Making friends in the Louisiades: learning Misima dialect

Connecting with people in the places we visit, learning about our similarities and differences, is something I truly enjoy. Demonstrating interest by knowing some of their language is a great way to start.



This is complicated by the vast number of languages we faced, first in Papua New Guinea and now here in Indonesia. Tok Pisin (pidgin) and English are actually the two official PNG languages, but everyone speaks a local dialect (and often several other neighboring dialects). The range of that dialect may be limited to a speck of an island, a valley, or even a village. They are strikingly different- truly mutually unintelligible, as opposed to tweaks on a single language. Seems daunting!

It turns out that there is a dominant local dialect in much of the Louisiades that simplifies the process- Misima, the largest island, covers many of the islands at the eastern end. Tok Pisin isn’t used much in this area- unless they’ve had education beyond primary years, most people aren’t exposed to it much. But many people speak Misima dialect, even if they aren’t in the relatively large area it encompasses.



I had excellent tutors when we arrived in Papua New Guinea: Bela and Derek on s/v Pandana have spent years cruising the area, and Bela is enthusiastically conversant in Misima dialect. Thanks to her enthusiasm and the smiling help of Rubin and his fishermen brothers, I had a few basic words and phrases to grow over the coming weeks.

I believe taking the time is really, really worthwhile. Here’s a collection of what I learned and found helpful. It’s not based on anything but my own pathetic transliteration. There is probably pidgin mixed in. But for making friends in the Louisiades, it will help to crack smiles, open doors, and put you on trusted ground.

Misima Dialect words and phrases
good morning	melaluga waiwaisana	from dawn to midmorning
good day (really, 10-3)	alalati waiwasana	this is used during the hot part of the day
good afternoon	kokoyave waiwaisana	from about 3pm until nightfall
good evening	bulin waiwai sana	bulin literally means 'star'
goodbye	kai yun
thank you	ateu owa	literally, heart person. Sweet.
what's your name?	halam ek?	both the 'h' and the 'k' are nearly silent
my name is (name)	alau (name)
his/ner name is (name)	alula na (name)
what are you doing?	hau na ku gigi nor?	use this when speaking to several people
what are you doing?	hau na u gigi nor?	use this when speaking to just one person
just living	hau minamina	this is the common response
how are you?	ham nam gai wa?
I'm good	am nam wai si	this is the common response
where are you going?	gao na na?
I'll be back	a na ki te wa	this is the common response
good	wai si	also, i wai si: it's good.
very good	wai si hot	also used for delicious
bad	inak
bad man	inak kina
trading	pem penpewa
you give	u pem
I give	ya pewa
sister/brother	taliu	not literally a relative- common reference
sister/brother	gan	for an elder/respectful
what do you want?	hau na nu wam?
I want (item)	nu wam (item)
do you have…	tab…
Do you have bananas?	tab suva?
he/she/it	he
they	i
sail / sailing	kuki
sail to Misima	kuki Misima
let's sail	ta kuki
cooking	liga liga
washing (body)	hig hig
washing (dishes)	ul ul
don't!	bahi wa!
don't do it	bahi wa nu gi nor.
come here	unem
get down	ulau
swim	gayu
building a house	himi tao tao
sit down	mi si yo
garden	eyowa
basket	eyoga
knife	kai ni	give me the knife: kai ni pem. VERY useful, see prior post!
water	wara
rain	ke he i lau
water	wara
baby	wawaya
old man	tonowak
man	tau
woman	yova
people	gamagal
canoe	waga	this generically refers to different boat types
medicine	sawa sawal
modern medicine	dim dim wali sawa sawal
drinking coconut	matu
coconut	bwaku
betelnut	lele
clothes	kaliko
banana	suva

Trading in the Louisiades: what to bring

We knew trading would be part of the experience of cruising in Papua New Guinea, but failed to appreciate just how much. For trading in the Louisiades, here's what I would like to have seen gathered in one place before we left. This is based on our admittedly limited experience, through the western islands in the Louisiades- from Panasia through the Deboyne group- and Budi Budi atoll.


