Life in Volcano Town

So, yesterday I reached the halfway point for my time here in Rabaul - three weeks down, three weeks to go. It seemed as good a reason as any to reflect on my time here so far.

I currently live down the road from an active volcano - Mt Tarvurvur.

My time is spent mostly either in my room or in the office at the Rabaul Hotel - situated in what the owner Susie jokingly refers to as “the Paris end” of Mango Avenue. Once the bustling main street of Rabaul, the hotel - formerly called the Hamamas Hotel - is the only building at this end of the street. The locals still call it the Hamamas Hotel, and I can’t help but feel a sense of irony (Hamamas is Tok Pisin for "Happy"), as it stoicly stands tall amongst growing mounds of volcanic ash and overgrowth.

Hamamas tru!

The first thing I notice when I step outside is the misty mountains that surround the former town of Rabaul - reminding me of my previous months living in Alotau. And then the dragon deep without the mountains lets out an intermittent roar - not unlike a jetplane circling above - and I remember that it isn’t mist, but volcanic ash. If the wind is unkind, which I’m told it is at this time of the year, the whole area is veiled in a grey cloud of ash, which inevitably gets into everything. Not that there's much to see - most of the buildings have been torn down, and all that remain are vacant lots, piled high with ash and overgrown with greenery. My eyes sting, my nose clogs up, and I can feel the silty grit between my fingers and toes, in my ears - even between my teeth. That’s just part of the experience, I keep telling myself - but I can't help but feel like Mother Nature is telling me something else.

Of course, there is a lot of history - and emotion - tied to this town. Established by the Germans in 1884, taken by the Australians in 1914, then later taken by the Japanese in 1942, and then taken again by the Australians in 1945, and eventually returned to the local people in 1975, the town was once known as the Pearl of the Pacific. And although there has always been a volcano nearby, it only caused serious problems every 50 years or so. However, in 1994, the volcano on the other side of the harbour (aptly named Mt Vulcan) joined in on the eruptions, and everybody packed up and moved to Kokopo. Well, most people. A stoic few are working hard to keep both the history - and the future - alive in this place. There's the hotel here, and down the road there's the Rabaul Yacht Club and the Travelodge Hotel. Further away, on the other side of the harbour is "new" Rabaul, where the shipping industry, soft drink production, and half a dozen supermarkets (no, really!) keep many of the local village residents employed.

Meanwhile, the daily life has definitely been a challenge for me - moreso than my time in Alotau, where I had a regular social life and reliable communications access. I’ve come to appreciate how much I rely on social interaction to maintain my sanity, and I worry that my desperation to connect with people is coming off a little creepy. Like when I was recently in a supermarket in Kokopo, and I saw a couple of young kiwis, and waited for the opportune moment to jump behind them and say “Oh, hey! You’re volunteers from New Zealand, right? I saw your photos on the VSA Facebook Page!”

Nope, not at all stalkerish, right?

Still, as the philosopher Bon Jovi once said, “Woah, we’re halfway there.” I’ve come this far, and I’m slowly but surely getting some good work done. And despite the challenges, I’ve also had some amazing experiences. Last week, the National Mask Festival was in Kokopo, which I used as an excuse to get out of Rabaul for a couple of half-days. And with only three weeks remaining, I’m definitely feeling the pressure to explore some of the other attractions of the region before my time is up. Maybe some exploring of the Duke of York Islands, or a weekend over in New Ireland and Kavieng. Papua New Guinea is such a beautiful and diverse place that I still feel lucky to be here, and whilst Rabaul hasn’t been the easiest of places to live, there are certainly far worse places I could be.

Going through the emotions...

So, I'm six days into my second assignment - this time in Rabaul, East New Britain. A town surrounded by volcanos with a fascinating colonial and military history, it has much of the beauty that I enjoyed in Alotau, but a completely different place in other respects.

The town of Rabaul, with Mt Tavurvur smoking away in the distance.

I've been a little apprehensive, to be honest - not because of the location, or the people, but because of myself. Last time, I found that being on a short-term assignment was somewhat emotionally turbulent. To be given 6-8 weeks to settle into a town, develop relationships with counterparts and stakeholders, build local support networks, and address various personal challenges such as cultural barriers, social isolation and technological shortcomings is quite an undertaking. And it can be overwhelming at the best of times.

