I’ve been off and away for the past week and a half: conducting a training workshop at the edge of the ocean in idyllic Kavieng, New Ireland with CBC staff and another Aussie volunteer, before stealing some time in Port Moresby with a handful of my original gang of nervous idealists. We had brunch! It is actually impossible for me to do justice to the thrill of publicly consuming rather firmly poached eggs and coffee made with UHT milk. I felt like I had snatched back a little piece of a life that was recognisably mine – not a lasting feeling in Mosbi town, for better or worse.
For more cosmopolitan hijinks in the crazy, crazy place that is Port Moresby, you can find dispatches from my brilliant friend Laura here
In New Ireland, I would rather leave you to picture something we didn’t do, through tragic constellations of transport and timing, and my throwing up a lot. And because I didn’t go, and because it is wonderful to imagine, and because, in its own way, this is a description I can’t improve, I am quoting Wikipedia:
This area is famous for its shark callers, men who can lure sharks to the side of their dugout canoes by singing to them.
Oh strange and wonderful place, keep on surprising me.
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