year.

My new flatmate was out at Bourke at the start of the year for four months. He was also supposed to go on assignment to Afghanistan instead of coming to PNG. And he doesn't like John Howard.

Should I be worried by the mild mannered 50's something former school teacher sharing my house?

Well no, but we are having a good laugh at the recent coincidences. Although the clicking noises on my phone when I have tried to make a call, probably mean others are. I just thought it was the usual problems with Telikom.

(ok, the last bit is made up bullshit)

"Couples For Christ"

2005-11-13T16:43:00.000+10:00

Banner on campus. Fluttering all weekend outside the main uni hall. Unfortunately brought down before I could snap with my camera. Really wanted to photoshop out an S.

Concerted

2005-11-12T12:38:00.000+10:00

A change of pace last night. Instead of just the usual drinking of a Friday night, it was this time peppered with a concert. My first in a long time. Although a PNG concert of course is a different experience to anywhere else you care to name.

The artist in question was long time PNG music legend George Telek, probably PNG's only really internationally known act (although O-Shen perhaps is now known throughout the pacific). The man has toured world music festivals in Australia and is loved throughout PNG and especially in his native Rabaul.

He is probably credited with a lot of the sound that PNG music has now. If you don't know the music scene here is quite impressive. There is prodigious output from the major local label here, CHM, which is then sold through their stores and others around the country. CHM also produce a couple of music video shows which are shown in prime time on EMTV (the only local TV station), and these show the local music acts performing their songs in bad (oh yes they are bad) videos ... (think girls on the beach dancing poorly, cut to long lost boy walking up the beach, back to girls, back to boy who finds girl, he then sings his song to her while cutting back to the dancing girls occur).

Anyway last night me my mate from next door (the only other person interested) got to the Aviat Club early to buy tickets at the door, just in case there was a rush and it was sold out. We then headed off to meet up with friends and dinner before heading back around 10 (the guy on the door when we got the tix said "10 na bout" when questioned what time he would be on).

The place was far from packed, but still had lots of people. We had a few beers sitting outside by the pool, watching and observing all manner of locals in different states of inebriation, some falling over, some throwing up in the pool, others getting half naked on the dance floor. A quick scan showed that we were the only whites in the entire place.

A DJ was busy keeping people on the floor, but as I have observed before the tidal action was happening again, even though in this case the DJ was mixing the songs successfully. There is just something about Papua New Guineans and the transition between songs. When one finishes they have to disembark the dance floor, wait until they hear what it is, decide if they like it and then go up and dance again.

Eventually after a little while an MC came on to introduce the main act, he repeated the words "legend", "eight albums" and "now without further ado", multiple times. From then is when the real differences between concerts I am used to and the PNG variety came into focus.

The most obvious thing was that nobody was crowding the stage. Everyone was hanging back around the edges. It was only when Telek came up with his guitar and started to sing did anybody come up close and that was to dance. The crowd around the stage was so fluid that it enabled me to get up close and snap a picture before returning to hang back and listen on the fringes.

Unfortunately the listening didn't happen as much as I would have liked. I was discovering another area where the concerts I have been to are different from PNG ones. It involved being chased for the entire event by a girl who wouldn't leave me alone. She seemed to take quite a fancy to me ("mi les long PNG man, mi laik white man") and I couldn't shake her. Not that I have objections to being the centre of affection for a pretty young thing, but I had come to see a concert and wasn't particularly interested in giving up my life story to a fawning 16 year old still in year 10 at school. Call me strange, but I would have liked to have heard the legend sing ... and also I am sure there are some laws that could be breached there.

We ended up leaving before the end and before the fights took hold, and drove back in the pouring rain.

Lae's Law

2005-11-11T17:46:00.000+10:00

It takes getting caught in the rain walking home for the thoughts to come flowing. The rain clears the clutter. Things come into vision. And as they say you don't need eyes to see, you need vision.

So here is where the vision led me, my Lae Theory of Weather.

Lae in the Dry season will be dry during the day and wet at night. Lae in the Wet season will be just wet. The Dry and Wet seasons are interchangeable.

Profound I know.

Oh and I think we are somewhere in the dry season.

Cut-Throat or Die

2005-11-10T10:10:00.000+10:00

I hate shaving. Just really loathe it. Some people enjoy it, but not me. Not because of the look or the time it takes, but because well every time after I do it, my skin seems to go on revolt. So when my trusty beard trimmer died the other day, it was either grow a beard or revert back to the blade and let my skin scream.

My beard trimmer and I have been through a lot together. Aside from keeping the ol' stubbly look happening, it has also helped cut my hair while on the road (flashbacks of Moscow September 2002, sitting in a hotel room, towel around the shoulders, the ex with device in hand and a ... well unexpected result). I picked it up for a bit of a bargain in Argos 4 years ago, and has worked faithfully since then, until now.

(Argos if you don't know is a weird shop in the UK. Weird because well you walk into an empty-ish shop, go over to some catalogues on benches against the wall. Grab a pencil and paper. Write down the code for the item you want and then pay for it at the till. The till girl gives you a number and you wait until it is lit up on a big board and then your item comes down a chute from the large warehouse behind the shop front.)

So after the long time together I was disappointed to discover it not doing anything at all the other morning. In true "technician" style I did pull it apart, checking all the different components, but still could not make it work. So this morning unfortunately I had to revert back to the blade lest I start looking a bit too scraggly (which I was).

Sometimes after about six months of stubble I think what the heck and attempt the shave again. The last time just happened to be in a Indonesian barber shop. If you want an unpleasant experience, you would be hard pressed going past this; Next to no shaving cream. A very sharp cut-throat razor blade scrapping across your face and neck. Getting nicked. Feeling the sting when barber continually rubs balm into the nick to stop the blood. And then at the end discovering that he missed patches anyway. Then again what do you expect for 3,000 Rupiah (US 30 cents).

I will save my money next time and spend it on a new beard trimmer.

New Player Flying

2005-11-09T15:08:00.000+10:00

There is a new player on the PNG international flight market and about time I have to say. Air Niugini has had their monopoly for far too long and are keeping the prices extremely high.

The new mob is Airlines PNG. A second level domestic carrier in PNG that are now offering flights from Port Moresby to Cairns starting at the end of this week. It looks at this stage like they are starting small with the idea (my speculation) to build it up into something bigger.

The good news is for all the budget conscious travellers - and who isn't - is that their fares will be K299 (approx Au$125) one way for an inflexible ticket and K459 (approx Au$190) for a flexible fare. The bad news, and as is usually hidden in the small print, is that the taxes will be K359.

They are also, if you are quick off the mark, offering a one off K99 deal for this Friday, one way from POM to CNS and the return on Monday for the same price. Unfortunately the taxes still stick at same rate (if anyone really knows what these taxes cover let me know).

The plane they are going to use is a simple DASH-8, a small twin prop thing which I have flown in once before (Port Moresby to Popondetta for the Kokoda Track), but still it is better than nothing. And they are not that uncomfortable either.

Hopefully I see this leading onto bigger and better things, and more competition in the international market. I think PNG laws state that only a PNG airline can fly internationally, hence why we have only had Air Niugini and their inflated ticket prices.

In The Pigeon Hole

2005-11-07T21:54:00.000+10:00

The last month has proved to be one of the most bountiful - parcel wise. Six in just the last five weeks. How cool is that! I really am not worthy.

Admittedly most of the packages have been birthday related, which even doubles the reason for me to be shamed. I would have to be the laziest gift giver I know. Just ask my sister who not only didn't receive a present this year for her birthday, but did not even receive a phone call. I completely forgot about the whole event. Five days after she rang me in a huff.

There is something brilliant about receiving packages in the mail. Especially when they are from overseas. I am thrilled seeing them in my pigeon hole, looking at the bold PAPUA NEW GUINEA on the front, the customs form stuck on the back (which I try to avoid reading, lest it spoil the surprise) and the different stamps (although this area now is increasingly and sadly being invaded by those awful printed receipt stamps that the post office till spit out. Bring back real stamps I say!).

All the packages have all been great to receive, but I have to say that the last two have been special. The first was a box full of muzak. Eight CDs of stuff I have been denied here - the pirate entertainment shop in town occasionally gets some good stuff, but usually it is the same old bland crap that today's youth listen too; R&B shite and Pop Idol assembly line types. What's wrong with these kids? Gee I am getting old when I start saying that.

Anyway back to the package, even though the music was copied - sshhh don't tell the record labels - all the discs came with colour photocopies of the inserts. Very impressive. When I queried my techie unsavvy sender as to why she just didn't rip them to MP3 and stick them on a single disc, this I was informed is of course too hard - I used to do this sort of thing for her. So instead I get a heavy box of tunes with a hefty postage price. I told you I am lucky.

The other package arrived today. All the way from the UK, and only in a little over a week. The hefty music box took about three, and that was just from Australia - what's going on there? Although perhaps it was delayed while PNG customs could copy the contents (I wouldn't be surprised, though at least it arrived).

Ah, back to the second package. It was from my creatively-minded politically-active English mate and delightfully contained a book I have been wanting to read, The Life of Pi, and a home made designed T-Shirt. The design is of a tree and contains a Ghandi quote which I have not heard before but when I read it, it immediately resonated like a giant tuning fork in my head; "Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's need, but not for every man's greed" (not to mention any names or the fact that maybe man may outgrow the "provides enough" bit, he says while thinking about all the pikininis running around here).

I wore the T-shirt home, feeling good.

Indon Panorama

2005-11-06T16:51:00.000+10:00

Biak accom was so good I am reminiscing about it. The main reason for this yearn is because the room was built on the water. We got to view the sunset every day, turtles being released and a sunken boat that the kids jumped off every afternoon. Bliss.

Click for big versions

Initiation

2005-11-02T13:18:00.000+10:00

The new flatmate scenario is working out alright. He is trying to make heads and tails of how things work here - as you do when you come to a completely different country and you know you have to stay for the next two years. So far he is succeeding pretty well, though perhaps a tad daunted.

And the daunt-ness certainly went up a bit for him last night when we all went down to the yacht club. The beer was flowing readily, more readily than usual as a few free kegs were put on by what I gather was a happy Makybe Diva supporter, and the stories started. Just the usual type to begin with - what people had been up to, the Melbourne Cup, the storm brewing nearby (that later hit) - and then onto the favoured topic of discussion when a new guy is in town, the scare stories.

Part of any new person's entry into PNG is the telling of the scare stories that go around. There are plenty of them and most people have one or two to tell regarding incidents they have been in. Poor old newbie was wide-eyed when we started recounting some of them, even I chipped in with my Highway Survivor tale, which always seems to go down well.

The stakes were upped a tad when one of the local ex-pats, who had joined us, told how he had numerous death threats on him at the moment and that was the reason why he carried around a 9mm automatic pistol with him at all times. With this he proceeded to pull out one of the magazine clips from the weighed down 'bum bag' strapped to his front.

Even I raised my eyes at this. A little bit of discretion is usually applied to when talking about guns. Plenty of people have them, and others usually know, but not many people like to advertise it openly.

From the way it was discussed on the way back it is obviously something that will stick in my flatmates mind. Just like the incident when I first saw a real gun in PNG. That is when you realise that this place really is cowboy country. When people arm themselves all the time. This is not something that I am going to miss about this place at all.

Battle Lost

2005-10-31T13:32:00.000+10:00

I really hate to admit it but I am raising the white flag. The tail is between the legs and I'm running for the safety of the familiar. I am finally surrendering in the battle with Linux and am resorting back to the use of the evil empire software - Micro$oft Windows Server.

The decision to change at this stage is mainly a practical one. I will be leaving soon and there is really no way I could have left the server half working with Linux on it when I don't even have anyone here to hand it over to yet. No one else on campus is clued up about the open-source operating system, so the only real option is to resort back to what I and others here know about already. It is debunking the Uni's new IT director in his efforts to move to an open-source environment, but that's the way it goes at this stage of the game. More training required.

So Bill Gates wins, and even though I do loathe Microsoft (which is a bit of a paradox for me, considering that is what I am technically proficient at - it is now 7 years since I became one of their giamen Certified Systems Engineers) I must say that Mr Gates himself is not such a bad old chap. After all he recently donated some big bucks to the Institute of Medical Research up in Goroka for combating Malaria. A few of my volunteer wantoks work there and I am certainly no fan of Malaria, so I think I feel a bit more of a kinship with him now.

Food For All

2005-10-30T12:28:00.000+10:00

Biak's market selection. Take home spice packs. Eat and go satay. Deep fried whitebait. Dried salted fish.

click the pics for large versions

Bachelor x 2

2005-10-28T09:39:00.000+10:00

Times are changing. Starting from tomorrow my house may not be solely inhabitated by me any more. With the count down now on for my finishing date, I have offered my house to a new volunteer who is flying in tomorrow.

The vol will be working in my department designing and packaging material for distance learning, and seeing as I now only have about 6 weeks left, I figured that he may as well just bunk up with me in my spare room and then take it over when I go.

Not sure how this arrangement will pan out, considering from all accounts he is quite older than me, so my entrenched habits may need refining. Then again, he will just have to put up with me I guess. I said before that I like sharing with other people and this still hasn't change. I suppose I just like to know them beforehand that's all.

He may not accept. He still has the option to stay at the guest house for a while at least. But then again I don't think he will mind. When he was emailing me about the position, he was wondering if he would have to live in dorm style accommodation.

What's Good For The Goose Is ...

2005-10-27T10:27:00.000+10:00

I mentioned last December about how some Aussie government big wigs were in Lae at the time discussing ideas about seasonal work visas (or working holiday visas as I then thought) for Papuan New Guineans.

Well John Howard, who is finally in PNG at the moment for the Pacific Islands Forum (he is staying at the Madang Resort where I stayed earlier this year - I wonder if he gets the 50% discount), yesterday came out and trampled all over the idea.

The problem as I see it though is that the Pacific island states, like PNG, are trying to sell the idea from completely the wrong angle. They are making the argument that Papua New Guineans (or Fijians, Tongans or whoever) could be used for seasonal work only. Australia gives them a short term visa, 6 months perhaps, and they fly down there and pick oranges, apples or whatever. The apparent benefit of this is that PNGns earn some cash and gain experience (although I can't see how picking fruit for 6 months will cover the cost of living and the flights).

What the Pacific states should be arguing is that Australia allows their countries to give their nationals who are under 30 the option to get a visa for one year. They can only get this visa once and they will be allowed to work for up to 3 months with any given employer. With this it will give Pacific islanders the chance to gain experience in a big country, earn money from the experience and take all that experience back home with them.

The claim made by little Johnny yesterday that "Either you invite someone into your country to stay as a permanent resident or citizen or you don't" is complete rubbish, because Australia already has exactly the same type of visas I have spelled out, in place for about 20 different rich countries. They are called Working Holiday Maker visas.

His other worry, which he has not alluded to, is overstayers. Helen Clark was a little less light footed around the issue when she said "We do not want to have a growing number of illegals who come and skip at the end of permits" when asked about the same sort of seasonal worker scenario for New Zealand. If Australia is really worried about that, which of course they are, they can either cap the number of visas allocated, or make it a requirement to have a return ticket.

Sure there will be a few illegals that do turn up, but as statistics have shown, it won't be anywhere as big as the biggest group of illegal nationals in Australia, more than the Iraqis and Afghanis etc, the Brits.

But at least the Brits can show the Australians a thing or too about generosity, because they at least have now extended their working holiday visa scheme to Papua new Guineans, and I don't even think PNG was asking for it. Oh and it is not for one year but two.

Invasion of the Stick Insects

2005-10-25T18:17:00.000+10:00

Over the last month the guava tree out the back of the house has become full of big brown stick insects. A colony of them has established itself there and are obviously enjoying themselves - munching the leaves off and making baby stick insects.

The interesting thing is (if that wasn't good enough) is that with the stick insects being there, we now have ripe guavas on the tree again. My source tells me that stick insects are seen as a bad omen. To walk under a tree full of them will cause you to lose your virility.

Our guava loving day-guard is obviously a believer and would like a few more for the clan.

Survivor: Papua New Guinea

2005-10-21T15:24:00.000+10:00

The post-courier reports today that there is a two man team from the popular American show, Survivor, scouting the coasts of Madang and New Ireland provinces for uninhabited islands to use for a new version of the show.

Good news for PNG, bit of extra exposure in the world. People outside of Australia may actually learn where the place is (although a lot of Australians could do with a touch up as well).

But come on, using another island for the show, is a soft mans Survivor. They have done the island to death. Most of the shows, apart from Survivor: The Outback, have been on islands and it is now a given, you can survive on a bloody island. Coconuts, bananas, etc - easy life.

If they want to make a Survivor: PNG, let the contestants do it hard. Stick them in a patch of the highlands between two warring tribes and see how they go when they come in with their machine guns. Make them catch and kill wild pigs and cuscuses to eat. Get them to plant kau kau and carry bilums full of garden food on their heads up mountains. Let them walk for days to get to the nearest aid post when they get injured.

Now that is trying to survive! ... oh wait, there are over a million people in this country doing that every day, day in and out, already. I guess this has been done to death too.

I'm a Technician, I Am, I Am

2005-10-20T12:32:00.000+10:00

Please Note: The below story is fiction ... for all insurance agents reading this.

