Yikes! Cant believe its been over a month since my last post…. sorry if I’ve been a bit of a dark-horse, same old excuses…. developing nations having shite internet access and all that!
Gizo turned out to be a rad little island town with really friendly locals and a bunch of cool
intrepid travellers to hang out with. When we arrived I got an email from my buddy John, who was also travelling the south pacific by boat. Apparently (as of a couple of weeks before I got the email) the yacht he was on, Roam Free, was somewhere in the Western provinces, not far from Gizo. We had both talked of meeting up some place along the way so this was an opportunity I didn’t want to miss. The only problem was my boat Sora, was leaving for Darwin in two days and I had no way of contacting Roam Free. Hmmmm…… I didn’t even know if Roam Free was still even in the Solomons….oh well, what ever happens, happens! 
So I said my goodbyes to the good crew on Sora, and settled into a nice little guesthouse with a gorgeous view and some really cool kids from the UK and the Netherlands. There isn’t a lot of tourism in the Solomon’s, but it’s a world renowned spot for diving so I spent the next week surveying some amazing wrecks and reefs with my new buddies, and constantly keeping an eye on the harbour entrance for my ride out! I figured if Roam Free was still in the Western Solomon’s, they would probably reprovision in
Gizo before heading to PNG. As luck would have it, just as I was starting to contemplate the grim prospect of a ride on a cargo vessel to Australia, a large cat was spotted off the reef, which soon turned out to be Roam Free. After nearly two weeks, Gizo was starting to get a little bit small and I was getting sick of Power/Water/Phone/internet outages so I was pretty stoaked to see the 55ft Catamaran with John on board. It was also a bonus to see the look on Jonno’s face when I swum out to the boat to meet him. We hadn’t had any real communication and he 
thought there might only be a slight chance of meeting up in PNG so he was also buzzing to finally meet up with someone on the same wavelength (kiting, kiting, kiting!).
With the hard part of finding the boat over, I had only to convince the captain that he actually needed another crew member on board….. luckily wasn’t too much of a challenge! This time round I would be paying my own way, covering my own living expenses and chipping in for diesel. Joining a new boat was a nice change, and being the same length as Sora, but with two hulls and a 24ft beam, there was loads more
room. The crew on board were also good fun, Randy (captain), Tye (cap’s son), and Robin (cap’s cousin) were all from the US, and with Jonno and myself, we made a crew of 5. With 4 double cabins someone had to draw the short straw so me and John either took turns in the cabin, or slept on deck. Cats are an interesting breed of yacht, and although they tend to be a lot more stable at sea, they have an awkward crabbing movement in rough seas which takes some getting used to. Needless to say, we did have some slightly rough weather along the way, and I’m sure we all felt a bit queasy at some time or another!
The trip from Gizo to PNG was a nice lazy relief from the schedule we were forced to keep on
Sora. We made the northern end of the Louisiade archipelago (PNG) just a couple of days out of port and followed this remote chain of islands and reefs all the way to the mainland of Papua. We stoped every so often for a kite-surf, snorkel/dive (compressor & gear all on board), or even just to trade with the natives. The fish were also coming thick and fast with a few tuna and mahi-mahi and lots of Spanish mackerel. It was just as well we had Robin on board, as although was a bit of a nutcase at times, she was still a good laugh and a trained chef to boot! We enjoyed some amazing feeds but my personal favourite would still have to be the classic beer battered fresh fish with special dipping sauce…mmmmm! 
All up I think it must have taken us about 10 days and about 700 miles to reach Samurai, the first place in PNG where we could legally check into the country. From there on we followed the coast another three or four days, stopping just a couple of times. The first stop was to trade a massive Spanish mackerel we caught for some bananas. This turned out to be a hilarious undertaking, facilitated on the tribal side by a 90yr old woman with only one giant (betlenut-red) tooth and a massive grotesque looking growth on one lip. Surprisingly, like most of the islands we had visited, their English was r
elatively good which made things easier. Our last stop before PNG was initially just going to be to collect our thoughts, and prepare ourselves for the big bad city that is Port Moresby. However, it wasn’t long before we had made friends with the local villagers and discovered the price of pig….mmmm….free range pig!!