So, I was definitely hitting the one-week blues today. The last five days have been wonderful - I'm in a fascinating place, and have met an array of interesting, enthusiastic and supportive people, and starting to get a sense of where all the action is happening in order to have a stable and regular social routine. But last night I definitely hit the wall, and this morning I was miserable. I just wanted to be back home, see my girlfriend, eat mexican food, and wake up in my own room. I wanted to ride my bike around town, walk the streets at night, and go swing dancing in Brunswick Street.

So this morning was a struggle, but I forced myself out the door by 9:30am. Down the main street to the centre of town. Onto a PMV to take me on the 30 minute ride to Kokopo, and then another PMV to Rapopo Plantation Resort, where I had hoped to go yesterday, but ran out of time (I need to leave by 4:30pm if I want to safely make it home by sundown!).

And I'm so glad I did. Rapopo turned out to be Kokopo's equivalent to Driftwood in Alotau - but with a pool! Barely had I swum a dozen laps, when a couple of other familiar faces arrived for a swim. This was followed by a much-needed pot of coffee and a fantastic meal, with friendly company. Three hours later, my morning's angst had become a distant memory.

It's exhausting, but I know that I can do this - especially as I've done it before, and I know that I'll do it again. I just have to remember to keep moving, take every opportunity to connect with others, and not to shut myself in. As tempting as it feels to let myself get down, I must always remember that things will get better so long as I let it. It's the key to survival in these situations.

Returning.

So, I'm back in Melbourne.

It's safe, but cold. Familiar, but different. Friendly, but intimidating.

I'm feeling grateful for being home, but also yearning to fly the coop once again - which I'll get to do soon enough.

Sitting here in my room, I feel overwhelmed by the weight of all my possessions scattered about, and towering above me. I guess after two months of living out of a backpack, I have a newfound understanding of what is essential, and what isn't.

And yet, I return from Papua New Guinea with various gifts of carvings and knick-knacks. It's only human nature to want to cling onto mementos of the past - the reminders of our life-changing experiences.

So, I've taken the opportunity to do some weeding of my various boxes of stuff that I seem to have accumulated through my life, whilst I'm in this current headspace. Separate the essential memories from the ones that seemed so important at the time, but are trivial in hindsight.

I discover:

- Many many photos, from the days before Facebook, Flickr and digital cameras.
- Flyers, handbills and programs from numerous plays, and concerts.
- Years of tax packs and receipts (I believe we're meant to keep seven years' worth?)
- Badges. So many badges.
- Postcards, birthday cards, and letters.
- Mementos from the university club days.
- Ticket stubs from films, plays, overseas flights and train journeys.

Every one of them stimulated memories almost-forgotten, and I can't help but worry that if I discard these things, then the memories will eventually disappear with them. This makes me anxious - worrying about losing these newfound memories all over again. It seems absurd.

It's hard. I need to take a leap of faith - throw out the physical things, and hope that the memories remain - at least, the most important ones.

One month in Alotau!

So, it's been a month since I arrived in the town of Alotau, the capital of the Milne Bay Province in Papua New Guinea. It's a beautiful place, as you can see.

Normally, in these tropics, it would be the dry season. However, around this region, the wet and dry seasons are reversed, and so I have arrived in their rainy season, which doesn't bother me so much, as it means that the temperature stays more or less tolerable - even if my clothes do go a little mouldy if I leave them in the wardrobe for too long!

The name "Alotau" means "a safe place", and this town certainly does have that reputation. Even so, the usual safety precautions are advised, and it's taken me this long to start to feel familiar enough with the town and its daily goings-on without feeling too much out of control of my personal safety. However, I'm finally making friends - which can be harder than you think without the right introductions or stumbling into the right networks. I've also manage to suss out little things that I used to take for granted - things like internet, which is now a hundred times more expensive, and thus something that I need to wean myself off. There is also a significant lack of chocolate, which I'd like to think I can live without at the best of times, but also find myself craving at times.

Emotionally, it's been a bit of a rollercoaster. The first weekend was the worst - I found myself well out of my comfort zone wandering around town after dark, and ended up getting seriously spooked and feeling socially isolated. The second weekend I tagged along with some British medical students and went island hopping, which was exhausting but filled with beautiful beaches, sunburn and mosquito bites. In the following weeks, I oscillated between being somewhat reclusive in my bungalow with books, and forcing myself outdoors, and taking opportunities to meet new people. Even if it meant participating in boot-camp style cardio exercise. Which it did.

