Sweet as Mango Ice Cream

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Papa New Guinea.

Today our boat docked at its last exotic port of call; Rabaul, PNG, a small volcanic island surrounded by lush tropical forest and dense jungle. Japanese war history has left its scars upon this primitive land, along with the volcanic eruption of 1994. The people are phoenixes; they have risen from the ash and have more life flowing from them then a new born baby. There warmth and rapture with us melted my heart. Black children with mustard colored afros, chocolate saucer eyes, and glowing smiles stole my breath away.

I spent my day on the tiny, uninhabited Pigeon Island. The water was 30 degrees, and crystal blue. The sand and palm tree backdrop, another splendor of beach beauty, which I have almost grown accustomed to. With snorkel and mask I waded out into the reef to see what life I could discover. The reef stretched for miles. I have never seen such a vast scene of undamaged coral teeming with life. Even as I hovered above the 12 meter drop off, I could see all the usual fish of Perhentian, but bright blue brain corals, fire yellow, poppy red and fuchsia hard coral also adorned the ocean floor. I couldn't bring myself to get out of this warm, colorful bath until my skin was raw from salt and sand.

As we drove down the dusty road along the ocean, dust and sand covered my body. I hid under my sarong and watched everyone we passed wave, jump and smile at us from the sides of the road. School children walking home, mothers carrying babies and groceries, men working, families selling pineapples, young and old, they were all delighted to see us. Tears gathered in my eyes from the warmth they oozed.

We stopped at a local market. I roamed the endless stalls of fresh green leafy vegetables, bananas, passion fruits, apple mangos, roots and taro. Rows of dried tobacco leaves could be smelt from yards away. Women peered at us through beetle nut stained teeth, there lips red as raspberries. I bought a mango ice cream cone and relished its cool sweet taste countering my salty mouth.

Our truck drops us off back at the ship. Its bright blue letters spelling PEACE BOAT feel familiar now. A light rain slowly starts to fall. I run up the gangway, swipe my ID card and head to my cabin for a long hot shower. The swirls of red dust wash down the drain, the last taste of salt is rinsed from my lips, but its impression will never be erased from my mind, just like my experience in Rabaul.

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Photos

smiles PNG
village children greet us all smiles

jump rope
kidds enjoy play time

PNG dancers
dancers greet us at the boat port