Reckless (Vanuatu to Sydney)

Our final day dawned to grey skies and rain, at times torrential, wind driven rain. It was an excellent day to lie in bed and listen to the sound of rain on the roof and watch the squalls sweep across the bay. However, we had to pack and prepare for the trip home and, as there were people arriving to replace us, we had to vacate the villa by 11am. Sad face.

We dragged ourselves from the bed and headed for breakfast. The rain continued.

Even in rain it's beautiful.

It occurred to me as we sat in the restaurant, following our eviction from the villa, that I hadn't really described its interior. From the entry to the right was the deck with two sun lounges, a day bed under a cabana, the plunge pool and a view across Havannah Harbour to die for. The immediate entry is into the lounge area. It also contains a long, day-bed style lounge. This was where Sebastian the crab liked to hide. There is also a coffee table and TV. The TV may or not have functioned; we never turned it on.

It's a repeat, but it helps to illustrate the text

There were three stairs up to the bedroom where a wall stopped people falling from one level to the other. Here sat the king bed with matching side tables and lamps. The lamp shades were deadly and were made from some sharp pointed quill like things. To fall upon one would mean certain death by a thousand cuts; well, puncture wounds.

There was another wall behind the bed which separated it from the kitchenette and wardrobe. The kitchenette contained a coffee machine, sink, bar fridge, kettle, cups and wine glasses. The usual equipment. Then at the back of the villa there were dual hand basins and mirrors. To the right, the toilet and to the left, the rain shower and double bath. The bath itself sat underneath a perspex roof that provided that outdoor feeling and natural light to the otherwise darker interior of the area, away from the deck.

There were fans on both levels and air conditioning that the staff turned on every night while we were at dinner, and we switched off as soon as we returned. The fans were all that was required. All in all, the villa was beautifully appointed.

And here we waited

And so back to the restaurant to blog and wait for lunch before our transfer to the airport.

The Business Lounge at the airport, we were informed, was rated as one of the worst anywhere. My response, well, they haven't been to the Qantas Lounge in Broome. Anyway, it was air conditioned, there was wine, red and white - both refrigerated, along with beer, soft drink, coffee and tea, and that was it.

Quite expansive. The snack bowls were bereft.

The plane was the same as the one we travelled in, on the way over. It was suggested by other resort guests that Air Vanuatu only have one functioning plane left in the fleet and that the airline's days are probably numbered. Entirely believable. The staff were lovely, but beyond that, there was nothing to recommend the experience.

The food menu on the return flight was almost identical. I'm not sure if that's all they offer or they make a lot of it and then serve it until it runs out. The only safe option was dessert, carrot cake. It was popular. 

Better than nothing? Not in my opinion.

As we settled into our seats the passenger across the aisle showed us his pillow. Obviously another passenger had, um, fallen asleep and dribbled on the pillow. A really big dribble. Clearly quality control is an issue. I suggested getting the blue light out to check the blanket before allowing it to touch his skin. 

Safety Instructions: do not touch pillow

Business was only 50% occupied which, as it turns out, was fortunate. Now I'm not sure when the excitement commenced. My hearing is already compromised but add in the noise of plane and I find it difficult to ascertain a specific point of origin. Initially I thought the couple across the aisle were talking and laughing. The voices continued and grew louder. Then Jayne commented on the amount of traffic in the aisle as the air staff were continually tracking back and forth. It was then I noticed another passenger had joined us in the Business cabin. She offered a weak smile. The noise from behind the economy curtain swelled and this time was dotted with 'f' bombs.

They might only have one plane but it still works

The offending words came from some guy in his late 40s or so. Who knows, he may have been younger and just had a hard life. Or he could have been in 50s. Whatever, his language, loudness of voice and behaviour were not suitable for an indoor environment, let alone an aircraft. And so it continued. The staff tried to placate him. The young woman who had joined us was providing a written statement. Then the crew moved another female passenger into the anteroom at the front of the plane and commenced taking a statement from her.

