Let's do it
A new sun colours the forest around our bungalow in a golden hue. It's early morning, Blandine's still asleep, and I've made up my mind. I'm going to continue with the diving course: "Open Water" certification is within reach, I feel it in my bones.
I tell Steve and Sarah of my plans to continue over the breakfast scrambled eggs, they're quite happy for me. And Blandine? Blandine will stick with snorkeling for the moment. She'll join us for our dives, but will only entertain the fish at the surface. There's plenty to see there. Steve sets me up with the course material and I spend half of the day studying. With chapter 1 covered yesterday, I breeze through chapters 2 and 3 of the course and take the appropriate skill-review quizzes, while Blandine goes snorkeling.
WWOOF there it is
Over lunch, Sarah explains Steve and her intend to go WWOOF-ing in New Zealand once their dive teaching here on Vanuatu finishes. It's got nothing to do with taking their puppy to dog training. Nope, WWOOF (http://www.wwoof.org/) is an international network that links volunteers with job opportunities on organic farms. Rather than just volunteering to help out farmers with their harvest in return for food and lodging, farmers also share their organic farming expertise with WWOOFers. Sounds pretty cool to me!
Garth's most excellent job adventures
I don't know how we got on the subject, but during dinner time Garth entertains us all with stories of the different jobs he's done. He's pretty much worked any job you can imagine from a cheese-making plant to construction work, but the one story that stuck to me the most is the one about the meat processing plant. In his own colourful style, Garth gives us his mind blowing, rather unappetizing insight into the world of meat processing. Meat hooks with whole goats on them for starters, a machine that skins the goats, a guy whose job it is to operate a vacuum cleaner-like machine to suck out the eyes from the skinned animal heads, goo at every level, and so on, the whole grim story of a meat processing plant laid out in intricate detail by an Australian man who spares no non-verbal behaviour to mimic all machines with his hands, somehow makes for real entertaining dinner conversation. Just what I need after a hard day of studying while everyone else had fun.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Thursday, July 15th: Diving 101
Okay, I'm not going to bore you with endless descriptions of wonderful life at Efate, I'll just focus on the highlights. If I leave out a big part of the day, that's because it was wonderfully uneventful.
A tale of turtles
The highlight of the day is the turtle preservation sanctuary, another initiative of Tranquillity Island Resort. At a 5 minute walk North of the restaurant, Owen has put together enough resources to breed turtles until they're 13 months old, at which point they are tagged and released into the wild. The sanctuary lies a short beach walk beyond the restaurant, we visit right after breakfast. Not surprisingly we're the only visitors here, the Congoola will drop off the day trippers later this morning.
The breeding program relies on financial contributions from visitors, like so many others. What's pretty cool is that when the turtle you sponsor is spotted, you receive an email telling you where your turtle is hanging out these days, so you can follow its travels around the world. It's cute to see turtles grouped by size in different basins. They seem well taken care of. We're entertained by the beauty and charm of these creatures and read all the info displayed about them. Blandine's visibly excited and coos at each tank. I tell her to grab and hold one of the smaller turtles, but she's too afraid. Ha!
On the walk back to our bungalow I remember John, an acquaintance from the Philippines, once telling me that when he was a kid he'd go swimming in the sea and piggyback on turtles. The image of me relaxing on top of a turtle surely sounds cool, it would make a great blog entry to say the least. I entertain this thought for a while then decide there's no turtle big enough to carry me without me risking retaliatory "Cruel and Unjust Punishment" by the Marine Life Police. I'll be happy to encounter some turtles on my dive.
In the diver's seat
It would be silly to stay in an Eco-dive resort without at least attempting to dive, right?Yesterday we signed up with Steve and Sara for the Discovery Dive, a one day affair that will take us through the basics of diving this morning, class-room style, then reward us in the afternoon with the real deal, an instructor-led plunge under water.
I'm looking forward to this new experience, and Blandine, who has explained to me several times in the past that water isn't really her favorite element, has mustered up enough courage after the day of snorkeling to give diving a go as well. After Sarah's pleasant introduction, PADI (a well-known diving certification body) entertains us with a bit of cheesy video material. Picture an overexcited, syrupy American female voice saying things like "With PADI you don't just learn to dive, no, you become part of an exciting new network of friends, sharing the same passion" while muscular men with permanent Colgate smiles help skinny exercise-video type girls into their diving gear.
