Coming from the Solomon Islands. Where next? South to the capital of a nation of only 70 or so islands this time speaking English, French and Bislama (as well as 100 or so other languages). Tales of the South Pacific was based on life here during World War II. However, some serious issues to report to the trades descriptions people. My guide book says that Port Vila, on Efate Island, the capital of Vanuatu, is the prettiest town in the Pacific. Well it's certainly better than Moresby and Honiara, but 'stunning views round every crooked corner'? Well, no. Maybe it will look prettier if the sun comes out.
My Hitchhikers' Guide (Wikipedia) tells me that Port Vila (or just Vila, like the football team- almost) is the commercial centre and a tax haven. As to sights? It offers: several memorials, ( two traditional totem poles and a monument representing a pig's tusk amongst others), a church, the City Hall and two wall paintings. I'm dutifully trotting round, but there is little in town to excite my camera. It's grey here and really cool after my equatorial island hopping. And apart from the market which also got a mention) it seems shabby and quiet. What on earth are all the other towns in the Pacific like then?
The Vanuatu national anthem is “Yumi, yumi, yumi,” (We, we, we). It also says that the people of Vanuatu were voted the happiest nation on earth. They look pretty bored and sleepy to me. Nearly everything is shut and even where shops are open, the assistants look far too flaked out to serve anyone. But the market is an interesting wander. and I manage to cajole a smile out of two ladies in their traditional floral dresses. These are on sale in the market, alongside all the fruit and vegetables and fish.
My hotel is billed as 'sparklingly boutique'. Not bad, certainly, compared to what I've seen recently and quite pretty from the lagoon side, with trailing blue flowering vines on the balconies. But sparkling no and definitely not boutique. Nice view across the bay and scrummy food though. And a two page cocktail list and a massage salon, so a partial return to civilisation.
When the sun peeps out the lagoon that Vila sits on is very pretty, with the light on the turquoise water and the hilly islands opposite. There are cruise ships in the bay and a giant container ship being escorted in by tugs.
The staff in the hotel are very friendly and helpful, though reception is not always attended. The room has most things I need and a great outlook. It’s just a shame the furniture is chipped and dented, there are rust and paint marks, the sheet is stained and everything looks as if it needs a makeover. Even the lamps on each side of the bed flicker constantly. They are precariously balanced on tiny peeling bedside tables. The acoustics are poor. Footsteps echo through all the bedrooms and the nights are interrupted by the sound of the neighbours packing and leaving for early flights. The free internet was good but that too goes down mid-afternoon. ‘For an hour ma’am’. No sign of a signal at bedtime.
As always things look better the next day. Two lads from the hotel are taking me on a tour of Efate Island. I don't learn do I? - Though it can't be worse than the trip to Ouagadougou. They begin by arguing about the population of the island. It's either 10,000 or a million. So, I defer to my Hitchhikers guide and discover the following:
Outside The Prettiest Town in the Pacific there are only small villages. Most inhabitants of Efate live in Port Vila, The island is very rural, with most folk making their living by market gardening - that's how they pay the school fees. Clean and tidy, but still very basic living. Sweet potatoes, taro, coconuts. Most of the women wear the bright flowered cotton dresses, with as many gathers and flounces as they can manage.
We stop to visit a traditional village with palm thatched houses, and there is a short 'cultural show'. Dress consists mainly of grasses, flowers and face paint - this is still worn by some of the locals, especially at festivals and celebrations.
The landscape isn't quite Caribbean. More like Queensland I think. There is a great deal of forest, but there's also plenty of more open grassland scattered with coconut palms. And there are considerable numbers of cattle grazing. Also, a gorgeous clear jade pool and a few lovely beaches surrounded by mangroves. I swim in one called Eton (pronounced et as in get). It has the mandatory white coral sand surrounding a shallow lagoon. In the middle is a 30 foot sink hole full of fish. Good for a snorkel. Not so good for the unwary paddler!
In-between showers I flag down one of the hundreds of local taxi buses plying the main road down to Hideaway Island. The driver doesn’t tell me he’s on the school run and there are three curly haired cuties in the front. There are a large number of dark skinned children with blonde hair here, all with adorable cheeky smiles. They have to be dropped home via multiple diversions.
The free ferry then takes me over to the tiny island where I shelter from some more showers before taking the plunge. The water’s not very warm, but there’s the reward of some decent snorkelling to be had: a great drop off reef and a kaleidoscope of small fish. A couple of them nip me and I squeal – they must be used to being fed here. I don’t stay on the coral beach long. It’s warmer in the sea than on the land.
A trip to Tanna Island to see Mount Yasur and the Gates of Hell.
Then, off to the airport to catch my flight to Nadi in Fiji. Only it's raining and after circling three times, the captain of the plane decides it can't land and my flight is cancelled. Bloody hell, it's not raining very hard. I can see the runway. Anyway, the ensuing chaos makes PNG look a piece of cake. No compensation, no accommodation and no flight till Tuesday. Though we have to queue several times, moving at snail's pace, to discover all this. Then, I find out that there is a flight to Suva, up the other end of the main island on Fiji, leaving tomorrow morning.
Another excruciating queue. When I finally arrived at the counter, the flight has gone up another £20. Back to my hotel, which fortunately has a spare room. All this takes the whole day. And I have to go through it all again tomorrow morning. As well as working out how to get across Fiji. I try calling my next hotel to tell them I am delayed but no-one answers the phone - of course. It's still raining in The Prettiest Town in the Pacific.
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