The young couple opposite us, who had been at The Havannah and sat with us in the lounge pre-flight, spoke to the woman now sitting behind them. It transpires that this man had tried to give her a massage on a number of occasions. It makes my skin crawl. You should have seen this little weed of a man. Nondescript height, thin, red hair, loud black and orange shirt, pasty skin. When his advances were rejected and words were exchanged he became abusive to pretty much everyone it appears. We thought he must have been drunk, but it wasn't on inflight refreshments - they do not serve alcohol.

New Caledonia.  Best viewed from the air

The crew radioed ahead and, when we arrived in Sydney, there were four police officers waiting to deal with him. I had an excellent view of things as we waited for the land bridge to connect to the plane. Perhaps the person driving the bridge was inexperienced, perhaps she was just feeling the pressure with the police standing behind her, but it took about 4 attempts to get the bridge into place. 

Meanwhile, we had all been told to remain in our seats. With the engines silent, I was now able to hear clearly and our miscreant friend was no happier despite the entire row in front of him now being vacant. Then he started up with, "Open the door", "What are we waiting for?", "I need to go and have a smoke, open the door", "If you're waiting for the queen, she's dead, open the door", "Jesus Christ if you don't open the door, I'll get up and do it myself". Except every second word was that special f word. The plane had gone eerily silent and anyone who had been unaware of this man's presence knew about him now. His accent was also very obvious. He was Irish. I'd deport him. Grub. And despite all his protestations, swearing and threats, he sat, in his seat, seat belt on as directed.

In our seats, we could see the police were on the plane and talking to the staff in the galley area. The man got louder and then one of the flight crew came to fetch him to the front of the plane. No doubt the entitled moron thought his loud attention attracting behaviour had won the day. A pity I couldn't see his face when he went through the curtain to be greeted by four police officers, one with an M16 in his arms. 

Still we were seated as two officers went to the man's seat to check his overhead locker and to speak with the unfortunate passengers who had been stuck in his immediate proximity. As they went to go back up the aisle, the passengers broke into spontaneous applause and the M16 wielding officer took a bow before he departed. Now that's what I call "inflight entertainment"! Who needs fancy individual touch screens when you can have real life drama at high altitude? Thanks Air Vanuatu! 

All jokes aside, it was a tough day at the office for the cabin crew and they handled the situational really well. Luckily, they had spare seats to provide the distressed victims with some space.

They needed to realign the bridge before we could disembark or deplane as it was referred to recently. As we were leaving, one of the officers was speaking with the crew and relayed how when they reached the bridge to the terminal our potty-mouthed friend had thrown himself onto the ground. He told the police he was bipolar and hadn't had his meds and was unwell. Not willing to take a risk, the police called the ambulance and as we left, he was sitting in a wheelchair awaiting medical assessment.

As we approached customs, the women who had been the focus of his attention were in discussion. Phrases like racial vilification and sexual harassment were clearly audible.

Our bags arrived quickly, we cleared customs even more quickly and were home within 20 minutes, albeit 30 minutes later than expected because of one poorly behaved man. And I use the term man advisedly.

Well done to the police, well done to the air crew and well done to the passengers that stood up to this badly behaved buffoon. I hope he gets what he deserves through the courts.

And that, my dear reader is that, for travel in 2022. Next year promises to be a big year, New Zealand, the Coral Coast of Western Australia, Broome to Darwin and Vietnam and Cambodia on an APT cruise. There are some minor side trips as well.

Finally, the title - Reckless, that classic from Australian Crawl from 1983. Why you ask dear reader? The line, "she don't like that kind of behaviour, don't be so reckless". It appears that all but one passenger on the plane "don't like that kind of behaviour". 

Until next time.

Shelter from the Storm (Efate, Vanuatu)

This morning I was awoken by, not the gentle lapping of the waves, nor the raucous chirping of the grey-eared honeyeaters that roost in the palm outside the villa. No, this morning, dear reader, I was propelled from my bed by a rain cell that came bawling in from the north-west. Lying there in a semi-conscious state, I was aware of thinking, hmmm, the breeze has picked up. Then the rain hit. Out of bed to rescue my favourite boardshorts lest they might be picked up by the wind and deposited on a nearby island. That was about 2:15 am. Needless to say my sleep was fitful at best, after that little surprise.