You may remember my poor old volunteer mate, whose camera was made baggarup by the flailing phalluses of the Goroka Coffee Ball earlier this year. Well, unfortunately for her, getting it repaired has become one of those all time drawn out sagas.

It has been down to Australia three times. The first two times being brought back being told various stories from the people who looked at it. Now it is down there for the third time at the Pentax authorised repair centre, and it is going to cost her $300 to get it fixed.

Warranty won't cover it as it was dropped (or whacked) so to cover the cost she has told her insurer. She also happened to inform the insurer that it was looked at by a technician here in Lae. Well it was, in sorts ... I looked at it and told her to send it to the Pentax crew. Now the insurer wants a statement from this Lae Technician stating that it needed to go down to Oz.

So it is me to the rescue, anything to dupe those nasty insurance people. I have asked a guy from the university's servicing unit, who owes me a favour, to give me one of their servicing forms. With this I can make up a suitably impressive reason that the camera could not be fixed here. Which should be easy ... "Camera was inspected. Lens fails to retract. Case damaged. Refer to manufacturer. Signed Senior Technician".

Covered

2005-10-19T09:10:00.000+10:00

After a year and half of not needing the thing, a while ago I finally pulled it out of the cupboard and got it setup. The moment was in the middle of the night, waking up to find myself the evening meal for a hoard of mosquitos. So in one of those frantic, stumbling, half-zombie, midnight scenes, I was pulling my bed out from the wall, standing on the bed-head, screwing hooks in the ceiling and erecting my mossie net.

It was around the time of when I put Operation Cheapskate into action. I had just cut a big hole in the flywire, to enact the operation, so this could partially explain why I was suddenly being invaded. Being the lazy bachelor that I am, I still haven't quite got around to stitching up the hole, so the mossie net is still in place.

I quite like it though. It is nice to wake up under. I was worried that it would make it too hot, but it seems to be fine with the ceiling fan going. It does take a bit to get in and out, carefully trying not to rip it on the corners of the bed, but once this is achieved it is not so painful.

This is not like my right knee at the moment, which is quite painful. In some bizarre sleeping act last night, I must have whacked it against something, because now it hurts just to straighten and bend. If anyone knows how you can damage your knee while sleeping, I am all ears.

Meeting The Colonel

2005-10-17T17:53:00.000+10:00

It is not everyday you get to meet a colonel from the clandestine Free Papua Movement (or OPM), then again you don't expect a rotund man wearing a "No Worries" T-shirt and asking whether you want to go scuba-diving with him, to be paramilitary.

But this is exactly what happened when I ventured out for a walk while on Biak. Heading down side street to go and view the fish market I get hailed by "Roy". My initial response from this on the street meeting was to chat back.

Being in Indonesia, the language issue had been quite tiresome, so having a chat with someone with good English felt like a good way to find out a bit more about the place I was currently in - even if I did have to side-step the initial "want to go scuba-diving" question.

A few minutes into the conversation and the topic turns political. I ask him what he thinks about the Free Papua Movement and my surprised response is that he is well and truly amongst it. He then goes on to elucidate an event that I did not know had happened and certainly wasn't written about in the two guidebooks I had photocopied and brought along. The event was the "Bloody Biak" massacre.

Little tells the story well on her blog, but the general gist of it was in July 1998 a group of Papuan nationalists raised their Independence flag at the Biak city water tower and a few days later they were herded up and slaughtered by the Indonesian military (the TNI). All up, according to Roy, 300 people were killed.

Being floored with this little bit unexpected history about the island, which up until then I had thought a genial and overtly friendly place, made me ask the obvious questions to Roy. If he was a colonel, he would have been in the thick of things back then so were any of his friends killed? His response was a lackadaisical "sure some of my good friends were killed and I got shot myself, but survived", with this he points to his shoulder.

I had read bits about the OPM in the guidebooks I had photocopied. But the overall history of the on the ground conflict was a tad slim - especially now looking back in hindsight with it completely missing out on a massacre (although to be fair the Indonesian media certainly wouldn't have reported it and there would have been no other media in the area).

Based on what I read then and since, the OPM started action by force soon after the Dutch moved out of West Papua in '69 and the Indonesians moved in. Numerous skirmishes have occurred through the years between the TNI and the separatists, but of course without backing from anyone the Indonesians have always overwhelmed the nationalists.

The Indonesians have coupled their military muscle with the more silent transmigrasi program. Simply put, give incentives for residents of crowded Java and other areas to move across and establish themselves in Papua. They even went as far as building completely new towns in the jungle - clear felling a kilometre square patch, building houses and schools from the timber and giving the keys to grateful Jakarta slum dwellers. This program has been so successful now that it is virtually impossible for the OPM to claim a sovereign Papua state, due to half the population being non-Papuan.

This may not discourage them though. The last thing Roy told me was action was being planned for Biak, Jayapura and other areas in the next couple of months. It seems modern technology is helping coordination efforts. Roy pulled out his mobile phone and showed me a text message he had recently received detailing new plans (unfortunately I cannot read Indonesian so I can only take his word on this). Where these plans are coming from is another question - a General? But I am sure the TNI would like to know.

Shaking hands and walking away at this point felt like a good thing to do at the time. I thought it was probably wise not to delve too deep on the subject, less I find out too much. Now though looking back I wish I had tried to unearth more, there are more stories to be told here I am sure. Ones that need a wider audience - any audience.

By The Sea ...

2005-10-15T16:51:00.000+10:00

Three lives, three activities, same sea. Scaling, Canoe, Stingray.

The Baton Passes

2005-10-13T09:22:00.000+10:00

The 2006 Melbourne Commonwealth Games relay baton went through the campus yesterday morning. Of course I didn't see it. In fact in a great piece of public relations no one bothered to inform us that it was going to be happening here. A route map was in the newspaper two days before and that was it.

So when I was brushing my teeth ready to head to the office and the helicopter starting buzzing the place outside, I of course had no idea what was going on. So it seemed did the rest of the place. Quite a few disgruntled emails have flowed around the academic staff because of this.

People were being told stories left right and centre by others who also had no idea what was going on. A common theme was that it was Princess Anne, on her way back to the airport and the chopper was for terrorist surveillance. Anne did come to PNG, but last week and only for 36 hours in Port Moresby.

I am not that disappointed about missing seeing the thing - although I did try to catch up to the procession to get a photo for the blog, but the trouble with a relay is that they run - but I am disappointed for the rest of the campus who missed out. I am sure with the right amount of PR and information distribution to the campus population, there would have been a huge turn out to line the streets. Like one of the academic staff said, we always seem to know about the next gospel crusade that is coming through, but not about the Commonwealth Games Relay baton.

The Postie-Bike Diary

2005-10-12T13:38:00.000+10:00

Kota Biak, Indonesia
Saturday 1st of October 2005

9am

Getting a motorbike sounded like a good idea. Public transport was attempted the day before and although it seems to be quite efficient on the routes it went, it didn't go everywhere. Besides getting off at a particular place to see something and then getting another ride to go further would be a nightmare. And in the end it is certainly not the same as having your own wheels.

For the negotiation in getting one it was by chance a local cool dude - I know this because he came and released a sea turtle, which he bought at the market, that morning outside my room - and tourist friend was met next to the Ojeks (motorbike taxis) stand. We told him what we wanted to do - hire a bike for the day - and he helped us work out the price.

Two minutes later, and the upfront payment of 50,000 Rupiah (5 US dollars) made, me and my brave travel partner mounted "Jazz" the Honda Motorbike and wobbled off. Brave, because the last time I rode a motorbike, it was around the family farm whereupon I hit a rock in the overgrown paddock and got thrown. I was certain the confidence should have returned in the intervening years. None of this was of course mentioned.

10am

A few drops of rain stung my face and this gradually turned into many and shelter was needed before the deluge would soak us. A little kiosk roof proved ideal while we waited, and it gave me the opportunity to stock up on those cheap style Chuppa-Chups - never leave home without them.

The ride to this point involved a few laps of deserted street blocks to reconnect the hardwired bike riding skills stored in deep freeze memory to the limbs which would control the thing. Once out on open road and away from traffic it was a breeze and a very pleasant one at that. Queue Born to be Wild.

11am

We got away from the kiosk eventually. A wet bum was had for a while, until the wind dried us out. We cruised on through a few villages, wishing I had some mean looking sunglasses to go with the Born to be Wild fantasy. After a while of small narrow remarkably well surfaced roads, we hit upon a huge double lane road in the middle of nowhere. This led into an equally impressive roundabout with monster Asmat style carving stuck in the middle. From there it just got weirder.

One of the branching roads passes underneath a giant Asian style entranceway with Selamat Datung and Welcome in solid wording above. The roadside is devoid of houses and is just covered in the usual lush tropical growth, yet there are street signs naming the streets. There is only one direction I want to take so we head through the grand entrance and away up a hill.

More street signs are passed until a grand gateway is abruptly reached. Hotel Biak Beach announces itself on the impressive sign next to abandoned security huts. Felled light towers block the gateway, so the bike is parked, the key taken from the ignition and we dismount to investigate.

The eerie factor notches up many degrees as we walk silently up to the monstrous buildings. Our own silence matches the buildings which although look grand from afar are ruined and decaying up close. This was once an impressive resort that had suddenly and disastrously collapsed upon itself somehow.

The once opulent entrance to the foyer is now covered in slime. Tiles of worth ripped from the floor and pools of stagnant water lay in their place. Grand columns covered with stylised designs now connect to a roof shedding its tiles, letting light and rain stream in. Bars and lounges are empty and decaying. Grand staircases lead down to water filled pits. Impressive fountains that have not worked for years show their brass tarnished spouts. Above all a haunting silence fills the place.

Spooky was an understatement and I didn't want to venture too far lest Jazz would somehow disappear. Anything was a possibility in this haunted hotel and it was starting to become too creepy. A man with a wheelbarrow silently wheeled it across the entranceway, no doubt from the latest round of looting. We followed after him to the little motorbike and went on our way.

Down the hill we went and it was not until here, viewing the structure from this angle, did we truly realised the scale of the place. There must have been over 400 rooms to the resort and now it stood vacant, empty and ominous like a painted Mayan temple.

*

12pm

A storm brewed again so we attempted to outrun it by heading west. This worked and we passed through Biak city again before deciding that we should journey off to another corner of this magnificent island. The guidebook mentioned a place where a river met the ocean and a waterfall nearby. Consulting out small map and stopping at a kiosk for refreshment and directions I was confident that we could make it there.

1pm

An hour of riding and we realised that we must have missed a turn off. Not only were we not near the coast like we should have been but we were nearly out fuel. Breaking down would have been diaster central. The phrase book was consulted and we stopped to find out where we were and where to get fuel at the house of a surprised family.

It turns out that instead of heading west, we were in fact heading north. Luckily there was a minor township ahead where we could get some fuel and as luck would have it a beach that we remembered being told about by our hotel manager. All may not be so disastrous.

At a road side kiosk, fuel was purchased in clear glass bottles. Helpful children did the honours of topping up the tank once it was worked out how to access it. An elderly man was keen to help and gave us some green coconuts to drink. Even though they seemed to be gifts for us as it was incredibly hot during the noon equatorial sun, we gave him a couple of thousand rupiah anyway.

From there we headed off towards the mentioned beach. A swim would be ideal as the sun was starting to take its toll. Passer-by's continually waved and we stopped to ask a few of them on the whereabouts of the beach. They keep telling us to go on and on, seemingly forever.

Finally we struck pay dirt. The beach was more perfect than we could have imagined in our wildest dreams. A golden arc of sand stretching with turquoise water lapping against it. Green lush vegetation and trees framed it on either headland, created a small perfectly bell shaped harbour.

Our bike was dismounted and we almost raced to see the view. The beach was deserted apart from a few figures sitting and talking underneath some trees. We had the entire salt water to ourselves and it was not long before we were plunging in. Reef, stone, rock, slime and weed free, it was best beach I had come across in my time in the tropics. Its only lacking was of waves of decent size. Paddling and swimming around would have to suffice.

2pm

Heading south along the same route that we had came along, we raced to return to Biak city at the arranged time of 3pm. We had not wanted to leave the beach but eventually we had to. Before we could escape we were met by a local man with his Foreign Tourist Guest Book. We signed our names, next to the mainly Dutch who get this far - certainly no Australians - made a "donation" and left.

The journey back seemed to take longer than the one north. We were starting to cut it close to getting Jazz back in time. On the outskirts of the city we didn?t even stop when the rain pelted down. So when we pulled up to the Ojek stand and dismounted we were saturated. Our little friendly bike owner raced over to meet us and we thanked him. His day had no doubt would have been a hard one spent gossiping and playing chess with his fellow Ojek riders. He would be keen to have us back tomorrow.

* photo by little

Travelling with the Astute Traveller

2005-10-11T09:23:00.000+10:00

These events are purely fictional ... I assure you.

Try to catch a bus back to town on same route taken to get to current location. Stand on the side of the road you think heads back to town. Get picked up by bus. Give destination as Jayapura. Get nod and "Jayapura, Jayapura, ya" from driver. Gaze out the window trying to remember seeing these scenes on incoming journey. Struggle to remember. Bus gets to certain point, turns around and heads back. Driver smiles and says "Jayapura, Jayapura, ya".

Have a beer at a café. Watch the sunset. Get a tray delivered with tea pots and deep fried banana fritters. Waitress says something in Bahasa Indonesian. Look at the tray and tea for a while. Enjoy beer. Look back at tray. Assume the waitress has delivered the wrong thing. Take back tray. Get told that it is a traditional gift in Indonesia. Bring back to table and enjoy banana fritters.

Go to a Warung (small street restaurant). Look at wall mounted menu. Decide on middle priced dish. Decipher that it is rice with something. Order one using newly learnt Bahasa numbers. Woman runs out to the kitchen without asking what travel partner wants. Woman comes back and asks question and makes cupping motion with hands. By powers of deduction assume this means "do I want a bowl". Answer back "ya". Woman runs off again. Comes back with plastic bag full of food for takeaway. Assume "of course this is what I wanted look". Pay and leave. Eat discovered rice and chicken at hotel.

Stand around watching the sunset at café. Get delivered two beers by helpful waiter. Hear a statement in Indonesian from the waiter. Assume he is introducing himself. Issue hand to be shaken and say "my name is ...". Get puzzled look and hand shake back. Waiter leaves and returns with table and chairs.

Go to a Warung. Order a Nasi Goreng. Finish it and go to pay. Ask how much to woman owner. Get rapid indecipherable reply is Bahasa. Look at notes in wallet. Have small notes up to 18,000 rupiah. Hope it is around this much. Hand over 10,000. Woman hands stays. Hand over 5,000. Hand stays. Hand over 1,000. Hand still there. Repeat with two more one thousands. Hand hovers still. Give her a 50,000. Get small notes shoved back and 30,000 rupiah change from cash draw. Walk away trying to look cool.

Go to Papua New Guinean beachside village. Feel confident on how it works. Decide to go and look at the nearby beach. Wander down with big camera on shoulder. Gaze out and then left and right. See women sitting on beach. They see me. They hastily stand pullling up their shorts or skirts and scuttle into the undergrowth. Quietly slip away. Discover later beach is women's only.

Sit in airport terminal. Start conversation with nearby man. See that he has unusual circular patterns on the back of his neck. Assume they are some sort of tribal or traditional scarring or tattooing. Ask what they mean. Get reply and shown circular scabs on arms that did not notice before. Discover it is some sort of skin disease. Try to find another place to sit.

Operation Cross Border Foray: Complete

2005-10-09T21:12:00.000+10:00

Back home after the best two week holiday I have ever had. Came back with hundreds of photos and thousands of memories. The latter I will try to transform into some words later and post up on the blog, but the former I will indulge, as is my usual habit after being away awhile, and share a select few.

So here you go.

Saw a sight not seen for a while. Those Twister things are too skinny.

These big-arse fish were pulled up at the fish market just as I was aimlessly wandering around it (again).

Got to visit perfect beaches where no foreigners go - or not many at least, and I saw the foriegn tourist guest book ... slim indeed.

Made creative use of a bathroom washing scoop and ice to chill the important amber fluid.

Back over the border proved to be easy. PNG immigration seemed non-plussed though to see us again. Mr Customs/Immigration asked me what was in my backpack - really tempted to say drugs, guns and porn, but left it at clothes and sleeping bag. [Selamat Jalan = Goodbye].

Discovered what happens to a pawpaw when you leave it on a kitchen bench in the tropics for two weeks. Mask needed for removal.

And finally at the end of it all discover that I am going to be an uncle for the first time in the new year. Yay .. very cool.

Feet Are Still Up

2005-10-03T09:52:00.000+10:00

Feet are up, watching the sunset, beer in hand. The usual way to end the day. Life's too tough here.

Don't wanna leave. Stretching it out further and further. Having way too much fun. Plenty of tales to regale later.

Was supposed to fly out of Biak today. Instead cancelled and am now on a waiting list for tomorrow's flight. Would have left on Wednesday, but alas no flight. Could still leave on Thursday, but it is cutting it fine to make our PNG flight on Friday. Shall see how we go.

Just discovered about Bali on Saturday night. Life is completely normal here, and insanely friendly. "Hello Mister" is the catch-cry.

