22/9/11
We are in the Solomon Islands and I have written a whole blognovel ready to post...but computer (in Japanese...) says NO.
Please bear with me...
as soon as possible I will get it all up.
We are having a wonderful time.
It is stinky hot and the Solomons are (quelle surprise) just beautiful.
Our friends Kerry and Rina are with us for a few weeks and it is Boot Camp Solomons Style because there is not much food to be had...bananas, pawpaw, pineapple, eggplant, some weird-o veggies, and - tinned corned beef.
Rina and I are competing to prepare the best possible meals out of random pantry items and much eggplant...

6th September – appendix

I was happily boasting about our 16 metre dive on the USS Coolidge when Pete interrupted to say, NOT 16 metres, 35! I was gobsmacked – really?? We went down THAT FAR??? Well whacko the diddle oh!! Yes I did look at my little dive computer thingy and saw it said over 30 but…I thought I had misread…or that it was in feet instead of metres…

Pete’s Diving Story
The dive was good, pretty clear visibility and very warm, we both have wetsuits. In fact it was quite cheap, 9000Vatu (approx. $100) for the two of us which is one of the cheapest I’ve done. I put down that I had done 30 dives over my time (beginning in Sri Lanka in 2002). David was extremely watchful and patient; at one stage he was showing us (using a lead diving weight as a hammer) how the encrustation covering the bathroom pipes could be removed to expose a perfectly shiny, looking like silver-plated, bathroom pipe and drain.
Marguerite acquitted herself well, it is not easy lugging the heavy diving paraphernalia, and then diving to 35m. In Australia we are only certified to dive to 18m, here there are no rules, except to comply with all the requirements of decompression on the way back to the surface.
Now we are inspired to make good use of Andrew’s PowerDive hooker, which only takes us to 6m unfortunately.

7th September

One last blogpost…I am back in Victoria’s café (fee WiFi!). 2XS is at the fuel wharf. I had to come back into town because – no details – I have a side-effect from taking the anti-malarial drugs (doxycycline)… After much weary (and hot) trudging I found a doctor’s surgery with a lovely sympathetic woman, who told me “Dr Walker” would be back at 4.00. I looked so crushed she invited me into the dispensary where I found exactly what I need. So now…one last cup of coffee for the...sea!

Tuesday 6th September

Yesterday we…didn’t go diving on the USS Coolidge. It was too murky and overcast. We spent the day pootling about in a faintly purposeful manner, in accordance with Island Time rules. We had to go to Customs, to get clearance from Vanuatu, and to the harbor master, to get a fuel docket. The people in the Customs office, where Pete seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time leaning against a small barred window spelling out “2-X-S” very patiently, told him that we would have to go and see the Harbour Master about the fuel docket (for duty free fuel, available when one is leaving a country). It wasn’t a long walk, but it was very hot, dry, dusty, trudging past big containers, Quonsett huts and tin sheds full of copra, with large sacks to be unloaded by poor benighted workers. We entered Harbour Master’s office where Pete once again spent a lot of time patiently spelling “2-X-S” and asking about the fuel docket. Many minutes later, he was told that he was in the wrong place; we should be back at Customs. Trudge trudge…back past the sheds, the copra, the containers, mad dogs and Englishmen out in the midday sun. Back to Customs, where Pete once again spelled “2-X-S’ and said that the Harbour Master had told us Customs could give us the form. “Oh,” said Pete’s friend behind the grille. “No worries,” and handed him the form…

So far so good…now off to SSP, the fuel suppliers, to make a time to fill up “2-X-S.” They were just slithering the gate closed…COMPUTER SAYS NO, it was snoozy lunch time. Pete said, “But I just want to ask what time we can fill up!” Too bad… No answer, came the stern reply. Only: “Come back at 1.30.” Pete was unusually, for him, cross about this. “I just want to ask a question! That’s all!” A small blue taxi pulled up, and we climbed in. The driver asked if we minded if he just popped into the office to pay some money. “They won’t let you in, mate!” said Pete. “They are a pack of bastards in there!” Our driver didn’t believe this, and went to open the door. He came back, looking just as cross as Pete, and said, “Fuckin’ man told me to come back at 1.00!” I, in the back seat, was highly amused, and quite startled – we have never heard a ni-Van swearing – the people in the SSP office must give extreme provocation with their manner – maybe they are all sitting with their feet up on their desks, eating, carousing, and sneering joyfully at the desperate men on the other side of the locked door… I will have to get further particulars from Pete, and from our frustrated taxi driver.

