Walk to Naviso

I am not an experienced hiker. In fact, I believe I’ve done more hiking in my service here in Vanuatu than I ever did back in the U.S. I’m not necessarily a city girl, but I come from a suburb just outside of D.C. and my circle of friends was made up of photographers, singers, musicians, and actors. I always liked to be outside, and I enjoyed playing sports, but hiking was always something that seemed a bit weird to me. Okay, so you buy all this fancy gear to go walk for miles and miles? Hmmmm. I saw the outdoor appeal, but just never got around to actually doing it. That’s not to say that the D.C. area doesn’t have nice places to go hiking. To name a few places, there’s Rock Creek Park, which is very beautiful and not challenging. Sugarloaf Mountain is up in Dickerson, MD. My dad and step-mom used to take my brother and I up there. There’s Cunningham Falls in Catoctin Park
and my personal favorite is Great Falls,
which separates Maryland from Virginia and can be viewed from both sides in a national park with nice trails and views of the C&O Canal. It is with the experience of day trips to such places that I immigrated to Vanuatu, completely confident that I would be up for the bush walks and whatever else. Over the last two years I have done quite a few hikes. All of them have been challenging and all have made me realize how inexperienced I really am. I laugh to think about the hikes I did in Maryland as I look down at my mud-covered, flip flop adorned feet. One of the more recent hikes I have done was a trip from my village, Narovorovo, on the Western coast of Maewo, to Naviso, which is on the Eastern coast and a little north. Ever since I arrived on Maewo, I have heard many stories about East Maewo’s lone village. White sand beaches, lobster, coconut crab, naora, fish, clear cold swimming pools, etc. I felt like it was a must-see before my service was up. But it’s always been near impossible for me to gauge the difficulty of proposed hikes based on what Man Vanuatu tells me, and I think it’s because they have no idea what I am or am not capable of. Some of the really fit Ni-Vans will tell me that it’s really close, no problem whatsoever. Some of the mamas will say, “wokabaot slo slo…” Some of the older or more overweight Ni-Vans will shake their heads, but then say, “be, yu wan yangfala so maybe bae hemi olraet.” I’ve learned that it’s best to just prepare for the worst and do the walk. The following is a tale of an experience when I didn’t prepare myself quite so well, and what ensued as a result.

Since coming back to Maewo from my trip to China, I felt restless. I had been in the village for two weeks, one week of which was spent in bed with a bad cold. I wanted to go to the garden, walk up to see Justin and Sheridan, just do something. One evening, sitting outside of my family’s kitchen with my sister, Suzy, she told me that her and my brother and cousin would be walking across the island to Naviso the next day. “Bae yu kam wetem mifala?” Looking back, I don’t think she really believed I’d agree, which explains the surprise on her face when I immediately said yes. How bad could it really be? I had practically walked across Tanna, so long skinny Maewo wouldn’t be a problem. It’s rumored in the village that Gwen, the volunteer I replaced, had walked to Naviso and then some in just one day. This wouldn’t be so bad. I packed a bag for two nights, filled my water bottle and camel pack, prepared a first aid kit, and set out.

The purpose of our trip was interesting. People on Maewo believe strongly in kastom magic and medicine. Jealousy inspires the poisoning of dozens of people on a monthly basis, who in turn have to be cured by a kastom doctor. Soon after learning that he had passed Year 8, my brother Larry dislocated his shoulder. Apparently a stingray had come and slapped Larry’s shoulder with his wing. According to my mama, the stingray had been sent by someone who was jealous of my brother’s success. I’m not sure if Gabriel, the kastom doctor in Naviso, is Maewo’s only kastom doctor, but he seems to be the most popular anyway.

We waited until about 10 am to leave so we could get to the other side before high tide. Once you reach the east coast there’s still about a two hour walk along the coast to get to the lone village. The walk was easy, mostly just going through level gardens, crossing creeks here and there. It was all very beautiful, but very hot. After about 90 minutes, I had to rest. I sat down and immediately vomited. My heart was racing and I was shaking. I knew it would be foolish to try to keep going, but I knew I couldn’t turn back either. Instead, I told my sister I would sleep right there for a little while. I realized that I ran the risk of multiple cheekings after the walk due to the fact that I had to spell, maybe even have that be the story they tell about me to future volunteers. But there was nothing I could do. About an hour later I sat up, ate some baked taro, and felt good enough to keep going. We walked through the muddy bush for another hour or so before we came to the summit and could see East Maewo. All we had to do was climb down and walk along the beach, but we had to hurry to make it before high tide. But the climb down was long and steep, leading me to announce several times that I would sleep on the hill. Even Stuey had to be urged down the slope and slept in the grass whenever we rested. He even vomited. That made me feel better actually.

We reached the bottom of the hill but were still racing the clock. Where was the white sand beach? All I could see were the black stone beaches that we have on West Maewo. My sister explained that the stones were a recent development; that the ocean had washed the stones onto the shore. I was skeptical, but was ready to believe anything at that point. So I picked my way carefully along the stones, observing the underground springs that bubbled up on the beach and the small waterfalls that we encountered. We admired all of the random objects that had washed up on the shore from who knows where. Actually, most things that had labels on them were from Fiji, but one did say “propiedad de tarantia” on it. There were paintbrushes, markers, sandals, etc. In people’s houses you can find larger items such as barrels, Styrofoam boxes, and old fishing nets used as hammocks. But the most popular items people like to collect along the beach are plastic bottles. About halfway to Naviso we realized that we would never make it before the tide came in. We came upon a bush kitchen
and settled in to sleep. Jarina went to gather bananas while Suzy made a fire and I went to swim in the river. Refreshed, I came back and went through my photos of China with the others before we had our dinner of boiled bananas. We storied some more then laid down. I didn’t sleep much that night, as I was constantly pulling off various insects and snails off my body, but I was glad to be awake for the sunrise, which was probably the most beautiful I had ever seen.

