OFF TO A BAD START

---

THE SOLOMON ISLANDS

OFF TO A BAD START

The Solomon Islands…the name conjures up stories from my childhood memory. When I was young I had a set of Christian books about Kings, and of course King Solomon is one I remember.

On the other hand, I know next to nothing about the war in the Pacific. I don’t even know where my uncles served during the war, and now family members who could have told me have all passed away. The first time I visited the Philippines many years ago there were still remnants of the military presence in the Philippines. On this trip I discovered wrecks abound in Papua New Guinea. The German Channel in Palau was a site of military activity in WWII. But I didn’t learn about the war in the Solomon Islands until I started diving the wrecks there.

I didn’t really give Honiara, the capital city of Solomon Islands, a chance to impress me. My mind was elsewhere. I hadn’t booked a hotel so I had no idea how expensive hotels were here. And I was focused on unblocking my ATM card. I didn’t even have any money to pay the taxi from the airport. What was I going to do? Luckily I did have forty dollars American but the change booths wouldn’t accept anything smaller than a hundred dollar bill. The taxi driver was clever, though, and took me to the casino. Of course, they took any amount of American dollars there.

After I paid the driver I had him drop me off at the dive shop where I asked about diving…all wreck diving; also about a liveaboard dive vessel, and about a budget hotel. The dive store put me on a list for the Taka, the dive boat and told me to go to King Sol, “It is a nice hotel and it is reasonable.” It was about four blocks away and as I tried to steer my big suitcase and the smaller one over the rough terrain in this industrial area (remember I still have no money), a young man came out of the dive store and offered his, and his older brother’s services to manhandle the bags up the street. It was such a kind offer, although Andrew’s big brother Billy looked a little forced.

We got to the hotel and it was beautiful, and expensive. But I was there and I was a bit overwrought about the ATM card not working, so I decided to stay one night (they took visa cards). The Hotel was built with the old tribal techniques and it was full of amazing sculptures carved out of wood that shined like cherry wood. It looked like a museum. In fact, the owners had a museum a few blocks away on Main Street, and much of the art was for sale.

My room was on the fourth level above the lobby, on a steep incline and there was a quaint little trolley that climbed the hill. But I wasn’t as smart as the mechanism and fought with it to get it to stop at my floor. The room had a warning sign on the door…it looked like it had just been fumigated and there was a mattress leaning against the wall. But it was the last available room and I didn’t feel like carting my luggage around. I just wanted to get back down to the lobby where there was intermittent internet and call my bank and unblock my ATM card. It didn’t happen; I couldn’t get through to my bank. I finally gave up, had a great meal, went to my room and fell asleep.

The next morning after an excellent breakfast I had a plan. Find a cheaper hotel, go to the consulate and get help with my money issues and buy an adapter for my computer. Think positive.

I tucked my luggage behind the hotel desk and walked to Commonwealth Street to find the consulate. On the way I passed a hardware store and bought an adapter. Things were looking up. The secretary in the Consulate gave me a handful of papers to fill out. Before I even got started the woman in charge stepped in and told me they couldn’t help me. “Just step around the corner to the mobile store and get some minutes on your phone and call your bank.” She did help. It was great advice although I really wanted somebody else to just fix my problem.

On the way to the mobile store I saw a coffee shop, the Lime Lounge, and I spent three or four hours there just relaxing and using their very good internet. I talked with family and Rick, my son, gave me a contact number for my bank. After talking with the mobile lady and purchasing a sim card and some minutes for my phone I went back to the Hotel Sol and wept my way through three phone calls. Finally I was assured that my ATM card would work so I walked three blocks to the ATM. Nothing. It still did not work. I returned to the hotel and called the bank again. This time the agent made some adjustments and assured me it was unblocked. I went back to the ATM, checked Maximum Withdrawal…and it worked. Hooray. I encountered this problem, a block on my ATM, several times on this trip. Evidently, trying to protect my account from fraud, if I made a small purchase, like a tea and snack in Starbucks in the airport, and then incurred a large payment for diving or such, this flashed warning signals to the bank and they put a hold on my card. Their explanation was that someone who steals my card would try to see if it worked with a small purchase and then would go on a spending spree. In places like the South Pacific where internet is uncertain this is a huge problem for me. But now I have cash, probably enough to see me through till I return home.

I decided to celebrate and ordered dinner at the King Sol. It was fabulous. I had the best calamari ever, in a salad, with fries and Sprite. It was pouring rain and I waited for the weather to clear. While I was waiting I noticed that some of the statues were smaller than the others. I had assumed they were just ¾ size, but it suddenly occurred to me that there might be a tribe of “little” people, so I asked a kindly looking door man about it. He said, “Yes…these men are from another island and they are small.” He also told me the name of the tribe and the island where they are found. Maybe someday I will chance upon that information in one of my notebooks, but at the moment I cannot find it. I tried to look it up on Google, and there was no definite answer. It sounded more like a myth.

Finally I got a taxi to Rock Haven Hotel, only $70 a night. It was a really bad choice. Dirty and in disrepair. I didn’t even consider showering (later looked in the shower and there was a huge hole surrounding the pipes…I shudder to think what might crawl out of it). The staff was top notch, however and they allowed me to store my bags while I decided what to do next.

I went back to the Lime Lounge.

---

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Hope things improve
Banking safety is good but frustrating. Glad you have cash again and hope you find a clean place to sleep.

[Never too old]

OFF TO A BAD START
Thanks for the reality check. Yes, I am grateful for bank safety, and for every irritation there is a reason lurking. Smile.