I lived in Papua New Guinea for 2 years, way back in 1984 & 85. Living in the seclusion of the then Pacific Adventist College (now Pacific Adventist University), I admit I had never actually experienced life in Port Moresby. I did remember East Boroko and one weekend I spent there. Two years ago, I arrived in Port Moresby for the first time since leaving in 1985. I was astounded at the progress and development that had since taken place. But I again did not get to experience life in POM as it should be because I was holed up in the Airways Hotel, extremely cautious not to leave my room. I always traveled by cab and returned immediately after completing what I had to do. I even ordered room service, for crying out loud.
Today I arrived in Honiara after an exhilarating experience in Port Moresby. 4 days and I felt that I had seen it all, satisfied that my experience was the best I have ever had. This time there was no seclusion, no flashy hotels, just a simple bunk-in at Hohola with family friends. I admit, it was the best decision I had made.
Sunday, I walked along the shores on Ela beach after a rather uncomfortable ride on the PMV (bus). I even took time (with my faithful guides) to watch a basketball game; but it was more the umpire who caught our attention not the game itself. Then we headed off to Manu (where-ever that was) on bus number 6. Found out it was a market and we were on the lookout for fish. Then we boarded bus 12 and headed back to Hohola. Power black out in the evening forced my hosts to cook on the fire, using the rice cooker! I was flabbergasted to which one of them replied, “maske long wori, wok blo steel wool behind ya”…(do not worry, it will be scrubbed clean with steel wool!)
Monday, I headed off to the US Embassy for a visa interview and as we passed Ela Beach Hotel, a car screeched out of the driveway and headed towards the city. Tailing it almost immediately was a police van, sirens blaring and chasing at top speed. A robbery had just taken place; for a city notorious for its crime, the citizens sat back on the bus whispering in excited pidgin and then gazing out at the ocean as if nothing had happened. I was stunned beyond belief.
Tuesday, I went to collect my visa and as I passed the Westpac Bank, an army of personal security quickly assembled with shotguns and batons near a parking lot as an armoured truck drove in. I scuttled into the US Embassy hoping one of those shotguns would not accidently fire itself and hit me in the back. I was brave enough to go on a “spin….waka baot nabaot past time”, and completely drooled over an And1 shoe I saw. Then I remembered, I needed a belt and on trying to enter a shop, I found it locked. As I turned to walk away, the door swung open! Oops, only by invitation – the guard decided I looked decent enough and trustworthy to let me in.
Wednesday, while waiting for my flight home I suddenly realised that I had actually thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I had a bit of an adrenaline rush and an extra bounce to my steps….and as Capt. Galo reminded me, “if you live here long enough, you kinda get use to it”….Only in Port Moresby.
I wonder what the tourist numbers are like in Port Moresby.