Last night Alex (UK, Cambridge,) and Nick, (USA, Orange County,) came over from Infinity to help hoist Pete up the mast so he could fix something up at the very top. Yes I can do this but it is my very least favourite task on the boat… I hate seeing Pete up there in his little sling, knowing that his life depends on my ability NOT to let the rope slip through my nerveless grasp… Nick had to go back to do dingy duty to and from the Beachfront with various Infinity-ites, but Alex stayed for beer, then G & T, then...dinner! We very much enjoyed his company. He and his school friend George graduated from uni together, worked hard to save some cash, and have been travelling for nearly two years. Neither is sure of where they will end up – very possibly Australia. They see this very much as the land of opportunity…

This morning we had to be up and ready earlier than has become our wont, because we were being picked up from the Beachfront at 8.00 for our dive. I was, as usual, in two minds about this. I was really hoping it would be pouring with rain and stormy out at sea so that I could say, “Oh well, never mind,” in a bright and brave voice. But I was also looking forward to diving on a famous wreck with great joy. I suppose the issue is…I am just a teensy bit frightened and not all that confident. (This was only my second dive since completing my Open Water Diving course last year…)

As it turned out, all was well. No rain, a calm sea, and we had our very own lovely ni-Van guide, David, who was patient and gentle in the extreme. Allan Power, the guru of wreck-diving in Vanuatu, and his partner Tony had already described the dive site to us – there is a series of ropes leading down from the beach to the USS Coolidge, and it is possible only to dive to 16 metres but still be on the wreck. At the far end of the boat you can dive down to 60 metres and swim through the cavernous depths of the warship, which was sunk, alas, by friendly fire. Or rather, friendly land mine. I really like being able to go gently down a rope into the sea; much easier than leaping off a boat and trying to get down down down – I tend to bob around like a cork, emitting startled gasps. As it was, both Pete and I glided down the ropes with dignity intact. Visibility wasn’t perfect, but we were able to see and touch the boat, and to examine various artefacts – an encrusted rifle, a bit containing shoes, gumboots, gas masks, a tray with a jug, cups and saucers.

On the way back up, we stopped to decompress halfway, on a beautiful little coral reef about 6 metres down, absolutely swarming with fabulous fish. I enjoyed this very much; possibly more than being on the wreck… On the wreckdeck, I forgot to say, we saw a gorgeous little lion fish, with long feathery spines, looking very appealing and soft. I knew from my reading that lion fish are extremely poisonous, and Allan confirmed this when we went back to his place for coffee and buns – “If you get stung by a lionfish, you want to die for the first five minutes, and after than you wish you were already dead.” (He was a barrel of laughs…)

Our half hour passed very swiftly, and we emerged from the water feeling very pleased with ourselves. A party of Cinq Français came with us on the bus, but they were still in the depths of the USS Coolidge when we left, so we couldn’t compare notes. When we were swimming along the deck, we could see bubbles coming out of various portholes – I swam over and looked down and there, they were, in the cavernous depths – braver than Pete and me! Never mind; we are very pleased with ourselves and think we acquitted ourselves well.

Tomorrow, I think, we are leaving for northern islands. We will meet up with our lovely friends Kerry and Rina in Ndende in the Santa Cruz islands and they will come to Honiara with us. I hope our trip is less crisis-ridden than our time on a junk named Junk in Ha-Long Bay two years ago…

Not sure how long it will be before we come across a friendly internet-connecting tower… Please think of us and maybe send an email or two… We will be so happy to have news from home when next we come into cyberspace territory.

Katy T - pamplemousse is the wonderful French word for...ruby grapefruit

CONGRATULATIONS ANDREW MIEDECKE GRAND TOURING MASTER PAR EXCELLENCE!

Saturday 3^rd September

We got back from our bike excursion yesterday totally exhausted… Not bike fit any more – or maybe it was just very hot and we went very far! We tried to get to Million Dollar Point, and nearly made it, except the road stopped being beautifully sealed and turned into blinding white reflective compacted dust… Much too hot and uncomfortable to continue. But we did get a beautiful ride along the coast through lush jungle on either side, with beautiful houses and vilej huts snuggled into the greenery.

