Eighty Years, Bookended by Kavieng … Part One

June 1938 – I first arrived in Kavieng via the hospital, aged 0.

June 2018 – I last arrived in Kavieng via Air Niugini, aged 80.

Where did all those years go?

Early this year several family members decided to celebrate my big 80 in Kavieng. Seventeen were able to attend, a formidable logistical exercise. Transport, accommodation, activities, meals for three generations, only a few of whom had ever been to PNG.

 

Lissenung Island – www.lissenung.com – is 15 minutes by boat from Kavieng. A dedicated dive resort on a stunningly beautiful island, we took over all its accommodation and booked the island for a week. Then the planning began, ten coming from Queensland (two flying out of Cairns, two out of Townsville, seven Brisbane), four NSW, one Victoria , one from the USA and one from Tahiti.

Jacquie shouldered the unenviable burden of coordinating all the flights into POM and on to KVG and return, making sure everyone had their travel documents in order. The ladies at Air Niugini were so helpful in their friendly laid-back manner, and assisted with accommodation in Kavieng pre- and post-Lissening. But this is PNG after all, and the inevitable few hiccups added to the sense of adventure for the younger ones.

The staff at Kavieng Niu Lodge were excellent, collecting us from and returning us to Kavieng airport without fuss and within time. Arriving on the daily late afternoon flight, we stayed there overnight. Next morning they delivered us to the wharf to be collected by the Lissenung boats.

Despite confirmed tickets, Penny, Matt and Bodie didn’t make that flight, being bumped in POM, unlucky enough due to baggage delays to be at the wrong end of the queue to board the onward flight. They had to overnight Moresby, so arrived at Lissenung in the early dark of the following evening.

  

 

Delivered by the boat boys from Kavieng wharf to the island’s beautiful sand beach and crystal water, we were welcomed by Dietmar and Ange, the resort owners, who proceeded to spoil us for the next week. Accommodation was clean, cool and tropical. Elevated and flyscreened, native materials, ensuites, we could not have wished for better. Each hut has two bedrooms and is separated from the others for privacy. Thankfully no television and only limited internet. Sand paths, raked continually, link the huts and the restaurant, office, other buildings.

Everyman’s idea of a tropical island paradise, Lissenung is a jungle covered atoll, surrounded by reef and sandy beaches. You can swim around it, snorkelling over beautiful coral and masses of coloured fish, or walk around it, stepping into the sea here and there to negotiate leaning jungle trees festooned with orchids, ferns and Ant Plants. Every day a large school of Big Eye Trevally patrolled the main beach and the house reef, maybe a thousand (you ever tried to count fish?) or so. A pet Eclectus parrot flits unrestrained through the trees, drops into the office to say hullo and cadge something to eat.

All those suitably qualified went diving, everyone snorkelled every day, Dietmar organized a fishing trip for those keen, and even a crabbing expedition.

All the younger ones had dive tickets, and their excitement after each dive was contagious. Crystal clear water, ship and aircraft wrecks, glorious coral, colourful fish and streamlined sharks, what more could a diver want?

I’ve spent a lifetime diving, and watching the next generations enjoying the pastime in such a setting made a special birthday even more so.

The kids decided that “Lissenung” means “Paradise.” Fabulous setting, hosts and staff wonderful, weather perfect – blue skies, calm water, occasional afternoon showers, breezes came and went. Evenings delightfully cool for a group including third, fourth and fifth generations born north of the Tropic of Capricorn. Clear water. And no stingers! No Irukandji, no Chironex Rex. Nor any sandflies, and we struggled to find a mosquito. Paradise indeed.

The sand floored dining room is a great setting for a party…  every night! Our hosts turned on a magnificent birthday dinner, complete with chocolate cake and candles.

All meals surprised us in quality and variety, especially considering the remoteness of the island and the logistics of feeding so many. Lobster, fish, crab, salad, veggies – we have two vegans, yet they were catered for too.

Every meal was excellent. The shy kitchen girls must have been on a mission to fatten us up, because second helpings appeared unrequested for the insatiable 20-year olds.

