Wom Beach

I have had a request to wax aimlessly about some of the flora I have spotted here in PNG and to tell you the truth, the entire scene and the people of PNG makes for better subjects... However.

Recently, I had a moment spare at Wom beach. This beach is some 18kms North(ish) from Wewak which is situated on the North coast of PNG. Some 62 years ago, the boss of the Japanese Navy handed over his sword to the Allied defenders in a Surrender ceremony on the beach of Wom. The local community must have looked on with amazement has an entire garrison of Australian troops were present to witness the declaration. The locals must have thought that these Aussies and Asians were crazy.

Anywho, I recently had the opportunity to check out the beachfront not far from where the aforementioned ceremony took place. Along my trip into the coastal jungle of Northern PNG, I discovered a small collection of perty flowers. Sure, most of them (in fact, all) are found in Northern Queensland, it was nice to get a few snapshots away.

The first flower that caught my eye, was the delicate white simple flower of a Fig Tree. This Ficus grew (well I think it is a Ficus) right on the high tide mark, and had some decent fat fruit/nuts (perhaps the nuts raise doubt over whether it is a Ficus or not) but it did have white sappy sap...

Then, travelling along for a bit, I discovered a gorgeous sweet pink Lantana. So soft in colour and pretty as.

Oh, and I found a member of the Malvaceae family that I once thought was Alyogyne but I am probably wrong. A gorgeous yellow flower nonetheless.

A Clitoria was discovered and photographed too :)

There was other stuff, grasses and weeds and blue flowering thingos, but it was all fun.

the Volcano. part 2.

I was able to visit the Volcano again recently, Tavuvur is the Volcano in question. And although she was relatively quiet, the occasional pillow of ash was blasted into the overcast sky.

It is an odd sensation standing at the base of Tavuvur, getting ash in your eye, and feeling the hot pumice stone beneath your feet. The ocean alongside you is steaming with hot Sulphur and the local young men will boil the megapode eggs in the boiling water.

The amount of ash puffing out of Tavuvur is quite substantial with vast areas of trees and palms now dying from the rain of ash. These are trees that I can remember looking quite healthy some 18 months ago, but the eruption in October of 2006 has caused some widespread devastation.

The good news is that the local hospital is running again, after closing for a few weeks due to the constant ash falling.

The landscape is ghostly, especially around the old Airport, with submerged buildings only just standing. The Main street of old Rabaul town can still be seen under drifts of black snow and there is still an old Hotel in which you can stay which survived the 1994 massive eruption by Tavuvur and Vulcan.

One more image of Tavuvur with green seas as a storm came from across the Harbour and the rain turned the ash to mud.

Volcanos.

I remember back in Geology class, my teacher saying that we should all see an active Volcano once in our lives. Well I never thought it would happen, especially living in Australia, where we have some fine looking extinct cones that people now live on the side of them and drink the water contained within.

So I am always impressed when I get to travel to the parts of the Pacific where one can see a lump of glowing rock being hurled from a hole on top of a naked mountain. Here are pics of two Volcanoes on the island of New Britain.

Tavuvur has been quite active in recent visits, and not long ago it stopped blowing any steam or ash. This ain't a good sign, because sometimes when it goes quiet, it's a precursor to something big. And it was the case as during the next night, Tavuvur blew quite a bit of ash into the night sky. Still, not as bad as last October or even as bad as the last big eruption in 1994.

But it is fun to stand at the base with the gentle roar of its furnace and the boiling sulphur water at your feet. Kudos Mother Nature.

Babaka Bride Price

What an awesome day! I was invited to attend a Bride Price Ceremony in the Central Province of Papua New Guinea. A day of colour, of joy and a reminder of the traditional ways of Melanesian culture. It was kinda like revisiting those family weddings that one can remember when one is a teenager and some unscrupulous Uncle is taking the piss by plying one with alcohol...

But this time the unsober feeling came from the joy expressed in the family that attended the ceremony and the local village people who crowded the front yard with support and well wishes. As one of only three white people in attendance, I kinda felt like a fly on the wall who was privvy to too much information, but the hospitality and warmth provided by the Bride and her ceremony was more than enough to feel welcome and to feel part of her family.

And, the children of the family and of the village behaved the same way that one did when one was 8 years old and attending the wedding of some Aunty or Uncle, whom one may never see again for some time. The kids ran amok, and played chasy and were cheeky to all of the vintage crew and also those not much older than they.

What a special day, witnessing the delivery and distribution of 50 bags of rice and flour, pigs, yams, shell money and the modern equivalent; cash, all attributing to the value of the Bride in question. A local man of the cloth arose and prayed for the Bride and her Price. Senior family blokes all got up and spoke of not losing a daughter but gaining a son (well, it sounded like that to me) and then the handover ceremony where the Bride was to leave her family for the comfort of her new Husband...

Come to think of it, I am not sure if I saw the Husband throughout the ceremony??? This day is for the Bride and is an event I sha'n't forget for some time to come. Ever.

Twin Lakes or a Tale of Two Lakes.

Lake Two. Kutubu.

Lake Kutubu is situated in the Southern Highlands of PNG, linguistically it is an interesting location for PNG. On one half of the lake, one enters true Highland country where the people still proclaim to be Niuginians, and on the southern end, they may call themselves Papuans, and indeed, many of the older members of the community will still speak in Motu rather than the Highland influenced Pidgin.

The opportunity to spend a day with the local people of Lake Kutubu was fantastic and I saw things that will remain with me. The group of us boarded a small boat and we then spent the day cruising on the tranquil water. Our first stop was the Village of the "Captain of our boat" and we stopped to refuel. All of the children of the village came to the water's edge to look and giggle. We took photos which only encouraged more giggling. It was only as our vessel chugged away that the children would call out "Bye" at the top of their lungs and wave until we could no longer see them.