Million Dollar Point is where the Americans, at the end of World War II, drove all of their equipment into the sea, maybe in a fit of pique… Here is Lonely Planet again:

“After the war, the USA offered the Condominium government the surplus equipment but they didn’t respond so the lot was dumped. Everything from bulldozers, aeroplane engines and jeeps to crates of Coca-Cola went into the sea at what is now Million Dollar Point. The coral–encrusted equipment makes the point a popular diving and snorkeling spot.”

Oh those Americans, oh that Pandemonium!

The shops here in Luganville sell a strange miscellany of useful and totally useless items. I was most intrigued to see a big display of cheap fancy-dress wigs. A few offered instant long blonde hair but most of them were, astonishingly, big black afro wigs. Anyone less in need of big black afro wigs than the ni-Vans I cannot imagine… They already have the biggest blackest curliest hair imaginable.

We managed to get rid of our rubbish today. You may not realise what an issue rubbish is, on a boat. We dispose of anything organic overboard at sea but there is an inevitable build-up of bottles, cans, plastic crapola, paper. Our lengthy list of Instructions which Pete received when we moored at Aore resort stated that there is no rubbish collection on Santo, and that they would very kindly accept our rubbish, sorted and compacted, for $10 a bag. Beachfront doesn’t offer this service, nor do they have a 2-page list of instructions. (By the way, at the conclusion of the Aore Instructions, our kindly hostess says, “If you fail to obey our rules, you will be asked, nicely, to leave.” You may gather, by reading between the lines, that I took exception to the, ummm, tone of these rules and regulations…) At Beachfront, there is a wide concrete path leading from the beach to reception, with a carefully placed fresh-water tap for washing one’s dirty feet (the beach is indeed filthy – black sand, and full of, alas, crapola and detritus.) There is a small printed sign which says, “Welcome to Beachfront. Please make yourselves known at reception.” And that is ALL – no 2-page screed, no threats of eviction. We were able to buy WiFi time and nice cold drinks, all very harmonious and pleasant. Mind you if you ever come to Espiritu Santo, I think Aore would be a beautiful and gorgeous place to stay, with its crystal clear water full of fish and coral, its beautiful little bungalows, its immaculate restaurant. I just don’t recommend it as a place to moor one’s boat…

Oh dear digressing…I was telling you, how fascinating, about rubbish on boats. I love tossing vegetable scraps and leftover food into the sea. Sometimes I see little fish darting out to snatch tasty morsels. The small zebra-striped ones are the most voracious; they behave a bit like piranhas in a feeding frenzy, especially when there are meaty bits involved. Out in the ocean I just imagine the food sinking down to the depths, with different levels of bigger fish saying, “hmmm, teriyaki sauce; I think I refer wasabi.” So what do we do with all of the other crapola? When we are in marinas, there are always rubbish bins, free of charge. In Port Vila, when we were on our anchorage in the bay, we would take our bags of rubbish into the market area and deposit them tastefully next to everybody else’s big bag of stinky rubbish, and someone, later, would come along with a truck and take it all away. Our Aore hostess had said, very firmly, that there is no rubbish collection at all in Luganville, hence her charge for getting rid of yacht trash. We were a bit sceptical about this and when we went into town on our first day outside the Beachfront, we took careful note as we made our way into town in our jaunty little taxi. All along the road were…high wooden stands, for rubbish – high, to keep dogs from ripping and spreading stuff all over the countryside. So yesterday we loaded our backpacks with fragrant plastic bags of cans, bottles, paper, and unloaded them gently onto the roadside stands, where, undoubtedly, a nice little truck will come and take it all away. Neat solution!

My New Ecco sandals, bought, eventually, at the Birkenstock shop in Hobart, are a great success. My feet are very happy. I have kept my lilac and white plastic ones for special occasions like MUD and BLACK SAND. My new Eccos aren’t dark brown suede, like the old ones. They are a very beautiful shade of pale beige, with a delicate little pink strip at the front. Or…they were… I have tried to protect them from the worst of the Vanuatu slime and black sand but…they are now quite dingy and besmirched. But…still comfortable and supportive of my needy feet!!