We set out early and continued on the black stone path. The merciless sun felt hotter on the east coast of the island. Luckily the path cut away from the coast and into the bush, where we found some relief from the heat. The first thing I noticed in Naviso was a clear blue ice cold swimming hole. Children jumped off of tree branches into the pool as men swam all around. I wanted nothing more than to throw my bag down and jump in, clothes and all. Unfortunately that pool was only for men, and the women’s pool was a little farther along the way. We eventually came to a large half permanent house. We went inside and relaxed for a bit before they brought us something to eat…more bananas. After scarfing those down, we walked a little ways to the pool where we could swim. It was crowded with mamas doing their wash and pikanini swimming. The screaming and crying began as soon as I entered the clearing where the pool was located. Now, it’s been a while since I have been the cause of such angst and terror, so it took me a while to realize that I was the cause of the disturbance. Unlike the large deep pool I observed the men swimming in, this pool was nothing more than a large puddle. But it was cold, which is all that really mattered. People stared as I splashed around and then sat along the edge of the pool. They spoke language, asking my sister questions about me while I hoped my smiles and nods were appropriately timed. After a little while, a rather large woman with a friendly face waddled up to the pool. She rendered herself topless and splashed down into the pool with the grace and fervor of a hippopotamus. I’m not trying to be mean; she purposefully threw herself into the pool in that silly way as to entertain me. Apparently she couldn’t speak Bislama so our communication and resulting friendship revolved around body language and goofy physical humor. When Suzy asked me in Language if I was hungry and I replied in the affirmative, this woman, Lusian, ran away with more speed than I could have thought possible, and had a leaf full of simboro manioc in my hands before I could say…hippopotamus. Oh. My. God. My family being flas as it is, we rarely eat laplap of any kind. In fact, at the time I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten simboro, let alone simboro manioc, obviously the best kind of simboro. And this lady had milked it and put salt on it too! I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Suzy looked at the three large pieces in front of me and told Lucian that I usually could only eat one or two pieces of simboro, tops, and was surprised when, just a few minutes later, the leaf was empty. I think it was that that sealed my friendship with Lucian. On the days that followed, Lucian would come visit me and bring simboro manioc, an arrangement that I couldn’t find fault with.

The food in general was delicious. I couldn’t figure out why the food in Naviso would taste so much better than food in my own village. Maybe it was more coconut milk? Salt? It wasn’t until the third day that I noticed the small gold tin of monosodium glutamate in the corner of the kitchen.

Eventually we walked back to the house and hung out. We roasted breadfruit, rassed banana and fried it, and storied. Talk about a vacation. My hostesses were extremely accommodating and wouldn’t allow me to lift a finger. I refused to let them talk me out of doing the dishes and rassing the bananas, but as my sore quadriceps healed from the walk to the village, I accepted that I wasn’t allowed to go to their gardens with them. Larry had an appointment with the kastom doctor the next morning and we were to leave for home the next day. Plenty of time for my legs to get better.

The next day, Larry couldn’t find the kastom doctor until late in the day. He gave Larry a leaf to eat and told him to wait four days to see if it would work. In the meantime, I was whiling away the days with no idea as to when I’d be going back to my village. My 25th birthday was fast approaching and I wanted to be in a place with mobile reception so I could talk to my family and friends. When the kastom doctor told Larry that he’d need to give him a second leaf because the first hadn’t worked, I knew I would have to spend my birthday in Naviso. I was pretty disappointed, but knew that it would be a very memorable birthday.

While my hosts were away at the garden, I didn’t have much to do but read. Luckily I had brought Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut with me. I read it twice. One day Jarina took me for a walk throughout Naviso, which is actually comprised of four villages, only one of which is actually known as Naviso. It was a nice easy walk, but very hot. The village was beautiful, and the school was a sight to see, as it had a vast waterfall looming up behind it on the right. The houses were all kastom, built of bamboo and natangura. The grass was trim and green and clotheslines traversed the yards. The villages were connected by narrow paths through the bush. All in all, it was a beautiful place.

On my birthday, Jarina and her family killed two chickens and prepared laplap taro for me. It was a delicious meal and afterwards we went for a swim in the pool. By that time it was dark outside and the stars were bright. Swimming in this pool is how the women bathe. So I was only mildly surprised when the others started to take off their clothes and dive into the pool. They all urged me to do the same and I obliged, softly saying, “be…skin blong mi i waet lelebet…” making me way more visible than my counterparts. No matter. I swam in the ice cold water with the others under the stars. It was such a free feeling and I really enjoyed myself.

My remaining days in Naviso were pretty uneventful. Not only did my stay coincide with
the school vacation, but also Jarina’s parents were in Santo. It was kindof like going to stay with a bunch of teenagers. Instead of eating baked laplap we would eat the rassed banana and fry it. Kindof like the difference between Mom’s macaroni and cheese and Easy Mac. When the kastom doctor decided to try a third leaf on my brother, Suzy decided to walk me back to our village the next day.

The morning we left, my leg muscles were almost 100% better. We had been in Naviso for almost a whole week. We set out around 7 am. We made it down the black stone beach in 90 minutes and up the hill from hell in about the same amount of time. Much to my surprise, the whole walk took only five hours. As we started nearing my village, we encountered friends in their gardens, all of whom exclaimed that we had just walked back from Naviso. I couldn’t believe how far away some of them were from the village itself.

Several weeks after my trip, I look back on my walk to Naviso and am glad that I finally did it, but I don’t think I’d ever do it again. Villagers no longer talk to me about how great Naviso is, and I no longer feel something nagging me to go and see it. After that walk, I feel that much more confident in my abilities as a hiker. Maybe I’ll turn over a new leaf when I get back to the States and show my artsy friends what a real hike is all about

Trip to China

So China blocks blogspot. So all of my travel updates have been via email. I'll do a recap for whoever hasn't been in the loop...

Seeing as how I had already experienced Christmas in a Ni-Vanuatu village, I decided to try something new for Christmas 2009. I ended up going on a month tour of China via Sydney with Dan. Other than Vanuatu, I hadn't seen any other country besides the U.S. and I had been in Vanuatu for 20 months. I was very excited to begin our trip.

We spent two nights in Sydney, eating Western food, drinking delicious beer, and seeing the sights. I loved Sydney. It's a gorgeous city (if not pricey) and there's water everywhere. The weather was pleasant as well. The opera house was a bit disappointing, but I had a lot of fun just people watching. It was strange wearing a dress that went up to the mid thigh region, hehe. I had some difficulty not staring at people, but I don't get to see a lot of white people other than the other volunteers now and again, and Australian fashion is so different. Also, Dan was nice enough to see the second Twilight installment, New Moon, at the movie theater. If I wasn't such a fan, I'd say the movie was a bit dull, but I just love all that tension between Jacob and Edward haha...

We spent five nights in Hong Kong. As our journey went on, our enthusiasm and energy for cramming in as many sight-seeing activities in a day waned a bit, but the cold we both caught might have had something to do with that as well. We hit HK hard. We mostly just walked ALLLL over the place. I discovered that's what I like to do the most when sight-seeing. Other than those featuring natural history, I find most museums to be a bit boring. In China the museums featured all of the same things: jade, ceramics, bronze, calligraphy, watercolors, etc. Not to say that it wasn't impressive, it just got a bit repetetive after a while. There was a really neat museum featuring the tomb of an emperor from around 1000 B.C. (don't quote me on the exact date, but it was B.C.)His body was wrapped in small jade pieces and red silk ribbons. He was buried with live human sacrifices, animals, ceramics, and more. Anyway, HK was cool because it had helpful tourist signs everywhere and we were able to walk around without having to look at a map too much. We stumbled upon a lot of cool market streets with exotic foods and trinkets. We even went to an amusement park and rode a rollercoaster. There was a dolphin show and I cried I was so happy, haha. We saw parks, gardens, etc.