In a tide spot
While we're having lemon juice and more steak sandwiches for lunch once again, Garth shows us his newest party trick. He grabs a bit of spiderweb off one of the restaurant room's poles, wraps it around the band of his metal wristwatch and, without a flinch, lifts the whole thing up. He makes us touch the spider wire too, they're quite sticky.
We set up our gear and enter the water just off the beach in front of the equipment room, ready for our first underwater exploration. The sea's not very cooperative today: waves push us and our heavy equipment back and forth as we enter into shallow water. It's clear who's boss. "No worries," Sarah comforts us, "once we get under water, we won't be troubled with the current". Indeed, as soon as I get a few meters under water, the waves leave me alone, in search for another play buddy. Where's Blandine? Ah, just under the surface, a bit back from me. With Sarah, who's fidgeting with something on Blandine's BCD (Buoyancy Control Device, the life jacket type vest divers inflate and deflate to help them stay at whatever depth the require). Huh? What's wrong? Blandine's too light! Didn't think I'd say this in Vanuatu after the big breakfasts we've been having, but it's true. Sarah's trying to fix something, and Blandine descends a bit. OK, we're cooking with gas, they're both coming toward me. Nope, Blandine's signalling she wants up again. I ascend and see her getting out of the water. Huh? Why? It's obvious something has got to her and she's calling it quits. No need to force her, she's done. Sarah escorts her back to the equipment room, helps her get out of her equipment, then returns to the water.
Holding back the ears
We continue with a few exercises under water, I manage relatively well, though it's all a bit confusing for me, but again, I manage. Equalising works okay for me, but it's not perfect; truth be told, my left ear's been bothering me for a while. Ever since I received a smack on it during a basketball late last season, it feels like there's a tiny but constant filter on it. It doesn't hurt, I just have the impression my hearing's a bit different. I've had it looked at by a specialist, but he couldn't find anything. Am I supposed to feel a bit of pressure in my left ear under water? Within 20 minutes we stop for the day as well. I've been down a few meters under water and comfort myself with the thought that at one point both Blandine and I were completely submerged and been breathing from our air tank. This complete surrender to and trust in machinery has to be the biggest threshold to overcome, no? I feel good about this accomplishment. Just as when I drove a car for the first time, I emerge from the experience completely exhausted. My knees are shaky as I walk back over the beach, completely equipped, but I'm smiling the smile of success.
The hammock in front of the bungalow is a haven, a place to wind down. I hop in, Ipod in hand. I've got it on shuffle, yet the lyrics in Coldplay's somber "Trouble" catch my attention, so I replay the song a couple times, singing along to "Oh no, I see. A spiderweb, and it's me in the middle. So I twist and turn. Here am I in my little bubble. Singing I never meant to cause you trouble. I never meant to do you wrong. Ah, well if I ever caused you trouble, oh no I never meant to do you harm."
Could the local spiders really weave a web that holds a human being? Ever since Gary's little demo Blandine makes an even bigger circle than normal around the spider traps glistening in the sun on the way to our cottage. I don't destroy them, we are in an Eco-resort after all. It's a tad windy and I'm body's running on fumes from all this diving . It's only 4:30 and the sun's far from disappearing into the sea, yet goosebumps on my arms suggest I head inside and seek the comfort of a bag of cookies and our bungalow's bed. I touch the sheets and fall asleep almost immediately, into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Below talk
That night's dinner conversation starts off with a chat about our Discovery Dive experience. The excitement of diving, the cheesy PADI video material, Blandine's early quitting. To my surprise, Garth is more serious about this topic and dishes out a few tips. He's been diving for a long time and knows what he's talking about. Soon the conversation changes subject and his wife Kim starts talking about her work with disabled children. An interesting topic, and I'd completely dig into it any other day, but my mind is drowned, preoccupied with the personal digestion of my whole dive experience. I've heard eve. I'm not sure whether I'll continue, the experience was quite draining and I wasn't completely zen either. A case of the jitters? I'll ponder it over and let Sarah know tomorrow. The spaghetti bolognaise is quite welcome, nothing like a bit of comfort food to calm the nerves.
We make it an early night, reserving time to share the personal ups and downs of our diving adventure as pillow talk. Blandine tells me she didn't feel comfortable requiring an in-water adjustment during her dive. Having Sarah, anyone for that matter, fidget with her BCD while she was just trying to get her head around all the controls pushed her out of her comfort zone. The real tipping point came 5 minutes later, when she finally descended and couldn't equalise her ears. Her ears are quite sensitive to begin with already and equalising's a must for a good diving experience. Too bad, it doesn't look like she'll be diving any time soon. I confide that the whole experience was a bit intimidating at first for me as well. I wake up about an hour later, my pillow's got a wet spot. Something's popped in my left ear and a bit of water's come out. That's great news! I consider that if tomorrow I continue and Blandine's still freaked out, we'll spend considerable time apart from each other. And I'll have to hit the books for the next three days, not exactly how I'd planned this holiday.