The best little piggie by far…..
For 30 kinna (around NZ$15) me and John got to wrangle a little piggy from the villages heard for our supper. This was easier said
than done, but to honour the memory of our little piggy, I will not make light of the fun and games that ensued. Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and this was a very sad and sombre event. As with any animal, the death of a piggy is no pleasant or pretty event, but staying true to my vegetarian beliefs back home, I wasn’t shy to stick an extra knife in to make sure piggy didn’t suffer. After the slaying, little piggy was then singed on a roaring fire of coconut palms to burn his hair off. What came next was also quite a spectacle. After piggy was taken off the fire and laid on the beach, about four locals attacked our poor crispy little piggy with knives, 
disembowelling him and tearing his little body limb from limb. Even in the most sophisticated abattoirs we are afforded today by our highly evolved society, I could not imagine a little piggy such as ours to be so swiftly prepared for the fridge or freezer. Naturally, for all their troubles, we left the villagers with all the best parts like the kidneys, liver, spleen, lips, tongues and arseholes (you get the picture!) and made for the barbeque on the boat. Hmmm…. That little piggy tasted goood!
When we finally got to Port Moresby we didn’t know quite what to expect. All the cruising guides told us to avoid the city at all costs, WARNING: they stated. DO NOT LEVE THE SECURITY OF THE (wonderful) YACHT CLUB COMPOUND AT ALL COSTS! Hmmm….something to look forward to obviously. Yet Port Moresby was a necessary evil, as Randy had hopeful plans to haul Roam Free out of the water, do some much needed repairs, and store her on the hard for ten months while he tended business back home. Upon arrival it seemed the warnings were not unfounded as a kiwi businessman seemed to take great pride in the capitals n
otoriety. He boasted that Port Moresby was the second most dangerous place in the world after Iraq. Wow. What about Jo-Burg? Quipped our saffa, John. Oh, actually maybe the third. Afghanistan? Well…urrrr… this guy was full of it. He also told us there was a 92% unemployment rate (in all of PNG), despite having staggering GDP growth of 7.6%. However these stats I can confirm. Despite the shockingly high crime and unemployment rate, this ‘Asian Tiger’ has vast untapped oil, gas and mineral resources which are only now just starting to be exploited. Ever since P.N.G gained its independence from Australia in 1973, its public services, including health, education, transport and utilities, have become seriously degraded. This has been largely due to an unstable and corrupt political system which is only now regaining some sort of stability and leadership. However, as you can imagine, 90% of the investment into the development of this country comes from offshore, and with ridiculously low wage rates and a flat income-tax rate of just 10%, its no surprise that so little of this revenue ever benefits the people who actually live here. Inflation is also running at a massive 10%, and with food and gas prices soaring, I can see a dangerous rift widening between the local ‘politicly connected’ businessmen, and the struggling masses who can no longer afford to live in a country that is developing to fast for them to keep up with. This notoriously corrupt government certainly has some issues to deal with, but there is also a lot of promise if it gets it right.
While storage arrangements for Roam Free were being made back at the yacht club, John and I were making plans to do a short foray into the highlands along the famous Kokoda trail before flying north to the Indonesian border town of Vanimo. There are about five central provinces on the mainland of PNG, none of which are connected by road so the only practical way to get around is fly. Unfortunately, you cant even fly direct to Indonesia from PNG, so after doing the trail, we had planned to cross into Indo at the only mainland crossing up north, then travel by ferry or local flights from Jayapura through the islands of Indonesia and the Philippines.