We found it a bit difficult walking around the city. Pedestrian signals at crosswalks were hard to find and the cars moved quickly. Maybe it was just a lack of practice, but I was terrified. On our way back, we discovered that the city has an extensive pedestrian overpass system that connects the larger buildings. No crossing roads and worrying about speeding cars. I was impressed. Too bad we didn't discover that the first time around. HK also had a nice metro system. The double decker buses were cool too, except for the time we got locked inside of one, hehe.

Next was Guangzhou. Just a short train ride from HK. We had a bit of trouble finding the hostel, but the three nights we stayed there were nice. One of the highlights from Guangzhou was this dim sum place we went to. It was something like 5 stories, each story packed with hungry patrons and delicious food. A good portion of the ground level was an aquarium of fish and such ready for the eating. Amongst several delectable items, I ate frog for the first time. Tastes like chicken, of course. Another day we got ourselves pretty lost wandering through a meandering market, probably the biggest and most exotic market we saw in China. There were fuzzy chickens, for crying out loud.
And these weren't chicks. Guangzhou also had a really good metro system, but two separate train stations with similar names. I think one was Guangzhou Railway Station (East) and the other was the East Guangzhou Railway Station.

Next up was Shanghai. The train ride was about 16 hours and it was very crowded. There were three seating selections in the train: chairs, hard sleepers (which is what we had, basically just two sets of three bunked beds in each compartment), and soft sleepers, which were considerably nicer and had access to a dining car. For that particular journey we had the middle bunks, which had little head room, you couldn't even sit up.

We took a bus from the train station to our hostel. As the bus had an electronic sign and voice to announce every stop we found ours relatively easily. We learned quickly that the bus drivers there are completely insane and that the bicyclists and mo-ped drivers are pretty ruthless as well. We got a lot of good road-crossing practice in Shanghai. There was loads of construction going on too, which made walking around even more difficult. Luckily, there was Yamazaki...everywhere. Yamazaki is a cafeteria style bakery chain that sells some of the most creative and delicious pastries ever. I've never been a big fan of pastries, but soon we were frequenting these establishments at least once a day. It was hard to resist at $1 a pop.

On a side note...many nights were concluded with an episode or three of Arrested Development. If you haven't seen this show, and you have any sense of humor, you MUST watch it. It's only three seasons and it's one of the funniest shows I've ever seen. Please, I beg you...watch it.

One day, on the way to seeing the Bund (a road in Shanghai known for its rich history and interesting architecture) we ran into a group of two Chinese tourists and their guide who wanted to practice their English with us. They were a quirky group and asked us to go see a tea ceremony with them. The guide spoke almost no English while the two women spoke pretty well.
The tea ceremony was wonderful, if not a bit expensive. At one point it occurred to me that they might just be ringers for the tea ceremony, but they were so fun and accommodating I didn't care. At one point the guide was trying to explain a Chinese proverb about love through his cell phone's translator. When he showed it to us it said something to the effect of lobster bits on top of garlic green beans.

After Shanghai we took a short train ride to a city called Hangzhou, supposedly one of the prettiest cities in China. I agree. Although there was no metro system, the buses seemed in order and there was a huge lake in the middle of everything. Gorgeous.
It was a pity it was so cold, because there were lots of boats willing to take us out on the water. I get my fill of boats in Vanuatu anyway I guess. We basically just did a lot of walking around. Towards the end of our stay there I came down with a cold so we took it a bit easy. We had to take a train back to Shanghai to catch a different train to Xi'an, the last city in our tour of China.

The ride to Xi'an was equally crowded and about 18 hours, but we had the bottom bunks, which made all the difference. Xi'an was China's capital back in the day and is at the beginning of the Silk Road. It was an extremely important city, hence the walls. The walls that exist today were built in the late 1300s and don't surround nearly as much of the city as the original walls did. The city is also surrounded by a moat. Very cool. In fact, Xi'an was freezing. There were even traces of snow here and there. The hostel was really cool. We went on a tour of the Terracotta soldiers, which was awesome.
I didn't realize that it was going to be an excavation, I thought there would just be lots of clay soldiers all around. We also wanted to see the Emperor's tomb, but we couldn't find enough people to do a tour. There was another emperor's tomb that we could've gone to, but people aren't actually allowed inside as it's said to be too dangerous. It's rumored that there are rivers of mercury underground with the body. We walked around the walls surrounding Xi'an, which I'm told put European castle walls to shame. It looked as though you could put four lanes of traffic on top of each wall, for their width.

We wandered around for a few hours before we found the Muslim Quarter. It wasn't as spectacular as all the other tourists made it seem, but maybe that's because we had already been touring through China for a couple of weeks already. There were a lot of interesting sights and smells, that's for sure.

The ride back to Guangzhou took about 27 hours. In fear of boredom, I bought a cheap gaming console called an "Ear" which really is a p.o.s. but I can play Mario World and PacMan on it so I'm happy :) Fortunately the train was almost empty and we had the entire compartment to ourselves. When we got to Guangzhou we had to take the metro to a different station to take another train into HK. During our last couple of days, we gorged ourselves on Indian and Mexican food, so much so that neither of us could drink the champagne that we had bought to bring in the new year. Very disappointing, but I had no regrets, hehe. We saw the Sherlock Holmes movie along with Avatar. Loved Avatar, Sherlock was pretty good too.

I parted ways with Dan in HK. It was very intimidating traveling internationally by myself, but I made it. I leave tomorrow for Vanuatu and hopefully I can get back to Maewo before too long. I have lots of errands to run, but very little money so I gotta get back to the island where (almost) everything is free! It was a great trip, I'm so glad I did it. Hope everybody had a merry christmas and happy new year.