The real morning came with a little more decorum, although as mentioned, the birds outside make a serious noise in contrast to their size. That wakeup call was around 4:30 am and then off to sleep again until the staff arrive at the water activities hut to set up for the day. Usually this is around 6 am. And so goes the rhythm of life. Once I was governed by bells and timetables; not anymore.

Today is our penultimate day in Vanuatu and the plan is to spend most of it snorkelling. I opted for a light breakfast, tropical fruit and coffee, with the intention of returning for lunch. The coffee machine, a form of island lotto, did not present for work today and we had to settle for ‘plunger’ coffee. There are worse things.

Last night’s storm proved to be a cleanser. The day was bright and clear, very little cloud and the sun was making its intentions felt early. It was hot and humid. The water looked a treat. Crystal clear and coloured by varying shades of blue as the depth increased or the seagrass and coral intruded on the sand.

A perfect day for snorkelling

Post breakfast brought the usual round of sunscreen application. Enough said. Then a brief hiatus to allow it to soak in before we hit the water. We snorkelled in the same direction as we did the first time, south-west toward the point to re-examine the coral and marine life there.

Although we didn’t swim directly there, we had decided to make the return swim the exploratory leg. However, that didn’t stop us deviating if we found something of interest. It wasn’t long before we did. Jayne had suggested she was glad to meet the Banded Sea Krait on land and not in water. Today, she met the snake on its own terms in the water. It looked bigger, which I assume was the magnification effect of the goggles. It was as disinterested in us in the water as it had been on the water’s edge. Still impressive and I was happy to keep my distance.

What I had supposed to be coral down on the point was a coral graveyard. The water was very shallow and there were masses of dead coral everywhere. There were also extraordinary pockets where fightback was evident. Fields of staghorn coral that looked dead except for the ends of each branch showing an iridescent blue glow. And anywhere there was a coral formation there were fish. The smaller the coral growth the smaller the fish. The bigger the reef, the more variety: spaghetti worms, eels, anemone, fish from minnows to some I would have liked to have seen in the kitchen.

The swim back was more leisurely and we ventured further out to the drop off. There were some huge expanses of coral there all shapes and sizes and colours. It is just magic. There appeared to be more fish life today, perhaps the sunshine, they do sparkle, perhaps the current, who knows? Sadly there were no turtles that we saw or dugongs. After over an hour in the water it was time to plunge into the private pool and float in a more intimate environment until lunch.

Lunch, as I mentioned previously, follows a similar pattern to dinner. An amuse bouche, three choices of entree and main and two choices of dessert. We were sipping on our aged French Chardonnay and staring out at the water when I thought something moved. A turtle I thought, there is some seagrass close to the beach below the restaurant. A few minutes later there was enough of a water disturbance to have me move to the grass for a better view. As did the lady from the next table.

It was there a minute a go

It was not a turtle but a young dugong. It was also enjoying lunch, unusually on its own. The lady that had joined me on the grass to watch said that a herd of dugong had moved through here yesterday (while we were picnicing on Moso). We decided that we would do some more snorkelling after lunch and return here. Both dugongs and turtles had been seen here now.

There is no need to describe lunch any further dear reader, it was superb. We then wandered back to the villa and relaxed into the plunge pool before resting on the lounge to do some blogging.

Then it was snorkelling time again. Sunscreen on, yuck. The tide had turned and the wind had picked up - a portent of things to come. There was nothing really to report from this excursion, no turtles or dugongs, just the coral, fish and another eel, not a moray. There was a lone jellyfish floating on the current that had to be successfully negotiated but that was it. Back to the plunge pool.

For some reason I was delayed in dressing for dinner. I can't remember why, perhaps I was still fighting the technology to finalise a post. Anyway, about the time we would normally be seated in the restaurant another storm cell launched itself from the north. Doors were hastily closed and shutters locked down, the pool was filling quickly to overflowing. We were sheltered from the storm, today's title a 1975 classic from Bob Dylan. We might wait for the rain to ease, we thought. Good move cancelling the sunset cruise.

It was much worse than this

Umbrellas unfurled we sloshed our way to dinner. There seemed to be an unusual number of people milling about the foyer. The tables were set for dinner, but lacked the usual white linen tablecloths and napkins. "Enjoy the storm?" one of the staff giggled. It was then explained that the restaurant, which is open walled to make the most of the view and the breeze, was flooded by the torrential downpour due to the fierce wind blowing the rain in. The tables and linen were saturated and had to be changed. Although they were not quite as wet as the couple that did go on the sunset cruise.