A tale of turtles
The highlight of the day is the turtle preservation sanctuary, another initiative of Tranquillity Island Resort. At a 5 minute walk North of the restaurant, Owen has put together enough resources to breed turtles until they're 13 months old, at which point they are tagged and released into the wild. The sanctuary lies a short beach walk beyond the restaurant, we visit right after breakfast. Not surprisingly we're the only visitors here, the Congoola will drop off the day trippers later this morning.
The breeding program relies on financial contributions from visitors, like so many others. What's pretty cool is that when the turtle you sponsor is spotted, you receive an email telling you where your turtle is hanging out these days, so you can follow its travels around the world. It's cute to see turtles grouped by size in different basins. They seem well taken care of. We're entertained by the beauty and charm of these creatures and read all the info displayed about them. Blandine's visibly excited and coos at each tank. I tell her to grab and hold one of the smaller turtles, but she's too afraid. Ha!
On the walk back to our bungalow I remember John, an acquaintance from the Philippines, once telling me that when he was a kid he'd go swimming in the sea and piggyback on turtles. The image of me relaxing on top of a turtle surely sounds cool, it would make a great blog entry to say the least. I entertain this thought for a while then decide there's no turtle big enough to carry me without me risking retaliatory "Cruel and Unjust Punishment" by the Marine Life Police. I'll be happy to encounter some turtles on my dive.
In the diver's seat
It would be silly to stay in an Eco-dive resort without at least attempting to dive, right?Yesterday we signed up with Steve and Sara for the Discovery Dive, a one day affair that will take us through the basics of diving this morning, class-room style, then reward us in the afternoon with the real deal, an instructor-led plunge under water.
I'm looking forward to this new experience, and Blandine, who has explained to me several times in the past that water isn't really her favorite element, has mustered up enough courage after the day of snorkeling to give diving a go as well. After Sarah's pleasant introduction, PADI (a well-known diving certification body) entertains us with a bit of cheesy video material. Picture an overexcited, syrupy American female voice saying things like "With PADI you don't just learn to dive, no, you become part of an exciting new network of friends, sharing the same passion" while muscular men with permanent Colgate smiles help skinny exercise-video type girls into their diving gear.
In a tide spot
While we're having lemon juice and more steak sandwiches for lunch once again, Garth shows us his newest party trick. He grabs a bit of spiderweb off one of the restaurant room's poles, wraps it around the band of his metal wristwatch and, without a flinch, lifts the whole thing up. He makes us touch the spider wire too, they're quite sticky.
We set up our gear and enter the water just off the beach in front of the equipment room, ready for our first underwater exploration. The sea's not very cooperative today: waves push us and our heavy equipment back and forth as we enter into shallow water. It's clear who's boss. "No worries," Sarah comforts us, "once we get under water, we won't be troubled with the current". Indeed, as soon as I get a few meters under water, the waves leave me alone, in search for another play buddy. Where's Blandine? Ah, just under the surface, a bit back from me. With Sarah, who's fidgeting with something on Blandine's BCD (Buoyancy Control Device, the life jacket type vest divers inflate and deflate to help them stay at whatever depth the require). Huh? What's wrong? Blandine's too light! Didn't think I'd say this in Vanuatu after the big breakfasts we've been having, but it's true. Sarah's trying to fix something, and Blandine descends a bit. OK, we're cooking with gas, they're both coming toward me. Nope, Blandine's signalling she wants up again. I ascend and see her getting out of the water. Huh? Why? It's obvious something has got to her and she's calling it quits. No need to force her, she's done. Sarah escorts her back to the equipment room, helps her get out of her equipment, then returns to the water.
Holding back the ears
We continue with a few exercises under water, I manage relatively well, though it's all a bit confusing for me, but again, I manage. Equalising works okay for me, but it's not perfect; truth be told, my left ear's been bothering me for a while. Ever since I received a smack on it during a basketball late last season, it feels like there's a tiny but constant filter on it. It doesn't hurt, I just have the impression my hearing's a bit different. I've had it looked at by a specialist, but he couldn't find anything. Am I supposed to feel a bit of pressure in my left ear under water? Within 20 minutes we stop for the day as well. I've been down a few meters under water and comfort myself with the thought that at one point both Blandine and I were completely submerged and been breathing from our air tank. This complete surrender to and trust in machinery has to be the biggest threshold to overcome, no? I feel good about this accomplishment. Just as when I drove a car for the first time, I emerge from the experience completely exhausted. My knees are shaky as I walk back over the beach, completely equipped, but I'm smiling the smile of success.