Manaro

For the last year or so, I’ve wanted to climb Ambae’s volcano, Manaro. If I hadn’t lived on Ambae for seven months I probably wouldn’t have cared at all about this particular geological feature, or maybe even the island itself, but I had and I did.
I was just waiting for an opportunity to go. A bunch of volunteers and I attended a Camp G.L.O.W. (Girls Leading Our World) training session on Ambae and we decided to hike the volcano after the workshop was finished. Dan arrived from Malekula on the last day of the workshop and planned to come with us.
While we were still on Maewo, Sheridan reserved a truck to take us to Ambanga, the last village on the road to Manaro. Turns out she has an uncle in the village. She called him several times before we left for Ambae to make sure he could take us. Each time he said he would be there. When he asked Sheridan to buy him phone credit, she happily obliged. As the workshop drew to a close, she called him again, and again he confirmed that he would come to get us.
On the morning of the climb, I awoke at 5 am and groggily packed my things, trudged out to get some breakfast and waited for the truck. My fellow would-be Manaro climbers and I sat around waiting. And then we waited a little more. Sheridan called her uncle repeatedly, but his phone was turned off. Around 7:30 we decided to give up and took a local truck into Saratamata, Penama’s provincial capital, to the house of a PCV who was nice enough to let us crash at her house while she was away. Realizing that it was already too late in the day to start our Manaro trip, we decided to set out for Ambanga in the afternoon on a local truck and get an early start up the volcano the next day. We later found out that Sheridan had the wrong number for her uncle and had actually been calling some random guy in Pentecost.
The ride was about an hour long. The first half of it was smooth and enjoyable. It was the kind of day that makes you wanna keep taking deep breaths, as if breathing in deeply would help you take in all the beauty that much more. Then the roads became the roads I remembered from my stay in South Ambae. Hilly and full of potholes. Still, there were stretches where the grass was thick, green, and trimmed short, almost like a golf course. I spent the rest of the ride wondering if someone had actually taken a lawnmower to the sides of the road or if the several cows I saw along the way were capable of keeping such a large plot of land looking so good.
We arrived in Ambanga, but had trouble finding anyone who knew the whereabouts of the Duviara Guest House. After no little amount of confusion, we saddled up and set off on a road of unknown length and hoped for the best. The road was a little tricky. Extremely narrow at some points, steep at others, and at once there was a 2x4 to cross over a small ravine. It was gorgeous though, and after only about five minutes, we had reached Duviara.
Huh. A large blue tent. And a huge white guy with a Broncos t-shirt. Vanuatu never ceases to amaze me. Turns out the Broncos fan was a missionary from Georgia or something. He lives in Vila but goes out to stay in Duviara every few years to preach the good word. Because he was using the main house, Justin and Sheridan got to sleep in the tent while the rest of us divvied up the remaining four beds. That night we drank kava. We hadn’t given the guys at the guest house much notice that we wanted to drink that night, so it came rather late. The lady who runs the guest house prepared a whole bunch of really delicious-smelling food, which made waiting for the kava even more difficult.
When the kava finally came, I thought that I might be able to handle one shell. I’d discovered that taking ibuprofen lessened the symptoms I usually feel after drinking kava. Shaking, fever, sleeplessness, itchiness, etc. I listened to the kava for a bit and even managed to take a few bites of food before the shaking started. I went to my room, swallowed some ibuprofen, and waited. I started to feel cold. Then I started to shiver. I put on my socks and got under the covers, the shivering coming on stronger now. I curled up into a ball and concentrated on relaxing my muscles by taking deep breaths. After about 15 minutes I finally succeeded, but I felt sore all over. For the third or fourth time since coming to Vanuatu, I vowed to never drink kava again.
We set out the next morning at 7 am. I was stoked because we got to eat gato, which are like doughnuts, and drink milo, which is like hot ovaltine, for breakfast. We chatted excitedly about the walk. How it wasn’t very difficult. Not too muddy, not too steep. We were surrounded by dense bush and the path became more narrow. About 90 minutes into the hike our guide informed us that we were about halfway there. Although I was incredulous (it’s often been my experience that Man Vanuatu grossly underestimate both distances and time) I couldn’t help but be excited to reach the top of Manaro in just another 90 minutes.
Two hours later, I felt my excitement begin to wane. The path was becoming tedious, lots of ducking under and climbing over fallen trees, avoiding large stones on the path, etc. We were muddy, sweaty and tired. On several occasions Justin joked that we were “halfway now.” The guide seemed intent on providing us all with walking sticks, though I felt like I got on better without one. Sheridan got the brunt of it as she was walking in the front. After another hour, we started to get silly. Sandy and Lauren took pictures of goop seeping out of plants, Sandy playfully whined the question on everyone’s minds: “Are we theeerrree yeeetttt?” We even began to sing what would later become, in our minds, the trip’s theme song: Living on A Prayer by Bon Jovi. Oh, we’re halfway there…Ohhhh livin’ on a prayer…Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear…Ohh, livin’ on a prayer.
After 5 ½ hours we reached the top of the volcano. It was misty, rainy, and very Exorcism of Emily Rose-ish in general. We rested for about 30 minutes, eating lunch and admiring the beautiful view revealed whenever the mist cleared.
The crater lakes of Manaro are the highest lakes in the South Pacific. Apparently Ambae has five crater lakes, but only two on the very top of the volcano. A good hike down from where we stood was the lake, electric blue and wind-rippled. I know people who have gone down near the water, but the guide told me that we couldn’t and I was too tired to argue it any further. As I stared at the water, I remembered stories about how the lake on Manaro was special because the lake’s waves came to shore, but never pulled back. I studied the water for a good while, but didn’t really see waves at all.
We took off our shoes and socks, wearily admiring our wrinkly feet. We ate the lunches that the guest house prepared for us. Taro, rice, and macaroni (ramen noodles) wrapped in banana leaves. Food never tasted so good. We gobbled it down and snapped a few pictures. Inside the lake is the cone of Manaro, shaped like a semi-circle. We could see the other shores of the lake, covered in trees and mist.
I was glad that Justin and Sheridan were there to push us on because when it was time to start hiking back down, I did not want to move. But it was getting late and we all wanted to get back down before dark. As is usually the case, the walk back down seemed to take a lot longer than the walk up. Justin was at it again with the “halfway now” jokes. We unconsciously broke up into three groups: Justin and the guide chattering together way ahead, Dan and I working our way steadily down in the middle, then Sheridan, Lauren, and Sandy bringing up the rear. We had to stop occasionally to allow them to catch up, but I was always happy for the rest. I felt like a couple of the toes on my left foot were broken and my legs were getting shaky. Then it started to get dark.
Luckily we all brought flashlights with us. My light wasn’t very strong and I found it challenging to avoid every stone and root in the path. I was sortof worried about falling, but never did. When the trees began to thin, I all but got down on my hands and knees and rejoiced. Disclaimer: I am not a hiker and did not ever go on a long hike until coming to Vanuatu. Out of the group, I think I was the most inexperienced and out of shape, so sorry if this sounds whiney. Looking at my cell phone I realized that we probably still had another hour to walk. I went into robot mode and sortof just spaced out as my legs moved underneath me.
Eventually we made it back to the guesthouse. The lady had been pretty worried about us and the truck to take us back to Saratamata had been waiting for a good hour already. I feebly packed my things and suddenly felt nauseous. Everybody wolfed down the boiled bananas that were brought to us, but I couldn’t eat. It felt like I was walking on pins and needles. The walk back down to Ambanga where the truck was waiting was like a dream. I was just going through the motions and was soon ecstatic to be sitting in the bed of the truck, although that too was uncomfortable. All of us, save Dan, were flopped down in the bed of the truck moaning and groaning. Dan stood up the whole ride back to Saratamata, I couldn’t believe it! When the truck started moving, I immediately felt the motion sickness. I concentrated on breathing but, before long, threw up off the side of the truck. “Who’s unhappy?” Justin asked everybody. We all chuckled then groaned as it began to rain. Best trip ever.
On the sunnier side, I don’t think I’ve slept that well in a while. I woke up feeling sore, but refreshed and accomplished. I was proud and happy that I had finally done it. I felt like I had earned the kastom tattoo that Sandy, Lauren, and I had arranged for ourselves to get later that afternoon. Once upon a time there was a PCV who lived in Sakau, a village in South Ambae. Through this PCV other volunteers met Bob, a man from the village who is skilled in doing kastom tattoos. We paid for Bob’s transport up to Saratamata and talked with him for a bit about the kastom story behind the road to Manaro tattoo. The tattoo itself looks like two parallel lines, an equal sign, or the number eleven. It represents the road and it is said that, if you have this tattoo, upon your death your spirit will dance on Manaro for eternity. Kastom tattoos are done with needles from the orange tree, leaves, and soot. Juice from the leaves are squeezed out onto the soot, making a black paste that is put into skin broken by the orange needles. Bob informed us that he had given 17 tattoos to PCVs over the years. One might say that Bob is our official kastom tattoo artist. He’s a good guy and loves to talk about the U.S. We gave him some gifts, storied for a bit, and he went on his way.
I got the tattoo on the right side of my right foot. It was a little painful just because of the location, but Bob was professional and efficient. Over the next couple of months my tattoo healed and peeled just like any other tattoo and now it is glorious. Every Man Vanuatu who sees my tattoo is fascinated by it and happy that I shared in their kastom, but can’t understand why I got it on my foot. The women in my village have all sorts of ridiculous “kastom” tattoos on their arms. Mostly initials that look like they were scrawled on by a 3 year-old. Others are more funny. The Nike symbol is my favorite.
In short, I’d say that if you enjoy hiking and are in decent shape, Manaro would be fun for you. If you’re a beginner and/or out of shape, I’d seriously reconsider this one, or bring a tent to camp out and take your time with it. The view on top was spectacular when and if the fog clears. And then, of course, there’s always the bragging rights.
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A Day On Maewo