Our next point of call was a small village with a massive Longhaus. The Longhaus was were the men of the village lived and talked stuff to do with being men. All the women and children lived in smaller huts away from the Longhaus. The women of our party were not allowed access to the inside of the Longhaus, but us men all wandered in and proceeded to talk stuff to do with being men.

The interesting thing with this village was that only the young boys of the village came down to greet us, we did not see any women or young girls for the introduction to their village. As we (the Men) wandered around the Longhaus, the young boys whom met us journeyed into the Longhaus also. It was apparent that the young boys were not normally allowed inside such a building as they thoroughly enjoyed being inside with their new white friends.

But wait... I discovered some Bixa orellana which is a plant in which the Native South American women would paint themselves in the red seeds. It also provides Margarine with it's anatto food colouring. The village people showed me how to decorate their noses and faces with the dye from the seeds. Now, my camera, my clothes and backpack are stained red...

After viewing the Longhaus, we wandered down to the village green where games of football would be held, but on this occasion, all the women of the village came to greet us after their Sunday Church services.

It was a shame to leave such a warm reception but we had a lake to lap. The next stop was a limestone outcrop in which the bones of the long departed were laid in the sunshine to bleach. Allegedly some of the remains had been there since World War Two, or so our friendly guide told us. The osuary that lay in front of us was moving testimony to those who certainly lived in a different time to ours.

Our next village stop on the edge of the lake was also time for lunch, so the local women of the village had been busy cooking river prawns, Sago, Sago Palm bugs, Pumikin kourou, Kaukau and smoked fish. Within Lake Kutubu, there are some 11 species of fish that are found no where else on the planet. One of them tasted ok.

And I was a big fan of the Sago Palm Bug. I ate more than my fair share.

After a sumptuous PNG style banquet we wandered around the local Orchid and Butterfly gardens of which the Orchids were gorgeously maintained and spectatcular.

And then we watched a bit of village Basketball, boarded our boat and headed off home.

Twin Lakes or a Tale of Two Waters.

Lake One. Lake Sentani.

Our small baby Toyota wagon pulled off of the smooth two-lane road and parked amongst the mud and mosquitos. The driver told us that this was Lake Sentani, so we left the car and stood in the mud and admired the view.

Lake Sentani is 45 minutes drive from Jayapura, the Capital of Papua (formerly known as Irian Jaya and Hollandia). The road to the Lake is smooth, well sealed, and complete with sign posts, armco barriers and line marking. These things are a rarity just east of the border.

The small group of us took photos of the view and appreciated the stop. We then asked the driver what was next on the agenda, and he said we should wait for the boat.

Well, the boat arrived and aboard we hopped. The small outboard motor buzzed away and was only disturbed by the dial tones of the driver's mobile phone. How a mobile had range in the middle of a great lake 45 minutes from a major Capital centre was a mystery for those of us who had made the journey west into Papua.

The small timber boat chugged around the lake and we passed by stilt villages where the locals waved with excitement and went about their daily routine. We passed fish farmers, large 'Dutch' churches and larger smiles from the kids whom would cry "Foy".

At one Island we stopped and disembarked. There on the Island, the women of the Village showed us some traditional bark paintings which were beautiful in design. Needless to say, we handed over some rupiah in exchange for some of their artwork. The people of the village lived in and amongst the graves of the Dutch settlers whom sent their missionaries some years ago.

After the lake, we visited the Town of Sentani which is a bustling small community of shops, cafes (re: take aways) and traffic all trying to view the concrete bridge which collapsed during the last heavy rain. It was impressive to see the damage that the rising river had caused to some of modern bridge construction... Still, the scooters and Kiangs drove happily over the temporary wooden bridge.

Hati hati.

When Road Rage goes horribly, horribly wrong.

This Post contains alleged violence.

The other day whilst running errands, I returned to my jobsite and further up the road, I could make out what looked like a commotion... In hindsight, the commonsense thing I should have done was to do a U-turn and seek an alternative route. But I thought I'd be alright...

Two cars in front of me was a Police truck so I thought, these guys will sort things out. It appeared that things had been sorted just prior to the Police arrival.

It was at a section of road which has some serious tyre deflating pot holes and the action of choice when approaching these potholes is to either leave the road completely and drive on the 'shoulder' or drive around the other way using the better bitumen on the opposite side of the road. It appears a PMV (mini-bus, legally would seat 18, but 30 can fit) had opted to take on the opposing traffic. There was some glass and a bumper bar on the road so it seems that there may have been contact between vehicles. The PMV was stationary in the middle of the road as I approached cautiously as the traffic was starting to slow-up and get congested as other vehicles tried to squeeze between the increasing crowd and the stationary PMV.

By this stage, I was driving at a crawl and the Police truck has pulled over to the shoulder. People immediately attacked the Police Truck with aggressive gestures and finger pointing and yelling.

I inched past, whispering to myself "...dont look so obvious dont look so obvious..." and there by the side of the road was perhaps one of the motorist or maybe even a pedestrian who was laying down on the ground in the Jesus Christ Pose. Looking very relaxed and at peace.

I had enough time to see if his fingers were twitching, or if his chest rose and fell with breath or even if his closed eyes were shut tight or just closed. There was no movement. At all. Now, I am not a good judge of liquids but I would guess there was 2 or 3 litres of claret pooled around his shoulders and what appeared to be the back of his head.

Once a gap appeared at the front of my vehicle, I ensured that I made my way out of there quite quickly. I am sure that there was little that I could have done to help the situation. There were more than enough onlookers and Police in attendance.

The thing I have noticed is that Road Rage is virtually non-existent here, especially when compared to places I have lived before. Perhaps this is how the people up here display their unhappiness when it comes to judgements of error on the road?