Anyway, just when we were getting fed up with the painful logistics and probable expense of
hiking the Kokoda trail, we decided to take a break and go for a kite-surf on a nearby beach. The yacht club where we were staying was relatively sheltered so we were stoaked to discover a good breeze blowing over the hill, and a nice sandy beach to launch from. The people here have never seen anything like kite surfing before, so just by pumping up your kite you become an instant rock-star with the kids. Unfortunately the session turned to poose as the tide went out and the reef became more exposed. John put a sizable hole in his board showing off to the kids and we were both looking forward to gnarley infections after standing on the numerous sea-urchins that were hiding in the sand. As we struggled to land our kites amongst the throng of screaming kids one captivated local approached us and insisted on taking us back to his village up the coast where he promised us consistent 20kt winds and as much flat water as we wanted on the longest beach in mainland PNG. Kula didn’t exactly fit the profile of one of the local rascals, (general thief’s, thugs, and baby killers) and his offer of wind was too good to refuse, so we made arrangements to meet him the next day to make the four hour trip east by PMV (Public Motor Vehicle) to his village on the Aroma coast.
We met Kula the next day with a couple more of our friends (John and Emma) who had also sailed from NZ. They were gagging to get out of the yacht club compound and see some of the
real PNG, so we made arrangements for them to tag along. When the PMV turned up we all had a bit of a giggle (being hardy adventurous types....little did we know how crowded it would get!) as it was nothing more than a flat deck cargo truck with a couple of wooden benches down the side. After some quick shopping for supplies, we piled in and hit the road. Unfortunately we missed out on most of the scenery due to our late departure, but Kula and the other locals on the truck kept us entertained with information about the villagers and local traditions along the way. About and hour out of Moresby along the sealed road, the power service ceased and the villages we passed
through we lit by just a few solar-powered lights and kerosene lamps. Kula turned out to be the youngest son of the village chief and very concerned about the welfare and development of his own people. Apparently the local government were more corrupt than the national government, and when I saw the state of their main access road when we turned off the highway, it wasn’t hard to believe. After an hour busting my butt on the wooden seats as we slammed through numerous pot holes, I was told that when it rains, this section takes four hours instead of two, and its probably only about 80kms!
When we finally arrived at the village around midnight, everyone was a bit saddle-sore and knackered. We would be staying with Kula’s parents (the Chief of the village) in their spare house (not as flash as it sounds!), which was perfect for what we needed. The houses here are all built on stilts and are very basic, with open air windows, no plumbing, and virtually no furniture.
The house was just a short walk to the beach, and as the full moon was shining bright, we decided we’d have to go and check it out. When John and I e
merged from the bush onto the beach, I’m sure there was an audible gasp between us. In front of us we saw a beautiful wide open beach leading to a great little reef-protected surf break. But better still, beyond the sand and out past the breakers, we saw millions of beautiful little white horses, dancing in the moonlight. John and I took one look at each other…. ‘FARK YEAH, WE”RE GOING KITESURFING!’ I can’t say we’d ever done night kiting before and everyone else thought we were nuts but sometimes we are just nuts so we did it anyway and it was farking mint. We had both 
been craving a decent session for weeks so when we were done, at least we could think a little clearer… I just hoped there were some hot girls around to take care of the rest, or we might do something really stupid!
We ended up spending about five days at Aroma village, and every day there were perfect kiting conditions with loads of wind and flat water or surf to play in. We even had a couple of sessions teaching Kula, Emma and John the basics, and now I think they might all be hooked too! The funniest thing was that most of the kids at Aroma hand never seen a white
person, let alone a kite-surfer, so there were always massive crowds watching us anytime we went out. News also spread fast to the villages up the coast, so pretty soon people were coming from all over to see us. Kula also turned out to be a bit of an entrepreneur and surprised us all with grand schemes to help develop tourism in the area….mainly in the form of a kite-surfing retreat, something we all highly encouraged!
(ranting on SD PNG)
It was interesting how after just a few informal discussions with Kula and some of the locals how keen they were to bring tourism to Aroma, and even in Moresby for that matter. Not just as an income earner, but more as a way of developing their infrastructure, and to educate themselves on our western culture. But beneath all the hype and excitement generated by our visit, Aroma already seamed like such a safe, vibrant, subsistence and family orientated environment. It’s easy to wonder why these people are so desperate for change, when we look back at our own communities than can seem so hostile at times. When I think about the development of PNG, I can’t help but worry that they’re going to make all the same mistakes we have. Wasting resources, degrading the environment, alienating indigenous peoples…. The list goes on. PNG has
something like the third largest rainforest in the world, but it also has one of the highest rates of deforestation. Town planning in the capital is positively retarded, and there are obviously few restrictions for development. There is no government funded public transport service (although and informal, irregular, private network exists), and even the roads in the central city are full of potholes. Many of the cities settlements are without proper sanitation and power blackouts are an almost daily occurrence. I later discovered that the area we stayed in with Kula for a couple of days was deemed so dangerous, that Telecom refused to maintain the phone lines. There’s certainly a lot of necessary development in all sectors, but how will hold up in the changing climates of the future?