2005-09-29T17:39:00.000+10:00

Crossed over border Tuesday [stop] Having fantasic time [stop] Stayed in Jayapura two nights [stop] Little Asia in New Guinea [stop] Traffic, traffic, cars, bikes and smog [stop] Dogdy hovel hotel with rats first night [stop] Second night upgrade to suite [stop] Got barber shave with cutthroat [stop] Neck in one piece still [stop] Cheap feeds of Nasi Goreng from street [stop] Won't starve [stop] Left town [stop] Now in tropical island paradise of Biak [stop] One degree south of Equator [stop] Accomodation costs Au$12 a night [stop] Room overhangs ocean [stop] Perfect [stop] Bintang beer galore [stop] Snorkel and beach tomorrow [stop] Life's good [stop]

Go West Young Man

2005-09-23T11:26:00.000+10:00

It has been mentioned, but now it is nigh. I am escaping the country at last, and making a border run for Indonesia.

On Sunday I will be heading to Goroka, meeting my accomplice, and then on Monday fly down to Vanimo town this side of the border. A little bit of diplomatic wrangling in getting a visa will ensue and then over the border we shall go.

So all this going to plan, this time next week I will have added a new country to the list - it is somewhere in the 30's at the moment - and I will celebrating another birthday in new country, something that I have managed to stretch back to 2000 (Luxemburg in 2000, UK in 01, China 02, Australia 03, PNG 04 and Indonesia 05). Next year being my 30th, I should, and probably will, have it back in Oz again - I try to avoid over hype about turning another year older but hey any excuse for a big party I figure.

Anyway before I get too far into the future I should contemplate making it there and back safely. I will be sure to check the bags before venturing in either direction across the international barrier. There have been enough news items about Australians in Indonesian jails without adding myself to the list. Besides by the time I got on the evening news, the majority of Australians would be inclined not to give a shit, probably because I am a) not female and b) not a model or beauty student. The incident would be left on those ticket-tape scrolls along the bottom of the screen: "... Another Australian arrested in Indonesia, maybe drugs, who knows? ... Sport: ..".

Before that improbable event, I will be watching the AFL grand final on Saturday at the Lae International hotel. I am actually taking more notice of AFL this year (most likely because the Swans are going well) than I have in the past and I have noticed that it is quite a good game, especially when you get those close finishes. It is certainly for me beating the inanity of Rugby League. Who gives a toss about the Eels and the Cowboys ??? Even when Newcastle won a few years ago, it was like yeah cool whatever.

Although some knowledge of Rugby League has been beneficial in living in PNG. Everyone seems to follow a team in the competition and the grand final is a big watched event here. So I use it to break the ice when meeting new people. When I have been giving speeches at schools that we go to promote my department, I tell everyone I grew up near Newcastle and Andrew Johns is a wantok (a slight stretch of the truth, but hey, depends on your definition of wantok). This always goes down extremely well.

Certainly the State of Origin is a huge event here as I have mentioned before and admittedly this is probably the only time I do actually enjoy watching Rugby League at the moment. I have a real team I can barrack for in NSW. This was reinforced for me a few years ago when I was working in Brisbane at the time of the games and overhearing comments in the office like "there are only two things I hate, a New South Welshman and a such and such... ". The speaker sounded like Pauline Hansen, so I didn't blame her too much.

Anyway enough digressing. Signing out of here for a little while. Tune in later with new tales from another land ... different, yet similar.

Computers, oh Computers

2005-09-22T21:16:00.000+10:00

Computers; They're great aren't they? All the amazing things you can do. Keep in touch with loved ones. Make new friends on the internet. Write all you want. Show your photos. Oh they are just so Amazing. Great and amazing. Super. Amazing and Super. Just .. well great .... ... .. .. UNTIL THEY DON'T PHARKING WORK!.

OK .. hmm calm down. They're not that bad. I am writing this away on one now. Luckily it is a Mac and not the Linux beast I have unleashed upon myself at work.

Go Open Source they all say. It is the future. Linux can handle everything. Yeah up until you start pulling your hair out trying to get the thing to work with windows. I usually blame Microsoft - who doesn't - but now I am wishing I had installed it on this machine (well I couldn't actually because I don't a copy of the version I want).

Anyway I have been doing battle all week. There is a thing in Linux called Samba. Evil Samba I says. In a nutshell it is supposed to be able to allow you to connect a Windows machine to a Linux machine so you can put your files on there - and vice-versa. Well so they say.

I have never been one to follow manuals - name an IT person who does. Software is supposed to be designed intuitively so you don't need to use them and can work things out for yourself. Unfortunately when the bunch of geeks around the world were puting together Samba, they left their geek hats on and thought everyone else would get what they meant.

OK so other users have noted this problem - the problem being that you have to manually change text files to configure it (oh this is Linux in a nutshell by the way) - so they went out and started to develop about 10 different tools to allow you to configure it. None of them seem to help any.

So you switch to the last resort. The manual. The same geeks write these lovely 3 easy step documents on how to set it all up. You follow it the first time configuring it for the way you would like to work. It doesn't work. You scratch your head.

Then you lessen your configuration a notch and try to make it a tad more simpler. Throw away excess access accounts and the like, taking a level of complexity out of it. This is designed to do two things. One, as I said, make it easier and two to check that the thing actually works. It doesn't.

Then you throw all the settings out the window and you go for the open slaver approach. Set it so every man and his dog should be able to connect. Wide open like a PNG manhole. And the result de nada. Bang head against table.

Of course then if you're like me, you continue to try it from about twenty different approaches, every angle counted, tiny little things tweaked that you thought initially "oh that, nah that wouldn't make any difference" but you change it anyway and it still bloody doesn't work! Start thumping the screen and take a valium.

So I have three options left. Take it down to the lowest level - rebuild the machine. Get some extra help from an expert. Or use something else for us to store our files for our department - like my workstation is doing at the moment.

The first one is out. I have already got too much other stuff working and configured on it. Oh Linux is good .. when it works. MySQL is magic and so is the DHCP and Routering. But sori tru Samba you just don't cut it.

I think I will call help, surely there must be something simple I am missing. It just can all wait a little while. Holidays again next week. More on that later.

The End Is Nigh ...

2005-09-20T11:44:00.000+10:00

... for the rainy season.

I can tell. My solar hot water system is actually heating water again. During the middle months of the year it seems to go into hibernation - like the sun - and I get nothing but cold showers. This morning it was hot.

As to why it is hot again I think it may have something to do with the angle that the sun strikes it at. The middle of the year, being summer in the northern hemisphere, the sun is at a slightly lower angle. In theory it should strike the solar heater at an optimum perpendicular angle as the panel is on the northern facing roof. For some reason it just does not work, even when the rare full days of sun occur. But when the sun comes more overhead and strikes it an acute angle the thing suddenly starts to work again.

Mi no save but am happy now that the things is giving me hot showers again. Ironically, of course, the time of year when you actually do want hot showers, when the weather is foul, is the time that you get no hot water out of a solar heater.

Oh, there is one of those buttons you can press to boost the solar heater. The problem with that is that it doesn't turn itself off. You have to switch it off at the mains power board. I forget to do this and get the big power bill.

Independent Face Of PNG

2005-09-19T22:00:00.000+10:00

Some more photos from Friday's celebrations, as I can't think of anything else to post up at the moment. So here is a proud Simbu and Papuan New Guinean mama.

I was really taken by this woman as she basically just lunged at the camera to have her photo taken .. like most Papuan New Guineans. Gee it is a hard place to be a photographer.

Independence

2005-09-16T21:12:00.000+10:00

Well today is the Papua New Guinea Independence Day. I spent the 30th anniversary at home, venturing outdoors in the morning to discover what was happening. I found a vibrant atmosphere with the colours of the country being worn, painted and flying. The patriotism was impressive.

I will tell the story with pictures.

The flags of the nation

New Ireland man

Proud students

Kavieng laplaps

Pikinini bilong Finschafen

Cool Simbu mama knows how to hit a kundu ... with a thong

Patriotism taken to the next level

The whiteies with the drums and trumpets were a hit

Ode to the Pothole

2005-09-14T15:36:00.000+10:00

Low and supine you are spread,
Growing on rain and tread.
In streets and roads you stay,
Oh, pothole, cancer of Lae.

Trucks and cars continue to swerve,
The drivers try to hold their nerve.
They struggle to wonder why,
"No gat moni", the government cry.

Big or small, shallow or deep,
No size or limits you will keep.
Rocks and mud temporally fight,
Your all too common sight.

Inside, outside, near or far,
All but one, loathe where you are.
The one love you all around,
Luckily we can now, "Run them down".

Fraud-star

2005-09-14T08:57:00.000+10:00

New accountant in the department. Only takes him a few weeks to uncover the depth of fraud cases that our students have been pulling over our eyes.

We knew that we had a few cases of students deceiving us with their fees. But now we are discovering the really juicy ones.

The usual scenario is due to our system of registration. The students have to deposit the fees directly into our bank account at BSP and then come and give the deposit slip butt to us. Somewhere between the bank and our desk, out comes the magic biro and an extra 0 or two is added to their original deposit. For example, some of the courses costs 170 kina, the kid puts in 17 and gives it a touch up.

Fortunately this will be easily fixed. We make our own deposit slips to give to the students which have four carbon copy sheets and where they have to write in words the amount they are depositing. The bank takes one sheet, the student one, us one and one for the university admin books. This is something we should have done a long time ago.

The really clever fraud or at least the really ballsy one we have unearthed involved the described situation above but up'd a little. Student deposits 6 kina. Changes it to 660 kina (the cost of a couple of courses added together). Then he registers. Then he withdraws two weeks later (we give them a four week period where they can get out). We (and here is where we really screwed up) get a cheque organised for 620 kina, taking 40 kina for admin costs. Sneaky.

Getting a department accountant has been a good idea.

Clarification

2005-09-13T16:56:00.000+10:00

This is to clarify that this blog, 'Papua New Guinea Life' (hereafter known as 'the blog'), is solely devoted to all things connected to life in PNG as seen through the author's eyes.

No further mention of Cricket will be embellished on the blog.

signed,

JCD

¡Ándale, Ándale, Arriba, Arriba!

2005-09-12T10:41:00.000+10:00

Tacos. Fajitas. Ponchos. Sombreos. Senors. Senoritas. Cerveza. Tequila. Just another Saturday night in Lae. The things you do as an ex-pat.

The Lae Hash Harriers annual drink fest - and these guys know their drinking. It was open to all gringos from México, and plenty turned up.

I attempted - like most - to rock up as the Man with No Name. It was a good attempt which could have been made better with a hat, a cheroot and a Colt 45. All things that I no doubt could have found in this town if I knew where to look.

After feasting on the nachos. Being given shots of tequila (I have discovered that I am finally over the 10 years of loathing this stuff - the taste, let alone the smell, does not make me gag any more) and filling up on cerveza, there was a Speedy González phase thrown in. Which most probably really came out and arriba'd along at the night club latter.

And finally around three or four the siesta stage came along.

You don't get big nights often in this place. You have to make the most of them when they do. All good fun - apart from the recovery yesterday.

Bigger Than Ben Hur

2005-09-09T10:58:00.000+10:00

PNG is marking its 30th anniversary next Friday. You would be hard pressed not to avoid it if you looked at any of the local media. Everywhere you turn this thing is becoming bigger than Ben Hur.

Radio DJ's are constantly letting us know .. in case we forgot. TV ads are repeatedly shown, some with footage from the original 1975 Independence celebrations and others with footage of the small pool of national sporting heroes. The newspapers are not to be outdone either with regular updates on what and where is happening.

There will be the usual major festivals happening with a little bit extra thrown in. The Goroka show of course and the Hiri Moale in Moresby will sing-sing away. Lae is having its own extravaganza, in town and even the uni is having a float parade and great debate, amongst other things.

To top it off the Governor-General has only now (yesterday) announced that not only next Friday the 16th will be a public holiday but the 15th will be as well. A four day weekend. Any excuse I guess. Although thinking back to 1988 and the bicentennial celebrations in Australia, I can't remember there being an extra day off, and that was for 200 years.

I would have liked to have seen the original Independence celebrations here, because I am sure they would have been spectacular. From talking to my neighbour who was in Moresby at the time he said that there was a real nationwide pride and jubilation that crackled in the air.

Similar style pride and jubilation is obviously trying to be recreated 30 years later, but you sense that things are a little bit different. There have already been reports that certain high profile people have said that there is no reason to celebrate. They argue that in 30 years the country has gone backwards, not forwards (it is hard to argue against that ... but they will be at the Uni Great Debate .. should be interesting, though one-sided).

Whatever the overall sense of the occasion, and it should be big, my plans are this year to take in the activities in Lae. Last year I got to see the Goroka show, which was superb, this year I will see what there is to offer here.

Life in a Warm House

2005-09-08T20:34:00.000+10:00

A change is as good as a holiday and I have had that over the last week. The change being a couple of flat mates.

It has been a while since I have had someone to share a house with for any length of time. Quite a few years in fact. And now since I have been reacquainted with what it is like, I realise that I don't mind it at all.

You get to cook for more than one person. Someone else cooks for you. The big current events are discussed (Hurricane anyone). Meaningless events are discussed. And you get to drink more cups of tea than you usually would. Not bad at all.

My co-conspirators and house warmers have been Jim and Jean of Tenkile fame. They have been in town doing their shopping. Shopping for rabbits, chooks and other protein for the obviously hungry folk of Lumi, Sandaun province. They have also stocked up on all manner of new gadgets that I have been playing with (Walking Talkies are just as fun as when I was 9) and had a mountain of cargo to ship back with them via Airlink.

While they were here they got to again experience all that Lae has to offer ... umm, drinking, drinking and hmmm, more drinking. This ex-pat life can get to you after a while. Pity that they have left today though. Not so much that they are missing the drinks tomorrow night, but they are now missing the cricket.

and pity that we lost the toss ... again. I hate watching us bowl! especially when we are being hammered.

Let's All Be Autonomous

2005-09-07T15:34:00.000+10:00

Every time I seem to open one of the daily newspapers here (which is not that often) I stumble across another article about another provincial government wanting to be Autonomous. It seems to be the fashion that has started since Bougainville had their successful elections in June and wrestled a substantial amount of control of their destiny back from Port Moresby.

Leading the charge from the other provinces has been my own province of Morobe and its - for want of a better word - 'charismatic' leader, Luther Wenge. I am pretty sure Wenge is never happy unless his mug appears in the paper somewhere, and he does a good job of continually getting in there with various court cases or telling the PM to resign, now he is hitting new headlines saying Morobe should become Autonomous.

He wasn't the first either. It seems that all the island provinces have joined the band wagon and don't want to be left out if it turns into an autonomous free-for-all. East New Britain has said as much, West New Britain has been saying in kind and Manus doesn't want to be left out either. Call me a cynic but it seems to me that everyone wants a piece of a bigger politician pie.

And now along with the autonomous runaway train there is the current cry for a new breakaway province in the Southern Highlands, called Hela. Looks like there are plenty of people not so happy with the current situation.

OK a couple of things I am thinking, firstly all the provinces can't become autonomous, can they? Or can they? How would this work, would it be like a federation? And how does this differ from what is in existence at the moment? It also seems to me that what this country needs is a less complex structure of government not a more complex one. There has to be one of the highest politician to per-capita ratio here in the world. Creating autonomous provinces, or even new provinces, will not go about decreasing this.

My idea is why don't they reduce the number of provinces by amalgamating them together into states and then form a federation with them. The island provinces, without Bougainville, will obviously become a state. Mamose (Morobe, Madang and the Sepik provinces) join together. The highland provinces form and then the former Papua provinces form together.

Four new states together with Bougainville, ruled by independent autonomous governments and overseen by a national federal government. This is the current working solution for a lot of governments around the world and it will put the politician to population level here at a realistic level. Could this work?

"Run Them Down"

2005-09-06T12:54:00.000+10:00

This country just keeps getting better and better. It is now officially OK to flatten raskols on the road.

"If you see anyone standing in the middle of the road with a gun and who is not a policeman, run them down,"

So says the Lae Police Chief on the front page of the Post Courier.

Situation: Normal

On The (Long Distance) Buses

2005-09-06T12:42:00.000+10:00

Getting about the town has been discussed, but what about getting around the country? It can be an adventure for the uninitiated and a stress inducing dilemma. But if you are the adventurous tourist and want to save the moolah in PNG you need to travel by road, not air.

Thanks to the caring and sharing kind of guy that I am, and the fact I have learnt a few things while being here, I thought I would pass on some of my wisdom in the realm of inter-town connections. So here they are in a straight shooting, no nonsense, sans muck around, layman?s terms wrap on getting up and down the highway - relatively stress free.

Step 1 - Timing
OK first up is one of the hardest parts of the whole experience, actually knowing when to turn up at the bus stop. If you don't like sitting around all day at a dusty/muddy bus stop, being stared at, then you need to get there at the right time. Best thing to do is to ask what the right time would be to any local mates you know. Ask only one person and go with their advice. Asking more than one will get you a different answer which of course will confuse you.

The time to get there will depend on a few factors, day of the week and whether it is coming up to a public holiday or not. Mid-week and there could be fewer buses and less travellers, on a Friday or Saturday and it may be a few buses and lots of travellers.