First, understand that trading is deeply ingrained as part of the culture: it is expected. Where there are no stores, and effectively no cash economy, trading is how many needs are satisfied. At the same time, there is a great deal of need. It's tempting just to give a pair of shorts to the naked kid that paddles out to your boat. We think that even when we are basically giving charity here, the formality of making a trade is still important...so while we didn’t try to drive hard bargains, we did stick to trading. When a dugout with three children come out with a pretty shell, a few green cherry tomatoes, and big smiles- some might call me a sucker, but if they want clothes- they all get clothes. They want rice? They get rice. But when the young fellow with a mobile phone and a watch shows up and presents a list of the things he would like visiting boats to give him, we wonder about the precedents that have been set, and just ask what he has to offer in trade.

So, what do people ask for? What do they need? Here’s what we heard the most.



Food staples: flour, sugar, and rice are the most common requests; also, yeast, onions and powdered milk.



Clothing: smaller children's clothing especially, but shirts (nothing sleeveless!) for all, longer shorts for boys, skirts to knee length for girls, and mid-calf for women. I did not consider or realize how conservative and modest the norm for dress would be, and many items in my stash to give or trade aren't useful except for the cloth they are made from. We took donations from friends and our children's classmates in Australia and have given away a large portion of our own wardrobes. For boats coming from Australia, ask at Salvos, Vinnies and Lifeline about bulk purchases. Many op-shops will sell clothing at a very low price-per-bag or price-per-kilo if you explain why you are collecting it.


Cotton cloth, elastic bands, needles and thread (aka "cotton"): a great deal of clothing is made by hand. Yardage of cotton cloth would have been a really great thing to bring. A dozen meters of elastic- so cheap at Lincraft!- would be gold. Most skirts/shorts for children and women, and many tops, are made by hand with these basic materials. I really wish I had appreciated this before we left.



School supplies for schools- dictionaries and books were especially appreciated, and the supplies mentioned below were all gratefully received. Our early reader books were a bit hit, since most instruction puts the kids into a crash course in English: teachers are often from different islands and don’t teach in the local dialect. Schools are reasonably supplied with exercise books and writing instruments, all things considered, but still strikingly sparse compared to what we expect.



School supplies for everyone else- exercise books / workbooks, biros (pens), pencils and erasers were often requested in trade. The schools themselves are often reasonably supplied with these, but it is a limited part of the population that actually attends school. Many children drop out very young: schooling beyond year 2 in many islands often means living for the duration of the term on another island, and fees are hard to meet for people who don’t live in a cash economy- both hardships for a family. But the pastor may need a notebook to help plan their Sunday school program. A carver wants a notebook to use for basic correspondence and to keep a record of his work and sales. A child who isn’t able to attend school still wants to practice writing. None of these people have ready access to writing tools.



Fish hooks and fishing line. Different places sought different size hooks; hooks are asked for more than line.

Hand tools for woodworking: large planes, chisels, metal files, handsaws, drill bits, clamps, axes, adz... a hand drill would be invaluable. I keep thinking of the men I met selling old hand tools on the sidewalk south of Kangaroo Point for just a few dollars, and wish I'd picked up a boxful. These are high value trade items.



Batteries: primarily D-cells. Only a few people asked about any other size. D-cells are used to power radios for news, and lanterns for evening light. We brought too many AA and AAAs, which hardly anyone wants, and not enough Ds, which we are consistently asked about.



Solar or manually powered lights, radios, etc. Devices that can be powered by an integral solar panel or manual crank is highly valued. You can get cheap garden solar lights to bring, but many of them are pretty light duty for “outdoor” gear- try to get something that will last.



Magazines. Magazines offer a glimpse into the outside world for people without regular external media. I really wish I’d gotten that stack of cheap National Geographic magazines spotted in a thrift store before we left Australia; they would have been gold.



Flashlights and headlamps. After lollies and balloons, a torch is the first thing children ask for- coached by their parents on that count I’m pretty sure! In a place where darkness falls early, anything that helps extend usable hours of the day is valuable.

We were asked a couple of times for Bibles, especially the NIV (New International Version). Carrying Bibles isn’t really our gig, but that might be helpful for others to know.

