The Beetle visited Papua New Guinea (PNG) last Christmas and here is an account of Port Moresby.
Getting to PNG the first time was not straightforward, although I have since learned that it is much easier to fly from London to Singapore – about 12 hours, and then take a 6 ½ hour Air Niugini flight (twice a week) from Singapore to Port Moresby. Because last year I intended to spend some time in Australia on the return leg back to London, I flew into Brisbane, transferred up to Cairns, a short hop, and then a 1 ½ hour flight from Cairns to Port Moresby. The international airport at Port Moresby is modern, has a shiny floor, a tourist office that I never saw open (on the 4 occasions I went through it) and is a great place to people watch! Whilst waiting for my diving buddies, a week into my trip, I met and chatted (in pidgin) with a charming man from the highlands who was (seriously) wearing his full traditional costume, which consisted of a lot of feathers, not much in the way of clothing and painted marks on the face, arms and torso. He looked both dignified and quite splendid. He was the type of figure you might expect to see on a postcard, only I met him for real!
Finding a budget place to stay for a weeks’ diving proved a little difficult. I would have liked to have stayed at the Loloata resort – primarily a place for divers, but it was way out of my budget. Eventually, John and Chrissie at PNG Dive recommended the Magila Motel to me. OK, it was a little basic, a concrete based room, but it was clean, safe and had a bed and a shower – perfectly adequate – and was well run by a determined Scottish lady, her two dogs, husband and local and Philippino staff. What really made the Magila motel welcoming to me, and I was there alone, was that it has an outside area with tables and benches and a telephone. I ate all my meals outside in the shade of the umbrellas, and struck up conversations with anyone else eating at the same time – I was impressed by how incredibly friendly people were.
The telephone was the focal point of the place and attracted good natured queues. (None of the international mobile telephone companies are willing to establish a network in PNG, so no cell phones work, with the result that public telephones are well used facilities – remember those times?) As people waited, they sat at the table, drank a beer or two and started conversations with anyone around, and I was no exception, being something of a curiosity, a white English female, all alone for a week and only present from late afternoons onwards. After a week, I think I must have met every single person staying in the Magila, a mix of transient one night stays by people coming to town from the highlands for business and returning the next day, to a former member of the government who had won a scholarship to study for a business degree in Australia, and was in Port Moresby for a business appointment, the leader of the opposition, very jolly, who seemed to be largely revered because he had won a huge amount of money gambling… an Australian expat and local wife staying for a month or so on a budget, “doing a deal” on a timber plantation his parents used to own and lots of people who just dropped in for a beer and a rest.
Most expats I met were Australian – makes sense at it is so close. One regular visitor to the Magila, a wiry hardy man, originally from Cornwall, but a naturalised PNG citizen (on account of having stayed there for over 30 years) popped in from where he was working across the road to have a beer and meet up with his mates, introduced to me as local gold dealers and various bigwigs discussing all manner of business ideas and opportunities. He and his various friends were great company and told me lots of stories on how life really is, about rascals – a favourite topic of conversation, coupled with the amount and latest tales of bribery and corruption – some of it really quite shocking and a lot of it chuckle type common sense. While I was there last year, the local press ran stories about a large and prominent building in the centre that was started three times. The first two times, the building contract was awarded to a construction firm which ran off and stole all of the money before the work was even started!
A lot of bad news is written about Port Moresby, but I can honestly say that I did not at any time feel threatened, at risk or in danger. I had a great time and felt as if I had had the chance to talk with a lot of people, all of whom were fascinating (to me, with their different stories) and at the same time generous, kind and sincere. It’s the kind of place where people come down from the highlands or the coastal areas, looking for work; unemployment is massive, so, there are a lot of people with nothing much to do. This type of problem is not exclusive to PNG, and of course, as a visitor, you have to be streetwise.
There are some things for a tourist to see in Port Moresby, and my favourite by far is PNG Arts. It is an enormous warehouse, just crammed full of all types of handicraft, ranging from phallic shaped salt and pepper shakers to masks, ceremonial daggers to picture boards to tables, carved 2 metre long wooden crocodiles and more. All of the items are made by local people, from the Triobriand Islands (highly prized) to the Highlands, many of them are produced by co-operatives, so at least you know you are supporting the local economy. All of it was eminently affordable, although there were some quite pricey, beautifully carved and intricate pieces. I spent over than half a day just browsing around the dusty objects for sale and could quite happily have sent much more time there.
It is quite a magnet for the expats who come to buy presents to take back when they go home. I got chatting to one of the men who worked there. He was a fascinating Canadian man who has been in PNG for over 30 years, who went there as a bet, from his native Canada, back in the 1960s. He wryly told me about the bet, how all his friends should have gone with him, but one by one, they all dropped out, so he came alone, and has stayed ever since, dabbling in gold mining, timber and coconut plantation management and ended up at PNG Art. I couldn’t resist it, but I bought a whole load of souvenirs from PNG Art and had them crated up and shipped home. My friends (Padmassana included!) were extremely sceptical and joked that I would never see them. But 5 months later, 2 large wooden crates arrived by parcel post, incredulously delivered by a man who said he’d never handled anything from PNG before! It’s a great place, and sadly, it was very difficult to find souvenirs in Rabaul or Kavieng, so I was glad that I had made the visit there and had something to show and give to my friends from PNG.
Other things to do in Port Moresby include a trip to see the Houses of Parliament, there’s some botanical gardens, although I did not visit them, some WW2 remains.
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