Usually the buses will try and fill up before 8 and head off. The quicker they fill up the better in their eyes. You will often here the 'bus crew' yelling "las tupela" (two seats left) to make it more attractive for the punter and so they can get going.

There are also afternoon buses on the Goroka to Lae, vice-versa, run, if you like your sleep in. They will approximately leave around the 2pm mark. Get there at 1 for these.

Step 2 - Selection
The most important step in my opinion is the bus selection. Sometimes this is not an option and you just have to take what's going, but if there is more than one bus to choose from this is what you want to look for.

Pick a bus that is three-quarters full. You will still get a decent seat and you will spend less time trapped inside before it takes off.

Once your decision is made and you climb aboard pick a seat close to the door - if you can - otherwise you will be climbing out over people to stretch the legs at stops. The seats are close together so stretching at stops is good.

The type is also an important consideration. There are pros and cons for either the larger 25 seater Toyota Coaster buses or the smaller 15 seater Hi-Ace mini-vans. The 25 seaters can take forever to fill, but some people say they are safer. The Hi-Ace takes less time but are more cramped and can be suspect. My tip is always go for the newest looking bus. On some runs you are stuck with only a certain type so just, obviously, take that.

Step 3 - Relax
Once on the bus just get into the flow and relax. The endless round and round and forever haggling and organising that the bus crew will do will probably be the most annoying thing of the whole trip. Even when the bus is full, it can take another hour before you are on the road proper. There are bags to collect at houses. Fuel to get. Wantoks who need to be informed ... it goes on.

Then when you are on the road, don't fret when the bus caroms at hundred miles an hour down the hills and around the bends. The driver has done it before (or hope he has at least) and it is best just to look out the window or talk to your new friend sitting next to you.

Equally don't worry about getting held up by raskols. It happens but not as frequently as to deter people to stop travelling by bus along the highway. I always take the opinion, if the locals are doing it, then it can't be all bad. But better to be safe than sorry. Hide most of your cash under the sole of your shoe with enough to pay your fare and some giamen money for the raskols.

Step 4 - Arrival
Usually you will have to defend for yourself once you reach where you want to go. Sometimes they will take a select route and you can be dropped off on the way. For instance coming into Lae, they will go to Eriku then town and then off to the final destination of the Market.

If a bus gets into town after dark it will do the nice thing of drop you off at your final destination. For the Hagen to Lae or the afternoon Goroka to Lae or vice-versa this is what will always happen.

Citizenship Decided

2005-09-03T17:31:00.000+10:00

A few weeks ago a major debate here was finally, it seems, put to rest. Surprisingly considering the editorials and letters it provoked before this ruling the precedent seems to have gone rather unnoticed.

It involves the citizenship of Papuans born between 1948 and 1975. There was an argument that Papuans were in fact still Australian citizens because Papua at that time was a territory of Australia (as opposed to New Guinea which was a trusteeship). The High Court of Australia seems to have finally put to bed the argument in a precedent case.

Amos Bode Ame argued in Australia's highest court that he had remained an Australian citizen after his native country became independent and had never become a PNG citizen because he did not take steps to renounce his Australian citizenship.

He was born in 1967 in the Southern Highlands province of Papua, which with New Guinea was administered by Australia.

The history behind this is something I find interesting. When the Brits and the Germans were imposing themselves on various parts of the country in the late 19th century the Germans took the north and the Brits grabbed the south. Finally they agreed to a border between their two colonies and drew a line between them on the map. That line went straight through the highlands ane down to the coast south of where Lae is now.

Little did they know that their line actually passed through the most densely populated part of the country. By the stroke of one line 500,000 unknowing people became either German protected or British protected. This little line later caused a few political issues once the highlands opened up. It was easy to have a simple north and south areas for colonial administrative purposes, not easy once their north and south got hazy in the highlands.

Plans, Plans, Plans

2005-09-01T15:22:00.000+10:00

I love making plans. Especially travel plans (who doesn't). Was talking about going through Bougainville into the Solomons a little while ago. I have now changed my mind. Still want to spend my birthday this year in a new country, shall just do it to the west now.

I asked my mate if I could borrow some Indonesian guides I knew he had. Luckily he is a top bloke (this is the same guy who after all is lending me a TV - champ) and he came through with a bundle. The key one I think will be the phrase book - mi no save tok Bahasa.

At this stage two weeks is being booked starting at the end of September and I will be flying to Vanimo on this side of the border. Shall get an Indon visa from the Consulate and catch a bus to the border. Walk across, get on the back of a motorbike or whatever and head to Jayapura. Spend a few days there, soaking up the complete cultural change and then fly up to the Baliem Valley to look at the difference between PNG Highlands and Papua Highlands ('tis a tad confusing this naming - we have Papua New Guinea an independent country and we have the province of Papua on one half of the island of New Guinea in Indonesia).

Depending on time, I might look at where else I can get to while there. From all accounts flights over there are as cheap as chips especially when compared to the sky high costs you get here (K1400 rtn, Lae to Vanimo). Apparantly they even have proper service, with cute little hostesses. It also looks like I might have company for the trip, another volunteer wants to come, so that should make it even better.

Apart from this immediate upcoming travel, have been looking at what I will be doing at the end of the year once my contract finishes and I have made some rather big changes there. Won't disclose just at this point though.

Travel plans for next year is still going ahead. I want to spend the better part of it going around South East Asia and Asia in general. Hong Kong and southern China are first on the cards in March or April and then followed by Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Thailand. My sister and her man are looking at coming along for a chunk of time which should be brilliant.

After they leave me I am thinking I will continue on and see a bit more of China. In particular I am getting excited about seeing if I can get on the Qingzang Railway which should be open up mid next year. A train ride into or out of Tibet would be a huge highlight for me! I know the poor old Tibetans will be more exploited because of this rail line, but being one of the first to travel on the highest rail track in the world would not be a chance I want to miss out on.

Island of Banished Shorts

2005-09-01T15:15:00.000+10:00

Following up from the Academic drivel the other day, in the paper today is the annoucement that all women in Bougainville are forbidden to where shorts or trousers. The decree has come from various Chiefs who obviously still have some sway there (and no sense).

Their reasoning is along the same lines as my uni colleague, shorts and trousers promote violence against women. Nice to know they're thinking about their safety, but paaaalease, get real old men.

Skirts seem to be alright, though I wonder though how high they can go. And as was pointed out by 'The Drum' column, what would the chiefs say if the meris went back to wearing their traditional clothing - grass skirts, bare tops.

Islandbaby has a good insight into the thoughts of a modern woman in PNG and tackled this little topic on Monday - check it out as it is a good read.

Kokoda In 24 Hours - Easy

2005-08-30T13:05:00.000+10:00

Mentioned last week about the Kokoda 24 hour race, well good news for PNG is that they now have regained the record. Three Papuan New Guinean's broke the 24 hour mark, with the best being done by John Hunt Hiviki in 22 hours, one minute and 14 seconds. This is what I call fit!

Check out the story here.

Laslo

2005-08-29T22:43:00.000+10:00

While in Goroka (up and back without issue in the end) found this rhyming verse in the P.J. McCarthy Museum.

Salamaua

A pub surrounded by a small stretch of land,
A couple of houses built on the sand,
Recruiters and miners who in rather tough tunes
Converse with their lazy, black ignorant coons.
Noisy, great air planes, some boats near the shore,
And two brilliant blonde beauties at the Carpenter's store.
In one single street you walk up and down
And find the D.O. at the end of the town.
The people, like elsewhere, have their joy and their pain,
yet the dust of Rabaul is replaced by the rain:
The store of B.P.s has its own private pier
And two bob and sixpence is a bottle of beer.
Between gins and whiskies odd stories are told,
Your hair may be silver, but your dreams are of gold.
Behind the hotel there are no golf-links,
Just a room for the folks who had too many drinks.
At night, noon and morning you're shouting a beer,
O Mexican poet, what doeth thou here?

Pablo Laslo 1933.

Not politically correct, in fact far from it (guess it was the age), but it was published in the Rabaul Times - which I am sure wouldn't have been particularly hard in those days. It piqued my interest because of the location and the author's name. Laslo was a visiting Mexican/Hungarian traveller who just so happens to go by the same name to another Hungarian traveller who was recently passing through these parts. I do know Laslo is fairly common Hungarian name, but I like the connection anyway.

Wet Path?

2005-08-26T11:29:00.000+10:00

All this rain could cause me a few headaches (or adventure whichever way you look at it) this afternoon, as I am planning on catching a minivan bus to Goroka. Current word is that the road is bagarup just outside of town (in other words flooded from all the rain), so my little afternoon trip could turn into a bit of a drama.

I have a hunch and a feeling that Lae is only copping the big wet, and once out and onto the open valley it will be, as usual, fairly dry.

Heading in to the market in half an hour to find out which way my path will head.

And in case you're wondering what beckons in Goroka ... well I plan to gate crash the AVI in-country meeting (AVI's supposedly only get to go to one of these freebie bashes in their two year placement, and I had mine last year).

----------

*update* 6pm

Not there yet. Road was cut just outside of town and not cleared until late afternoon. Thinking about still heading up tomorrow morning and coming back Monday.

Here is a pic from about 1 o'clock of the usual stream, between uni and town, being most un-stream like. Normally this could be crossed at knee height. Goes to show how much rain we have had.

Rainy Season - A Pictorial

2005-08-25T18:16:00.000+10:00

Snapped on the way home tonight on my street and behind the house. What 24 hours of rain here means; weather for ducks and kids.

the start of the street

the street - somewhere under that water

still managed to soak my shoes

in the ditch

one way to cross it - get in it

Academic Drivel

2005-08-25T16:25:00.000+10:00

Here is a letter in today's Post Courier from an academic of my university.

PNG academia still has some ways to go.

Don't dress up fancy
AIDS is a major threat to all those who are sexually active. We hear and see from the media about the safety measures to be taken against AIDS.
Use of condom is the safe way to prevent against AIDS. Of course, this is not true because it is like removing upper parts of an unwanted plant in a garden without having to uproot it. The plant will grow again in few weeks time. In the same way, so many condoms are involved in sex but never effectively prevent the transmission of the virus.
Sex is a reproductive process which occurs in every living organism at certain times. In animals, the female is on heat for only three days waiting for a male counter part in order to reproduce. Birds and frogs make sounds to attract male counterparts when ovaries are ready to be fertilised. The similar phenomenon is true for humans. That is to say the females leave some private part of their bodies exposed in their dressing.
When male counterparts see it their eyes receive the message and send it to the brain. The brain receives it, converts it and then sends another message to the male reproductive organs to act accordingly. Thus, produce hormones that stimulates the whole body which leads to unsafe sex, rapes and so on just to satisfy the desire.
Those women neglect their duties as woman and relate themselves as a sex object. I am a biologist and I have a lot more to say on this, but please National AIDS Council, instead of promoting condoms do something about fancy dressing.

No idea what fancy dress he is talking about. Meri blouse without a lap lap? I have never seen a PNGn wearing anything remotely revealing, even in the nightclubs. Makes me wonder what would this guy say if he went to Bondi mid summer??

Take away the anthropologists and bring in the psychologists.

Ples Long Lainim Ol Save

2005-08-24T16:45:00.000+10:00

How good is Wikipedia! In case informing us about everything from the Hairy ball theorem to Paris Hilton was not enough, it is now doing it in Tok Pisin too.

The language needs some help to kick it along, so if you know your tok ples from your tok pisin, I think you should get on there and create and edit some of the pages (there are only 121 so far .. compared to 700,000 English ones). Besides it is amusing reading about things like the Pope in pidgin ... "Pop i bikpela bos bilong ol Katolik".

Sapos yu no save tok pisin (and my written is pretty bad), have a go on the English version. I personally love it and use it to find all sorts of relevant and irrelevant facts and create some interesting ones as well ... how good is this page about the best town in the world (no prizes for guessing why).

Kokoda Calling

2005-08-24T14:44:00.000+10:00

Got a call today from Emanuel, our guide for the Kokoda Track. Not entirely unexpected considering we kept on talking about doing the Black Cat track together sometime around September.

I am still keen and willing - even bought the topographical maps for the area - but I am now running out of available time. The best time to do it is before October/November when the rains will start, unfortunately September seems to booked with other activities that I want to do, and I only have a certain amount of holidays left that can go around.

Emmanuel did have another thing to discuss and that was something we briefly talked about on the track. He is keen, like a few people I have talked to, to get himself a website. He considers himself a qualified guide (and I would agree) and wants others to come and use his service. The only thing is letting others know about him, hence the website. I have told him about things like domain names and web space, I think though it may have gone over his head, but he did understand the on going cost involved for it.

He is still keen though so I am getting him to give me a write up about himself and what he can offer and then that can be looked at converted into a site. In the meantime if anyone wants to privately walk the Kokoda, let me know and I will put you in touch with him. Highly recommended.

For the long term readers of this blog you may remember me harking on about setting up another website for the Morobe Bike Club a while ago, well this seems to have fallen through the floor after my buddy (and former workmate) in the club got the sack. I hardly see him anymore, which is a shame as he also wanted to hike the Black Cat with me.

And speaking of Kokoda, this weekend is the inaugural Super 24 Hour Kokoda Challenge (I can't find a dedicated website for this to link to), for the seriously fit and insane who actually would be brave (stupid) enough to do this. Last year a Queensland madman with the name of Brian Freeman managed to run the track in a record time of 24 hours and 59 minutes. This year the Papuan New Guineans want to take back the record.

After struggling over the thing in seven and half days, and that being one of the most physically demanding things I have ever done, kudos to anyone who can actually run the whole way, let alone in 24 hours. In case it needs to be spelled out, there is a reason why this is a serious challenge. It's not because of the length - 96km is a fair distance, but only twice as long as a marathon, and they get done in less than three hours regularly enough - it's because of the terrain and climate. Mountains, roots, slippery rocks, rivers, creeks, heat, humidity. Respect.

Unfortunately Emanuel also had some sad news to tell me. After completing the track we went and visited his wife and five month old baby son at the Port Moresby General Hospital (what a dreary and squalid place if I have ever seen one. I don't like hospitals at the best of times, especially now after seeing this decrepit place). His son had a heart condition. Poor tyke. The only thing he did when we saw him was cry. Now it seems that he hasn't made it through and passed away sometime later. Who knows if this could have been preventable.

Workcover. What?

2005-08-22T20:27:00.000+10:00

Construction site - PNG style. Bare feet, thongs. Exposed reo. Occasional hardhat. Workcover in Australia would have an absolute fit.

This is the new multi-purpose centre building for IT and others. One of 4 new buildings going up at the moment. It is a EU funded project that - like most things here - has taken about 10 years to get off the ground.

This project is good from a development wise aspect, because just about all of the levels of involvment are local enterprises. Unlike some other Aid agencies that like to award contracts to companies owned by their nationals.

The only thing I am not sure about is if the EU would feel duty bound in case a construction worker happen to skewer himself on an exposed piece of reo bar. Probably not.

Want My Job?

2005-08-22T17:57:00.000+10:00

... then it is yours.

Campus Life: Part 3 - The Main Gate

2005-08-18T17:02:00.000+10:00

Slowing unravelling like that old jumper grandma gave you, the blurred edges of my PNG university are coming into focus. The coffee shop became clear in Part One, the library was dissected in Part Two and now Part Three revels the hidden truth behind that essential element of any campus.

The Main Gate

Spike topped gates, barrels, speed humps, boom gates, signs telling you "slow down" and then "stop here", guards in brown jumpsuits or navy and sky blue uniforms, barbed wire - is this the Berlin Wall or a university?

Entering or exiting the campus can feel like Berlin circa 1970. Checkpoint Charlie revived. At night, after a few drinks in town, my poro with the car will turn off his headlights and switch on the interior light, the guards will peer at us, slowly wander over and open the high metal gate, you drive in and then the boom gate slowly rises and a "PASS THROU!" is yelled - shades of cold war shenanigans.

During the day the process is no less complex, especially if you happen to be in a university vehicle. A complicated procedure involving pass out forms with signatures, mileage, destination, ETAs and the like, needs to be handed over to security at which point a peering inspection will take place before the obligatory "Pass through" and horizontal directing arm are given.

Non uni vehicles don't get away easily either. Power hungry guards love nothing better to have a go at anyone they don't recognise. Friends visiting have complained about over zealous tactics on numerous occasions. Boom gate stays level. Tap, tap on the window. Explanation required. Serious studying. What is this, Fort Knox?

Getting in on foot can be just as difficult. Returning from town on the bus, doesn't cause me many issues - white skin and recognition helps me here - but locals can be in for concerted interrogation if provoked. Students without ID cards are kicked away, which doesn't help out departmental students when starting, they are external and need to enter to be able to get a card.

Sometimes though there is a just cause for all their carry-on. Riots at the gate are not such an unusual occurrence. Just last week there was a commotion caused by students drinking over the road and stirring up trouble with locals who chased them back to the main gate. The students managed to get in but the pissed off locals got locked out. A few rocks and heated words were hurled over the divide.