Last night we had a very pleasant visit from our neighbours on Windy, a lovely monohull yacht on its way from New Zealand back to Australia though the South Pacific islands. Brad, from Port Stephens, bought the boat in New Zealand and was on his way back to Australia when he met Emilie in Fiji… They have been sailing together for two months now, and are very happy with each other. He does have another crew member, who is now maybe de trop… Or is Emilie de trop?? I said to her, “So, when are you leaving?” and she and Brad laughed heartily. She is from Paris and has been travelling the world for five years. But this is her first experience on a yacht, and I think she is coping very well. Brad has some of the best seasickness medication, from New Zealand, so her times of horror are few. They came for a pre-dinner drink, kindly bringing their own beer with them because (OH NO!!) we had no cold beer in the fridge – Pete was quite pale with the ghastliness of this situation. They stayed until about ten. We opened a bottle of red wine and I managed to concoct a plate of toasted cheese with tomatoes – much more delicious than it sounds. The bread was a gorgeous fresh baguette, and the tomatoes locally grown, about $1 a big bag, from the local market, and just bursting with flavor.

We had found an Au Bon Marché in the main street, and had bypassed all of the other little Chinese grocery stores in the main street, expecting to find the same glories and wonders as are proved by this chain of supermarkets in Port Vila. Alas not so… This Au Bon Marché had a strange miscellany of items – bars of soap, tubs of oil, tins of tuna, rubber hoses, plastic buckets, a few limp onions. I was in search of potatoes and the Chinese cashier said, very firmly, “NO POTATOES.” Computer said NO. But a kindly ni-Van woman came up to find me and gently led me, with a conspiratorial glance at her grumpy boss, to a big basket full of potatoes. They also had a hutch of fresh baguettes, so we were happier than might be expected with Au Bon Marché Luganville.

In the late afternoon, we looked out and saw a large yacht with two sails heading for our bay – Infinity! We were very happy to see them; this is our fourth meeting, in the islands of Vanuatu (Tanna, Port Vila, Uri Bay, and now Luganville.) We had noticed a large group of divers and snorkelers off the boat in (shark-infested!!) Uri Bay, off Malekula Island, and have just found out that they were diving for Crown of Thorns starfish. They heaved a huge pile out of the water; so much damage to the coral is caused by these dreadful pests. They are trying to train local villagers to recognize what damage they are doing as well.

Another project they are involved in is a Fifty Years Hence program. They are interviewing villagers about how they see their lives in fifty years’ time, with no prompting at all from the interviewers about climate change and environmental issues. I will let you know when their website is complete, so you can look it up and see the results.

This morning it is still overcast and Pete is a bit sneezy and headachey so we are just bobbling gently on the water, enjoying the peace and quiet of this little bay. Windy was supposed to be up and running, off to the Blue Holes along the coast, but we have just noticed that they are still there, also bobbing around peacefully, at 1.00…

In the early afternoon we went to the Beachfront café to try to connect to the internet. However, some of our Infinity friends were there and it seemed rude even to touch my computer… So I sat in the café and played with Sage’s baby girl Rhian, 3 months now, and chatted to various Infinity-ites. At about five we all took a taxi to the “closest” nakamal. We were told it might be a ten minute walk. Or maybe…it would take an hour. Alex, one of our English friends from Infinity, showed the whites of his eyes at that. He and a few other people off the boat had gone for a walk on the first Vanuatu island they got to – Aneityum aka Anatom, I think. “Oh yes, a lovely walk; it will take about three hours,” was the cheery advice. “Or maybe it might take…ten!” In reality it took all day, all night, and half of the next day… They were all young and fit but got very cold up in the highlands in their tropical attire. “So,” said Alex firmly, “We are taking a taxi!” (And indeed it would have been a very long walk, especially for those of us carrying the baby…)

We arrived at the most lovely nakamal (kava bar) yet, set right on the water under big shady trees. Some local ladies were lined up at a trestle table with delicacies for us to buy. We bought some navele – native nuts, threaded on thin bamboo skewers – but declined the grilled and blackened flying foxes, complete with charred wings… The kava was very strong; Pete and I stopped at two. We enjoyed our few hours there very much. There were about ten people from Infinity, some we hadn’t met before, and the crew from this boat are always lively and full of chat and information. One of the crew, Australian Katie, lives on Efate, in Mélé village. She works for the Fisheries Department, and is impressively fluent in Bislama (Pidgin.)

Captain Clemence had stayed behind on the boat; Sage, his girlfriend, wanted to stay with us. We had booked a table at the gorgeous little French restaurant in the middle of Luganville and invited her and Rhian to join us. Rhian slept through the whole experience but the rest of us enjoyed our dinner very much. Le Jardin des Saveurs restaurant is owned by a French chef, M. Mourois, and it is an oasis of elegance and tranquility in a hot dusty little street. We all had delicious food – French onion soup, terrine, chocolate soufflé for dessert. I had what was intriguingly described as “shrimp breakouts” in creamy peppercorn sauce; Pete had an enormous and fabulous fillet steak. Delicate young Sage only had terrine and soup…and a share of the soufflé.