There wasn’t one meal of the nearly 400 that deserved any form of complaint. And my chocolate birthday cake disappeared like snow on the beach.

A visit to nearby Enuk Island, the home village for Lissenung staff, enabled us to meet and mingle. Holiday time, many locals had gone to Kavieng to watch the football, so the school was closed.

We didn’t get to meet the kids in their classroom, but touch footy games were running, and we joined the watchers.

We’d brought with us some fifty-odd tennis balls, eagerly caught by laughing children. We’d tested our AirNiugini baggage limits with a heap of school supplies – books, pencils, erasers etc – and left these with our hosts for later distribution.

In 2002 Carol and I and son Lincoln went to Kavieng for the PNGAA memorial establishment. While there we took a banana boat with Scott and Margaret (also Kavieng born) Henderson, to Enelaua where my liklik dokta father Lincoln Bell as district GMO in the 1930’s established a leper station. I’m indebted to Jim Ridges for his research paper detailing this. Then over to Ranmalek on Lavongai, where Margaret’s father Tom Simpson (“Yours Sincerely, Tom” written by Margaret) ran a mission prior to WW2. We passed Lissenung back then, never imagining we would one day stay there.

Sixty-eight years separate me from grandson George. With no one else in our group under twenty, he busied himself creating a video from edited stills of his sand-built race track, and struck up a friendship with Elijah, the young son of Boston and his wife Margaret from Enuk.

 

Both parents work at Lissenung, Boston on the boats. He was in charge of our mudcrabbing expedition. “Women’s work,” he claimed.

 

 

 

 

Peni, another of the island’s boat/diving crew, ever helpful, kept everything running smoothly during tank dives.

Possessed of a wonderful ability to calm the over excited nerves of our newbies – and some not so newbies – for the deeper dives, his natural air of calm confidence turned each experience into something magical.

 

 

 

 

continued in Part Two …

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Sayonara to the Land of the Sakura

From Niigata we catch the bullet to Tokyo, passing snow clad mountains and many tiny farms.

Big improvement weather wise from our inward journey. The elegant old Tokyo Station is visible from our hotel, so we can’t get lost here. Can we?

We lashed out to hire a guide for 6 hours. A lovely young mother of two, Yuka speaks perfect English, knows her city, and we have a whirlwind of alleys, fish market, subways and an old park.

 

 

 

In the middle of a major metropolis, the park struggles to compete with some of the more regional ones we’ve seen, but still manages to produce cherry blossoms and carefully manicured eye-scapes.

In an open area, hundreds of plastic markers are being laid out to control queues expected for the afternoon brief baby panda viewing. Poor panda, patient patrons.

Nothing to her, Yuko walks deceptively quickly, and I wonder how she can take such long steps. We go through the very old and soon to be relocated fish markets, the biggest in Japan, where motorized trolleys driven by formula-1 drivers hurtle around the congested walkways.

Authentic sushi for lunch – every item delicious.

Then through a maze of narrow streets and old buildings. Everything clean and neat. So many people.

Left to our own devices the next day we succeed in getting lost, but delightfully so, in the centre of this busy city. Navigation technique…let’s  go this way, that way, every way, look at it all, then when weary grab a cab home.

Tomorrow it’s back to Oz, and we’ll  see how Cyclone Iris treated us.

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Sakura of Kanazawa!

Wow. Wow. And more wow! These cherry blossoms keep coming.

They say this is a bumper year for flowers, and as we’ve travelled north we seem to be following the peak of the short lived blooming.

Truly Sakura! The cherry trees here are densely flowering and stunning.

 

 

 

Smell-free Omi Cho  fish markets with huge quantities of quality seafood.

How can the oceans provide so much, so continuously?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lacquer ware, Kutani style pottery, silk kimonos and gold leaf workmanship. Even gold on ice-cream and in drinks.

 

 

Kenruoken 11.4 hectares of beautiful and unmistakeable Japanese design, the tea house was operating anout the time Captain Cook discovered (blundered into) Australia.

 

 

 

 

A bit of a side trip to the geisha district with its old wooden buildings, then a flag waving goodbye to beautiful Kanazawa.

 

 

 

 

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A Crane in Kyoto?