Despite the delay, dinner and the service were as excellent as they have been since we arrived.

To bed and that majestic view and soft slapping of the waves for one more sleep.

Until next time.

The Real (Eel) Thing (Moso Island, Vanuatu)

Well hello, dear reader, and welcome to the 350th posting of this blog! A momentous day because it's also my birthday. That's a lot of travel and there is still so much more to come. 2023 is set to be another big travel year, provided the 27th version of COVID doesn't spoil the party.

Where to begin today? How about the title? Way back in 2012, Jayne came up with a pun title after our visit to the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, The Moher I See You. It's only 10 years in the past, dear reader, but she hasn't let it go yet. So when I suggested we call today's post Eel Meet Again she sneered with disdain.  Hours later she came up The Eel Thing and has been sniggering away at her own genius ever since. Anyway, The Real Thing by Australia's own Russell Morris in 1969 is still a classic rock song and has well and truly stood the test of time. In due course, you will understand the reference.

The day began with the usual soporific sounds of waves lapping the beach. The view out the doors presented blue sky with some cloud and in no way threatened our plans. 

Tough view to start the day

Breakfast was more pleasant because of the change in weather and the coffee machine was cooperating. Back to the villa to apply sunscreen (yuck) and pull on our reef shoes to walk along the beach down to the south-west point. The term 'beach' here is a generous term. At high tide there is, in fact, no beach because the water comes right to the edge of land. The beach is a strip of sand and smashed coral that exists only when the tide is less than high. So 'beach' walks must be taken when they can. Climate change and rising sea levels are serious and not the stuff of pathetic Peter Dutton jokes.

A friend on the way to the beach.

The tide wasn't quite low enough to make the point because there are tree overhangs and narrower strips where we would have been forced into the water to progress further. Turning back, we went to prepare for our secluded beach picnic.

The esky, chilly bin or cooler, as they are called here, was packed with our lunch, dessert and a bottle of rosé. We had been sunscreened to the hilt and carried our towels and snorkel gear. Jayne carried her fear of getting into a boat and so it came pass, as she was trying to maintain her poise and balance and step into the dinghy, it moved away just as Jayne attempted to test the water between the jetty and the dinghy. Sigh. It was ever thus. Finally safely on board, we travelled across the harbour to a 'secluded' beach on Moso Island.

Our secluded picnic spot.

The beach on this side of Moso is like the beach here at the resort, subject to change due to tide. It is a narrow strip of sand that is fringed by tropical vegetation and disappears completely at high tide. As for secluded, well, anyone thinking they might be enjoying a romantic interlude in the sun and warm, shallow water for their birthday would be sadly disappointed. Our section of beach was secluded. The couple sheltering beyond the next overhang of vegetation also enjoyed 'seclusion'. As did the couple in the other direction. Still it was certainly not crowded.

OK, don't quote me, but, Ambae Island volcano (I think).

Lunch could wait -snorkelling first while the sun was still shining. While the coral was less frequent than on Efate, the fish life was far more diverse. Pockets of coral contained all manner of life. If you're still searching for Nemo, stop - we found him and his extended family. There were clams of all sizes and colours. I don't have the colour palette to describe them or the colourful fish or starfish. And then, floating over one massive coral head, out comes a moray eel (and that is the obvious link to the title). It was huge. It put its head out about 30 cm and just floated there, half in half out, daring me to come closer. No thank you. After I made sure Jayne had seen it, I was off to check out more harmless fish. Not long later, we came across an enormous white-spotted puffer fish. He was undeterred and stayed in place just eyeing us from the sea floor.

Moso Island.

At some stage during our drift up and down the beach, a dinghy appeared with yet another couple in search of a secluded beach. The crew circled us a couple of times while we were snorkelling, dragging a fishing line. While our boat was a drop-off service, their boat and crew stayed with them and went snorkelling themselves. Nice work if you can get it. 