Hmmmm…. this could be a calling for me to do something useful with my life, and I’
ve thought long and hard about staying in PNG over the last couple of weeks. Aside from flailing about as the big gay Sustainable Superhero here in PNG, there are loads of opportunities to set up shop or invest and make some serious, serious money. But… as they say, timing is everything and as my friend John so famously put it when he left to continue his travels just a week ago. “I just havn’t slept with enough white girls yet, and the fuzzy-wuzzy chicks just aren’t doing it for me”. Wise words Jonno, I’ll see you in Bali in a week! What is it they say…. ‘Young, dumb, and full of….fun?’ Anyway, if 
you’re looking for a place to invest think PNG…seriously. Give me an email and I’ll hook you up with Kula if you’re interested, so far his business interests include property development, Gold Trading, Stationary supplies, and now kite-surfing!
I think that pretty much brings me up to where I am now. I’ve spent the last two weeks in Port Moresby, staying at a nice little coastal village called Vabukori on the outskirts of the city. I seem to have come with the right people as I get mad respect anywhere
I go. I think the people around here are just really stoaked to see a white person openly walking around the village, hanging out, and willing to share a laugh. Kite-surfing has also been a great medium to meet people, you only have to go out once off the village beach and pretty soon everyone knows who you are! Unfortunately, most foreigners in POM are just so paranoid and preoccupied with business that they never get a real sense of the lifestyle or poverty, of the people beyond the razor wire compounds they like to hide behind. If you feel like an intrepid journey, I recommend PNG. Go to the highlands and go panning for gold, if you don’t get killed, you’ll probably end up a millionaire!
Gizo turned out to be a rad little island town with really friendly locals and a bunch of cool
intrepid travellers to hang out with. When we arrived I got an email from my buddy John, who was also travelling the south pacific by boat. Apparently (as of a couple of weeks before I got the email) the yacht he was on, Roam Free, was somewhere in the Western provinces, not far from Gizo. We had both talked of meeting up some place along the way so this was an opportunity I didn’t want to miss. The only problem was my boat Sora, was leaving for Darwin in two days and I had no way of contacting Roam Free. Hmmmm…… I didn’t even know if Roam Free was still even in the Solomons….oh well, what ever happens, happens! 
So I said my goodbyes to the good crew on Sora, and settled into a nice little guesthouse with a gorgeous view and some really cool kids from the UK and the Netherlands. There isn’t a lot of tourism in the Solomon’s, but it’s a world renowned spot for diving so I spent the next week surveying some amazing wrecks and reefs with my new buddies, and constantly keeping an eye on the harbour entrance for my ride out! I figured if Roam Free was still in the Western Solomon’s, they would probably reprovision in
Gizo before heading to PNG. As luck would have it, just as I was starting to contemplate the grim prospect of a ride on a cargo vessel to Australia, a large cat was spotted off the reef, which soon turned out to be Roam Free. After nearly two weeks, Gizo was starting to get a little bit small and I was getting sick of Power/Water/Phone/internet outages so I was pretty stoaked to see the 55ft Catamaran with John on board. It was also a bonus to see the look on Jonno’s face when I swum out to the boat to meet him. We hadn’t had any real communication and he 
thought there might only be a slight chance of meeting up in PNG so he was also buzzing to finally meet up with someone on the same wavelength (kiting, kiting, kiting!).With the hard part of finding the boat over, I had only to convince the captain that he actually needed another crew member on board….. luckily wasn’t too much of a challenge! This time round I would be paying my own way, covering my own living expenses and chipping in for diesel. Joining a new boat was a nice change, and being the same length as Sora, but with two hulls and a 24ft beam, there was loads more
room. The crew on board were also good fun, Randy (captain), Tye (cap’s son), and Robin (cap’s cousin) were all from the US, and with Jonno and myself, we made a crew of 5. With 4 double cabins someone had to draw the short straw so me and John either took turns in the cabin, or slept on deck. Cats are an interesting breed of yacht, and although they tend to be a lot more stable at sea, they have an awkward crabbing movement in rough seas which takes some getting used to. Needless to say, we did have some slightly rough weather along the way, and I’m sure we all felt a bit queasy at some time or another!The trip from Gizo to PNG was a nice lazy relief from the schedule we were forced to keep on
