No room at the inn

Well, what an adventure so far. Made it all the way to Tokua airport here in New Britain successfully but things went off the rails from there. On the flight from Brisbane to Moresby I sat next to Mark, born and bred in PNG, now living in Brisbane. He spoke of Papuans as "them", "they", e.g. relating to betel-nut chewing in Moresby etc.

Bob sat next to me for the flight from Moresby to Rabaul (Tokua) - he turned things up a notch or ten on the Queensland-style racism stakes.

"'Maintenance' is not a word in their vocabulary", he informed me.

"All the hostesses get pregnant due to unprotected sex. Randy buggers!"

"Not too different to Australia then", I countered. According to him, the mixed-race girls are the most beautiful.

He also said that the Rabaul team in the national Rugby League competition were very good but would lose at Mt. Hagen deliberately, due to the intimidation. "Let the highlanders win".

Finally, "everything was running like clockwork at handover from Australia in 1975, now it's all run down".

I suggested the Papuans might have different priorities, "Yeah!", he guffawed, "lining their pockets!"

There was no bus available at the airport to take me to Seaview, which I had booked for the night. I ended up standing next to two Australian ex-pats and asked them the best way to get to Seaview. They kindly took me along in their minibus when it arrived, which was taking them to a much posher hotel in Kokopo town centre. Before leaving the airport, I rang Seaview and was informed that they had no record of my booking. When we arrived there in the minibus, I asked at reception but they had no room, due to the "BSA" (Benefits Sharing Agreement) parties extending their stay by (another) two weeks. The whole of Eastern New Britain province was booked out due to this: the agreement still being thrashed out between land owners from the Highlands, and the central government, on behalf of the companies wishing to put in a new, enormous gas pipeline. So, my booking had been conveniently "bumped".

So, I continued on with Craig and Pat, the two ex-pats, into Kokopo, and after much lengthy and unsuccessful negotiation to get me a room, Craig ended up offering me his spare bed. Pat only got a room because Craig was a very valued customer of the hotel. Michael, the concierge, had only managed this by kicking out the governor of West Highlands province.

So, I spent the evening and this morning with Craig and Pat. Pat is very much old-school, lives in Lae and is replete with hair-raising stories about life there.

A friend's wife was raped by eight locals and left in a roadside drain in Chinatown. The "boys" knew who'd done it and exacted justice - four killed and the other four bashed. The police were OK with this.

Another story described a robbery at a restaurant, but three Lae Pistol Club members were dining there. One old Italian resident shot one of the robbers in the leg and kept eating. Another diner shot another robber in the head, killing him.

"Just keep driving" is the standard response to road accidents.

Pat continued in the usual sexist/racist/homophobic manner, eventually shouting "poofter!" at me because I was about to share Craig's room. This was meant as a joke, after 1 1/2 bottles of red. A very amiable bloke, though.

He bragged at every opportunity about his blokey sexual exploits in younger years. At one stage, he even coached the PNG national baseball team. "Moses" was the best captain ever, could do anything, Pat was very positive about him. But, "nationals" can get too big-headed, he confided: they need to be taken down a notch in the appropriate way and at the right time. He felt they didn't respect things such as the company hierarchy, if they'd had any degree of success.

Both Craig and Pat are in shipping - it's all very Conrad-esque. The company started in Kuwait during the first Gulf War.

Tavurvur volcano is steaming faintly but nothing more. The thunderclap during the night was just that.

I've been for a wander and had a look at Queen Emma's steps - all that remains of the mansion that that colourful individual once called home. On the way, I walked past a building site and an Australian guy working there waved and said g'day. Also had a look at the Kokopo museum - a musuem itself! Lots of WWII remains.

It's hazy and humid here. Kokopo is not at all charming - usual wasteland appearance with nondescript buildings for banks, post office, airlines etc. Apparently there are Moresby police here due to the BSA and they are asking everyone for "gifts". The PNG SAS are also here for added security.

The gas pipeline the BSA involves will go from the Highlands to the coast and is rumoured to be worth billions, even trillions. All the landowners for the entire length of the pipline are here to negotiate.

I've had offers of accommodation from 3-4 different sources in the short time I've been here: ex-pats with spare rooms. Do I want that sort of holiday? Not really: it's all a bit Far North Queensland and Top End.