It is obvious that the guards take their job with as much importance as they deem it worthy. They have their benefits like no other of the guards on campus have. There is of course the little hut complete with the essential kettle. They get to play with boom gate raising and lowering. There are strict rules to enforce. Protocol to adhere to. People to scrutinise. Cars to inspect. Sayings to yell. Directions to give. Batons to twirl - it really is guard heaven.

Benefits for the users though seem a little on the sparse side. A bank of broken telephones in huts is nearby and this seems to be about it. Though of course the facility does give you one very important ability - it allows you to get out of here.

Wet, Wet, Wet

2005-08-18T10:17:00.000+10:00

Still in the wet season. After a few relatively dry weeks, the rain is back on in earnest. I usually take a shortcut to the office and cross this ditch and go through some backyards, but when it rains I would need to be Carl Lewis to cross it. The water lying there is over a metre deep.

With the rain is the cold - relatively speaking of course. Usually blankets are not needed in this tropical clime, but at the moment I have been snuggling up under one and remembering that cold nights are not so bad. Certainly beats sweating all night anyway.

Goin' 60

2005-08-17T15:17:00.000+10:00

Flat out at the moment. Been crawling around underneath the building, laying conduit, running network cable, drilling holes, crimping connectors, getting dirty, having fun. I like doing this sort of stuff because it means at least I am not in front of a CRT.

The reason for the new run around of networking infrastructure, is because we have yet another new extension. We just keep on getting bigger. I was talking earlier this year about my new office which I moved into, well I am now moving back to the cupboard, but the cupboard has one wall knocked out and three metres and two massive windows installed. Nice.

Then there is the changeover to our network and always associated issues that arise to keep me busy. I am really happy this has now changed, it gives my department its own destiny in part and means that we are now fully independent and not a sub-branch off anyone else.

And aside from that there is the server to set-up. This goes hand in hand with the network to make us leap into the 21st century. The only problem I am having is battling with Redhat Linux 9 on it. Not fully compatible and has a few teething problems (either that or I have no idea what I am doing with it, probably the latter). If anyone does have a copy of Redhat Enterprise 3 or 4 I would like to know about. It is Linux so it should be free after all.

p.s. the title is a reference to a saying here. Givim 60 or mi go 60 means you are going fast. It relates to the old days where cars were in miles per hour and 60mph was rip roaring.

VP Day

2005-08-15T17:54:00.000+10:00

Courage, Sacrifice, Endurance and Mateship. The four pillars of the Isurava monument, on the Kokoda Track. On the track I could only imagine the first two, experienced some of the last two, and overall came away with a profound appreciation for all four.

Over the last few years my admiration for these testaments has been steadily growing - mostly due to my travels. Seeing a dawn break at ANZAC cove on the 25th of April, walking through the many headstones of fallen from both great wars in France and now here in Lae and retracing their muddy steps on the Kokoda, you can't help but appreciate what was done.

Looking at the ages on the headstones bring it into focus. Most of them died younger than I am now. And for what? Their country?

I could not conceive how I would react if it was me who was called up and sent off to a completely alien environment - winter in Europe, deserts in Northern Africa, jungles of New Guinea - and then told to fight the enemy, and ohh by the way you will probably be killed or your mates will be anyway.

No doubt I would have been like everyone else and viewed it as an adventure. Luckily I have got to see what the reality would have been. A futile waste of life and tormentor of survivor minds for decades to come. I really hope everyone else comes to that conclusion and those days are well and truly past and lessons learnt.

One of the four - a positive and lasting outcome

2005 AFL International Cup

2005-08-12T15:57:00.000+10:00

The PNG Mosquitos are into the final of the AFL International Cup and are ready to draw blood from the NZ Falcons.

In a hard fought deserved win they beat Ireland 5.4.34 to 3.7.25 in the semi-final in a replay of the only other International AFL comp final in 2002. Their reward is a finals berth tomorrow at the MCG before the big Collingwood v Carlton game.

Well done boys, don't get too cold and beat the kiwis.

Book Me Dano

2005-08-12T11:12:00.000+10:00

I have been hit up with questions about books and me. So even though they are not really much to do with PNG Life, I will have an attempt at answering anyway. I could stretch the thin line and say that seeing as they are one of the only major forms of entertainment that I have had for the last year and a half, it sort of fits with this blogs theme. So here ya go anyway ...

Total Books Owned:
Owned ... hmm a tricky one to start with. Are books ever really owned? They just come into your possession and will leave it at some point, to be passed on to family members or friends (being philosophical you could of course take this thought further and say nothing you have is really yours, which of course is one way to look at the world and not such a bad one I think). Some books I do keep though and would be upset to part with - there is my high school library copy of The Lord of the Rings (again, should this really be mine), which even though it is missing some of the prologue I would be pissed if I lost it, I even brought it up here, though have yet to re-read.

Total number of books ever owned or currently owned? No idea for the former, for the latter somewhere between 100 and 200.

Last Book I Bought:
I bought? Racking my brain. Ummm ... there was the 50toea copy of Animal Farm that I picked up at a second hand clothes store. I guess that counts.

Last Book(s) I Read:
Currently reading To Kill a Mockingbird. Before that was the Harry Potter latest which my sister pleasantly surprised me by pre-ordering on Amazon and it turning up in my pigeon hole unexpected (I like the HP novels, they are good escapist fantasy and remind me of books I will mention later). Before HP was The Rotters Club by Jonathon Coe and before that was the Animal Farm second hander.

Books I Like To Read:
I like to read Travel books, something in the vein of Theroux. I admire someone who can make a living out of writing about places he/she has been to. Pick me, I want to have that job.

As to books I would like to read well there would be War and Peace on the list. I view this one as a challenge not unlike trekking Kokoda, but with a lot less sweating. I got halfway through part 1 last year before putting it down and not bothering to return to it. Once you stop it is easy to get confused with who is who again - too many different princes and counts who go by other names. The library has a copy which I will return to before I leave. Aside from that there is the other Russian classic recently acquired, The Gulag Archipelago. And other than that, people around me are talking about the Life of Pi, I will borrow that at some stage.

Then there are also more classics that I feel I should read, not necessarily would like to read. In this category goes Patrick White's Voss which I waded through last year. I read it because I felt that with him being the only Australian to win the Nobel Lit prize, I should at least make an attempt to see why. After reading I can see why, a brilliantly crafted book, which takes brilliance to fully appreciate. I will have to have a crack at some of his others later.

Books That Mean A Lot To Me:
Mean a lot? OK I am going to skip over the books I have read in adulthood because I really am hard pressed to think of any that bring back treasured memories. Instead I will get back to where it all starts - the formative years.

The first book I remember that really hit home was The Magic Faraway Tree. It was read to me and my classmates in Kindergarten in bits and pieces over a number of weeks or months, I can't remember exactly now, but I remember it kept me absolutely enthralled. Which was not unlike the other book(s) that struck a chord at that age, the Narnia series. The Lewis tales were the first major books I remember reading by myself, and what good ones to start with. Magical Narnia filled with Azlan and the rest - I should read them again. I think Harry Potter is no doubt having the same effect on kids today as Narnia had on me when I was a young whipper-snapper.

After the Lion, the Witch and et al, I was enraptured by The Hobbit, ensnared by The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and then enchanted by, of course, The Lord of the Rings, which I polished off three times before I was 14. During high school a couple of books made impressions, firstly we were made to read Of Mice and Men and that really struck a chord. Besides that I read off my own bat what has turned out to be one of my favourite novels, Catch-22. Ahhh the beautiful irony, such a brilliant book.

OK so enough book talk and personal insights, it is time to pass the baton onto Larissa, Islandbaby and Nicole.

Brief Notes From The Field

2005-08-10T20:48:00.000+10:00

Globalization hits Madang ... then again maybe not. I can guarantee that this store would not be open till 11 o'clock let alone 24 hours, like its namesake.

Colleague taking the wheel while I control the music. Much better selection this time ... although ABBA seems to have turned into a mainstay on Madang runs.

Beat up copies of books I have been meaning to read for a while were ~~flogged~~ borrowed from my accommodation. I will return ... umm, with the other one I borrowed last year and have, umm, yet returned.

Oout and Aboout

2005-08-08T16:59:00.000+10:00

Off to Madang tomorrow for a quick visit. So quick in fact that I am not particularly looking forward to it, which is unusual for me considering the destination. But alas spending 5 hours locked up in a vehicle to get there, just 24 hours in town and another 5 hours to get back is not high on my list of great things to do.

There may be an adventure or two thrown in - buggered up bridge, land slides, the usual - but just as likely is that it will be a boring as all buggery trip. I am going with a colleague and am hoping her taste in music is better than the other work mates I have travelled with, because the iPod will be going as well.

Apart from that, I am thanking my lucky stars that I have got a TV at the moment. How good was the Ashes last night? One of the best finishes I have seen in a long time. I was chewing the fingers, the legs were nervously tap tap tapping, the blood pressure up and all because I was watching a bloody cricket game. Anyway I'm in a sense glad we lost because it means it will make the rest of the series more interesting. Of course it also means we have to pull our finger out and play better. Come on guys!

Need a box?

2005-08-08T10:18:00.000+10:00

A common sight driving along the Highlands highway is the "For Sale: Coffin" sign, usually near a pine box sample leaning against a tree.

Of course it is not only the highlands that need these products and while cruising around Port Moresby last month utilising my friends car and with my wantoks in the back, my mate, GP, was excited to see some examples of these signs and had to get a photo. This involved a timed coordinated exercise of a wound down window, pulling off the road, the quick snap and zooming off before the nearby settlement dwellers decided to investigate us.

Unfortunately there was no sample nearby to complete the picture.

Divine Scam

2005-08-05T16:30:00.000+10:00

Got to love what some people will do to scam others in this country. If they're not trying to whisk it away on the street they will be posting advertisements in the national newspapers.

During this week there have been ads from an organisation called 'Fruit Farm Labour' who have been placing ads proclaiming "Fruit pickers wanted in Queensland. If you would like to register for work on fruit farms in Far North Queensland, please fill in the form below and post back by 15th August". Unfortunately it makes no mention of how the applicant will get a visa to be able to work.

According to an article yesterday the Australian High Commission has been scrutinising it. They warn people that it is most likely a scam, with the next phase the applicant expected to pay an application fee.

What takes the cake though for me in the scamming department has to be the full two page colour poster sized lift out in today's Post-Courier. On one side of the poster it has a picture of a waterfall with some geezer standing in front of it. It proclaims in lovely typeface "The Magnificent Yaoufo Water Fall".

Next to the waterfall it also has a picture of Jesus and text underneath with an arrow to the waterfall saying "A visible image of Christ looking out from the Water fall". I have squinted at the waterfall and I can say that it looks, yep, like foamy white water falling, in a shape of, umm, a waterfall.

The ad goes on to tell everyone that they are bottling the water, with the pictures to prove it is being bottled, and that they are a genuine organisation called 'Health Reform' who were "established and incorporated in 2005 by the founder and principal reformer Mr Amos Yali". They have even got a certificate to prove how trustworthy they are. A close inspection of the certificate confirms that Health Reform took part in the 10th National Health Expo, something I am sure anyone would be able to join as long you paid your money.

The jist of the whole ad as told on the other side of the poster is that they are bottling the water and selling it as a "proclaimation [sic] of a divine cure through Yaoufo water as divine remedy". I guess that means by drinking the water you will be fixed up real good.

Mr Yali is big faced and staring at you with digitized bottle in hand and telling us underneath that "The water is anointed and has the power to fully revitalize and strengthen the body's immune system to stand against all forms of disease".

My only question is, why can't this country pass laws to prevent this kind of rubbish making it to the newspapers?

Do I look like I am scamming you?

Teleconcerns

2005-08-04T17:11:00.000+10:00

It has been worrying reading about the issues with Telikom and its employees lately. The national Telco has recently been having industrial relations problems with its workers as they have been in and out on strike for wage increases and various other political reasons. The problem now is that some rouge elements are also sabotaging the telecommunications infrastructure.

While there is nothing new with the problems with the telecommunications in this country - it was bad enough before when the raskols would rip up the copper wire to hock off or disgruntled land owners would flog solar panels from mountain top repeater stations - but now it is just getting out of hand.

Someone earlier this week cut one of the main fibre optic backbones and brought down the mobile phone network for over a day. And on the front page of the Post-Courier today there are photos showing the wanton vandalism. The finger is being pointed at either disgruntled staff or "politically inspired criminal activity".

My concerns for the telecommunications in this country were already in gloom mode. It is part of the reason why my project here will never be entirely fruitful. I have to look at other methods to circumvent Telikom, mainly satellite technology. But now my views are positively grim, especially for the development of PNG as a whole.

Telecommunications and development are pretty closely linked. Look at any of the recent countries to make great leaps in development - Malaysia, South Korea the other new Asian tigers - and telecoms has played a big part. Unfortunately for PNG in this respect it seems things will never look entirely up.

I have been asked a few times why PNG can't have things like broadband internet and other hi-tech facilities as part of its telecommunications. The reasoning is pretty simple; you need to run fibre optic cables between the cities to act as carrier backbones for this to take effect.

Running fibre optic cables around the country is a fairly major exercise so cost will always be an issue. Then there is the terrain that the cables will need to run over. They can't even get a road through so cables will always be hard pressed. And finally there is the land ownership issue. Anywhere cables are run, they will be passing through customary land, and if the owners are not happy with their level of compensation, a spade through the cable would be an easy way to get noticed.

I will be moving on from PNG at the end of the year, but unfortunately these problems won't be for a long time.

2005-08-03T21:24:00.000+10:00

At a rate I would only expect in PNG, I received my first bank statement today .. 18 months after I opened the account. Admitedly it did contain the last 6 months worth of transactions, but what has happened to the other 12 months?

I've Found God ...

2005-08-02T14:55:00.000+10:00

... on the TV.

Yes, Operation Cheapskate was successful. I have managed to get a TV installed in my house for zero cost. Pity though that SBS is not working. I hope they fix it before Thursdays start of the second test or I will be mightily pissed.

Anyway I was flicking through the fourteen channels last night and realised something I should have known before - of course it is something I already knew - most of the channels are crap. Why anyone would pay for the service is beyond me. There is the absolute shite made-for-tv movies on Hallmark, the pass-me-a-bucket news from Fox ("We Report, You Believe"), the bad Bollywood that I can't understand on the Indian channel and worse still are the two Christian channels. Two channels devoted to God out of the 14. That's a ratio you won't find in many places.

So as I was flicking through the selection and constantly skipping over the two, something caught my eye on one particular pass and made me stop. On the 'Hope Channel', there was a guy standing on a stage having a preach - not unusual - but behind him on a overhead projector were the words 'Harry Potter, Wicca and Witchcraft'. Whooa, slow down on the flicking thumb, this looks interesting I think. I love it when something innocent like a popular kids books raises the hackles on a bunch of American Christians.

The blokes arguments were the same as before, the books are bringing children in contact with the occult and they will be more likely to experiment with Wicca and Witchcraft. Give me a break! Kids, unlike what stupid adults think, know the difference between fantasy and reality. I doubt that any kids that read Harry Potter have actually ever heard the term Wicca. You may get a kid break his arm after jumping off the fence with a broomstick, but that will be about that.

What worries me more is the fact these evangelists focus on things like Harry Potter, and they miss completely the fact that by the time a child is 10 they will have watched something like a 1000 killings on TV. And yet they fail to miss the connection when teenagers take assault rifles into schools.

Perhaps if they would just bother to read the books they will realise that one of the main messages behind HP, as clichéd as it is, is love conquers over evil. A message I would have thought these Christians would be jumping up and down to spread.

Anyway later on I was flicking again, I had decided by this stage that the other Christian channel EWTV, was well and truly skipping territory. It is the catholic one and instead of the preacher in the slick suit, they deal with wizened old monks giving a talk to bore the crap out of you. Passing over the Hope Channel I decided to have another look at it. The same guy was still there but he had moved on from denouncing kids books and was really getting into realms of controversy.

The topic this time was the Papacy and the Anti-Christ. It seems old Martin Luther kick-started something (among other things) by interpreting a prophecy in the Bible about horns rising out of a lake, or something, and linking that back to Rome and therefore the Papacy being the Anti-Christ. This is more like it, I was thinking. A controversial slag off of another denomination and calling them the anti-Christ to boot.

The slick suit kept explaining that it is a long held Protestant view, that really spread like wildfire in the 19th century. I had never heard of it, but then again we are talking religion here. I flicked back to the Catholic channel just to see if they were hitting back at these allegations. They weren't, so instead my attention was turned to some good old occultist fun on HBO - Bewitched.

Modern Medicine

2005-08-01T16:26:00.000+10:00

Trekking Kokoda has taken its strain on poor old me. I got malaria from the exercise - or at least somewhere along the track I got bitten by a malarial mosquito that later developed into the full blown symptoms. I also seemed to have lost weight, which to anyone who knows me, knows is not really ideal - you could say that I am the sort of person who is far from overweight. And I also seemed to twinged my lower back in the wrong way, no doubt from carrying the 15 kilo pack.

The thing needs a good old straighten out. Bending over to touch toes only gets me so far before a twinge, and I can feel the vertebrae out of alignment if I run my fingers up my spine. It is still perfectly usable, just not 100%.