Hey. It’s finally cooling down here and I’m feeling pretty good. What a day! Woke up and circuit trained with my sister Suzy. At least I think it was circuit training, I’m not entirely sure. We ran for a little while, then did pushups. We ran some more and did crunches. We ran some more and did squats, etc. We did some stretching then ate some of that delicious Weet-Bix that I love so much. With milk powder and a dash of cinnamon. Yum! I took a bucket bath, got my dirty clothes together along with the bag of powdered laundry detergent I purchased in bulk in Vila, and headed over to my family’s house.

We took the road by the ocean so as to avoid the church service that was going on. There’s an Anglican festival thingy happening here this week and there are services pretty much all day every day. I feel like such a sinner walking on the road that goes through the village whenever I pass a church service that I’m not attending.

I washed. Thankfully Suzy helped me because I had a lot to wash and the sun was pretty hot already. I hadn’t washed my clothes since before I left for the workshop on Ambae two weeks before. Throw in my bed sheets and a towel and pretty soon I had 2 hours worth of laundry on my hands.

I hung up my clothes to dry then prepared to rest a bit before heading home to relax and make lunch. My mama asked me to buy a kilo of rice for her to cook our lunch with, but because I had brought no money with me, she told me to go to the garden with Suzy and get some cabbage. She said the equivalent of “oh, it’s not far at all,” in Bislama, which means it’s a lot farther than it is closer. People in Vanuatu live very close together and grow most of their food in the bush, sometimes upwards of a 30 minute walk away, up hills and through mud. They are some tough people. I struggle to slip and slide down the hills as we come back from the garden only to see old women walking down confidently, carrying large loads of taro or firewood on their backs and on top of their heads.

Luckily there were no hills to climb. I had actually been to this particular garden before. It’s a nice walk through a small coconut plantation and a few clear, ice cold creeks to wade across. We got to the garden and picked watercress and Chinese cabbage then headed back.

By the time we got to the house, I was very hungry and suffering slightly from dehydration. Boy does this country make me feel like a princess. These days I get motion sickness just smelling gasoline. (In the last week or so, I’ve vomited once while riding in the bed of a pickup truck and then again taking a boat from Maewo to Ambae). I also get dehydrated basically everyday. Sigh. I asked my mom to send me some more Gatorade powder to mix with water though. I always hated Gatorade in the States, but it’s a real life saver for me here and I swear the powder has more sugar in it or something, it doesn’t taste like flavored sweat. Anyway, when lunch was served, I felt so nauseous I could barely choke it down, but I forced myself to eat small bites and soon felt a lot better. I also sipped my water. After I ate, I walked back to my house, took some Tylenol, and laid down for a bit. About an hour later, I was good as new. That’s the cool thing about it, if there is a cool thing about getting dehydrated daily: I know exactly how to fix it. Obviously drink more water, but, if you really wanna feel better quickly, eat a little bit (preferably something with salt), take a pain killer, and sleep. Taking a cold bucket bath never hurts either.

I woke up to somebody calling my name. Nicholson, the mechanics teacher, was at my door, asking for chalk. I had told him a week ago that there was no chalk, so I’m not sure if this was just him making sure I was sticking to my story or if he was hopeful or that forgetful. Once he left, I puttered about my house and talked on my phone for a bit.

I worked on my “field of interest” piece for a graduate school program I’m trying to apply to. I wrote “trying” because applying to grad schools without telecommunications is frustrating. Hopefully I can pull it off successfully, but part of me wonders if it might be better to just wait tables for a year back in the States while taking my time to research schools. But then I remember the nine months I worked at Barnes & Noble between college and Peace Corps and shudder. I loved my experience there, but going in 40 hours a week not knowing what my next step would be was difficult. I guess in this case I would have a plan and be researching schools so it might not be so bad. Maybe I’d even move to a different city. I’ve always thought about living in Boston, but the west coast sounds cool, as does Austin. It’d be easier to save money living with my parents back in Maryland, but I feel like trying something new.

Anyway, I really need to wash some dishes before I go back to my family’s house for dinner. There are so many people from Naviso, the sole village on East Maewo, here in my village for the Anglican thing that I feel like I just arrived in a new village all over again. People in Naviso rarely see white people, so many of them come up to me just to touch my hair or look at my nose ring. They’re fascinated when I take it out. They also love it when I get Stuey to sit and shake hands. But it’s weird walking around in my normally quiet village being greeted by people I’ve never met, who seem to know me.

I’ve been meaning to walk over to the East for some time now. They’ve invited me over there for Penama Day, which is Penama Province’s annual celebration. Each province has one, but ours is September 15. There’s going to be a big party in Naviso and they want me to come. I made the mistake of telling them I’d think about it, and have since had tell people (the same people) over and over that I would think about coming. I’d love to go, but I think I’ll wait until a non-holiday time when things aren’t so crazy. When there’s dancing and drinking, it’s nice to have your own house to go to and hide in if things get too crazy. Plus I’d like to go with the other Maewo volunteers, who also don’t want to go during a holiday. In fact, I think all three of them are coming to my house this weekend and staying through the 15th to celebrate here. Yay!

