Monday 10th October 2011

Happy Birthday Angela!

Pete and John got up early and flew off, happy indeed as birds, in a helicopter with James and Bruce.  Somewhere off into the wilds of Guadalcanal. They had to wear big heavy workboots and long trousers and they will get very hot but I am sure they will have an amazing adventure or two.  I have never been in a helicopter, but...there wasn't room at the inn for me.  I didn't really mind; i don't have any big heavy workboots with me in any case.  Bruce had to buy 14 pairs for the local workers; none of them would have fitted me because Solomon Islanders have big long feet which are actually and literally as wide as they are long...

So what have I been doing with my time??  Well I took the tender back to 2XS (Monique please note - I motored back, no need to row!!) and lay on the couch until it was opening hours ie after 9.30, very happily reading yet another Harry Bosch book.  Then I nonchalantly motored back to the Yacht Club and heaved the tender onto the beach.  I looked like a tomato by the end of this exercise but was very proud of my effort as I plunged the anchor into the sand.  Off to the bathroom to wash my tomatoface and...oh dear and oh no, I realised I had left my phone on 2XS...What if the HelicopterBoys needed me??   Heave and ho and back to 2XS...then back to the beach, another lot of heave pant lug... (Yes ofcourse nice kind men came to help, but both times it was just as I was setting the anchor into the sand - too late she cried!  I am getting very strong.)

So what next??  Well time for beauty repairs, ofcourse!  I asked at the tourist department and was directed to a salon in the back street, parallel to the one long main street of Honiara.  My hands are now as soft as a baby's bottom, my nails bright pink, and my hair is...short!!  Patricia, from Malaita, owned the salon.  She did her training in Brisbane ad Adelaide and was a very confident woman.  She cut my hair very well but - ofcourse - too short for my liking.  But...she did NOT cut my fringe half an inch long so I am feeling very happy and grateful.  (Pete knows I have been intending to get my hair cut, and every time we have been apart for an hour or so in Honiara, he looks at me anxiously on my return and says, "Your hair looks lovely!  You just got it cut, didn't you?"  Too funny...)

I was in the salon for ages - my hands apparently needed lots of soothing creams and lotions to repair the saltwater damage of the past few months...Patricia kept me entertained.  I told her about the badboy robbers on the boats in the harbour and she was fascinated and appalled.  She said, "They must come from another island.  Not Guadalcanal, or Malaita!"  

A big tall New Zealand man came in to get his hair shorn.  He was very cross because his big modern Malaita-Guadalcanal ferry, 360, has broken down - his mechanic forgot to put oil in the engines, he said, grimly.  Patricia asked him if he knew where Sandfly Passage was - I had been telling her about our few days there.  "Yes," he said.  "It's where that wrecked ship is."  I asked him about it - John, Pete and I had been fascinated to see a big ship, tilted crazily on the reef, close to shore, on one of the islands in the passage.  We had wondered why it hadn't been salvaged.  "An interesting story," he said.  Apparently the insurers offered the islanders $1million compensation for damage to the reef.  Consultation amongst the Big Men of the tribes and they said, "Nope, not enough."  So the insurers said, "Keep it, then."  So...there it sits, and, unfortunately, it is starting to fall apart and pollute the reef with diesel.

Patricia snorted derisively and said, "They could have done so much good with that money!  But even if they had got it, they would have frittered it away on their 02, 03, 04!"  I asked for clarification and she said, "Woman Number #2, Number #3, Number #4," and we all laughed heartily.

Last night we watched the second rugby game, in the pouring POURING rain, leaking through the big thatched roof of the Yacht Club.  Brazilian Francis was behind me, gently singing, with much glee, "Don't cry for me Argentina..."  At last and finally it was over and we trooped off to the Golden Crown for a Chinese feast.  (Nick from Orange County, Patti from Hawaii, Marcello from Italy, Francis and Raquel from Brazil, Brian from Seattle, John, Pete, James, Bruce and me from Tasmania.  A lively group!!)  James had very kindly, without anyone knowing, paid for and bought the wine and beer for everyone.  Then he asked me what I thought of the chardonnay and I pulled a face...oh how rude...

Maybe I will write some more this evening - it might be our last night... I went to the PNG High Commission to see if I could get a receipt for Pete's passport and they told me all of our visas are ready - we weren't expecting them till Wednesday - NOT Island Time, in this office, obviously!