I know what I would do if I was anywhere else other than PNG. I would find the best chiropractor around and check myself into their clinic. I know people like to poo-poo chiropractors these days and frown on their methods, but after visiting a Russian chiropractor in London who spent 90% of the visit working on the surrounding muscles than the click-clacking I have been converted.

Seeing as I don't have the luxury to be picky here, I asked the next best person I knew who I thought I would be able to trust. It was over dinner on Saturday night when I had the chance to have a chat to a volunteer physiotherapist friend who gets all the local cases for bad backs. I thought if anybody would know how to straightening my back out he would know.

Unfortunately his response has failed to enthuse me with much faith in modern medicine. It seems, according to him, that if I am anything short of failing to use my legs, I shouldn't worry about it. Haven't got any pain or numbness, then everything is ok with the spine - no pinched nerves.

So this it seems is what they are teaching physiotherapists these days. From my point of view, surely they should take more than a 'if it aint broke, don't fix it' approach? I mean I don't wait until a computer dies before I fix it. If I can prevent a crash, I will do it beforehand.

I wish I had my Russian healer close by.

AVI Shakeup

2005-07-29T15:53:00.000+10:00

Got an e-mail from my volunteer agency the other day. They are rejoicing that their contract with the Australian government (specifically with AusAID) has been reinstated. They have been at close to panic stations for the last two years - funnily enough coinciding with my association with them - and have done a lot of shaking up of their previous 'sewing circle clique' life.

Most of that shake up has meant trimming the fat, which was quite a lot. Some may say - me - that they may have gone a tad over board with their retrenchments, closing state offices, sackings and trying to make others walk. The AVI PNG program had when I was first offered this position, in October 2003, 6 people working on it. Now it has dwindled to 2.

It seems things might become a bit more realistic now that the ones left remaining have secure jobs. They are now looking at installing an in-country manager for most of their main countries of operation. This will be a significant shift in a policy that was always based on jet-lag travel from Melbourne HQ.

PNG is targeted to get an in-country manager to be based in Madang, between Jan and June 2006. Coincidently I finish my contract December 2005. I have briefly thought perhaps I could go for the position - get to live in the best town, get to travel all over the country and hang out with volunteers. Sounds good fun. But then I thought, two years is enough time in the one country, it will be time to stretch the legs and wander about again.

Besides I don't think I would fit in with the AVI crowd, I don't have breasts.

Technical Toolheads

2005-07-28T12:53:00.000+10:00

Warning: Another rant .. and about technical stuff to boot

There was no better time yesterday than to use the statement "if you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself"! After weeks of watching dithering dickheads try to go about what they are surprisingly paid for, it was time to step in. I don't like stepping in on other people's territory, but honestly these guys are useless and it was causing major issues for our department.

The personnel (not to mention names) I am talking about are in another department. A department that we are unfortunately linked to IT wise. We have to go through this department (not for much longer hopefully) to be linked to the rest of uni's network. And over three weeks ago, while I was on holiday, their Router died. This caused them and us to drop off the network. No Internet, no e-mail etc. Like most places we have become reliant on these services.

So in a process akin to watching paint dry, the responsible personnel in this said department went about trying to restore this said router. In most cases a router is a specialised piece of equipment, something like a Cisco router usually springs to mind, but in this case it is just a hunk of junk ancient computer with two network cards in it.

In a perfect example of thinking inside the square, the techie guys there work on trying to get this hunk of junk back up and running. They require some equipment. So they order it. The order has to come from Australia, this soaks up the first few weeks.

Meanwhile I arrive back from my holiday and discover what is going on. I discover that there are two options for my department to get back on the network. Firstly wait for the router to work at the other department .. or .. we can buy fibre optic equipment that will enable us to bypass the others and have our own link. The second option is what we should have anyway so while waiting for them I purchase and we wait for our own equipment.

I decide to have a little bit more faith in the other department. Our bit of equipment is still on the way but theirs had arrived mid last week. So for the last week while we twiddle our thumbs and wait, they have been in the slow and drawn out 'think inside the square' process.

The main guy takes two days off, last Friday and this Monday. The second guy is no better at getting the PC to work. They dilly-dally and dilly-dally to the point where I keep barging in and making suggestions on how to resurrect the machine. It falls on deaf ears.

Finally frustration maximisation is reached. After a week of watching them painfully wrestle with their hunk of junk, I pull together bits of computer I have under my desk and build a new computer with two network cards, and configure it to do the Routing all in about 30 minutes.

I walk over with the newly built PC under the arm and drop it onto the bench. "This" I say "will be here, until my own equipment for our own link is operational, after that you can go back to getting your own machine to work". And with that we plug it in and get back up and operational.

And so I am now merrily surfing the net and posting back onto to my blog. It only took 3½ weeks!

In hindsight I really should have just built my machine a week earlier, but hey hindsight is good isn't it. My equipment to get our own link working will be here tomorrow. I will be much happier when we bypass others incompetence.

Caption Comp Winner

2005-07-27T16:21:00.000+10:00

and the winner is ...

... well not just yet. First I thought I would collect all the ones received together in the same spot. Some came in via email and the others seemed to get scattered around in various comments. So this is what I got anyway:

E: "If this city feller gets me lost....I wonder if he tastes like chicken...."

"6 Degrees 44.233 seconds south, 147 degrees 0.406 seconds east, Yep this must be the yacht club."

"..If I keep fiddling with this, surely I can pick up the scores from Lords somehow.."

E: "Alas Yoda, I have failed to teach this Jedi to trust the guide within".

E: "Does that thing plot dangerous animals?"

"Now if I press this other button his head should swivel to the left".

E: "if I turn my head this way, I can escape the smell of that shirt".

This last one is actually mine, but I took my liberty on it from a suggestion from Alma.

So as to the winner, well I think I do like the Lord's score one from J, but I think I will have to go with ".. press this other button .." caption which came in via e-mail. Emmanuel certainly looks like he has a robotic quality to him - and the way he carried that pack was no less than machine like.

The prize is as hinted is a copy of the short film DVD with films mostly made by Wendy last year. Hope you enjoy.

Operation Cheapskate

2005-07-26T20:25:00.000+10:00

After 19 months in the wilderness (but who's counting) I am finally coming back to civilization. Well back to the world of telly anyway, and only for the next couple of months.

My mate has loaned me his old TV now that they have got a big new beaut, super-duper, picture-in-picture, cinescope viewing colossus (OK so it is not that big, but big enough for a traditional TV with a tube). It is on a loan agreement and will be promptly handed back mid September once I have finished watching what I want to watch.

So it got delivered over the weekend. Getting it out required me sitting in the back seat while it took pride of place in the front - one hand was attached while pot-holes negotiated - and it is now in my spare bed-room, hooked up to the aerial that has forever slipped in through a high ceiling vent.

Turning it on and there is only one problem - no picture. I am not connected to the universities cable, they have left me unplugged. To get this done I have to pay my installation fee and monthly rate of K40 for the privilege of the dozen or so channels.

This put me in a fix, be buggered if I am going to pay money just for 6 or so weeks worth of TV. I got through 18 months of living in London without ever having to pay the Licence Fee, surely I can get around my own universities campus cable system without coughing up. Only thing I have to do is get on my roof. My only problem I don't have or know anyone with a massive long ladder.

So enter Operation Cheapskate. It is a multi step affair.

Step 1. Shimmy up unused linen cupboard on second floor landing.

Step 2. Remove louvre glass panels. Pull out hacksaw. Cut through security bar. Cut hole in fly wire.

Step 3. Climb onto roof. Literally kill two birds with one stone and shoo away noisy roosting birds and plug in cable.

Step 4. Climb back in hole. Stitch up fly wire. Replace security bar and glass louvres. Shimmy back down to second floor landing. Turn on TV and tune.

There you have it. Sounds easy enough. And the reason I am going to this trouble? Well besides having an internal roof access that will allow me once and for all to clean my solar water heater, and to get rid of the birds, I am doing it for the cricket.

Being the mad cricket lover I am, going without live coverage of the Ashes is not good. So getting the chance to borrow a TV for a bit is something I leapt at. Pity I have already missed the first test though. Not pitying the score.

Rubbish

2005-07-25T19:20:00.000+10:00

It has taken a long time, but it has finally boiled up in me and I just want to yell "what is wrong with you people?".

It's the rubbish. I am sick of it. I am also sick of the attitude, that chucking it on the ground is OK. "Someone else will pick it up" is no doubt the thought. Or perhaps they just believe it will disappear or dissolve. My haus meri seems to think this is what happens, she constantly throws plastic bags on my compost heap even though I tell her it is for organic scraps only.

It was truly dispiriting walking to and from work today. Plastic, plastic, plastic everywhere. Mostly left over from the weekend soccer games. Chip packets, ice block skins, biscuit wrappers, heavy-duty meat tray packaging, it was all there. I would like to think that the general lack of rubbish bins played a big part of the mess, but a most of the rubbish was with in close range of an (empty) 44 gallon drum.

The attitude is wide spread. I have witnessed it numerous times. A couple of incidences that still stick in my mind: travelling out to the airport early in my placement I was horrified to see the packet from the Twisties I had bought my mate get tossed when done; climbing the highest mountain in the country and seeing our guide throw the empty plastic wrapper away in the pristine alpine environment; constant empty coke bottles (usually filled bright red and brimming with buai spit) chucked from the bus along the highlands highway.

I did occaisionally try to reason with the person about the act they did - especially the Mount Wilhelm guide - but now I just give up. It sounds upon deaf ears.

Wondering about why this so entrenched leads me to a few conclusions. Perhaps their attitude stems from the old Melanesian instincts that everything was easily grown or got and therefore even easier to discard. Or perhaps they just believe someone else will clean it up (which probably is what will happen at the sports fields). Though I can't see this happening (and it doesn't) along the roadsides.

Perhaps incentives to recycle could be introduced. This certainly works for aluminium cans, you never see any of those around, but I suspect the recycling plant which would be needed first is not high on any priority lists.

A PNG equivalent of Clean Up Australia Day would be a great idea and a little bit (or more) of education would be good steps. I won't be making bets on anytime soon though. Arn't I just turning into the pessimist now?

Giveaway

2005-07-24T20:13:00.000+10:00

I am feeling generous and if you have been reading the comments from the previous post you will see that I am going to give a prize to the best witty caption for the photo of me and emmanuel.

So far de nada! But I won't give up just yet. Someone out there must have a witty sense of humour. I even managed to come up with two without thinking particularly hard.

Prize is yet to be determined, but will most likely be a homemade PNG DVD of short films, including the Mouse Trap, which people keep telling me they love.

So when else do you get the chance to be funny at my expense and win something?! Double bonus. Hurry before I change my mind.

Two Weeks Ago ...

2005-07-22T17:35:00.000+10:00

If I wasn't walking, I would have been doing something like this:

Yes, playing with my new GPS device. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I do like gadgets, and this one was fantastic. It kept, among other things, a record of how far we had walked and approximately the altitude, which was great for climbing that false crescent mountain.

I particularly like this photo for the way Emmanuel looks. He has that intent distant look, like he is pondering world politics, though was probably in actual fact wondering, like I was, if there really was 6 satellites straight above us.

p.s. There won't be any more sorry sick talk on this blog. Much improved today, just like I predicted. Mental note: take the full course of medicine this time!

Malaria & Me ...

2005-07-21T17:54:00.000+10:00

... don't get along. I am currently zonked out, trying to type this on my bed. It is turning into an effort.

It is mainly my fault that it has got to this point. Last week I had all the symptoms and started a course of Artemether to kill it off. It worked and I was back and bouncing. But I only did two days worth of dosage when I should have done a whole weeks worth. Now the parasite is back up from the canvas and landing some serious body blows.

It must have got a good hit on the stomach because that currently feels like it is twisted. For most of the day I have felt like I need to throw up but haven't. It is also giving the head a whacking, a good headache is the result.

Stupidly tried to go into work at lunch time during a period of feeling better. The effort from the walk, had me recovering on my office chair for an hour. Got one of the guys to give me a lift back home and to bed.

I have no doubt I will be back and fully fit in 24 hours, just don't like the thought of those hours though.

Miracles Do Happen

2005-07-20T19:09:00.000+10:00

I am not particularly religious but I was saying "amen" this afternoon. The reason - my new Server arrived.

I had given up hope on it. Ever since my original memo with attached quotations to purchase one over twelve months ago was knocked back and then my subsequent memo with the revised plan to just get one server and not two was buried somewhere in the paper work structure of the uni, I figured that it was never going to come. A few follow up memos this year and no response. Perhaps the price tag was a tad optimistic, all K27,000 of it.

Then all of a sudden I get a call this afternoon to come and collect some big heavy boxes. I had no idea what they were talking about. I went over and still did not believe they were mine. Only the other day when asking the boss what the story was with it he told me the uni weren't going to buy it until we sorted out budgeting after the extension work we are still doing.

I still do not know who put in the order to buy it, or how long ago, but this machine has been slowly working its way to me over the last few months. They were shipped from down south somewhere and then on to us.

Now I get a chance to really notch up a gear.

For the techy minded people, the gear is pretty good. It is an Intel Stanyon Server, rackmount 2U high, 2 Gigs of memory, RAID controller card with quite a few harddisks - somewhere over 100gb (I have forgotten). I will mirror a couple of them and stripe the others. Comes with a 1kVA APC UPS, and DVD burner for back-ups (tape backups are worthless here). All good fun. Now just have to get Linux onto it. Another learning curve to climb.

My Kokoda Campaign - Part 2

2005-07-19T16:27:00.000+10:00

Day 3 - Erora Creek to 1900
Grey pale dawn, rustling, campfires lit, quiet chatting, smoke wafting, stiff neck, sleeping bag kicked off - another day starts.

It takes a while to get organised. We attempt to dry the tent from the overnight rain, to leech off some of the beaded water. I am carrying the fly and any excess weight was not wanted. The drying starts with a shake and hang over a pole, then progresses later to using my chamois towel to mop up.

The WA guys leave ahead of us. We slowly stumble behind at our usual time of 7:30, with dad taking off first to get a head start. The first part of the day is another long climb up and we have already worked out that the old man will make it in his own time, better for him to start early and for us to catch up. Which is what we do after about 10 minutes on the uphill trek.

After about 2 hours of the uphill struggle we finally get the chance to really test out our downhill skills on the way down to Templeton's Crossing 2, and these require a whole new lot of muscles. Some of us do better than others. Dad it seems doesn't like the downhill at all. On the first day he broke his super-duper carbon fibre light-weight walking stick, with compass in the handle, by slipping and falling onto it. I had shook my head when he told me he had bought it, and now he was using a hewn sapling like the rest of us.

The old man successfully negotiating a typical downhill section

It was good to know as well that it wasn't only me who sweats buckets. The old man must have passed me his genes. Unfortunately he had only brought along cotton shirts, which while good in most situations here they are a pain to dry once they get wet. Being the kind son that I am I give him my spare shirt made of one those new fibres that dries quickly, unfortunately it was my only other shirt and it means that I would be wearing the same shirt for the rest of the trek.

Lunch was a relief at Templeton's Crossing 1. Getting there was an exhausting affair from TC2 and involved another unwanted climb and down. Once arrived I collapsed in a sweaty heap and rested while the ever swift Emmanuel got a fire going and cooked us some two-minute noodles. He was turning into a big asset, not only lugging a 20kilo pack full of food for us, but cooking it as well.

It was after 2 o'clock when we took off. We had caught the WA guys at the lunch spot but they had again taken off before us. We wanted to make tracks this day seeing as the day before had turned into a shorter one, luckily the weather was perfect for hiking all day - mist enshrouded to keep it cool along with the altitude. This part of the track would take us over the highest point on the whole track, a nice 2190 metres as it passed nearby to Mount Bellamy.

At the track high point we were running a tad late, and Emmanuel started to worry about getting caught in afternoon rains, so I was given the rest of the tent, and me and Grant headed off quickly downhill for the campsite to set it up, while Dad and Emmanuel came behind.

We reached 1900 (the campsite is named after its altitude) at 4:30 and set up our tent near to the WA guys. A similar sized group who were heading the other way joined the site and although it was a long time before we got to see the trekkers come in we were contented with watching the porters lug in all their gear and set it up. One porter came in carrying two packs, one as normal on his back and the other carried bilum style, with the shoulder strap around his forehead and rest balancing on top of the other pack.

I was blown away at the amount of gear they had. All the trekkers, which turned out to be about eight of them, had their own one man tents. Plastic stools to sit on were produced, an aluminium table was unfolded, a kilogram of flour to make damper arose, and in the morning a huge box of cereal and a monster coffee plunger held centre court on the table top. This wasn't rough trekking, it was luxury camping. Even the WA guys with their big daily rations packs and airdropped food supply had to laugh, we just felt like the poor cousins sitting on the ground around a fire.

Dinner, needless to say, for us was a tad bland affair. Rice coupled with noodles and some added chewy beef jerky. At least I was allowed to sleep comfortably in the large guesthouse with the rest of the porters instead of a single-man tent.

Day 4 - 1900 to Efogi Creek 1
The days were starting to blur into one. It was getting harder to distinguish what we had had done the day before with what had passed two days ago. The all important score in the previous nights Rugby League State of Origin spread through the campsite. There was a radio somewhere that someone had brought. I caught snippets of the coverage as I drifted off into the land of nod.