The hammock in front of the bungalow is a haven, a place to wind down. I hop in, Ipod in hand. I've got it on shuffle, yet the lyrics in Coldplay's somber "Trouble" catch my attention, so I replay the song a couple times, singing along to "Oh no, I see. A spiderweb, and it's me in the middle. So I twist and turn. Here am I in my little bubble. Singing I never meant to cause you trouble. I never meant to do you wrong. Ah, well if I ever caused you trouble, oh no I never meant to do you harm."
Could the local spiders really weave a web that holds a human being? Ever since Gary's little demo Blandine makes an even bigger circle than normal around the spider traps glistening in the sun on the way to our cottage. I don't destroy them, we are in an Eco-resort after all. It's a tad windy and I'm body's running on fumes from all this diving . It's only 4:30 and the sun's far from disappearing into the sea, yet goosebumps on my arms suggest I head inside and seek the comfort of a bag of cookies and our bungalow's bed. I touch the sheets and fall asleep almost immediately, into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Below talk
That night's dinner conversation starts off with a chat about our Discovery Dive experience. The excitement of diving, the cheesy PADI video material, Blandine's early quitting. To my surprise, Garth is more serious about this topic and dishes out a few tips. He's been diving for a long time and knows what he's talking about. Soon the conversation changes subject and his wife Kim starts talking about her work with disabled children. An interesting topic, and I'd completely dig into it any other day, but my mind is drowned, preoccupied with the personal digestion of my whole dive experience. I've heard eve. I'm not sure whether I'll continue, the experience was quite draining and I wasn't completely zen either. A case of the jitters? I'll ponder it over and let Sarah know tomorrow. The spaghetti bolognaise is quite welcome, nothing like a bit of comfort food to calm the nerves.
We make it an early night, reserving time to share the personal ups and downs of our diving adventure as pillow talk. Blandine tells me she didn't feel comfortable requiring an in-water adjustment during her dive. Having Sarah, anyone for that matter, fidget with her BCD while she was just trying to get her head around all the controls pushed her out of her comfort zone. The real tipping point came 5 minutes later, when she finally descended and couldn't equalise her ears. Her ears are quite sensitive to begin with already and equalising's a must for a good diving experience. Too bad, it doesn't look like she'll be diving any time soon. I confide that the whole experience was a bit intimidating at first for me as well. I wake up about an hour later, my pillow's got a wet spot. Something's popped in my left ear and a bit of water's come out. That's great news! I consider that if tomorrow I continue and Blandine's still freaked out, we'll spend considerable time apart from each other. And I'll have to hit the books for the next three days, not exactly how I'd planned this holiday.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Quick real-time update
Okidoki, we've landed safely in New Delhi and our holiday is running on its last legs. It's 31C here, and we hope that when we land in London, our bodies will not go into thermal shock. Indonesia was super-cool, we were glad to have a simple beach holiday without many activities. Tomorrow we plan to go to see Taj Mahal. Keep your eyes on the blog, no worries!
Jan and Blandine
Jan and Blandine
Monday, October 11, 2010
Wednesday, July 14th: A Typical Day in Paradise, Moso Style
Morning
It's early by our standards, 8AM, but the sun's been doing its thing for hours and the large body of water just metres outside of our hut is gently lapping me into consciousness. I sit up in the bed with a first-day-of-the-rest-of-my-life kind of feeling. Something's different, I can sense it, but I don't know what it is. Did I dream all those animal sounds I heard earlier, or is that how the jungle celebrates the rebirth of the sun? We'll know for sure tomorrow morning. Then it hits me, I'm on a paradise island, just like Robinson Crusoe. Scratch that, I'm on a paradise island, but with my honey next to me and all the meals for the rest of our stay on Moso catered for. Now that's what I call living!
After the all-you-can-drink breakfast coffee, fresh juice, and toast with scrambled eggs, spiced up with some Garth humour a la "Did you get any yesterday? Did you slap it to her good? ", questions I don't bother answering, we get into our swimwear and leisurely make our way to the Congoola. A few day-tourists get on the boat with us, then we're off to a nice diving and snorkeling spot, the island is surrounded by them. It's a tad windy, we're happy to have brought our towels along. Then, before we realise it, it's time to check out the local marine life. Fantastic! Coral in all colours and shapes is the playground for a plethora of tropical fish who are curious to meet us. I can't get enough of it, and Blandine keeps excitedly pointing out things at me. At this point I could go into detail about all the fish we've seen, but the pictures we took say it better than I ever could.