After almost an hour in the water it was time to move back onto land to enjoy our picnic lunch. A prawn salad wrap, beef banh mi, fruit salad and berry muffin. And the rosé of course. The boat was scheduled to pick us up at 2pm. While trying to board this time, the devious boat shifted toward Jayne, trapped her foot and tried to drag herself underneath. She ended up back in the water. Finally we were seated on board and headed back to the resort to snorkel the point off the restaurant beach where a turtle had been spotted yesterday. No luck today. Time for the plunge pool and to wash off the sunscreen.

Dinner was the usual excellent offering. Rather than me providing a woefully inadequate truncated version of what was on offer I remembered to photograph the menu. Tonight the wine was Moët of course, although it almost didn't make the table. There is a very small height adjustment between where we were seated and the next part of the restaurant. After parading the bottle to Jayne, Marco stepped back and slipped and the ice bucket went flying. Fortunately the Moët and Marco were fine.

Apologies for the poor camera work.

Toward the end of dinner, as Winnie was pouring the last of the bubbles, I was clearing some birthday messages and said the 'b' word out loud. Winnie's ears pricked up, "Is it your birthday?" Ssshhhh, Winnie, it's a secret. "But, we have to sing to you." No, Winnie, ssshhh. She left the table clearly conflicted. I was uncertain she could keep the secret. It was time to go, lest I be subjected to the staff being forced to sing happy birthday.

Post dinner it was plunge pool time. Although the clouds and rain haven't exactly been welcome they have certainly reined in the temperature. So today, sunny and cloudless, was as hot and humid as it has been since we arrived.

Until next time.

In the ghetto (Efate Island, Vanuatu)

Last night at dinner we could hear, what we thought were blackbirds, but they were nowhere to be seen. I've been hearing them since we arrived at The Havannah, that clicking sound they make when they land as they scurry off into the bushes. And then it dawned on me, dear reader; the clicking, chirping sound was not blackbirds but geckos. Oh yes, they sound like this. Imagine the noise from a distance without the echo. You can hear them all through the night (yesterday's title) which brings us to today's title, that classic song by Elvis. You can hear it here. I'm sorry dear reader? You don't see the connection? No, well, that's Jayne's famous sense of humour, she links the Elvis classic to the parody song Tim the Gecko. Enjoy. Or not.

Tim the Gecko

There were no thunderstorms last night, nor Sebastian the crab, trying to break free through the door. The only sounds were the waves on the shore and distant chatter of the geckos. They seem to have a lot to discuss. Maybe they're trying to predict the mid-terms in the once great, now grate, US of A.

Sunrise brought the sound of a boat motor as someone arrived at work, clouds and the eventual rain. The rain didn't last and was gone by breakfast. The weather pattern here is incredibly localised. We have watched quite severe storms ripping across other islands while we basked in sunlight. It is however an hour by hour proposition. Just prior to one rain cell terrorising us, I noticed what I assumed to be a large patch of coral to our south-west. It is just beyond where we snorkelled to yesterday and is on this afternoon's agenda should the rain clear.

Will it rain? Oh, yes.

Breakfast is the only menu that does not vary. The good news is they make excellent coffee - when the very tempermental machine decides to cooperate. A basket of pastries arrives with the fruit juice. It contains sourdough and regular bread toast as well as a pain-au-chocolat and croissant. The French may well have had an influence here but not enough for me to try their 'French' pastries a second time.

Looking into the villa from the deck.

The menu is quite varied, there is local fruit salad, bircher muesli and granola for starters. Then we move to the 'egg' section of the menu. Every Pacific island I have visited is fixated on eggs. And I, dear reader, do not like them. There is an exhaustive list of omelettes, pancakes, corn fritters and the like. Then, listed among the sides, bacon and roasted tomato. This morning I ordered some bacon and tomato thinking it would appear as a main with Jayne's corn fritters. But no. My sad, lonely single piece of bacon, kept company by half an oversized cherry tomato, arrived with my fruit salad. Interesting. Not sure I'll attempt that again, or maybe I'll be more specific. I ordered a second coffee while Jayne labored through her corn fritters.

The weather continued to be capricious, cloud with patches of rain, generally accompanied by gusts of wind. It was enough to keep us out of the ocean and in the plunge pool.

The deck and plunge pool where we spend a lot of time.