Also, a Peace Corps Staff member called me today about hosting a few trainees here on Maewo next month. I’m really excited and I hope it works out. I’m hoping they’ll send my good friend Stephanie out here. I haven’t seen her in about a 18 months and I’d love her to see my site. Lots to look forward to, but I should really wash those dishes…

Trip to Tanna

When we got off the plane, it was clear that something was different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but we definitely weren’t on Maewo. There seemed to be more coniferous and less coconut/palm trees maybe. Also, despite Tanna housing one of the world’s most active volcanoes, there were no mountains looming anywhere. Dan, a volunteer on Malekula, and I hopped on a truck and pointed out the differences between Tanna and other islands we’d seen during the ten or fifteen minute ride into Lenakel.

We got off at the market, and were met by some other volunteers. The market was incredible. Not too much smaller than the one in Vila, but it had a lot of produce that I had yet to see outside of the supermarket monopoly here, Au Bon Marche. Tanna is one of Vanuatu’s southernmost islands and is farther from the equator than islands such as the one I live on. As a result, Tanna is able to grow produce that I, as an American, am more familiar with. Things like carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, apples, and fried dough.

We walked along the dusty dirt road towards the stadium. At the time, Tanna was hosting an “Arts Festival” and the festivities were taking place there in Lenakel. Upon discovering that my trip coincided with the festival, I was excited to see some local handicrafts. Unfortunately, it seemed as if “art” meant kava, lots of people, soccer, trash, dancing, and group of New Caledonians. The only art I really saw were at the market. Woven baskets, mats, and naios. Naios basically look like sticks covered in colorful feathers. I believe Tannese women, also known as Woman Tanna, wear these in their hair during kastom dances. Lacking any sort of foresight whatsoever, I purchased a large purply pink one, and had to figure out creative ways to transport it around with me over the next few days of my stay.

Home base ended up being a stall in which another volunteer’s host family was selling food, kava, and coffee. After putting our bags down, we sat and watched a soccer game, helped make dinner, and marveled at how strange tourists can be. Later that night, there was kava and dancing. Around midnight, we pitched a tent and shivered ourselves to sleep.

The next day, I’d decided that I’d had enough of Lenakel and the crowds. We wanted to go to Port Resolution, which is on Tanna’s east coast (Lenakel is on the west coast), but were told it might be difficult to find transport and that it was an impossible walk. Always up for a challenge, we started walking. It was a beautiful day. Blue skies, no humidity to speak of, and a slight breeze. The hills were steep, but the views were worth the climb. There were plenty of trucks going our way, but they were all full of people and never stopped. Sometimes a truck going in the opposite direction would stop and ask the usual Vanuatu questions: “Where are you going? Where are you coming from?” The responses differed as we walked farther and farther. At first, truck drivers would basically tell us that what we were attempting was impossible. After a while, they would just apologize. Towards the top/middle of Tanna, they would shake their heads.

We encountered other people on the road during our walk. A little boy promised he’d get us on the truck that he was supposed to be taking later on in the day. A mama sent one of her sons to fetch us smoky-tasting water as her terrified youngest child cried and screamed. One kid simply gave me a high five.

When we reached the highest part of the walk, I was amazed by the view. We could see a few other islands from where we stood. The ocean glittered a deep blue color and


Yasur was dark in the distance. A tourist truck had stopped at the top as well and the driver, a Ni-Vanuatu, chatted with us. When he found out that we were trying to walk to Port Resolution, he all but pushed us into the back of his truck to drive us. After coming so far, we were reluctant to give up. We asked him how much farther it was to our destination. He pointed to Yasur and basically said, “See that? Port Resolution is on the other side.” The ride down the aptly named Snake Hill was bumpy and cramped, but glorious after walking for four hours. To the road’s, and perhaps the Japanese’s, credit, it was one of the best I’d seen outside of Port Vila and Luganville. A feat of engineering that other islands have yet to grasp, the road was constructed so that water ran into ditches on either side of it, rather than carving out potholes the size of a small vehicle. Nevertheless, we bounced along, and got a pretty amazing tour of Yasur’s ash plain. As the truck wove around the roadless sand, a light rain began to fall, creating small rainbows all over the place. I was so excited by the fact that I could see the beginning and end of the same rainbow that I struggled to keep myself from stopping the truck and begging the tourists to take a picture of me at one end and Dan at the other. It reminded me of my brother and how he always wanted to find the end of a rainbow.

The longer we drove on, the more grateful I was for the ride. So I was pretty dismayed when, after 30 minutes, the driver stopped at a bungalow and told us to keep following the road to Port Resolution. Turns out we were still about a two-hour walk away.

In the increasing darkness, we pressed onward, arriving at Sandra’s house around 7 pm. She boiled water for us to have warm bucket baths with, and prepared a very tasty meal. We set up our tent and went to sleep.

The next morning we went exploring on our own. We meandered down the beach and observed some of Yasur’s geographical features. There were steam vents everywhere. We stopped at one that was larger than the others and smelled more sulfury. The warmth of the steam was difficult to abandon, but the smell wasn’t so pleasant. We continued on and came upon some colored clay. It was warm on the top, and piping hot just a tad farther down. There were reds, blues, and yellows making up all sorts of other shades as well. We painted each other’s faces with the clay, played a little bit in the muck, and continued on.

A little farther was a rickety ladder down to a couple of underwater vents, which made the ocean water bubble furiously. The water was very hot in some places and it was here that we carefully maneuvered and washed the dried clay off of our faces.

Heading down, we realized that we should’ve packed a lunch. We thought there might be a store or something in the village along the beach, but no such luck. Instead, we found a couple coconuts and struggled to open them with a stake. Dan was doing fine, but I couldn’t seem to get one open. Eventually a couple of older Ni-Van men came along and offered to open them with their bush knives. Saved us a lot of time and energy. Conversation didn’t seem to be on their minds, so they continued on as we went to sit on the beach and enjoy our spoils.

When we got back to Sandra’s, she was still gone and her kitchen was locked. There were a couple of stores in the village, but the ones that were open only sold random items such as toilet paper and rice. We bought a roll for Sandra and a bag of rice to cook. We were so hungry, but Sandra didn’t make it home for another hour or so, so we just had to sit there. Was the wait worth the cheese and crackers she gave us? Probably. We munched on the jarred cheesy goodness and, before long, a truck came along to transport us to the top of Yasur. For just 1000 vatu round trip for the both of us. We hopped gleefully in the back of the truck and took off.

