The Beetle visited Papua New Guinea (PNG) last Christmas
and here is an account of Port Moresby.
Getting to PNG the first time was not straightforward,
although I have since learned that it is much easier to fly
from London to Singapore – about 12 hours, and then
take a 6 ½ hour Air Niugini flight (twice a week) from
Singapore to Port Moresby. Because last year I intended to
spend some time in Australia on the return leg back to
London, I flew into Brisbane, transferred up to Cairns, a
short hop, and then a 1 ½ hour flight from Cairns to Port
Moresby. The international airport at Port Moresby is
modern, has a shiny floor, a tourist office that I never
saw open (on the 4 occasions I went through it) and is a
great place to people watch! Whilst waiting for my diving
buddies, a week into my trip, I met and chatted (in pidgin)
with a charming man from the highlands who was (seriously)
wearing his full traditional costume, which consisted of a
lot of feathers, not much in the way of clothing and
painted marks on the face, arms and torso. He looked both
dignified and quite splendid. He was the type of figure you
might expect to see on a postcard, only I met him for
real!
Finding a budget place to stay for a weeks’ diving
proved a little difficult. I would have liked to have
stayed at the Loloata resort – primarily a place for
divers, but it was way out of my budget. Eventually, John
and Chrissie at PNG Dive recommended the Magila Motel to me. OK, it
was a little basic, a concrete based room, but it was
clean, safe and had a bed and a shower – perfectly
adequate – and was well run by a determined Scottish
lady, her two dogs, husband and local and Philippino staff.
What really made the Magila motel welcoming to me, and I
was there alone, was that it has an outside area with
tables and benches and a telephone. I ate all my meals
outside in the shade of the umbrellas, and struck up
conversations with anyone else eating at the same time
– I was impressed by how incredibly friendly people
were.
The telephone was the focal point of the place and
attracted good natured queues. (None of the international
mobile telephone companies are willing to establish a
network in PNG, so no cell phones work, with the result
that public telephones are well used facilities –
remember those times?) As people waited, they sat at the
table, drank a beer or two and started conversations with
anyone around, and I was no exception, being something of a
curiosity, a white English female, all alone for a week and
only present from late afternoons onwards. After a week, I
think I must have met every single person staying in the
Magila, a mix of transient one night stays by people coming
to town from the highlands for business and returning the
next day, to a former member of the government who had won
a scholarship to study for a business degree in Australia,
and was in Port Moresby for a business appointment, the
leader of the opposition, very jolly, who seemed to be
largely revered because he had won a huge amount of money
gambling… an Australian expat and local wife staying
for a month or so on a budget, “doing a deal”
on a timber plantation his parents used to own and lots of
people who just dropped in for a beer and a rest.
Most expats I met were Australian – makes sense at
it is so close. One regular visitor to the Magila, a wiry
hardy man, originally from Cornwall, but a naturalised PNG
citizen (on account of having stayed there for over 30
years) popped in from where he was working across the road
to have a beer and meet up with his mates, introduced to me
as local gold dealers and various bigwigs discussing all
manner of business ideas and opportunities. He and his
various friends were great company and told me lots of
stories on how life really is, about rascals – a
favourite topic of conversation, coupled with the amount
and latest tales of bribery and corruption – some of it
really quite shocking and a lot of it chuckle type common
sense. While I was there last year, the local press ran
stories about a large and prominent building in the centre
that was started three times. The first two times, the
building contract was awarded to a construction firm which
ran off and stole all of the money before the work was even
started!
A lot of bad news is written about Port Moresby, but I
can honestly say that I did not at any time feel
threatened, at risk or in danger. I had a great time and
felt as if I had had the chance to talk with a lot of
people, all of whom were fascinating (to me, with their
different stories) and at the same time generous, kind and
sincere. It’s the kind of place where people come
down from the highlands or the coastal areas, looking for
work; unemployment is massive, so, there are a lot of
people with nothing much to do. This type of problem is not
exclusive to PNG, and of course, as a visitor, you have to
be streetwise.
There are some things for a tourist to see in Port
Moresby, and my favourite by far is PNG Arts. It is an
enormous warehouse, just crammed full of all types of
handicraft, ranging from phallic shaped salt and pepper
shakers to masks, ceremonial daggers to picture boards to
tables, carved 2 metre long wooden crocodiles and more. All
of the items are made by local people, from the Triobriand
Islands (highly prized) to the Highlands, many of them are
produced by co-operatives, so at least you know you are
supporting the local economy. All of it was eminently
affordable, although there were some quite pricey,
beautifully carved and intricate pieces. I spent over than
half a day just browsing around the dusty objects for sale
and could quite happily have sent much more time there.
It is quite a magnet for the expats who come to buy
presents to take back when they go home. I got chatting to
one of the men who worked there. He was a fascinating
Canadian man who has been in PNG for over 30 years, who
went there as a bet, from his native Canada, back in the
1960s. He wryly told me about the bet, how all his friends
should have gone with him, but one by one, they all dropped
out, so he came alone, and has stayed ever since, dabbling
in gold mining, timber and coconut plantation management
and ended up at PNG Art. I couldn’t resist it, but I
bought a whole load of souvenirs from PNG Art and had them
crated up and shipped home. My friends (Padmassana
included!) were extremely sceptical and joked that I would
never see them. But 5 months later, 2 large wooden crates
arrived by parcel post, incredulously delivered by a man
who said he’d never handled anything from PNG before!
It’s a great place, and sadly, it was very difficult
to find souvenirs in Rabaul or Kavieng, so I was glad that
I had made the visit there and had something to show and
give to my friends from PNG.
Other things to do in Port Moresby include a trip to see
the Houses of Parliament, there’s some botanical
gardens, although I did not visit them, some WW2
remains.
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