Lunch
Lunch is a freshly grilled marinated steak sandwich with a side of coleslaw, potato salad, and these meter-long local green beans, served in the dining room. I eat my heart's content, and Blandine's not shy of a nicely grilled tender piece of meat with a royal serving of vegetables either. Tusker, the local beer, keeps my sandwich company.
Afternoon
In the afternoon we catch up on a bit of reading, me from the hammock by our porch. My sweetheart, a book, some shade and a gentle sea, what more could I want? Cookies! I head back inside the bungalow, and take a pack of butterscotch cookies out of the plastic food container. Ants like cookies too here, so all sweet stuff needs to be put in a box. The cookies turn out to be a bit humid, but the nearest store is several hours away, so I make do with what I have and laze out on our private beach. Sounds great, no? Trust me, it is!
Evening
Dinner's delicious. Garth makes more jokes, his wife is rather embarrassed again, yet not too fussy about it. I think she's used to it by now. He's interested in a big spider, sat in the corner, high up in the roof, but can't get to it. Blandine's happy about that, her encounter with the spiders in our Eco-bathroom this morning was hair-raising enough. Honestly, the spiders are bigger than in Belgium, but equally scared of human beings, 100 times their size. That kind of logic just doesn't work on Blandine, who tasks me to remove/chase away critters that she doesn't like. Women.
After dinner Blandine and I build a camp fire in our fire pit outside the bungalow. OK, we cheat a bit, using the oil in the storm light to start the fire. Soon the fire is blazing and we have to move our chairs back a bit to prevent our knees from melting. Life is grand!
It's early by our standards, 8AM, but the sun's been doing its thing for hours and the large body of water just metres outside of our hut is gently lapping me into consciousness. I sit up in the bed with a first-day-of-the-rest-of-my-life kind of feeling. Something's different, I can sense it, but I don't know what it is. Did I dream all those animal sounds I heard earlier, or is that how the jungle celebrates the rebirth of the sun? We'll know for sure tomorrow morning. Then it hits me, I'm on a paradise island, just like Robinson Crusoe. Scratch that, I'm on a paradise island, but with my honey next to me and all the meals for the rest of our stay on Moso catered for. Now that's what I call living!
After the all-you-can-drink breakfast coffee, fresh juice, and toast with scrambled eggs, spiced up with some Garth humour a la "Did you get any yesterday? Did you slap it to her good? ", questions I don't bother answering, we get into our swimwear and leisurely make our way to the Congoola. A few day-tourists get on the boat with us, then we're off to a nice diving and snorkeling spot, the island is surrounded by them. It's a tad windy, we're happy to have brought our towels along. Then, before we realise it, it's time to check out the local marine life. Fantastic! Coral in all colours and shapes is the playground for a plethora of tropical fish who are curious to meet us. I can't get enough of it, and Blandine keeps excitedly pointing out things at me. At this point I could go into detail about all the fish we've seen, but the pictures we took say it better than I ever could.
Lunch
Lunch is a freshly grilled marinated steak sandwich with a side of coleslaw, potato salad, and these meter-long local green beans, served in the dining room. I eat my heart's content, and Blandine's not shy of a nicely grilled tender piece of meat with a royal serving of vegetables either. Tusker, the local beer, keeps my sandwich company.
Afternoon
In the afternoon we catch up on a bit of reading, me from the hammock by our porch. My sweetheart, a book, some shade and a gentle sea, what more could I want? Cookies! I head back inside the bungalow, and take a pack of butterscotch cookies out of the plastic food container. Ants like cookies too here, so all sweet stuff needs to be put in a box. The cookies turn out to be a bit humid, but the nearest store is several hours away, so I make do with what I have and laze out on our private beach. Sounds great, no? Trust me, it is!
Evening
Dinner's delicious. Garth makes more jokes, his wife is rather embarrassed again, yet not too fussy about it. I think she's used to it by now. He's interested in a big spider, sat in the corner, high up in the roof, but can't get to it. Blandine's happy about that, her encounter with the spiders in our Eco-bathroom this morning was hair-raising enough. Honestly, the spiders are bigger than in Belgium, but equally scared of human beings, 100 times their size. That kind of logic just doesn't work on Blandine, who tasks me to remove/chase away critters that she doesn't like. Women.