Sora. We made the northern end of the Louisiade archipelago (PNG) just a couple of days out of port and followed this remote chain of islands and reefs all the way to the mainland of Papua. We stoped every so often for a kite-surf, snorkel/dive (compressor & gear all on board), or even just to trade with the natives. The fish were also coming thick and fast with a few tuna and mahi-mahi and lots of Spanish mackerel. It was just as well we had Robin on board, as although was a bit of a nutcase at times, she was still a good laugh and a trained chef to boot! We enjoyed some amazing feeds but my personal favourite would still have to be the classic beer battered fresh fish with special dipping sauce…mmmmm! 
All up I think it must have taken us about 10 days and about 700 miles to reach Samurai, the first place in PNG where we could legally check into the country. From there on we followed the coast another three or four days, stopping just a couple of times. The first stop was to trade a massive Spanish mackerel we caught for some bananas. This turned out to be a hilarious undertaking, facilitated on the tribal side by a 90yr old woman with only one giant (betlenut-red) tooth and a massive grotesque looking growth on one lip. Surprisingly, like most of the islands we had visited, their English was r
elatively good which made things easier. Our last stop before PNG was initially just going to be to collect our thoughts, and prepare ourselves for the big bad city that is Port Moresby. However, it wasn’t long before we had made friends with the local villagers and discovered the price of pig….mmmm….free range pig!!The best little piggie by far…..
For 30 kinna (around NZ$15) me and John got to wrangle a little piggy from the villages heard for our supper. This was easier said
than done, but to honour the memory of our little piggy, I will not make light of the fun and games that ensued. Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and this was a very sad and sombre event. As with any animal, the death of a piggy is no pleasant or pretty event, but staying true to my vegetarian beliefs back home, I wasn’t shy to stick an extra knife in to make sure piggy didn’t suffer. After the slaying, little piggy was then singed on a roaring fire of coconut palms to burn his hair off. What came next was also quite a spectacle. After piggy was taken off the fire and laid on the beach, about four locals attacked our poor crispy little piggy with knives, 
disembowelling him and tearing his little body limb from limb. Even in the most sophisticated abattoirs we are afforded today by our highly evolved society, I could not imagine a little piggy such as ours to be so swiftly prepared for the fridge or freezer. Naturally, for all their troubles, we left the villagers with all the best parts like the kidneys, liver, spleen, lips, tongues and arseholes (you get the picture!) and made for the barbeque on the boat. Hmmm…. That little piggy tasted goood!When we finally got to Port Moresby we didn’t know quite what to expect. All the cruising guides told us to avoid the city at all costs, WARNING: they stated. DO NOT LEVE THE SECURITY OF THE (wonderful) YACHT CLUB COMPOUND AT ALL COSTS! Hmmm….something to look forward to obviously. Yet Port Moresby was a necessary evil, as Randy had hopeful plans to haul Roam Free out of the water, do some much needed repairs, and store her on the hard for ten months while he tended business back home. Upon arrival it seemed the warnings were not unfounded as a kiwi businessman seemed to take great pride in the capitals n
otoriety. He boasted that Port Moresby was the second most dangerous place in the world after Iraq. Wow. What about Jo-Burg? Quipped our saffa, John. Oh, actually maybe the third. Afghanistan? Well…urrrr… this guy was full of it. He also told us there was a 92% unemployment rate (in all of PNG), despite having staggering GDP growth of 7.6%. However these stats I can confirm. Despite the shockingly high crime and unemployment rate, this ‘Asian Tiger’ has vast untapped oil, gas and mineral resources which are only now just starting to be exploited. Ever since P.N.G gained its independence from Australia in 1973, its public services, including health, education, transport and utilities, have become seriously degraded. This has been largely due to an unstable