Boat gear. The following may be particularly valued in Panapompom and Brooker, as canoes are made in the Deboyne group, but the waga / solaus are used all over. We were asked for:

• Marine paint – not necessarily bottom paint; anything for the sailing canoes
• Nails
• Retired sails, or plastic tarp to use for outrigger sails and for shelters
• Hand sewing needles for sails, and 1/2mm nylon or synthetic twine to use
• We think a quality synthetic small diameter line (like Robline) would be very valuable for the lashing in outriggers
• "Silicone"- really, sikaflex 395, 3M 4200, or similar stuff for joined hulls. Many of the outriggers leak like sieves and there’s often at least one person on board who is continuously bailing
• Line- this fisherman below on Brooker, Frank, was seriously jazzed to trade a couple of bagi for a strand of new polypro line. Rubin so happy to get one of our old halyards and immediately put it into service as a mainsheet on his family’s canoe (their old poly line was hardened and cut into the fishermen’s hands)

Other things we've been asked for:

• printing or copying photographs, sending email. It's such an easy thing for us to do with what we have on board, but can be so helpful to someone without these capabilities
• baby bottles. I am a deep believer in extended nursing, so I cringe to say suggest a bottle. But the practical reality is that sometimes it's not possible, and mixed with the plump cherubs there are some very skinny babies here who might be helped by a bottle- they’re drinking water from coconuts. Another mother I spoke to tended her gardens on a very steep hillside, without any shelter; a bottle made it easier for her to leave baby with father/sibling/aunties for a few hours to work growing yams
• bedding. Most bedding is just a pandanus mat to lie on. we were asked a couple of times for a sheet or a baby blanket

One thing we haven’t been asked for directly, but which would be a great aid, is mosquito netting. Treated nets can be readily acquired at low cost through charity organizations (skip the camping stores, they are outrageous!), and would be a great thing to have for gift/trade. On Budi Budi, malaria is endemic but there is no health facility and many people do not have mosquito nets. Getting medical care means going to Woodlark Island, which in their sailing canoes takes one full day/night IF you have the right wind...and several days if you don't. This all means that people here, and children in particular, die unnecessarily from malaria for want of a cheap bit of netting.

Next post… what you’ll be getting for your trades!

How to cook yams, with cultural lessons on the side

Yams and coconut are diet staples where we have been cruising in southeast Papua New Guinea. We have traded for many, but my first attempts at preparing them weren’t very interesting. One of the first women I met on Panapompom Island, Wendy, came on board to help me work out the secrets one afternoon.
The first step is to peel the rough skin from the yams. Before we began paring, she pointed out that the trader who brought these to me was giving away her seed yams. This time of year (September/October) is planting season, so she cut off the top couple of inches from each yam and reserved them to be replanted. Our lesson diverged into a long tangent on growing yams: the many varities, how gardens are owned, and who works in them.



Wendy used a paring knife she’d brought in her bag. Actually, she’d probably love to have a proper paring knife. Like a lot of knives we’ve seen, this was just a broken blade which had long since been parted from its handle, but served the purpose.

Next, yams were cut into similarly sized pieces (about 1 x 2 inch chunks) and put in a pot, to which about an inch of water was added. She said we should put some salt in. I asked if she used seawater, since anytime we can use a little seawater helps conserve our fresh water supply. “Of course!” was the reply- and felt a little like an idiot. Her potable water is collected from rain during the wet season, so her method conserves fresh as much as possible: it’s a precious resource. Of course. The pot was put on to simmer.

What makes these yams really good is fresh coconut milk. This is probably where my yams prepared on board fell short compared to what we tasted on shore. Wendy laughed at my cleaver and suggested I needed a "proper” bush knife to crack them.  She made quick work of getting a mature coconut cracked, and the meat cut out in chunks, but it was minutes instead of seconds with the right tools. Getting meat out of a coconut is a lot harder than it sounds. I’m already fascinated with how everyone from about the age of two seems to carry these big machetes around, and have another reason now to seek out a bush knife. Meanwhile, I’m collecting photographic evidence of PNG toddlers as knife experts.

Next the coconut meat is grated. Once again, we are lacking island-style tools. Most homes have a coconut scraper that looks a little like a footstool, with a wicked looking piece of metal off the end. Half of a coconut is inverted over the metal bit, and with some vigorous rubbing the meat inside is quickly turned into a pile of fine shreds. Our grater didn’t work as efficiently or uniformly, but Siobhan helped us to get the job done.