After dinner Blandine and I build a camp fire in our fire pit outside the bungalow. OK, we cheat a bit, using the oil in the storm light to start the fire. Soon the fire is blazing and we have to move our chairs back a bit to prevent our knees from melting. Life is grand!
Tuesday, July 13th: Welcome to the Tropics
Arrival in Port Vila
Right, it's afternoon, and despite the unforeseen last-minute cash outlay, our faces sport the biggest Colgate smile ever. We've arrived close to paradise. On paper, Vanuatu is the most exotic destination of the whole trip. Only 3 hours away from Auckland, this island exudes an unpretentious island spirit from the get-go. We walk into the single-conveyor belt arrival hut, where 5 tanned men in red Hawaiian flower print shirts and white slacks, some armed with a ukulele work up a funk to provide us with a taste of island music. It makes queueing for passport administration so much more bearable.
Introduction to Eco-tourism
A taxi drops us off at Owen's dive shop, where owner Owen himself welcomes us to the island, then briefs us on the experience we're about to have. We're going to be staying at an Eco-lodge on Moso island, just West of Efate, the main island. His lodge is the only tourist accommodation on the island, leased from a local chief whose tribe lives on the North part of Moso. There are 4 bungalows, each with its own little beach and coconut tree. Accommodation is full board, with a set menu served at set times. No stores, no cars, just sea, sand and serenity. At the end of his introduction, The shop owner stresses once again that Tranquillity Resort is a set of no-frills Eco-bungalows, we're not to expect 5-star accommodation. No worries Owen, we really aren't looking for the next Sheraton, we WANT to be almost one with nature. Only one other bungalow is rented, so it's going to be a rather private, exclusive experience. Swell!
Owen drops us off at the local SPAR (!) supermarket, for our last tango with civilisation before our Robinson Crusoe experience. We stock up on cookies and chocolate: no need to push Blandine's mood to the limit unnecessarily, right? Off we go, before long we've left Port Vila behind us and Owen steers his jeep along ever-winding coastal roads, bordered with a generous serving of coconut palms and lush vegetation. A thick forest meets the road for most of the 40-minute trip, dotted with the occasional congregation of thatched roofs. Owen's worked in the UN system long enough to afford this little Eco-venture. He's not your typical stressed out businessman who fakes a smile from here to Tokyo at the sight of new clients, rather a man who's come to terms with the responsibilities surrounding his Eco-business. Someone who's happy to share a bit of his life experience. Not surprisingly, Blandine and Owen are happy to bombard each other with UN-acronyms. I follow the conversation a bit from a distance, but I know little about this world and quickly start counting the waving palm trees that whizz by.
West side is the best side
We arrive at the West side of Efate, where the Congoola and its tanned, white-shirt crew are waiting to transport us. Diana, the Vanuatu woman with who we've been communicating over email to make the reservation welcomes us on the boat. She's got a few days off and is happy to spend them with the boat crew. I really enjoy the unpretentious warmth of this family-and-friends run business, where people are proud to help you. It reminds me a bit of the travel business my dad ran 20 years ago. As the sun sets, this two-mast ship sails across the crystal clear body of water that separates Moso from the main island. 20 minutes is all we need to arrive at a strip of concrete barely sticking out above the water line. We're greeted by Steve and Sarah, the resident dive instructors of Tranquility Resort. And by Bear, their energetic puppy dog. They walk us over a sandy, shell-lined path to our bungalow, all the while giving us an introduction to life on Moso. It's going to be a fantastic week, I just feel it!
Letting the lust settle
We settle into our new wicker Robinson Crusoe surroundings within 15 minutes, first testing the quality of the mattress in our mosquito net-covered love nest. It's thick enough to provide the comfort my back is looking for. Size-wise, the bed's a bit cramped for me, as was the case throughout South America, but there's no backboard, so I'll be fine sleeping , albeit somewhat diagonal. Full sunlight has been traded in for the romantic touch of island twilight, a soft breeze is rustling through the leaves of the coconut tree on our private beach. I check our mobile phone , it's only a bit after 6PM. Ah, but that means dinner's served in 10 minutes. We freshen up a bit in the bathroom behind our cottage, then change into our best T-shirt and flip-flops. The island's enveloped in total darkness now, so we decide on the small brightly coloured plastic flash lights over the petrol-powered storm lights in the bedroom, mainly because we don't want to fiddle with matches. We anxiously illuminate our flip-flops, then follow them on their way to the restaurant hut, our stomachs equally curious about the food they're going to deal with as we are about the people we're about to meet.