Wednesday night brings the fire dancers and the smell of kerosene. The clearer sky also brought a reasonable sunset. The fire dancers are the cultural entertainment at the 'Management Cocktail Hour' which came with neither cocktails nor management. However, there were some delightful canapes and assorted wines. The guests were all dutifully lined up on the sand below the restaurant. Fear not, comfort was considered and we were all in chairs or on day beds.

Sunset from the deck.

Sunset from the beach before the fire twirling.

The show was fascinating. I'm not sure how one becomes a fire twirler or even aspires to be one. We were both certain that Dan would have excelled at this job. Loud music, theatrical movement and the danger of fire; it was all Dan at 16 or 17, any age really. Anyway, spectacular it was and the show was thoroughly enjoyed - especially since we felt safe from the ubiquitous audience invitation to join in on other island cultural performances (usually designed to make visitors look very ungainly). We were pretty sure the activity indemnity we signed at the start of our stay did not cover suffering third degree burns. Jayne spoke with the people next to her and they had been snorkelling off the point earlier in the day and saw a turtle. That's on the list for tomorrow, after our beach picnic on Moso Island.

You can watch the fire dancers on youtube. 

When the fire went out it was time for dinner. Amuse bouche of ... I can't remember. We both had the same entrée of scallop and calamari. Jayne had the beef with a hollandaise sauce and I had spicy snapper for main. All dishes were excellent. Dessert was a choice of the cheese platter of soufflé. We both opted for the soufflé and it was good but there needed to be a 25 minute lead time. While this wasn't an issue, a little more thought into the week's menu might have made things easier to manage. They could have served the soufflé last evening when guests arrived at a variety of times and swapped the easily pre-made nougat glacé to tonight. That way when all the guests descended en masse after the fire twirling, at least dessert was made and some pressure relieved. Anyway, we were not in a rush so the brief wait for dessert was not an imposition on what was otherwise a lovely evening.

After dinner it was back to the plunge pool. What a life.

Until next time.

All through the night (Efate Island, Vanuatu)

As you would have read in the last post, my dear reader, we had much rain overnight and again in the morning. Hence today's title with a nod to the great Cyndi Lauper and her She's So Unusual album of 1983. Goodness, it seems like yesterday. As does the rain. It poured through breakfast and we lingered waiting for a break in the rain. In the end, we gave up, unfurled the industrial sized resort umbrella and puddled our way back to our villa.

The outlook is still delightful, even with the rain and we sat on the (interior) day bed and watched the rain fall. At some point, I decided it was time to evict Sebastian, our crab visitor. I could see him, but encouraging him out from his hideaway was something else. In the end I dragged the daybed out from the wall and tried to prompt him to leave via the door by flicking my computer cable in his general direction. No luck. He reared up and snapped his little claws at me. Hardly intimidating - he's not big enough to hurt me and I was trying to save his life. Surely he must be missing the moisture of the shoreline and a regular food source? A couple of attempts saw Sebastian scuttle back underneath the daybed to the protection and darkness it afforded.

Always a risk of thunderstorms. The view from the deck.

The rain had started to ease off so we ventured out to the water sports hut to secure some snorkelling equipment, should the clouds clear. There had been someone stationed there since around 6am but with the torrential rain they didn't see much business. Equipment in hand, we looked to the sky, east and west (we have no idea where their weather comes from) and hoped for a similar afternoon to yesterday.

A single chain. Well it is unattached.

With the rain lessening we opted to walk the beach heading away from the resort, at least as far as where the beach kicked back around and we couldn't see any further. Who knows what lies beyond there? The warning to wear reef shoes at all times was good advice. There were sharp pieces of broken coral everywhere, not to mention glass and rock. The walk to the point was uneventful as was most of the walk back. We passed another couple from the resort who asked had we seen any snakes. We thought they were taking the piss. Apparently not. They'd seen a small snake on beach the day before. Harmless they were told.

Not more than 50 metres later I almost stepped on a snake. It was about half a metre in length, the body was banded black and white with a yellow mouth. A Banded Sea Krait. Harmless? No. Venomous? Yes. Fortunately not aggressive and rather docile. It just kept snaking along (see what I did there?) the shore line, doing whatever it wanted to do. I waited for a while for it to catch a wave back into the water, to no avail. It's not our first encounter with a sea snake but it's certainly the first time on land. Apparently these snakes breed and lay their eggs on land. Google it.