and corrupt political system which is only now regaining some sort of stability and leadership. However, as you can imagine, 90% of the investment into the development of this country comes from offshore, and with ridiculously low wage rates and a flat income-tax rate of just 10%, its no surprise that so little of this revenue ever benefits the people who actually live here. Inflation is also running at a massive 10%, and with food and gas prices soaring, I can see a dangerous rift widening between the local ‘politicly connected’ businessmen, and the struggling masses who can no longer afford to live in a country that is developing to fast for them to keep up with. This notoriously corrupt government certainly has some issues to deal with, but there is also a lot of promise if it gets it right.While storage arrangements for Roam Free were being made back at the yacht club, John and I were making plans to do a short foray into the highlands along the famous Kokoda trail before flying north to the Indonesian border town of Vanimo. There are about five central provinces on the mainland of PNG, none of which are connected by road so the only practical way to get around is fly. Unfortunately, you cant even fly direct to Indonesia from PNG, so after doing the trail, we had planned to cross into Indo at the only mainland crossing up north, then travel by ferry or local flights from Jayapura through the islands of Indonesia and the Philippines.
Anyway, just when we were getting fed up with the painful logistics and probable expense of
hiking the Kokoda trail, we decided to take a break and go for a kite-surf on a nearby beach. The yacht club where we were staying was relatively sheltered so we were stoaked to discover a good breeze blowing over the hill, and a nice sandy beach to launch from. The people here have never seen anything like kite surfing before, so just by pumping up your kite you become an instant rock-star with the kids. Unfortunately the session turned to poose as the tide went out and the reef became more exposed. John put a sizable hole in his board showing off to the kids and we were both looking forward to gnarley infections after standing on the numerous sea-urchins that were hiding in the sand. As we struggled to land our kites amongst the throng of screaming kids one captivated local approached us and insisted on taking us back to his village up the coast where he promised us consistent 20kt winds and as much flat water as we wanted on the longest beach in mainland PNG. Kula didn’t exactly fit the profile of one of the local rascals, (general thief’s, thugs, and baby killers) and his offer of wind was too good to refuse, so we made arrangements to meet him the next day to make the four hour trip east by PMV (Public Motor Vehicle) to his village on the Aroma coast.We met Kula the next day with a couple more of our friends (John and Emma) who had also sailed from NZ. They were gagging to get out of the yacht club compound and see some of the
real PNG, so we made arrangements for them to tag along. When the PMV turned up we all had a bit of a giggle (being hardy adventurous types....little did we know how crowded it would get!) as it was nothing more than a flat deck cargo truck with a couple of wooden benches down the side. After some quick shopping for supplies, we piled in and hit the road. Unfortunately we missed out on most of the scenery due to our late departure, but Kula and the other locals on the truck kept us entertained with information about the villagers and local traditions along the way. About and hour out of Moresby along the sealed road, the power service ceased and the villages we passed
through we lit by just a few solar-powered lights and kerosene lamps. Kula turned out to be the youngest son of the village chief and very concerned about the welfare and development of his own people. Apparently the local government were more corrupt than the national government, and when I saw the state of their main access road when we turned off the highway, it wasn’t hard to believe. After an hour busting my butt on the wooden seats as we slammed through numerous pot holes, I was told that when it rains, this section takes four hours instead of two, and its probably only about 80kms!
When we finally arrived at the village around midnight, everyone was a bit saddle-sore and knackered. We would be staying with Kula’s parents (the Chief of the village) in their spare house (not as flash as it sounds!), which was perfect for what we needed. The houses here are all built on stilts and are very basic, with open air windows, no plumbing, and virtually no furniture.