Meet the locals
It's a little tricky to find, but within 5 minutes we find the warm light of the resort dining room homing us in. This room is unlike any restaurant dining room I've ever seen, it's basically a very large hut with a roof made of dried palm tree leaves, resting on four wooden poles, but no walls. The island's sand is the floor and dinner will be served on one of two large tree trunks converted to table. The cooking staff beams at us from the far corner, appetizer ready to serve.
Blandine, who hasn't dealt with Australians before.
Steve and Sarah also dine with us, while giving us an overview of the activities planned for tomorrow. We take them up on their offer to hop on the Congoola for a spot of snorkeling and keep in mind we can take out the sea kayaks any time we want. Garth's establishes himself rather quickly as bit of a funny man on the edge, cracking one dirty construction worker's type of joke after another. You know, the stuff that's rather funny amongst a group of men only. Kim nervously laughs along a bit, Blandine keeps looking at me, signalling "What is he saying?" I have quickly gained Garth's sympathy, even though he's labelled me as a white-collared pencil pusher from the get-go. During dinner, a tasty chicken curry with rice, Garth's all too eager to show me the pictures he's taken so far on his new, shiny silver point-and-shoot digital camera: some beach shots, a spider, a turtle, his wife's bare chest..."Check out the zoom on this thing" he says, zooming in to one of his wife's nipples as his wife blushingly and unsuccessfully tries to take the camera away from him. He grins and elbows me: "Technology's cool, aye?" I laugh nervously, not sure what to do in this situation. We finish dessert and chat a bit, surrounded by island darkness. We finish our beers, then Garth stands up, switches on his industrial strength flashlight, and offers to walk us back to our cottage "before you give your girlfriend a good shagging, you big monster you. Is it true what they say about big men?" Before I can answer that, everybody gets up, it's the end of dinner. I get up too, reluctantly, wondering whether he's just being super nice, fearing above all Garth's going to propose us to be part of one of his sexual fantasies.
We walk back in silence, pass their hut, number 2, then we walk on to number 4. I prepare my answer to any possible sexual advances. Nothing happens, Garth just wishes us good night as he turns on his heels. "How sweet of Garth," remarks Blandine "though I just don't understand what he says most of the time." "Yes, that is really sweet of him" I reply. We crawl under the mosquito net and read a bit, holding hands as our eyelids quickly grow heavy.
Right, it's afternoon, and despite the unforeseen last-minute cash outlay, our faces sport the biggest Colgate smile ever. We've arrived close to paradise. On paper, Vanuatu is the most exotic destination of the whole trip. Only 3 hours away from Auckland, this island exudes an unpretentious island spirit from the get-go. We walk into the single-conveyor belt arrival hut, where 5 tanned men in red Hawaiian flower print shirts and white slacks, some armed with a ukulele work up a funk to provide us with a taste of island music. It makes queueing for passport administration so much more bearable.
Introduction to Eco-tourism
A taxi drops us off at Owen's dive shop, where owner Owen himself welcomes us to the island, then briefs us on the experience we're about to have. We're going to be staying at an Eco-lodge on Moso island, just West of Efate, the main island. His lodge is the only tourist accommodation on the island, leased from a local chief whose tribe lives on the North part of Moso. There are 4 bungalows, each with its own little beach and coconut tree. Accommodation is full board, with a set menu served at set times. No stores, no cars, just sea, sand and serenity. At the end of his introduction, The shop owner stresses once again that Tranquillity Resort is a set of no-frills Eco-bungalows, we're not to expect 5-star accommodation. No worries Owen, we really aren't looking for the next Sheraton, we WANT to be almost one with nature. Only one other bungalow is rented, so it's going to be a rather private, exclusive experience. Swell!
Owen drops us off at the local SPAR (!) supermarket, for our last tango with civilisation before our Robinson Crusoe experience. We stock up on cookies and chocolate: no need to push Blandine's mood to the limit unnecessarily, right? Off we go, before long we've left Port Vila behind us and Owen steers his jeep along ever-winding coastal roads, bordered with a generous serving of coconut palms and lush vegetation. A thick forest meets the road for most of the 40-minute trip, dotted with the occasional congregation of thatched roofs. Owen's worked in the UN system long enough to afford this little Eco-venture. He's not your typical stressed out businessman who fakes a smile from here to Tokyo at the sight of new clients, rather a man who's come to terms with the responsibilities surrounding his Eco-business. Someone who's happy to share a bit of his life experience. Not surprisingly, Blandine and Owen are happy to bombard each other with UN-acronyms. I follow the conversation a bit from a distance, but I know little about this world and quickly start counting the waving palm trees that whizz by.