The Banded Sea Krait

The god of weather smiled on us. While we watched other brave souls make use of stand up paddle boards, pedal boards and hobby cats, we sat on the deck and cooled off in the plunge pool, as required. Around 1pm the clouds cleared and the sun smiled down at us and said, sunscreen. We didn't need to be told twice. Slathered in that slimy disgusting substance, we grabbed our goggles and flippers and headed for the water.  Coral always looks so much better in full sun.

Pawpaws grow wild. Everywhere.

We were not disappointed. There was an amazing display of a range of corals in brilliant colours from iridescent purple and pinks to yellow. They grew in clumps, on their own, covered the seabed en masse, and in single formation. Large areas had been damaged, I assume by anchors, but there was as much regrowth as there appeared to be death and destruction. There were also lots of trepang (sea slugs), huge iridescent blue starfish and tropical fish of all colours and sizes. The two most interesting sightings, from my perspective, were numerous pipefish, members of the seahorse family and a crown of thorns starfish. We spent around 45 minutes in the water and it was the best snorkelling we have experienced for quite a while. Fiji does not compare, well, not where we were, earlier this year.

Looking back to the villa from the beach.

Après snorkelling, it was back into the plunge pool and then to lunch. Not really. I can't imagine how anyone could eat a cooked breakfast and then a three course lunch and a three course dinner. I swear I'd explode. No, we went to the restaurant in the hope of something small and were confronted with a three course menu. Sensibly we both opted for the 'starter' of Vietnamese paper rolls to tide us over until dinner. That and a French rosé. Then, yes dear reader, you guessed it, back to the plunge pool to watch the passing parade on the beach and in the water.

Despite the forecast storms, the sun remained shining. And we remained close to the pool. People returned from snorkelling and sailing, the sun started to dip, the sunset cruise departed and life continued. Until dinner. Inevitable and delicious, I feel I need to do more to justify the food.

But first it was time for Sebastian to go. I was concerned that he might come out when we were not here but be unable to make good his escape. Armed with the strongest of weapons, a hand towel, I moved the day bed. As Sebastian scuttled along the wall, I threw the towel on top of him, scooped him up and delivered him safely to the garden. Mission accomplished.

Dinner. Still very good, although we preferred the previous night's fare. An amuse bouche of kumara chips with coriander yoghurt and a balsamic reduction. Tasty. Tonight's entrees: crab bisque and prawn salad, the mains were pan fried fish and spicy chicken breast followed by a nougat glacé and a cheese plate. Somewhat different to the buffet we didn't enjoy in Fiji, every night.

The sunsets were more spectacular in Fiji.

Another days ends. Until next time.

Under the Sea (Sydney to Vanuatu)

Who'd have thought it dear reader? Sydney has 5 consecutive days of sunshine and we decide to pack up and head for a country that has thunderstorms predicted every day for the duration of our stay. I guess my spirit is longing for rain, that old Sydney weather. We are heading for Vanuatu. A trip that was booked three years ago before the plague descended on the earth. No, not Scott Morrison, the other plague. The Corona, as it was tagged in Europe, or Covid, if you're Australian. 

And yes, my astute reader, I am avoiding celebrating another birthday at home. Facebook reminded me this morning that 13 years ago I was sitting on a rock in the Tasmanian wilderness about to climb Cradle Mountain and walk the Overland Track. An adults only resort, The Havannah, in Vanuatu is much more in keeping with my age and ability (and Jayne's taste) these days. Although I will be back bushwalking in Tassie in February, so stay tuned.

I have finally cashed in my Pacific francs three years after the New Caledonia holiday. Covid has seen the closure of many of the money exchange store fronts that used to dot the city and when in Europe, my attempts to exchange them for Euro proved fruitless. Now I am the proud holder of 10,000 vatu and I'm pretty certain that won't be coming home.

Duty free is not what it used to be in a GST world and an attempt to purchase an Apple watch was unsuccessful. Given the saving was about $30 I'm not overly disappointed. I'll order one when we return. 