Monday 5^th September

The black sand beach at the Beachfront resort was hideous when we first arrived – full of nasty things washed up from the sea – dead things, mouldy things, generally yucky things. But over the past few days a slow-moving but hard-working man with a wheelbarrow has cleaned it all up and it is now pristine. I now no longer have to avert my eyes from the dead what-is-that-dead-little-squashy-body???? Between the waterline and the grass when we lug our tender up onto land.

We were meant to be going for our dive on the USS Coolidge wreck today but it is too overcast, visibility will be poor. We still have chores to do – Customs to visit, forms to fill in, food and beer to buy. Yesterday I bought some postcards which Pete found in the only shop open in Luganville on a Sunday. A lady sitting up the back of the gloomy depths of the shop had to open a glass cabinet with a key to retrieve the cards; I imagine that we were the first people to request to see them for many a long year. Goodness knows how old they are. One of them features a blurry photo of “Banks Islanders in ancestral Dancing Costumes” photographed by G. Fung, Santo, New Hebrides. My favourite one is a very depressing shot of a strip of concrete, a glimpse of water, and some Quonsett huts converted into shops, and titled, “General view of Santo, New Hebrides.” Espiritu Santo is a stunningly beautiful island…how did they come up with such a dreary photo for the postcard?? Also, Vanuatu hasn’t been known as the New Hebrides for over thirty years…

We might be leaving tomorrow, out of range for a while, but I suspect I will be able to do one more blogpost

Thursday 2nd September
(or is it Friday??? IslandTime has got me...)

Yesterday it rained most violently, in a typically tropical way. Did we mind, go into a fret, pace the decks cursing through clenched teeth?? Well no…we snoozed gently, then arose. Pete made us a very big sustaining breakfast of eggs, bacon and carefully sliced potato morphed into freshly cooked chips. That did us until dinner! (And dinner, in case you are waiting with bated breath Kate H, was…spag bol, cooked by me, from Port Vila ingredients…Pete said it was DELICIOUS but I thought it was…very dull.)

We are moored outside the Beachfront Resort, which is a very low-key affair, run by Australians called Dave. (Two separate Australians, individually called Dave in case that sounded weird.) Aore resort, on the other side of the channel, is SO beautiful, all manicured and prettified. But…everything costs a fortune! Just for us to set foot on hallowed ground was going to cost us $10 each… No this doesn’t sound a lot but for every single extra thing it was another…multiple of $10. There was a dear little ferry putting back and forth to Luganville…$15 each, thank you. Whereas here at the Beachfront we can tootle into shore in the tender, anchor on the very attractive black sand beach, and catch a taxi into town for…$2 for both of us. Much more our style of thing.

We did just that, eventually arising from our torpor on the couches with our books, in the early afternoon. We spent an hour sipping lime juice (me) and beer (Pete) in the Beachfront café and getting back in touch with cyberspace. I was allowed to post my latest blogbits, and answer a few emails before COMPUTER SAYS NO. Pete was allowed to look at Hotmail but NOT internet banking.

So…we got a taxi into Luganville. One of my emails, from Beverley, one of our New BFFs from Port Vila, had told us that Luganville is very different to Port Vila –more Frontier Land. And indeed it is! We love it, ofcourse. I have been on a mission to buy balls, to give village (vilej) children. Very sad I haven’t actually done it already… On our last VilejVisit, with Les Quatre Francais, I realised I REALLY should have had two balls to give the Jif – one for the girls, one for the boys. But…I had nothing other than my pink umbrella, which I gave, a bit furtively, to the (startled) mother of toddler twins. Now I have in my possession ten lovely little soft squashy balls, tennis-ball sized, ready to donate, with great ceremony, to the next Jif we meet, so he can select a GirlTeam and a BoyTeam. First I tried to buy tennis balls, in ten-packs, but…computer said no after many long weary minutes waiting with the IslandTime cashier. Then I found the squashyball shop, where the balls were only about 50 cents instead of $1 each. The salesman was SO thrilled I was buying TEN he nearly burst with joy… Tomorrow I think I will go and buy another backpackful. Yes ofcourse I could have bought balls in Australia; in fact I could probably have got free used tennis balls, from Hobart clubs. But…I am very happy to buy them here, and put money into the struggling Vanuatu economy.