The 8th century capital of Japan continues our cherry blossom overload. The short lived petals are beginning to fall, in delicate pink-tinged white showers.

We check out the Golden Pavilion, Kinkajuji Temple, a Zen temple and world heritage site. It’s Easter, holiday time and we learn the meaning of mass tourism. Sardines in a school of seemingly millions. The temple, covered in gold leaf is crowned by a golden rooster, dates from the 14th century.

 

We wrongly identify a large heron reflected in the mirror-like lake. It wasn’t  a crane after all. Eventually the sheer numbers of people get to him, and he flaps ponderously away.

 

Along with the seething hordes, we walk and gawk at the huge bamboo forest, before visiting the 1603 built Nijo Castle.

This ancient and sprawling cypress building oozes power, the strength of the Tokugawa clan.

 

Incongruously, we come across a concours d’elegance…half a dozen beautiful Alfa Romeos in a courtyard, with movie cameras filming models promoting the beautiful vehicles.

Sorry sir I didn’t see the red rope that we climbed over to see the cars!

 

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Jeju Island, South Korea

A remarkably calm run across the Sea of Japan takes us to the South Korean holiday island of Jeju. Several weeks ago I checked sea conditions – it showed a 40 knot nor’wester blowing out of Siberia. We are lucky.

Expecting a small undeveloped island we arrive at a large island, some half a million people, huge modern waterfront facilities including an elevated promenade complete with see-through decking, ships and ferries everywhere, an obviously very busy airport with big jets landing one aft r the other. 50 million tourists a year!

The island is noted for its black stone carved statues, originally constructed to scare off potential invaders.

Obviously the sculptors had more in mind.. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions from the pics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A visit to the Bonte museum, with works by Dali and Picasso as well as local artists.  And a wonderful room of mirrors and a changing kaleidescope of coloured lights.

Trams, Tulips and Temples

Tulips under cherry blossoms in Nagasaki attest to the Dutch trading influence of the Dutch East India Company.

Today, modern, energetic and one of Japan’s most important port cities boasting echoes of it’s foreign trade past, Nagasaki holds a fascinating role in Japan’s history, particularly the part it played in foreign trade during the country’s ‘period of isolation’ in the 17th century.

 

We visit a 1620’s built temple – Kofukuji is 5 minutes from Kokaido-Mae streetcar stop, and its timeless beauty makes it worth a visit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They may be trams to me but to locals they are streetcars. Frequent, busy and efficient, a flat fee of of 120 yen per trip irrespective of distance simplifies the whole operation.

 

 

 

And, so it is ‘sayonara’ Nakasaki as we board our launch and set off into the rising sun and more of this incredible country.

 

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Atomic Bomb and Cherry Blossoms

Nagasaki. What an emotive name. Steeped in history as Japan’s only gateway to the outside world during this nation’s closed period, this delightful city – by local standards small (nearly half a million) – surrounds a beautiful deep water and protected harbour, ringed by steep hills.

After the dramatic high speed journey of the bullet train, we emerge next morning to a beautiful but cold day.

Our accommodation is perfectly located near the rail station and trams right outside. After breakfast we set out to walk “only 15 minutes” along the wharf precinct to check out the boats and visit the Prefectural art museum.

We listen carefully to a tourist lady as she earnestly gives detailed directions… turn right, then reft, the two turns right. So off we go! An hour later, no water, industrial area, so retrace our steps.

Moral – when setting off with clear turn directions, you gotta make sure you’re facing the right way when you start!

Anyway, eventually we get there, great waterscape, much shipping. A square rigged paddle steamer does a harbour cruise as we sit at lunch, watching from inside – still coolish outside.

Next day we catch a tram (learning now) to the Atomic Bomb Hypocentre.

73 years on, but the memory clearly still raw.

We check out the whole site which includes exhibits, statues, from many countries in memory of those who suffered.

(A few images taken at the peace memorial)

 

 

 

 

 

The Australian contribution adds reference to the effects in our country of the British nuclear tests at Maralinga.

with the survivor of the blast referred to above

After a sombre few hours we jump on a tram, back for lunch and a cold Kirin.

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