Monday, July 19th: Last Day in Paradise

Owen's Reef
Dive number 5. Just like experienced divers would, I leisurely chit chat with Greg and his father, it's a pretty picture, all of us sipping instant coffee, enjoying the morning sun, the boat engine gently approaching Owen's Reef. Owen's reef? Yup, you lease an island, then name your favourite diving spot in the area after yourself. Not too shabby, I say. There are a few differences with regular divers, easily noticed by the trained eye: my wetsuit is on way before the boat gets to the site and I'm a bit giddy all the way. It IS my first official "fun" dive after all, a dive without any teaching or exercises attached. Once the boat turns off its engines over the dive spot I throw on my tank, mask and fins, and with the official big stride off a small platform at the back of the boat I fall in the water, more than ready for another underwater adventure.

It's better down here
The water is warm, we see schools of unbelievably colourful fish and Steve, my eternal trainer/dive buddy, takes me down to 21 meters, my personal record. Yes!  On the way back to the island I put my IPOD on shuffle and before I can stop it Dido has me humming "I still got gand in my shoes".
We eat lunch as rainclouds gather over the island. It's been overcast off and on for a few days now, not the kind of weather you'd associate with a paradisiacal island.


See or use kayaks?
It's now or never. It's a bit windy, clouds are still gathering, yet if we ever want to use these sea-kayaks then we have to do it now, at 5PM we're heading back to mainland. The first part is deceptively easy. We make good speed downwind and only worry about not getting rocked off the boat by the growing waves. 20 minutes later, as limbs begin to ache, we beach our kayak and look at our desolate surroundings. Palm trees swaying in the breeze, nobody on the beach as far as you can see in both directions. Silence is golden. Then a shell moves toward me. It's a hermit crab, crawling over bits of washed up coral, continuing its business, now that the humans have immobilised their huge beach sandals in the sand. We take some pictures, then stick the camera back in a waterproof compartment of the kayak and paddle back through a drizzle. Splashing each other would not change a thing, within minutes we're soaked and the paradisiacal ideas of this island wash away. There should be a ban on rain during expensive island vacations.

All good songs come to an end
We turn the nose of the kayak and log it back into the sea, the holiday on Moso has come to an end, this is the first stage of our leaving Vanuatu. The song we chant to encourage ourselves to paddle is just a notch too enthusiastic to sound genuine. We reach the resort again, bring the kayak back on land, and get ready to leave paradise.
My backpack only has to carry my diving book on top of the stuff it contained when I arrived on Moso, yet it feels 5kg heavier. Once the Congoola drops us off on mainland, we transfer our backpacks to a waiting van. Greg's dad and his wife are in the van and accompany us all on the way to Port Vila, the capital> Naturally we end up chatting a bit about diving, but I give up quickly in favour of silence. My arms are a bit tired from the kayaking (muscles rarely used) and could just doze off, but who would then play cool for Blandine who is worried about us finding a place to stay? Without internet on Moso, we haven't had a chance to book anything, we have just two tips of hotels to go on, scribbled down on a scrap of paper. And the Moso drizzle has translated into full-fledged Efate rain. At Owen's dive-shop it's rush hour, just before close. We sort out the payment, Owen even suggests to give us a 5% discount (Ok Owen, how can I argue about that?), and his wife gives us free "Tranquillity Island Resort" baseball caps while we wait for him to recalculate the bill total.

Fan of room with a view
Still recovering from the amount we spent on accommodation over the last week, we decide to go for something on the lower end of the price scale. Praised for its delicious breakfast, "Room with a View" sounds corny enough and fits the bill at around 3500 Vatu (about 38 USD). The owner, a Korean woman with designer sunglasses and a thick accent, makes it understood she's real happy to have us and puts in the effort to come pick us up in person. Let's hope the rooms are up to scratch, neither of us has any interest in wandering around in the rain with heavy gear on our backs. We soon settle into an upstairs room of what must be her private villa, life is good!

Anything but nirvana
To satisfy our hunger we'll have to go outside, so we put on our rain gear, walk into town, then have some Thai food in Nirvana restaurant. It's the worst service I've had so far on the trip. The waitress doesn't understand my English until I point to the item on the menu, can't explain anything and forgets to bring me my beer. The food is ok, but not copious and rather overpriced. We need to get back to Bolivian spending habits if we want to keep this trip from derailing financially. Whatever, we're too tired to care about service at this point; the only thing we care for at this point is our room with a comfortable bed. Tomorrow we'll see what Port Vila has to offer us, all we have energy to do before we fall asleep is concoct a balanced Port Vila sightseeing plan.