The house was just a short walk to the beach, and as the full moon was shining bright, we decided we’d have to go and check it out. When John and I e
merged from the bush onto the beach, I’m sure there was an audible gasp between us. In front of us we saw a beautiful wide open beach leading to a great little reef-protected surf break. But better still, beyond the sand and out past the breakers, we saw millions of beautiful little white horses, dancing in the moonlight. John and I took one look at each other…. ‘FARK YEAH, WE”RE GOING KITESURFING!’ I can’t say we’d ever done night kiting before and everyone else thought we were nuts but sometimes we are just nuts so we did it anyway and it was farking mint. We had both 
been craving a decent session for weeks so when we were done, at least we could think a little clearer… I just hoped there were some hot girls around to take care of the rest, or we might do something really stupid!We ended up spending about five days at Aroma village, and every day there were perfect kiting conditions with loads of wind and flat water or surf to play in. We even had a couple of sessions teaching Kula, Emma and John the basics, and now I think they might all be hooked too! The funniest thing was that most of the kids at Aroma hand never seen a white
person, let alone a kite-surfer, so there were always massive crowds watching us anytime we went out. News also spread fast to the villages up the coast, so pretty soon people were coming from all over to see us. Kula also turned out to be a bit of an entrepreneur and surprised us all with grand schemes to help develop tourism in the area….mainly in the form of a kite-surfing retreat, something we all highly encouraged!(ranting on SD PNG)
It was interesting how after just a few informal discussions with Kula and some of the locals how keen they were to bring tourism to Aroma, and even in Moresby for that matter. Not just as an income earner, but more as a way of developing their infrastructure, and to educate themselves on our western culture. But beneath all the hype and excitement generated by our visit, Aroma already seamed like such a safe, vibrant, subsistence and family orientated environment. It’s easy to wonder why these people are so desperate for change, when we look back at our own communities than can seem so hostile at times. When I think about the development of PNG, I can’t help but worry that they’re going to make all the same mistakes we have. Wasting resources, degrading the environment, alienating indigenous peoples…. The list goes on. PNG has
something like the third largest rainforest in the world, but it also has one of the highest rates of deforestation. Town planning in the capital is positively retarded, and there are obviously few restrictions for development. There is no government funded public transport service (although and informal, irregular, private network exists), and even the roads in the central city are full of potholes. Many of the cities settlements are without proper sanitation and power blackouts are an almost daily occurrence. I later discovered that the area we stayed in with Kula for a couple of days was deemed so dangerous, that Telecom refused to maintain the phone lines. There’s certainly a lot of necessary development in all sectors, but how will hold up in the changing climates of the future?Hmmmm…. this could be a calling for me to do something useful with my life, and I’
ve thought long and hard about staying in PNG over the last couple of weeks. Aside from flailing about as the big gay Sustainable Superhero here in PNG, there are loads of opportunities to set up shop or invest and make some serious, serious money. But… as they say, timing is everything and as my friend John so famously put it when he left to continue his travels just a week ago. “I just havn’t slept with enough white girls yet, and the fuzzy-wuzzy chicks just aren’t doing it for me”. Wise words Jonno, I’ll see you in Bali in a week! What is it they say…. ‘Young, dumb, and full of….fun?’ Anyway, if 
you’re looking for a place to invest think PNG…seriously. Give me an email and I’ll hook you up with Kula if you’re interested, so far his business interests include property development, Gold Trading, Stationary supplies, and now kite-surfing!I think that pretty much brings me up to where I am now. I’ve spent the last two weeks in Port Moresby, staying at a nice little coastal village called Vabukori on the outskirts of the city. I seem to have come with the right people as I get mad respect anywhere
I go. I think the people around here are just really stoaked to see a white person openly walking around the village, hanging out, and willing to share a laugh. Kite-surfing has also been a great medium to meet people, you only have to go out once off the village beach and pretty soon everyone knows who you are! Unfortunately, most foreigners in POM are just so paranoid and preoccupied with business that they never get a real sense of the lifestyle or poverty, of the people beyond the razor wire compounds they like to hide behind. If you feel like an intrepid journey, I recommend PNG. Go to the highlands and go panning for gold, if you don’t get killed, you’ll probably end up a millionaire!