West side is the best side
We arrive at the West side of Efate, where the Congoola and its tanned, white-shirt crew are waiting to transport us. Diana, the Vanuatu woman with who we've been communicating over email to make the reservation welcomes us on the boat. She's got a few days off and is happy to spend them with the boat crew. I really enjoy the unpretentious warmth of this family-and-friends run business, where people are proud to help you. It reminds me a bit of the travel business my dad ran 20 years ago. As the sun sets, this two-mast ship sails across the crystal clear body of water that separates Moso from the main island. 20 minutes is all we need to arrive at a strip of concrete barely sticking out above the water line. We're greeted by Steve and Sarah, the resident dive instructors of Tranquility Resort. And by Bear, their energetic puppy dog. They walk us over a sandy, shell-lined path to our bungalow, all the while giving us an introduction to life on Moso. It's going to be a fantastic week, I just feel it!
Letting the lust settle
We settle into our new wicker Robinson Crusoe surroundings within 15 minutes, first testing the quality of the mattress in our mosquito net-covered love nest. It's thick enough to provide the comfort my back is looking for. Size-wise, the bed's a bit cramped for me, as was the case throughout South America, but there's no backboard, so I'll be fine sleeping , albeit somewhat diagonal. Full sunlight has been traded in for the romantic touch of island twilight, a soft breeze is rustling through the leaves of the coconut tree on our private beach. I check our mobile phone , it's only a bit after 6PM. Ah, but that means dinner's served in 10 minutes. We freshen up a bit in the bathroom behind our cottage, then change into our best T-shirt and flip-flops. The island's enveloped in total darkness now, so we decide on the small brightly coloured plastic flash lights over the petrol-powered storm lights in the bedroom, mainly because we don't want to fiddle with matches. We anxiously illuminate our flip-flops, then follow them on their way to the restaurant hut, our stomachs equally curious about the food they're going to deal with as we are about the people we're about to meet.
Meet the locals
It's a little tricky to find, but within 5 minutes we find the warm light of the resort dining room homing us in. This room is unlike any restaurant dining room I've ever seen, it's basically a very large hut with a roof made of dried palm tree leaves, resting on four wooden poles, but no walls. The island's sand is the floor and dinner will be served on one of two large tree trunks converted to table. The cooking staff beams at us from the far corner, appetizer ready to serve.
Blandine, who hasn't dealt with Australians before.
Steve and Sarah also dine with us, while giving us an overview of the activities planned for tomorrow. We take them up on their offer to hop on the Congoola for a spot of snorkeling and keep in mind we can take out the sea kayaks any time we want. Garth's establishes himself rather quickly as bit of a funny man on the edge, cracking one dirty construction worker's type of joke after another. You know, the stuff that's rather funny amongst a group of men only. Kim nervously laughs along a bit, Blandine keeps looking at me, signalling "What is he saying?" I have quickly gained Garth's sympathy, even though he's labelled me as a white-collared pencil pusher from the get-go. During dinner, a tasty chicken curry with rice, Garth's all too eager to show me the pictures he's taken so far on his new, shiny silver point-and-shoot digital camera: some beach shots, a spider, a turtle, his wife's bare chest..."Check out the zoom on this thing" he says, zooming in to one of his wife's nipples as his wife blushingly and unsuccessfully tries to take the camera away from him. He grins and elbows me: "Technology's cool, aye?" I laugh nervously, not sure what to do in this situation. We finish dessert and chat a bit, surrounded by island darkness. We finish our beers, then Garth stands up, switches on his industrial strength flashlight, and offers to walk us back to our cottage "before you give your girlfriend a good shagging, you big monster you. Is it true what they say about big men?" Before I can answer that, everybody gets up, it's the end of dinner. I get up too, reluctantly, wondering whether he's just being super nice, fearing above all Garth's going to propose us to be part of one of his sexual fantasies.
We walk back in silence, pass their hut, number 2, then we walk on to number 4. I prepare my answer to any possible sexual advances. Nothing happens, Garth just wishes us good night as he turns on his heels. "How sweet of Garth," remarks Blandine "though I just don't understand what he says most of the time." "Yes, that is really sweet of him" I reply. We crawl under the mosquito net and read a bit, holding hands as our eyelids quickly grow heavy.
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