Espiritu Santo is a fabulous island. So many wonderful things to do…waterfalls, caves, dive sites, mysterious tribespeople in the high hidden mountains… The latter is what I REALLY don’t want to do. I think remote tribal people need to be left alone to their own devices…no squashy plastic balls, no chupachups. Quote from Lonely Planet:

“Most people have never seen the elusive Lysepsep people; but spend time in the impenetrable mountains of Central Santo, and you might find them watching you. About 1m tall, they grow their hair very long and use it as a screen.”

Does this sound to you as if the Lysepsep people want you to GO AWAY, to put it mildly??

Change of subject… Yes we are missing our lovely friend Andrew. But... HE WILL BE BACK, to Vanuatu, if not to 2XS. Or, if we are lucky, to 2XS!! We are missing his company and the FISH. But fear not, we are busy and happy. I am banging away at my computer… Pete is lying on the couch, eyes round and wide, watching Eddie Murphy Raw… So much motherfucker… I don’t know if he can cope…aha! I just heard a faint, reluctant chuckle so the answer is…oh dear, yes!! As for me…well I did love Eddie Murphy in Trading Places but… this isn’t all that funny… (Maybe I need to drink more of that red red wine??)

We found our way to the – oh joy –major hardware store in Luganville. I swiftly bought a short extension cord, so that we can extend the ipod dock into a more listener–friendly area, and Pete…well darling Pete disappeared into the depths of the store… I went and sat outside in the cool breeze and played boggle on my beloved iphone until he emerged, looking calm and happy, having had a much-needed hardware store fix.

We strolled down the street (Frontier Land – there is only one street…) until we found the Victoria Café, where, for the price of a cup of coffee, we had FREE WiFi for two hours (password VICTORIA, in case you ever go there…). Joy! Banking time! Finally Computer Said Yes…and at that very moment (4.30pm) a severe young ChineseChick came and said, “Sorry, we are closing NOW!” Pete and I walked out with computers held aloft, and sat on small pokey stumps outside the café, completing our banking, to the amusement of all the crowds of ni-Vans strolling down the street.

In case you have been worrying terribly about my finances…fret no more! I had money DEPOSITED instead of WITHDRAWN for the first time for… well, for weeks and weeks… I have been haemorrhaging money… And now, at last, a small but welcome deposit from… the ATO, and from my darling adorable TENANTS!!

On the way back down the main drag, we found the Allan Power Dive Tour…house… No it wasn’t an office, it was an actual house, with LARGE guard dog, Jock, who led us lovingly through the living areas of the house to find his owner. Jock is HUGE; half Rottweiler, half Doberman, bigger than either and more gentle and soppy than you could imagine (and, I am pleased to say, with his nice long waggy tail intact, not docked.) Allan was involved with the President Coolidge dive site – this huge warship was sunk (friendly landmine, oh dear…) and is now a very famous dive site. We sat around gently fondling the ears of Adorable Jock and organised to go on a dive in the next few days, when the weather has cleared a bit. Weehee and wooho! I will need to get my courage up… Yes I have my PADI certificate and yes I have done ONE whole big dive on the Barrier Reef… All will be well!!

Before we caught a taxi back to the Beachfront to find our faithful beached tender, we stopped at the local market. Fruit, veggies - limes, pamplemousse, pawpaw, bananas! We are NOT going to starve!

Oh dear…by this time Pete is no longer chuckling faintly at Eddie Murphy… he is laughing loudly… I am going to lie back on my cushions and see…if it really funny or just GROSS???...zzzzz…(maybe…)

I am very interested to read about people’s close connections to Vanuatu – or rather, the New Hebrides, as it was until 1980. I received the following email from John Miedecke, for example:

Re the pandemonium, my God father Darv was talking about that last xmas. He was the British administrator at that time and that lasted up until independence. Had a few stories to tell about the French! Had a roller (Rolls Royce) to ferry the Queen around and brought it back to Aus.

And if you look at the blog comments, there is one from Pete’s (distant but delightful) cousin Diana, who also had an uncle involved in the Pandemonium.

(It is now morning, on September 2nd. We have had another huge breakfast, this time entirely healthy – all that tropical fruit. Soon we are going to load the bikes gently into the tender and, after a bit of a struggle with the WiFi at the beachfront, where I hope to do my blogthing, we are going to go for a bike ride – much less traffic here than on Efate.)