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.)