Next, the grated coconut meat is put into a colander or strainer over the yams. All Wendy really does is squeeze it by the handful to eke out a few tablespoons of rich milk, but a little bit of water helps. She didn’t do much more than shake a wet hand over the top of the pile to get enough.



I couldn’t resist breaking out a can of coconut milk, and showing her how we would normally acquire the creamy liquid. The very idea is anathema: we did a taste test, and of course, there’s no comparison to the fresh stuff. In the context of her home, though, Wendy was fascinated. Coconuts litter the ground, but canned goods are only acquired at relatively great expense and by traveling to another island. It embarrassed me, to be honest, and I quickly regretted grabbing the can from a pantry locker- but she just laughed it off.

The yams were tested periodically with a fork, and were cooked through in about 20 minutes. Scooped out onto a plate, we snacked on them as soon as they were cool enough to touch. Yams are cooked and eaten throughout the day. Children poking their heads out see the “dim dim” clutch them, and like children everywhere, don’t find a mouthful of fluffy yam to be remotely an obstacle for talking.

We’ve eaten yams like these on almost every stop so far in PNG. Even if I weren’t already a little obsessed with what we eat, it’s hard not to be drawn to understand these mainstays of a subsistence lifestyle.  The lessons I learned along the way from my afternoon with Wendy underscore how food offers windows into a culture.



Wendy and I had also talked about how to find new ways to engage with cruisers to her home of Panapompom island. She and her neighbors are interested in trading, and curious to meet people who come to visit. But visiting boats don’t always want or need what islanders have to sell. Bringing them a service to trade, like a cooking lesson, is a different way of thinking. It gets cruisers and islanders into the same space and talking together: anything that can elevate the conversation from how many papayas for a t-shirt has got to be good! Even if the lessons are just be about cooking yams, at the absolute minimum it’s almost impossible not to make a friend, and learn more about the beautiful and friendly place we’re visiting.

Doing things for the last time

With our departure from Australia coming up, we're conscious of doing a number of things for the last time. It's something that happens routinely when we are traveling, but stands out now due to the relatively longer stay we've had in Australia. Mexico was our home for a similar length of time, but we weren't based in one place- we were exploring thousands of miles of coastline. Here, we've called two communities home: we've made ties, established local routines, gotten to know people.

One of the things we'll really miss about Brisbane are the ferry masters, a few in particular. Brisbane is built along both sides of a winding river, criss-crossed with bridges and connected by ferries. For most of this year, the girls took a ferry across the river to reach the public school they attended. On one hand, it's just getting you from A to B. But in reality, it's a fun segue into their morning with some great people. Guys like Andrew and Paddy who take the time to know the kids, to make them feel special. They always had a ready line to make the children smile and helped us feel welcomed in this home-away-from home. We will really miss them- their open smiles, and sense of humor.

We were ferrying from downtown over to a park the other day and I asked Andrew if I could take a picture of him with the children. "Oh no," he said, "people only what a picture when they're leaving!"

And so it goes.

Andrew with Totem crew and friends

So Andrew, if you're reading this? We really would love a visit in PNG, just so you know.

Mementos from Marquesas

I can't help revisiting the sailor's tradition of picking up a tattoo in the South Pacific. Our friend from the former FlyAweigh (now "out there" as Water Music), Alison, shared more pictures on one of her trips to Sydney. Thanks to her, I've got an image of Hyo's to post.

This is on the inside of her forearm, so when she's standing, arms at her sides, you just see the tiniest tip of the gecko's tail curling around to the front of her arm. I think it's subtle perfection and absolutely gorgeous. On the inside is this cute snappy critter.

It's freshly inked here.



Then, there's this. Alison's cool ankle gecko drew in a small friend. Was it natural attraction?



The best part of this whole getting inked thing is that I love, love, love my tattoo. Irrationally, somewhat unexpectedly...well and truly love it. My own little vanity at fortysomething.