Breakfast was in the Qantas First Class Lounge thanks to the continual extension of my platinum frequent flyer status.  I can't say I've been a happy Qantas flyer of late, but the disappointment fades when the glass of Pommery is poured - after breakfast, of course. The Neil Perry menu is as good as you'd find in any top end Sydney café. Fresh fruit, muesli, omelettes and the ubiquitous BLT. Time to sit and relax, pre-flight.

Celebrity spotting has never really been my thing. I'm not sure whether it is just disinterest on my part or the inability to recognise the rich and famous. Today was different. As Dan dropped us off, the car in front of us disgorged Manu Feildel and his family. Then as we were finishing our champagne, Dr Brian Cox was being escorted to ... well, I assume his flight, although one would have thought that someone with so much education could find his own way to the gate. I did.

A coral atoll somewhere east of Coffs Harbour

The flight was a code share. Tagged Qantas but owned and operated by Air Vanuatu. I booked Business because, well, lots of vouchers from Covid days but also my back gets twingey around the 3 hour mark. Business class on an aged Air Vanuatu 737. No individual screen, just radio channels and a shared screen that showed the map. And the food was truly airline food of days gone by. It was all pretty average and dated by modern standards - except the staff, they were delightful. Fortunately we both had a book to read. Jayne and I, not the staff, they had other things to do.

Coming in to Port Vila

The flight was not all smooth going. About two hours in we were met with "convected air". Looking out my window convected air translated into a mass of storm clouds. Inside the plane, it translated into severe turbulence until the pilot decided to go around the storm. Good news. Clear air again.

The storm prior to landing

We arrived at Port Vila airport just as another storm front passed through. No air bridge. Down the stairs and across the sodden tarmac to the shed. Sorry, I mean terminal building. For those old enough think Coolangatta in the 60s, or Hobart in the 90s (snigger). We were through customs, collected our bag and we were safely inside our air conditioned transport inside 15 minutes. It was very humid and the 30 minute trip to the resort proved to be interesting. The road was severely pot-holed and our driver reported that this was generally how the roads were. It wasn't uncommon to meet a car driving on your side of the road to avoid the wash-aways and potholes.

The drive took us up and over the spine of Efate and down the other side to Havannah Harbour and our resort. It is truly stunning and the cloud cleared to provide us with a beautiful, if incredibly humid, afternoon. Our accommodation looks directly onto the water and has its own plunge pool on the deck, something we have already put to good use. As we were relaxing there prior to dinner, we noticed a crab edging along the deck toward the door. At dinner, John, one of the staff, asked if we had named him. Clearly Sebastian is the only name for a crab. Hence today's title from the The Little Mermaid.

At some stage, Sebastian made it inside and his fruitless attempts at escape during the night were very loud and sleep disturbing. As I write this he is ensconced beneath the day bed in the lower level of our room. Every attempt will be made to evict him before bed this evening.

The view from the restaurant

Dinner was delightful. Three courses plus an amuse bouche and while it is a set menu, there were three choices for each course. They have resisted the tendency to overfeed their guests despite catering for three meals a day. The serving sizes are just right. Last night in a defiant show of independence, I ordered exactly what Jayne did. The amuse bouche was Vietnamese prawn paper rolls, followed by spicy prawns with chilli and chocolate. Yum. The main was veal topped by a scallop and bernaise sauce. Accompanied by a beaujolais and followed with Tiramisu. I'm very much looking forward to our other meals.

Aside from Sebastian doing his best to disturb our slumber, we also had to contend with thunderstorms and rain. Living in an apartment as we now do, we have been insulated from the sounds of thunder and rain for the last eight years. There is something mesmeric about the sound of the waves lapping on the beach with the rain pattering on the roof and windows. It's not really the weather we had hoped for but The Havannah is a beautiful place and if it rains all week, it rains all week and we'll sit in our room with the doors open and look out over the harbour.

The rainy skies the next morning

I make no promises about the frequency of my posts this holiday. We are here for five nights only. As usual I will post them on Facebook and Twitter (if the clown prince billionaire allows it). There will be photos of the accommodation - I'm just waiting for some sunshine to show it off in all its glory.

Until next time.