The truck took us up a windy and bumpy path up the volcano. It was a little bit like Mordor, I have to admit. It dropped us off at the bottom of a steep sandy path lined with wooden guardrails. Panting, I worked my way up the sandy slope and was reminded how windy the tops of volcanoes can be. At times I felt like it would knock me over. We walked up to the rim and looked around, wondering which side of the rim would offer the best view. There was an area down in the caldera where it looked like you could get a much better view of actual lava flow down in the crater and we wondered if we could go down there. We were answered soon enough, when a burst of Yasur’s liquid insides sent molten rock showering down on the place we were just considering standing. So we stayed where we were. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. I liked the scenery: the large sandy volcano at sunset, but the descriptions of Yasur that I’d heard always involved people wishing they’d had hardhats, or fighting the urge to turn around and run away, or molten rocks falling behind you. I guess the volcano was just a little quieter than usual, so we stood there while, every now and then, Yasur would spit out a bit of lava. It was windy and cold enough where, after about an hour, we decided to go back to the truck.

We left early the next morning to catch a truck back to Lenakel. It was a long, crowded truck ride and my rear end felt it. We hung out at the stadium again and, at some point, walked up to the Air Vanuatu office to change our return tickets to the following day. We were worn out. The agent gave us two options: Morning or afternoon. Wishing to get a early start on the day, we chose morning, to which he calmly informed us that the morning flight was booked. So we chose the afternoon flight. This ended up being a fortuitous booking because I really enjoyed exploring Tim’s site.

After drinking a shell of kava and drinking Sprite as kale, I walked with the other volunteers down a long road in the moonlight. It was a cold, humidity-free night, and the kava was working its magic. Eventually we turned right and began our ascent to Tim’s site. About 45 minutes into the climb, the kava was kicking and I was shivering in spite of the fact that I was sweating. I began to wonder exactly how far away Tim’s site was. Almost as if in answer to my question, we rounded another corner and we were there. We worked for a couple hours preparing a creation that Dan had thought up, which was basically a steak salad with an orange soy sauce dressing. Not bad, but I was drunk on kava and very cold.

The next day we went to the third largest banyan tree in the world. Or so it claimed. It was rather large, maybe the size of a football field. We spent a little while climbing around in it, bringing back memories of climbing pine trees in my neighborhood as a kid. This was a little more challenging, as the branches of the banyan tree (known as nambanga here in Vanuatu) stood in the way on their paths down to the ground. I was almost jealous of the little kids swinging from vines, barking like monkeys. What an awesome jungle gym.

We caught a truck back to the airport and said our farewells. Tanna was fun, but I was glad to be back in Vila where it was a bit warmer and clean.

Walkabout

I've been in Vila for a week now, and I'm just now getting a chance to sit down and write a blog. I've been running lots of errands and buying lots of stuff to take back to site. I'm really excited because I just got a laptop and it's already making my life a lot easier.

School's been out for the entire month of July, so I decided to use that time to see more of Vanuatu. Malekula's volunteers are infamous for knowing how to throw a party, so naturally I decided to go there for the fourth of July. Santo's a stop along the way, so I stayed there for a night and did a bit of shopping. It's not easy finding transport from the Luganville airport into town that isn't really expensive, but I met a taxi driver named Samuel who was nice enough to give me a discount. He's now my driver, or so he claims. I'm not allowed to travel by a taxi owned by anybody else. It's a fair deal. He's getting business and I'm getting a lower price. It's win-win...win. It's a bit overwhelming to go from the island to a city, and this was no exception. LCM's the name of a huuuge Chinese store that can ship whatever you buy back to your island. How's that for convenient? There's not much to do in Luganville when you only have a few hours, so I ate dinner at the Deco Stop and called it a day. There's a place called the Chinese Restaurant, but I couldn't figure out what kind of restaurant it was so I opted for pizza.

Wednesday's the day I caught the flight from Santo to the Kula, as it is known round these parts. Malekula's got a lot of coconuts. That's about all I can say about it. It's also flat, hot, and sunny. Norsup's airport was one of the first things I noticed. It's got no roof because it was fire bombed? It's dilapidated and there are papaya trees growing out of it. Dan's a volunteer on Malekula and I stayed with him during my stay there. He's got electricity, a blender, waterbed, computer, a fan, and, most importantly, seasons 1-4 of The Office. Dan's house is located close to Lakatoro, which is the provincial center for the Malampa Province. Lakatoro's amazing. It's got a huge mama's market, and there are stores where you can buy almost anything you could ever want. Dan's house is located at the school, however, so there are constantly children running around yelling, crying, and staring at us through his windows. That's a little awkward, but not as annoying as the school bell that rings at least ten times a day, or the rooster that likes to crow outside of the window, hehe.

Malekula's got a ton of PCVs. I've never been a huge sushi fan, but some of the other Malekula volunteers brought over several kilos of fresh tuna and mahi mahi that they had caught and we all made sushi. It's really weird to grab a chunk of fish flesh and put it in your mouth, but that's exactly what we did. Santo's got wassabe, so I picked up a tube of it and we made a good dipping sauce with that and some soy sauce (real soy sauce!).

What's a fourth of July party without burgers and beer? That'd be an Ambae fourth of July. Dan's friend actually sent him a small grill, so we all grabbed that and had a picnic on the beach, listening to classic rock songs. It's dark by 7 pm round here, so we packed up our stuff and headed back to Dan's. I've never had such a chill fourth of July.

Jameson's not a liquor to be trifled with, so the next day was filled with laying around and recovering. I'm not a big fan of whiskey, so luckily I was okay. Malekula's known for making a kind of lap lap called lap lap sursur. Dan's host family had us over for lunch and I got to try it. It's just regular laplap, but they put hot stones in the center and then meat on top. It's really tasty because not only is there meat on top of the laplap, a rarity in Maewo, but it's really tender and the juices seep down into the laplap, actually giving it some flavor. There's also coconut milk on top, which makes everything ten times better.

That's about all of the exciting things I did on Malekula, but I'm definitely not complaining. It's nice to just hang out and relax and not worry about social obligations in my community. I've finally caught up with everybody on watching The Office, managed to finish season one of Heroes, and even watched a few movies. Dan's got a lot of movies, and I got a chance to watch No Country for Old Men, The Cleaner, Mama Mia!, Across the Universe, and a few others that I can't remember right now.

There's some sort of unspoken rule between some PCVs that when there are two or more of them present in the vicinity, and it's mealtime, something spectacular must be prepared. You've gotta keep in mind the fact that our standards are considerably lower here, so "something spectacular" to us might not be quite so spectacular to you. I'm of the opinion that, as long as something has flavor, it's pretty amazing. Vanuatu's beef is really fresh and, if you know how to cook it right, you can't really go wrong with that. There's this grocery store in Lakatoro that sells cheese, potatoes, canned tomatoes, eggs, cold drinks, pasta, and more. I'm not a creative person, but the possibilities are sortof endless with those ingredients, especially because their mama's market sells a lot of good produce like eggplant, green beans, chinese cabbage and cucumber.