But what's been really fun and a little surprising is how to someone in the know, the design is instantly recognizable as Marquesan. The circle of people for whom that has meaning isn't very big, and it's a group I'm proud to be a part of. It's like our own private signal- "hey- you too?"

I crossed an ocean. I traveled to islands on the far side of the world. And every day now, I've got a tangible reminder of an achievement that will mark my life: to remind me to be strong, to have perspective, and be proud of what I can do.

Aussieisms: Cherries are for Christmas

We plunked ourselves down around the community tables in the marina last Friday for our weekly barbecue. The informal "it's going to happen anyway" gathering is comforting in its unplanned simplicity...we love this regular reconnection with our boaty neighbors.

Plates of munchies were around. Jacqui brought out a bowl full of fresh cherries, sighed, and said "now it's really Christmas." Cherries? Christmas? Yes, if you live in Australia.



Validated the cherries=Christmas theory at Christmas dinner with Aussie friends... apparently it's true. Being just after the the midsummer solstice...of course! Why not?

Aussie snapshots: beach culture

A few weeks ago, we had use of a friend's car (thank you Jennifer!) while they were on vacation in Hawaii. It was really fun to stretch our wings beyond our usual public-tranportation circumpherence and see a few new corners of Sydney.

Here's local phenomenon. It seems like every beach has it's own Surf Life Saving Club. Also known as men in budgie smugglers (that's Aussie for Speedo), charging into the surf, for entertainment and perhaps sometimes even for lifesaving.

Sailors and tattoos

Tattoos and sailors have gone together since explorers ships first encountered highly decorated residents of Pacific islands in the late 1700s, and brought the designs back home with them: marks of their journey and exotic encounters. the Marquesas are recognized as being among the oldest homes of this tradition. Traditionally, they were a mark of status, or power; identify family heritage, or mark an event.

Missionaries banned the practice (too much skin! sexual connotations!), and effectively killed it in many areas. The Marquesas stand out as one of the few places having a continuous practice: it was squelched, but never completely died out.

Getting inked was a popular activity for cruisers in the Marquesas. There was a local rock star (in the tattoo world, anyway) home on Nuku Hiva during our visit. Many beat a path to Bryce's friendly door, and left with beautiful art.

Getting a tattoo wasn't a foregone conclusion. I loved the idea,and wanted to mark the milestone, the accomplishment, of sailing across the Pacific- but didn't just want to hop in the line. After much hemming and hawing, I couldn't quite nail the "what" and  "where" - kind of important for something I expect to carry with me for the rest of my life! So for a while, I just enjoyed the artwork on friends, instead.


Ken's modern hammerhead... worked with traditional icons


Mike's awesome tiki. loved this. His wife Hyo has an amazing gecko on her arm, I need a picture!


Brian had traditional Marquesan motifs worked around an existing tattoo... neat.


Aha! The foot!


Can you spot the manta?


Elegant. 


It was a few weeks later that it all came together for me, but by then our great Marquesan artist was a long distance upwind. I was ready, but the opportunity was gone! I couldn't see having a Marquesan style tattoo done by anyone but a Polynesian.

How lucky then to meet Teuira in New Caledonia. From Tahiti, trained in France, we shared no common language but worked with pictures and some interpretation by his lovely girlfriend. This week is my tattooversiary! I love it, perhaps a little irrationally.

Thank you, Teuira. I'm so happy to carry this reminder with me.


A turtle (it's there, trust me) in the center- marking my shellback status for sailing across the equator. Icons for my family, my husband, for protection and strength...for the waves of the Pacific.

Feed the body, feed the soul

Something I've missed about living on land is having a garden. Oh, sure, you can put pots on the deck for boat style patio gardening- but that's highly impractical while cruising. Aside from the harsh environment (salt spray is foe to the hardiest!), quarantine in most countries generally won't welcome live plants.

Thanks to a friend at work with an interest in permaculture, we became connected to a community garden in our area.


Many moons ago: radishes lining the bed of Tuscan kale.

