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.