That's pretty much it for my stay in Malekula. It's difficult to leave a place of such relaxation, but, as my next stop was Vila, it wasn't too difficult :) Vila's such a trip for volunteers living on the outer islands. It's so busy and congested, which is funny because, compared to any city in the U.S., it's nothing special. I'm a big fan of cheese, so naturally the first food I turn to when I get to Vila is pizza. There's a hotel in Vila where PCVs always stay and they put me up for the meeting. Internet's free there if you have a laptop (which I now do--thanks Dad!) so I curled up with my hawaiian pizza and got online for the first time in months.

It's getting down to my last day here in Vila, so I'm going to wrap this up for now in case I don't get on again. I'm having a great time in Vanuatu, and, now that I have my laptop, I'll be able to type up blogs at site and then post them when I come back in October. I'll try to keep in touch, but take care until next time!

First months on Maewo

Just spent two months at my new site on Maewo. I didn't realize how bad my first site was until I realized how amazing my new site is. The move from Ambae to Maewo was a very stressful experience, but well worth the trouble. A Peace Corps staff member, Richard, flew with me to Ambae. We then took a truck to my village. Did I mention that I ride in the bed of pick-up trucks on a regular basis? Lots of fun. Anyway, we got to Lolovoli and I packed up my things while Richard talked with my village about what was going on. It was weird to be packing all of my things with everyone standing around watching. Occasionally someone would pick something up and ask if they could keep it. Pretty standard for Vanuatu. So I packed my things within two hours, giving some things away in the process, and leaving much behind. I walked over to the nakamal and drank a shell of kava with my host papa before getting onto the truck to go back down to Saratamata. Some tears were shed, but mine dried completely as soon as I saw everyone emptying my house of its furniture. I was feeling sorry about leaving, but when I saw that, I knew I had made the right decision.

We got back down to Saratamata and, the next day, put my things on a motorboat and puttered across to Maewo. With all of my things, the trip took about 90 minutes.














The best part: I got to bring my dog, Stuey. He loved the boat ride. I, on the other hand, was pretty shaky and nauseous by the time we arrived. .
















My counterpart's family helped me carry all of my things to my house.
My house is absolutely incredible. Cement floors, hurricane-proof windows with screens, running water, my own personal rain tank, and a toilet just outside the house. There's a gas stove, food safe, and bamboo couch.



The food safe was rendered useless by rats, and I've been waging a war against them on a daily basis. So far, they're winning. The bamboo couch is nice to look at, but is a bit like sitting in a church pew; after a little while it's uncomfortable. That night we drank kava and I storied with some of the women. It was a very different experience from my first few nights in Lolovoli due to the fact that I was more experienced with integrating into a community. I knew what to say, what not to say, and how to act. It was great.

The next day, the school committee held a meeting to welcome me and find me a host family. I introduced myself and met my host mama, Erima. I was then taken back to my family's house to meet my papa and siblings. My papa's name is Henry. He reminds me a lot of John Goodman. He's very big, and yells a lot. But not in an angry way. I have eight brothers and sisters. The eldest, Hensley, lives here in Vila. He's 21. Then it's Suzy (20), Darin (17), Ronald (16), Larry (14), Lucy (10), Hendrix (8), and Hancy (2). My host mama fully believes that Hancy was a result of black magic. Apparently, someone was upset with my host papa and decided to curse my mama with the burden of another child. Don't you hate it when that happens? I certainly do.

I share a bedroom with my sister, Suzy. She's pretty cool and, because she doesn't go to school, is free to take me wherever I wanna go. We went to the gardens, other villages, wove mats, cooked, storied, etc. The first month was just kinda us hanging out. But it did start to get a little boring.

Luckily school started at the beginning of March.
I'm super busy all of the time now, writing lesson plans, teaching, and trying to find time in between to have some time by myself. I usually get up around 5:45 and eat breakfast with my family. Then I walk to my house to shower and get ready for the day. I chose to live with my host family rather than inside my own house for several reasons: 1) Integration into the community is exponentially easier, 2) My house is kinda on its own, outside of the village, hence not the safest place at night, 3) I can eat most of my meals with my family, which saves me time and money, and 4) The volunteer I replaced lived with her host family the whole time and I don't want my host family to feel like they're not as good a family as hers was. This way, I feel safer and less lonely. If I ever need some "me time," I just go over to my house and hang out. Anyway, I teach from 8-11:30, then eat lunch with Rinisa, the woman I'm training to be my replacement.
I teach again from 1:30-3:30 then work on lesson plans until sundown, at which time I go back to my family's house and eat dinner. We talk for a little while, and sometimes I help my brothers and sisters with their homework. My youngest sister, Hancy, has really grown on me. She cries about everything, but when she's in a good mood, she's sooo cute. She always greets me with a big hug and sits on my lap, where she does her best impersonations of the handclap games she sees her big sister play. Then I go to bed and do it all over again the next day. Time flies.

On Saturdays I wash my clothes and meet Sandy, my closest PCV neighbor, at my house to cook. Every week, we choose different things to cook. We've cooked food like spaghetti, flat bread, guacamole, hummus, shortbread, fudge, onion rings, etc. All amazingly unhealthy, but delicious. We eat and story and it's a nice break at the end of the week. Around sundown we make our own "walk of shame" to the edge of my village, moaning and groaning the whole way because we've eaten wayyy too much food. After leaving her at the first creek, I go back to my family's house.

Sunday is church. Anglican. Not so bad. At the end of service on my first Sunday there, the priest started talking about church punshishment. Basically, whoever does something bad is "punished" by the church, and cannot take communion for a certain amount of time. In the meantime, I think they have to visit with the priest and work for forgiveness. It was weird to hear people being called out on their scandals in front of everybody. It seems a bit Salem witch trialish to me, but keeps the villagers in line, for the most part. I've done a couple of bible readings, which earns me HUGE brownie points, hehe. There's some talk about why I don't take communion, but I feel like it might be a bad idea to tell them that I've never been baptised. So I just say that I respect their religion, but mine tells me that I can't take communion. They seem to be okay with that, but every now and then I do get asked about it. After church, I go back to my house to get ready for the next school week and at sundown I go back to my family.

So far, so good. I've got about another year to go. I feel really good about the place because, for one thing, I did more with my host family on Maewo in the first week there than I ever did in my seven months on Ambae. Weaving mats, pinning natangura, going to the garden, etc. They care about me and want me to be happy. Volunteers claim that the second year goes by much faster than the first. I think it's because our projects really start to get going during that second year and time flies.

Which brings me to what I'm doing here in Vila. But because I don't want this posting to be too long, I'll stop here and write about my stay in Vila some other time. Hope everyone back home is seeing warmer days and sunnier skies. Miss you guys!