It's a little different from the usual plot system in Seattle "P-Patch" or most other community gardens. This operates entirely as a collective: there is no Yours and Mine. Participants share all the work, and share everything produced. On Sunday mornings, we take the bus to the other side of our district and meet up with other volunteers around 10. We work until about 1, with a generous break for midday tea. As we get ready to depart, the fruits, and herbs which were harvested are on a table, and we each take what we need, with an eye on ensuring something for everyone. A few dollars contributed each time to help cover expenses, which is also funded by the North Sydney Community Council

We've had the obvious benefit: really, really good food. It's just so very much more than this, though.

It's a community of truly lovely people, who have been a gift to get to know. Carol, below, is our matriarch.


Pulling out cauliflower is hard work!

The break for tea usually includes scones or other homemade goodies from a member. We make tea from a mix of herbs in the garden: kaffir lime leaves, lemon thyme, sage, or whatever is handy.



It's when we sit with our fellow gardeners, and chew on issues bigger than the cutworm crisis over a cuppa.



The kids claim teatime is their favorite part, but I know it's more than that, too. It's about how proud Niall is of the meaningful contributions he makes- putting nets over our tamarillo trees, or constructing the tomato trellis. How Mairen loves ferreting every last little cutworm in a bed, and dedicating it to a bucket for some hungry chickens. Siobhan's pride in having what see sees as utter and complete ownership of the eggplant harvest (although truly, she sees fruits we missed completely).



And then, of course, there are usually dogs.


Few things better than an adoring canine fix.

Over the last nine months, the children have been able to harvest vegetables from plants that they started from seeds. Really understanding how to produce your own food is a valuable life skill. They also know what real, good, organic produce should look like... and they compare that to what we see in the supermarket.

So much more nourishment than you'd think, from a pile of fresh greens.


Siobhan preps the haul of an early spring harvest at home: cauliflower, peas, lettuce, parsnips, kale, pansies, rutabaga, chard, lots of herbs... I think there's a daikon hiding in there, too.

Storian blong wanfala kenu Totem

Long long taem bifo i bin gat wanfala kenu Totem long smolfala aelan blong Bainbridge.

Ol wan toktok blong Totem i gat wan gudfala plan. Hem wanem go long solwata lukluk aelan blong Pacific, longwei long not blong Bainbridge.

Be wind i kam bigwan, solwara i rafraf.

Afta wan dei, ol man blong Totem hem lukluk aelan blong Pacific gat long sanbis.

Oli stat blong singsing mo lafet plante lang fulap dei.

Ol fren, ol man hem blong wanfala kenu Totem pleiplei yet tedei!

The legend of the boat Totem

A long time ago, there was a boat called Totem on Bainbridge Island.

The family of Totem had a plan. They wanted to go across the ocean to the Pacific islands, far away from Bainbridge.

The wind blew, and the waves were high.

Then one day, they found the beaches of the Pacific islands.

They sang and they laughed for many days.

My dear friends, they are still playing there today!

Language lessons- Vanuatu edition

I've prided myself in learning a least a smattering of each local language- but reverting so some unappealing American ethnocentrism, I seem try English first in Vanuatu and am almost sorry to find that it works every time. I think I may have succombed somewhat to the disappointment of a fleeting stay in a place that deserves months if not years to explore.

Still, it's impossible not to be fascinated with the literal puzzle of reading and understanding some Bislama.

Port Vila Public Library - Vanuatu Cultural Center

Vanuatu has over 100 local languages, and the inherited official languages of French and English- the result of the "condominium" period of the early 20th century when France and England shared colonial governance of the country. The true linga franca, however, is Bislama. A refinement of pidgin English, it was evolved based on contact with Europeans as a way to facilitate trade and communication between islanders with different mother tongues. Literal English is transposed on the Melanesian syntax.

For example:

Bird - pijin

Parrot - grinfala pijin

Sea bird - ol pijin blong solwata

Thank you for your help. - Tankyu tumas long help.

What is your name? - Nam blong yu emi wannem?

How much is one lemon? - Mi pem hamas wan lamen?

It appears simple at first, but is a fully developed language with a fully developed vocabulary and grammar. It may be derived in great part from English, but as a unifying language that developed *in* the islands, it has an important part of self-identification for ni-Vanuatu.

Time to bone up on some vocabulary.