Emmanuel turned out to be a Queensland supported so was a bit sulky at our breakfast. This consisted as it had done the previous days of cracker biscuits and a cup of Milo. We eyed the nearby cereal and coffee plunger with jealous distain.

A table. Who brings a table?

We never got to really chat to the live-it-up style trekkers before we broke camp and continued south, following again in the tracks of the Army Reservist guys. We overtook them at any rate as they decided to do a side trip to Myola Lakes to see a plane wreck, unfortunately for them there was a current long running land dispute around the area and the disputee had decided to sneak off with most of the wreck as a vendetta against the alleged owner.

The day was mostly downhill all the way. We had made it over the high point in the track and it was time to reap its rewards. I pitied the poor souls who would have to climb up what we were going down because we even passed locals, with boxes of supplies for the Getaway group, looking puffed.

The wooded track that we had been following so far for the entire length finally decided to change into an open kunai grassland type. This was good in the fact that we got a chance to have a clear look over the valley we were in and not so good because the sun was now beating down and incredibly hot.

We passed through the village of Naduli and down another steep decent to a creek side to spend lunch at. On the way we passed a red-face group climbing up on their day 5. Grant and me were a tad disappointed to see some cute girls in their group who we chatted to and wondered why we couldn't have been luckier and got them going our way. Instead we got a bunch of 40 year old Army Reservists to play tag team with.

Lunch time billy at a creek

After lunch we got a chance to do some serious uphill climbing. Easily the steepest ascent so far with the track like a root and mud ladder in some parts. It persisted for a painful puff inducing 45 minutes before easing out into a gentler uphill of the kind we were used to.

We passed through Efogi Creek village number 2 and got a great view of where we would be staying at number 1. The Army Reservists finally caught up to us at this point and we headed down to the village together, stopping at the creek to jointly do some washing. What they say about smelling yourself is true, you can't, but you can certainly smell your clothes and mine stunk.

The guesthouse was a big and pleasant surprise (there were even pillows, but unfortunately no mattresses) when we arrived at 3:30, and we whiled away the rest of the daylight hours finishing off some clothes washing, and eying off the WA guys food supply drop - Efogi Creek has a airstrip. They were restocking on everything, including a hell of a lot of Milo, which we were running out of.

Day 5 - Efogi Creek 1 to Menari
The shortest day so far. The usual leave at 7:30 and a steep ascent up and over Brigand hill and the easy descent for the rest of the time down to another creek. We managed to pass a huge number of trekkers going the other way, a total of 3 different groups in all, they all seemed to be on their day 5.

In the last group I got chatting to a guide who is the only PNG expert in white-water rafting. It was no surprise then to find out that he had been part of the Israeli white-water rafting group on the Watut. He told me all the details of what happened on that fateful day, even though clearly he was sick of telling the story.

Lunch at the creek was joined by yet another group, before we hiked the short distance up to the village of Menari. We were there by 1:30 and it was here that we would stay in another nice guesthouse. We arranged for the guesthouse owner to cook us a meal, and because it was a Seventh Day Adventist village this meant that it was prepared long before the Sabbath was due to start at around 5pm. I don't think I have ever sat down to dinner at 3:30, but there is always a first time for everything.

There was another group staying in the village, but it was full of rather fat blokes who decided to make a hell of a racket and play touch football. Not a pretty picture watching man boobs flying around. Our WA Reservists mates had made a dash to escape from us and had headed off ahead to the next village. We were going to have to make tracks so that we would have someone to be sociable with. Sadly the male-female ratio on the Kokoda track is unsurprisingly weighed heavily to one side.

Speaking of ratios I was really starting to ponder at this stage if we had done something wrong. Every other group we passed had more porters than trekkers and here we were out-numbering Emmanuel 3 to one. I consoled myself with the knowledge that I wasn't paying Au$450 to $600 for the privilege of someone to carry my gear.

We chatted briefly to the other group and they gave us some more things to ponder. There had been a trekker who had been airlifted out in the morning after slipping and knocking his head on a rock. There were also a couple of sick guys in their group - bad water? It made us count our blessings that we were having an easy time of it, even without Puritabs.

Day 6 - Menari to Ofi Creek
If the previous day had been the easiest one, this one was the time we played catch-up. Dawn had only just broke and we were already hitting our strides out of the village. Unfortunately as per usual the strides shortened and slowed as we had to make our way up and over a mountain.

Back on day one I had been told you go a bit loopy on day 3 and 4, well I never encountered that, but I was starting to dream that we were almost finished. We were certainly over the half way mark and we were scheduling ourselves to complete the thing on Monday morning. It was now Saturday morning and I could almost smell the finish line. I kept looking at the map marking our progress and saying "not that far now".

The mid section of the days trek took us through a new landscape, a swampy area along the banks of the Brown river. It was here that we passed another large group heading to Kokoda, they were again on their fifth day. I was beginning to wonder if there were any groups that weren't on day 5. We decided that we would inform any new group we now passed that we were on day 5 - that should screw with their minds we thought.

Lunch at the village of Narao. We enviously eyed off the guesthouse, which we were passing up - they had mattresses! I was tempted to just say "fuck it! Enough for the day, I am sleeping on that". But we kept going as usual up one of the worst sections for the entire trek - the twelve false crescents.

The false crescent section means that you struggle up a hill seeing what you think is the peak, only to get to the top, go along a flat section and then see there is more to climb. Highly demoralising and to make matters worse it had decided to rain. So we had to pull out the yet unused rain gear and cover up. Mine was just a plastic poncho, which caused me to look like I had just run away from the Notre Dame belfry. But who's for vanity in the middle of the Papuan bush.

Rain causes the hunchbacks to emerge

Getting down from the top was almost as bad as getting there. A descent of 750 metres with the last section one of the steepest of the whole track. Needless to say by the time we arrived at the Ofi Creek campsite at 5pm, to the stunned greetings of the WA Reservists, we were absolutely had it. On the map we had made massive ground, the day's trek had been over 20kms unfortunately the next day something similar was planned.

Day 7 - Ofi Creek to Uberi
The bones were old and stiff and unwilling to move. The tent had been needed again for the night and that had meant Emmanuel and me slept in the only building available, the house of the family that looked after the campsite. I awoke at various times to hear a baby cry from behind the thin dividing wall or the building shake when someone rolled over or the dreadful smell from my disgusting T-shirt that I was wearing, the same one I had been wearing most days underneath my shirt.

My main shirt was now starting to look worse for wear as well. I had lost a couple of buttons wringing the thing out during washing at Efogi Creek and I had now melted part of the inside webbing when I draped it over the fire to warm it up. I consoled myself that it only had to last a couple more days now.

Like the previous day we had two mountains to cross. The first one was Ioribaiwa the furthest advance the Japanese made during the war and the second was Imita Ridge, where the Australians had held the line against that advance.

Climbing up to the top of Ioribaiwa was for me the hardest part of the whole trek. Not so much physically as more mentally. I was at the stage where I was dreaming about all the luxuries that lay at the end of the track. Hot showers. Cold beer. Soft bed. Variety of food. And the biggest problem was that it was all so close now. Just one more full day of hiking and then the small climb out of here.

We conquered this second last mountain (we were counting them down now) and headed into a new type of territory - the many rocky creek crossings of Va Ure creek. I discovered that my boots were excellent at climbing and descending muddy tracks, but hopeless at getting grip on the slippery rocks. After a couple of moments when I almost went arse-over-tit, I took it especially slow through this area. The last thing we all wanted to do was crack our heads slipping over here.

We made it through unscathed, and had lunch at the bottom of the last mountain we had to cross. It took over an hour to recover, as all of us had found the 20 or so creek crossings particularly exhausting. After the break we reluctantly hoisted our packs for the final big ascent - the 450 metre climb to the top of Imita Ridge.

On the way up we passed a new group coming the other way. They informed us they were on day 1. Finally a group not on Day 5 and a chance for me to mess with someone else's head just like those bastards did on our day 1. Alas they were in a hurry and didn't want to chat for long, one though was cheeky enough to inform me "you've got a bit to go", my retort was "so have you!".

Getting to the top Imita Ridge was a great feeling mentally, even if physically we were close to spent. We made it there a lot later in the day than we had planned, at around 4pm, so obviously we didn't stay long and headed down to the last campsite before darkness or the threatening rain descended.

Absolutely stuffed on Imita Ridge

At camp the WA guys were there already and they greeted us and we all set up ourselves underneath one giant communal tent. Everyone had a party like feel as we joked and talked about the track so far and the fact that it was almost completed. Spirits were indeed high.

Day 8 - Uberi to Port Moresby
Early rise and shine. We were making tracks before 7. I am not sure why we were leaving so bloody early on the last day when we had all day to walk a few kilometres. But the WA guys were heading out and we wanted to tag along so that we could catch a lift on their truck back to Moresby.

We made it to Goldie River before 8 and had one last bit of track fun before we hiked up the hill to Ower's Corner. We got a chance to wade through the river up to our waist. Thankfully the porters carried through our packs on their heads as the current was quite strong and took some surefootedness to stop us going for a swim.

The climb out was deceptively hard, and just kept on going. Why wouldn't this bloody thing end was all I could think. I had trekked over 90kms, over some of the roughest terrain in this country if not the world and still I had to slog and push the legs to get out of it. Finally we broke out into grassland and the memorial marking the finish line could be seen, and happiness descended upon me. I had survived the Kokoda Track.

Elated and buggered at the finish line

A very happy trio underneath the Ower's Corner memorial

Pats on backs. Handshakes. A sweaty hug with the old guy. Group photos. Broad smiles. A massive sense of achievement. It was all there in that relative obscure place.

No one could now take away that we had finished the Kokoda track. Equally no one would be convincing us to do it again any time soon. I can assure everyone that I won't be rushing back in a hurry. Once is enough for the time being. I can predict the future though and no doubt once the pain and exhaustion is forgotten, nostalgia will creep back. Perhaps I will have to remind myself by looking at the photos.

So why do it in the first place then anyway? Well for me mainly, because it was on the tick box list of things to do in PNG, and the time was right to be able to do it with others. A lot of people go because of the history - the wartime events that were a defining moment in my country's psyche. For me that was never a huge motivation. I was more curious to see what it was like and if I could do it, and in this I achieved my goal.

One more goal had to be achieved though and that was to get into Port Moresby. We didn't as yet have a ride but this didn't bother me, I had just conquered the Kokoda track. It had bothered Emmanuel from the start though and was part of the reason that we had tried to keep up with the WA crowd.

Some highlanders were waiting with a Coaster bus. They had just dropped off a group and were going to be heading back into town empty. When Emmanuel came back from being propositioned by the bus crew with an offer to take us into town for K200, I said forget it. I was sure that they would either drop their price or we could get a lift on the WA guys truck.

We walked on up the hill with the WA blokes and past the waiting bus. They started up and followed us, and then stopped. They offered to take us for K100, I said forget it again, they offered us K30 to Sogeri, where we would have to catch a PMV. I told them K60 to town or nothing, surprisingly they took it and we climbed in. It turned out that being from Mt Hagen they of course knew who my boss was and everyone was happy after that, coupled with me buying them a Coke at a stop along the way.

We got dropped off in the centre of town, at my mate's place and the end of the road had been reached. Hot showers, cold beers, good food to eat, veg out time to be had and TV to immerse in. It had taken no time to find out the score of the State of Origin, but it had taken 3 days to find out there had been bombings in London. It was time to get back to reality.

My Kokoda Campaign - Part 1

2005-07-17T13:09:00.000+10:00

I was involved in an e-mail conversation months ago which went something like this:

Father to son - "Boy, I am on a current fitness campaign, how bout me coming up to PNG and us doing the Kokoda together sometime later this year".

Son to father - "Sure why not".

A month passes and I receive an e-mail from an old school mate.

Mate to me - "Hey I am quitting my job at the end of June and moving to Sydney and will have a month between jobs, how bout me coming up to PNG and doing the Kokoda together then".

Me to mate - "Sure, why not".

Son to father - "How does July suit you?".

Thus a plan was born. Little did I know at that stage what I was getting myself into. Like most of these things I tend to find that it is probably better not to know. Better to just go and do it and find out along the way. Perhaps if I knew what I know now, it may have been different matter.

By not bothering I could have saved myself from over a week of sleeping on something as soft as a concrete tarmac. Being soaked through in sweat from the long days of hiking with a full pack on my back. Forever watching where I plant my steps to make sure they don't trip on a tree root, or slip in mud. And avoid the tropical humidity sapping my energy. But hey what is life for?

The organisation came down to me. The logical choice, seeing as I live in the country. The only problem for the others was that I would try and do the whole thing as cheaply and as independently as possible. No problem for me of course, this is the way I like it.

So with tickets bought, a place to stay at a friends in Port Moresby organised, arrangements made to meet my old man and mate at the International terminal, lists of equipment required sent, accommodation for one night arranged in Popondetta - the town at the northern end of the track - and a track permit purchased, things were set.

The only thing I was worried about was whether I would be fit enough. My regime up to this point had consisted of a 20 minute walk to work, cups of tea during the day and a 20 minute walk home. Not the best preparation I admit for a 90+ km trek over rugged terrain.

At the coordinated time all things went smoothly with the plan. We got to Popondetta without too much of a hitch. And there was only the small detail left of finding someone willing to take us over the track for the next week for me to organise. This was easier than thought when a guy found us instead. Obviously we looked liked the lost tourist types wandering around the big empty streets of the two-horse town. Emmanuel introduced himself and we sussed him out.

He was heading back to his home in Kokoda, so I figured at least we get him to help us get there. I used the cover story that I had sent a letter to a trekking company based in Kokoda and that I had not had a reply from them as yet, so I was just going to play it by ear until I got there. This was in any case all true.

Popondetta on a Sunday is about as lively as a coma patient. We had come here in the hope to have a look down at the beachhead battlefields of Buna and Gona, but our timing was not the best. Sunday was church time and little else.

We did discovered that there was one PMV that would be heading up to Kokoda that day and would be leaving at the later than hoped hour of 4pm. We booked our place on it and headed back to the guesthouse to while away the sleepy afternoon hours - not much else to do in town I can assure you.

The truck eventually turns up after dark at 7pm. Delayed by the need to go halfway up the road to Kokoda, fetch the covering tarpaulin, return to town, attempt to cover the back, find out there is a broken strut that needs welding, find a welder, fix this and then head around and pick up the waiting passengers.

Not long before Dad had informed me about the problem he has with getting grit in his eyes and stuffing up his contacts, when we climbed aboard the back of the truck to take our places on the wooden benches lining the sides at the front we discover that the tarp is covered in dirt and grit. They had obviously left the thing lying on the ground before reattaching it this afternoon. It was a miracle that none managed to get in the old man's eyes, because by the end of the trip it managed to get everywhere else, a fact reconfirmed a week later when it was still falling out of my hair.

Once moving off in the truck I thought we would be lucky enough to have the whole of the thing to ourselves. These hopes were dashed when the truck went to the local bus-stop and managed to fill the entire back to overflowing with villagers returning home. They must have been waiting for the majority of the day just for this truck to show up. It was an eye opener for me to see how many squeezed on, let alone for the PNG new comers joining me on this trip. A rough count was done and it was somewhere in the range between 40 and 50.

Squeezed onto the PMV truck

More PNG style fun was to be had along the road as the truck managed to get itself bogged. Emmanuel jumped off and told us to wait while they hitched a rope and got the paying passengers to pull. I decided to jump off as well and take some pics. In the end my photos were forgotten as I grabbed a free spot on the rope and joined in on
the big tug-of-war. Luckily the truck was not pulling back and managed to be pulled free.

The hilarity didn't stop upon reaching Kokoda three and a half hours after leaving Popondetta. By this stage we had figured that we would hire Emmanuel for the trek, he seemed like a genuine enough guy, so he had offered us his house to sleep in, which in reality is a typical rural school house (his wife is a teacher) with hardly any furniture inside its four walls and a roof. The only problem was that he had to find the key to thing first. He left us stranded in the dark and went off to see if someone had a spare key. Luckily he managed to get one and we got inside and rolled out our bedrolls and promptly dozed off to sleep on the hard floor - the first of many to come.

Day 1 - Kokoda to Isurava
Dawn arrives - I am as stiff as a board. Hard floors take a bit to get used to. A few stretches, the repack of the pack and a cup of Milo seem to straighten me out. We leave the shack and hit the fresh morning air and a few photos later and we are off to see the Kokoda Museum. The Musuem was viewed - after a typical PNG wait to find someone with the key - and finally the track was hit.

The team - (L to R) Emmanuel, Grant, Dad and me. E's house behind.

Long confident strides, along a tractor track and through a cocoa plantation for the first hour and I started to get lulled into a false sense of how easy this thing might be. We pass through the village of Kovolo at the same time as a group was coming the other way on their home stretch out. We chat to them and they were eager to impart their track wisdom just as we were eager to hear what they had to say.

A few tidbits dispensed worried me from then on. "Day 3-4 you start to go loopy!". "We had to evac a couple from our group after they got sick, make sure you pop in your puritabs into your water" - bugger I knew there was something I forgot. Then there was the size of their group, they had about 10 trekkers and an equal number of porters, but most of the trekkers were carrying massive packs as well. Why were they carrying so much stuff I had to wonder? We had three packs between us and one day-pack.