I don't know if it was the added exercise, or my slowly-growing social circle, but in this past week I've definitely feeling far more stable now. I'm buying more fresh vegetables and cooking properly again - much better than the rice and baked beans, 2-minute noodles or dry biscuits which were becoming my staples. A few weeks ago, I told a friend back home that I certainly didn't think I could spend a year here. Now I'm starting to feel like eight weeks isn't going to be long enough.

I even surprised myself today by saying that there was no way I could go back to doing what I was doing before. That has to be an indication that I'm finally headed in the right direction.

New Adventures...

Well, it's been a little over a month since I returned to Melbourne, and now I'm sitting in a Brisbane motel, preparing for an early morning flight overseas.

I won't elaborate on details, but I'll be going into full-time volunteer work in a nearby developing country for the next few months. As much as I love travelling, I also miss using my professional skills, and so this will be an opportunity to do both!

However, in the interests of maintaining the reputation of the program that I will be involved with, as well as maintaining good relations with the organisation and the country that I'll be working in, this blog may fall into a temporary hiatus.

But one thing is for sure - it'll be an adventure! Hopefully, I'll be able to tell you more about it later!

Holiday in Cambodia

So, I arrived at Nha Trang for the Vietnam Lindy Exchange, which was definitely a highlight of my month overseas. A weekend of dancing, swimming and hanging out with 80 or so other dancers from all over Asia and beyond. Then on Monday, I travelled through to Saigon, and succumbed to bit of a nasty cold, which is not the most fun in the soaring heat that I encountered there. After a few restful days, I boarded the bus, which took me over the border to Cambodia, and on Thursday evening I arrived in Phnom Penh.

Phnom Penh is definitely a very charming city, with beautiful architecture and friendly smiles everywhere I went. I couchsurfed for a couple of nights with some young engineers, and in one of those freak coincidences, found out that their team leader was a former librarian whom I worked with in Darwin about five years ago! On the Friday evening, we all headed up to the city stadium, and joined in on the public khmer-pop aerobics, which was, strangely enough, one of the most awesome things I did in Phnom Penh.

Saturday morning took me on another bus to Siem Reap, and once I checked into my hotel, I jumped on a hire bike, and took myself to Angkor Wat. The temple region is a lot bigger than it looked on the map, and it was a good half hour or so before I reached anything resembling an ancient temple, but it was a lovely way to experience the grounds. Being late in the afternoon, it wasn't so hot, and I could avoid the bustle and pollution of roaring around in a tuk-tuk.

Then, the next morning, I rose at 5:30am-ish to make the obligatory visit to Angkor Wat to watch the sunrise. Along with hundreds of other people. It was still worth it, and once the sun was up, it was the perfect opportunity to ride around to some more temples whilst the morning air was still cool. Three hours later, it was starting to heat up, and I started peddling back into town - past the dozens of tuk-tuks all queued up on the narrow streets, waiting to take their passengers in.

With my flight leaving that evening, I found a nice hotel that had a swimming pool that they allowed casual visitors into, and relaxed with some much-needed relief from the afternoon heat. One last mango smoothie later, the time came to bid farewell to Cambodia, and bring an end to my month of travelling around South East Asia.

Ahoy, Hoi An!

So, I arrived in Hoi An, and almost immediately I have that overwhelmingly disappointing sense of being caught in a tourist trap. Pretty much everybody who wasn't in a store or pushing a hawker stall was white. Fortunately, I'd only committed myself to being there for a day and a half, so I made the most of it, and strolled around town, trying the local food, including some Banh Mi that was made famous by an Anthony Bourdain documentary. It was pretty good, actually!

The next morning, I made the most of the local bicycle hire, and braved the traffic, once I was out of the old town area, it became a little more picturesque, and it wasn't far until I'd reached the nearby beach. I knew that this day would be my last opportunity to appreciate the cooler climates of Northern Vietnam, and weather-wise, I couldn't have asked for a more glorious day for cycling around the Vietnamese countryside.

It didn't start bucketing down until I arrived back at Da Nang station that evening, ready to travel on to Nha Trang...