Manioc (cassava) bundles for the airport

Unexpected delights in Vanuatu

It's often best to arrive in a new place without too many expectations, so you are open to letting the experience of it flow. We often have the luxury of time. Not feeling rushed through a place helps us be open to opportunities for new experiences or learning as well- we aren't bent on trying to cram in a checklist of "Things We're Supposed To Do Here." The reality, though, is that we often build up preconceptions about what it will be like, and what it will happen- even if it's just as a byproduct of preparation steps.

It's a little different for us at the moment. With the cyclone season fast approaching this part of the Pacific, we only have a few weeks left in tropical islands before running south for Australia. As a result, we arrived in Vanuatu with some expectations and a fairly specific plan. Sure enough- so far, Vanuatu has not been what we expected, and forces outside our control have changed our plans!

Originally, we thought we'd arrive on Efate island and spend a couple of days in Port Vila, the capital and our port of entry, before sailing north to Epi island. There, we would encounter people who live in extraordinarily different circumstances than any we have seen before. We'd have a glimpse into a history closely tied to the land and rich with ceremony. We'd get to swim with the resident dugongs in a bay at the north end of the island. There would be epic snorkeling at an atoll between Efate and Epi.

That's not exactly the way things are turning out. We arrived a week ago, but weather systems have kept us in protected waters on Efate. Port Vila has interesting corners and its own charms, but it's not the rural village removed from most vestiges of modern western culture that is the Vanuatu of our Discovery Channel dreams. For the most part, we're just another in the crowd of white tourists disgorged from vessels- cruise ships were in port for half of our stay.

Things started looking up as soon as we got away from town. This seems to be a consistent theme for us: enjoy what the population centers have to offer, but find the outposts as quickly as possible, for this is where the best memories and friends are nearly always made. In company with our friends Mike & Hyo on IO, we worked our way around to the protection of the northern harbor on Efate.

Although we thought Vanuatu would be all about cultural experiences, what we're finding in so far instead is unparalleled sea life. It is simply stupendous: in the last few days, we have seen the largest specimen of nearly every species of sea creature we've encountered to date in our two years of cruising.

It started when we made a pit stop to snorkel at a pinnacle about 7 miles from Vila, and found an incredible combination of pelagic fish and the usual confetti of colorful reef fish. A tuna patrolled with the controlled calm of a predator. Turtles glided through, and the fish all seemed utterly fearless- based on the way reef fish surrounded us, close enough to touch, we suspect dive boats feed them. Mairen, my snorkeling buddy, was nearly hoarse from squeaking with delight with each new discovery.

After settling into an bay near Havannah Harbour, snorkeling the area reefs produced even more drama. We've seen snapper and groupers that exceeded six feet in length. Massive sea turtles have glided by. Buffalo parrotfish, a riot of color and easily 100 lbs, drifting by schools of jittery snappers. In a comical domino effect, Mike accidentally spooked the largest eagle ray we've ever seen which went jetting down and startled a fat whitetip shark on the bottom. Later,Jamie e was lining up a shot on what would be by far the biggest groupers he's ever speared, when he realized he was being checked out by a yellowfin tuna with a body as long as his own. Even the average sized parrotfish, snappers, and groupers vastly exceed the typical fish size we've seen. It is an new feeling to be in waters where we have been knocked off the top of the food chain.

If the reef wasn't magical enough- to cap it off, on the swim back from their last visit yesterday, Mike and Jamie swam with dolphins.

I don't know what's next, but my expectations have been swept back off the table.

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Posted via radio: we have no internet access

Barra de Navidad

I had a slow day in Barra de Navidad. It wasn't supposed to be slow, but sometimes that's not in my hands.

Laundry was dropped with a family in town for pickup at 1. It wasn't ready- no problem. I had the perfect excuse to be alone, without a "to do" list, for a couple of hours.

I found a great display of the town history, painted on a wall. Must have passed at least a dozen times before but never noticed it.



Sustenance came care of the ceviche cart:



Back at the Lavanderia, I made friends with the children of the proprietress while waiting for our load to dry, and taught them how to play a few card games.



Then they commandeered the camera, and we got a few more fun photos.



I ended up back at the boat several hours later than expected. You could call it a snag in the schedule (we were trying to leave that afternoon for Tenacatita), but I loved the detour for a few hours into a slower pace without demands.