One final bit of advice was heeded "Make sure you get around the Getaway group, they are cutting up the track with their numbers". I had heard about the Australian Channel Nine TV travel show Getaway having a crew on the track beforehand but now I got a chance to find out how many there really were. Apparently the numbers were an astronomical 72 trekkers, including crew, and a 105 porters - was this the biggest ever group on Kokoda since the war? The warning was reinforced, get around them or slush through their wake.

Getaway had a head start on us. They had stayed at the village of Hoi the night before and that was where we were headed next. They were gone by the time we got there at around 10 o'clock, but not by much it seemed. We had a break and the villagers brought out the usual fresh fruit to us to sell. I got a little bit shirty when I discovered that they were trying to hock off a hand of bananas for 5 Kina and a paw paw for the same price. I wasn't born yesterday and this was rip-off territory in my books and I told them subtly so in pidgin. This seemed to have an effect and we ended up leaving with the bananas at a more reasonable half price.

The track starts proper after Hoi. Up and up it goes, through lush vegetation, most of which I recognised as kumu a vegetable staple at my local market, good in stir-fries too. This was about the time that I started to realise that I sweat a lot in these conditions. It was dripping off me and my shirt was already soaking through. I looked around at Grant at various breaks and was stunned to see him hardly in a sheen. Was he from another planet or was it me.

Through the lush green on day one

Endless up and up and up. We had started at the end where there is little relief in the form of a downhill. Along the way was a great spot to overview the valley below and we got to see how far we had come from Kokoda, as the airstrip was now starring us in the face. Not that far away in the scheme of things.

After lunch at a stream we pushed on, through the most undoubtedly hardest section of the day, a steep up to the village of Isurava, which was luckily where we would be staying for the night. Arriving into the village at around 5 was a fantastic feeling, no more bloody walking for the day. We organised a local guesthouse to stay in and got comfortable.

We were trying to conserve food at this point. I realised that we didn't have enough to last us with just what we were carrying so we organised with the guesthouse owner to cook us some local delicacy. Of course delicacy in a PNG village consists of boiled sweet potato and boiled kumu the kind that we had just walked through. I knew I was really going to regret that I couldn't find a small bottle of sweet chilli sauce to bring.

Day 2 - Isurava to Erora Creek
We paid the guesthouse owner and took off for the memorial to a large battle held at Isurava. Word had leaked that the Getaway group had stayed the night there and this would for us be a perfect time to make tracks and get around them.

Luck was with us as by the time we got to the memorial the massive group was still there, and better yet was the fact that they were holding some sort of ceremony. We quietly made our way to the back of the pack and took some seats to watch. NSW member for parliament and Kokoda regular, Charlie Lynn was the organiser of the big group and was holding centre stage at the memorial. He was giving a good speech about the battle which took place here over 60 years ago.

Part of the crowd for the ceremony at Isurava memorial. Getaway camera crew at right

We left when we figured the time was right which was straight after the red shirt donned porters were told to sing hymns, presumably for added ambience. The Getaway team loved this and got them to sing about 10 times while they got a shot from every possible angle no doubt also zooming in on David Reyne looking appreciative. Unfortunately I lucked out in hoping it would be Catriona Rowntree doing the TV hosting.

The day was short compared to the first day. We finished at Erora Creek at 2:30, after a fairly constant amount of up and down. Lunch was at the village of Alolo village and consisted of more kau kau and fruit - we were really saving our food. We bumped into a small group of five Army Reservists from Western Australia heading our way. It seems we were to be tagged with these guys for the rest of the trip, they ending up camping at Erora Creek as well.

At the campsite we set up our tent - no guesthouse here - just as the rain started. There was a lean-to which was good thing because I had only brought a two-man tent for the four of us to use. Dad and Grant could get the relative luxury of that while Emmanuel and me would make do with whatever. In this we had to share with the porters from the other group, thankfully the thing was big enough to hold us all in.

There were some villagers from Alolo camping with us as well, to make sure that we paid them for the campsite. Somehow they also managed to carry in food to cook. Without even asking they prepared about half a dozen different dishes of the best village food I have ever seen to sell to us for a total of five Kina, the mob in Isurava had charged us 15 for their bland effort - I do love a good bargain. The dishes extended way beyond the usual boiled everything, into almost Asian style fried rice and baked pumpkin. Truly unexpected gourmet in the jungle.

The other thing unexpected was the mortar shell that one of the villagers decided to drop in the middle of the campsite. It freaked the Army reservists out no end, but didn't stop us from holding it up and taking photos with it.

Grant inspecting the freshly dug up mortar

We bedded down at the bizarre hour of 7:30 and I got to witness one final unexpected event for the day before drifting off into slumber, a hoard of easily a hundred silent fireflies danced and swirled, blinking their points of greenish light on and off in the campsite clearing in the dark right before my eyes. No one else seemed to notice it, and I felt blessed to witness the five minute spectacle.

... continued in Part 2

Survivor

2005-07-14T11:57:00.000+10:00

I am back in my cosy little house after an exhausting time bashing along the Kokoda track. There is a lot to tell, and a good story as promised is in the works - I will be working to complete it over the next couple of days while entertaining my track beating companions who are here with me at the moment.

As is my usual approach though here are a few photos from the slog before the big story. I took over 200 of the things so selecting for this little post is no mean feat. But here goes.

There was mud, some more mud, tree roots, lots more roots and oh ... mud and roots ...

Plenty of creeks and rivers to negotiate. Some where you have to wade through, others where slippery rocks are hopped and the ever popular rickety log bridges ...

Various types of terrain to cross - wooded mountains, montane forest mountains, dry kunai grass mountains, every other type of mountain and a swamp ...

Luxury guesthouses to frequent - a bedroom below ...

And there was me looking completely stuffed and soaking in sweat for the majority of the eight days ...

This was my usual "why did we bother again" look. And please note there was no hair product involved in this image, it takes grime, sweat and a weeks worth of no showers to get this look.

All Set and Raring

2005-07-01T09:31:00.000+10:00

There is a saying which goes something like "every journey begins with a first step" .. or something .. I can't remember exactly .. or who even said it but it doesn't matter anyway because all I care about is the fact I am off on another adventure. Yay.

Because of this I may not be posting for a little while. But don't distress when I return there will be an epic tale of struggle against adversity, of courage and bravery, woe and angst, subterfuge and deception, love and passion, mystery and suspense ... in fact anything that old Tolstoy can do I will be bettering .. well maybe not.

So before I get more carried away, take care all .. because I will. If not luckily there is a history of help being at hand.

Seeya in a bit.

Never A Dull Moment

2005-06-30T15:14:00.000+10:00

Simple things can become sagas.

Got offered a lift into town at lunch. Decided to take. Need to pay off that bloody PNG Power bill I keep forgetting. Don't want them to turn off the power while I am away for two weeks. Get dropped off on the main street. Arrange to meet my lift buddy back at his car after Utility bill paying is complete. Nearly get run down by a raskol running towards me from the bank. Screams of "holdim, holdim" follow as well as a few pursuers. They don't catch him. Think to myself "That guy should become a professional runner and win gold for PNG" - he was going fast. See cops zoom off from the cop shop in their troop carriers. Think wow that is some fast response. Get to PNG Power only to discover that they are closed - "nogat pawa yah" (blackout). Walk back towards my rides car. Decide to pop into the bank and get some small notes for next week. Underestimate the size of the queue. Spend far too long waiting. System goes down three-quarters from the end. Fill in a slip of paper and hand to a bank teller who knows me. A wantok, one of our students. Tell him I will be right back. Go outside and discover my ride has disappeared. Go back in the bank and get my cash. Wander around outside to see if I can spot the vehicle. Go back to PNG Power when I figure I have more time to kill now. Utility still closed - bloody blackout. Wander around some more, vehicle definitely gone. Try to ring the office to see if he has returned without me - my mate should get a mobile phone, this is the 21st century - can't get a connection after 5 attempts, "Network Busy". Think "This is the 21st Century!". Receive a text message from another mate. Read it and smile. Decide to go and jump on a bus to Eriku instead. Get to Eriku and get a phone call from the office. "Yu we?" (where are you?), "mi stap long Eriku nau, mi kam long bas" (I'm at Eriku on the bus), get informed that my mate has returned and he tells me I should catch the bus. Think "good advice". Get off at Eriku and pay the bas kru. Find another bus going to Unitech straight away. Some luck at last. Catch that one and make it back without a hitch. Find my mate at the office and get an apology. Tell him no worries, inform him that I should have told I was going to bank as well. Sit down on my seat and look forward to the wine tasting tonight at the International hotel I was informed about via the text message. Nice.

Two hours in the life of me. All fun and games.

Digital Divide Narrower

2005-06-29T16:56:00.000+10:00

In the cyclical world that is the education industry we have come to that time of year again which everyone seems to dread - Registration. Multitudes of frustrated students, long queues and long hours.

I know I have moaned before and before that, but bear with me as I moan again, especially considering how this time I figured I could really make a difference and narrow the digital divide in this place. But hey this is PNG and of course there are bound to be a few hiccups.

In the time gone past, registration was a drawn out and antiquated process. Student applies to continue their course or start a new course. Student goes to bank, deposit cash into our account. Student brings deposit slip to a staff member waiting at a table. We write a receipt for that deposit and give them a three layered carbon copy registration form. Student fills in form and takes to another staff member. Staff member complete the form and double checks what they have applied for. Student signs, we witness. The form gets filed and then entered manually into the database at a later date.

A rather long and slow procedure, especially for us with that data entry part. We don't really care that the student has to run around, that's their problem.

So what I have got organised was for the two steps to merge into one. After the student gets a receipt of payment they go directly to the registration officer and they enter all the details direct into the computer terminal and straight into database. This then prints out directly onto the registration form, which then gets signed. Sounds good, doesn't it?

Anyway after various complications this is finally what we have got to happen. We managed to get a wide body dot-matrix printer that could handle the form. I managed to create a report in the database that marries up with the form fields and I got my Access savvy expert to tweak the database to have a print form button and associated query. All going to plan so far.

Then three minutes into the implementation of the process, what do we get - a blackout for 3 hours. We resort to manual registration until the power comes back on and then we discover the process does not work with new students but only for the continuing. So while they are queuing up in their numbers we scratched our heads in frustration before resorting to manual method while fixing.

Finally we seemed to have straightened it, and not before time either. Come this Friday I am out of here for two weeks and not a moment too soon. My work here is done. Either that or I won't be caring less either way.

Permitting Permit

2005-06-28T11:52:00.000+10:00

Finally pulled my finger out and am organising for my little team the legal right to submit ourselves to 6-9 days of gruelling jungle hell.

There's an statutory body called the Kokoda Track Authority, which requires everyone who walks the track to buy a permit - this little bit of paper apparently goes towards upgrade and maintenance of the track. Good stuff.

I should have organised this a while ago, but of course I only started to do it last week. No real worries there though in the end, Warren from KTA sounded like a good bloke and we have arranged to pick them up when I pass through Moresby on Friday.

My plan is as follows, fly to Moresby on Friday, meet my team members (the old man and a mate from school) at the airport, collect permits and stay with an ex-vol mate I know. Then on Saturday fly to Popondetta, stay overnight and visit the battlefields of Buna and Gona, and either head to Kokoda on Sunday afternoon or on Monday (am leaning towards the former). From Kokoda of course there is only one way to go, walking along a track that is up and down, up and down ... repeat.

I originally heard that the cost was K15 per day you are on the track, and then I heard it was a round figure of K200. On the phone speaking to KTA I learnt that it was K200 for international hikers and K100 for PNG residents. Then when I got the permit form I finally found out that it was the figures above but it is also free for Volunteers and Aid Workers (ok if you insist - it is good being a volunteer).

In case you ever want to do the gruelling thing, here are the guidelines as stipulated by the KTA, which make interesting reading. I particularly like how they mention no credit facilities are available for payment at Village Guest Houses ... umm yeah, you're in the jungle dude!

Guidelines for Trekking the Kokoda Track (Trail)

The Kokoda Track Authority and Landowners of the Kokoda Track welcome you to the experience ahead of you.
Ensure you have your Trek Permit obtained from Kokoda Track Authority or through your Travel Agent or Tour Operator.

Trek Permits are to be carried by Trekkers and stamped by Village Recorders if desired as a memento of your trek. There is no fee charged for stamping of these Permits. Trekkers without the Kokoda Track Authority permits will be required to return to Kokoda Track Authority office at Sogeri or to the Kokoda agency office, presently located adjacent to Kokoda Post Office to obtain their permits upon paying the Permit Fee.

Individual Trekkers or Groups should be accompanied by a recognized Guide from the Kokoda Track area, and if required, porters from the Kokoda Track villages. Such is a safety measure to protect people from becoming lost and assisting in case of injury, ill health and advising on war history, eco-tourism interests and general information.

Please follow the recognized Kokoda Track. Do not detour off the Track, your guide knows the way.

Overnight in village guesthouses is welcome. Ensure Guest House fees are paid in cash and obtain a receipt. Up to K20.00 per night is the recommended fee for trekkers and sometimes K5.00 for guides and porters. No credit facilities are available. Meals are a separate cost.

Bush campsites are available in numerous locations but trekkers may be requested to pay the landowners an overnight fee up to a maximum of K15.00 per trekker. Guest house, bush campsite accommodation and food for meals are normally paid by the Tour Group Leader or Guide.

Please pay villagers for any fresh vegetables and fruits they are happy to supply. Other food items are limited.

Please respect the culture and religion of the communities. Seventh Day Adventist is the predominant religion and people observe prayer daily between 5.00 pm and 6.00 pm, and their Sabbath from 5.00 pm Friday to 6.00 pm Saturday. Do not put requests to the communities at these times. You are welcome to join their church services.

Trekkers commencing and completing their trek should visit the Kokoda Track Offices or representatives at Riverside Store Sogeri and Agency at the Kokoda Post to have their journey recorded. Your trek can be monitored by radio transceivers located in each village along the Track. Some Guides may carry a handheld radio for additional communication with their base in Port Moresby or Kokoda, other villages and Kokoda Track Authority.

Trekkers should be medically fit and have medical insurance coverage and also carry basic first aid supplies. Your Guide should have a First Aid Kit for medication of the group of trekkers and porters if required.

Do not litter the Track, village, guesthouse or campsite areas. Please burn or bury waste.

Do not deface or damage memorials, trees or buildings.

The Trek Permit Fee paid by all trekkers is for funding community infrastructure projects and their maintenance, together with the maintenance and upgrading of the Track facilities such as walking track and creek/river crossings, radio communication, signage, memorials, airstrips, etc. It is not for paying Trekkers? personal expenses of guesthouse, campsite, food, cultural performances, village museums or scenic attractions.

The Kokoda Track Authority accepts no liability for any injury or loss sustained by trekkers and their guides and porters on the Kokoda Track.

Travel Dreaming Again

2005-06-27T10:35:00.000+10:00

I am soon to go on holidays, but I am already dreaming of future travel. Had my first look at the new Lonely Planet for PNG and was dreaming up a trip to do in September for myself for a couple of weeks.

I have this thing where I want to spend my birthdays in a different country. It all started back when I went travelling in 2000 and my birthday happened to coincide with a two day stay in Luxemburg. Since then I have managed to be in a new country for each passing year of my life. Last year I was here, so this year I want to get over a border somewhere and clock up another year in another country.

The options are limited for obvious economic reasons to the ones close by. Australia is ruled out straight away - unfortunately I blew that ace card already in 2003 - so that leaves Indonesia or the Solomon Islands.

I like the idea of the Solomons as I probably won't ever get there at any other point and it really is pretty close. To add some spice to the trip I am seriously thinking of going to Bougainville first and then crossing the border on a banana boat. There really is bugger all distance between the two countries when you look on the map.

So the plan would probably be something like the following; Fly to Buka, cross over the straight to Bougainville proper, head down the coast to Arawa and keep making my way further on until I reach Buin at the edge of the country. From there get a banana boat across the border to the nearby Shortland Island in the Solomons and then either wait for a plane or catch boats down to New Georgia Island.

This could be the most time consuming part of the whole trip. The Shortland Islands are a pretty far flung and isolated place from what they say in the guide. Once I do get to New Georgia I will make sure I check out the famous lagoons before heading on to Honiaria with another flight. By this stage I should have been gone a couple of weeks and spent the birthday there somewhere and so shall get a flight back to Moresby.

It all seems feasible enough, and is written about in the guide, but obviously there would be a couple of issues. Firstly I would not be able to get an exit stamp when leaving the country so when I fly back to Moresby, they could be a touch suspicious by the fact I am returning to the country when I never 'left'. The Solomons are a bit less worried by the sounds of it and when there is no visa required all I need to get is an entrance stamp at the first sign of civilisation. Secondly the connection to get from the Shortland Islands onwards could be tricky, but I could of course just stay there like a beachcomber until the date passes and then head back to Bougainville.

Anyway I am sure it would be another adventure to notch up, and one to tell the kids about one day, but first up I should be busy planning for a upcoming little adventure and one that I will definitely be proud to tell the sprogs - the Kokoda Trail in a week!