I’d been waiting 5 weeks for my visa - I was used to waiting a few days (being spoilt by having a British passport) and a fixer was now getting involved to get my visa done! Two days later it appeared. I booked my flights and was on my way!
Port Moresby, we were told was very dangerous! "The Rascals" enjoyed car jacking and muggings. We were told not to exit the airport til we could see our hotel car (slightly problematic!) - luckily I’d met some of my group on the flight and with their eyes there was no issue finding the driver! We jumped in and to my surprise someone said “I know you! - Liberia”. I was sitting in front of a guy called Matt whom I had indeed met in Liberia last year!
Same thing at the restaurant later for dinner - my buddy Bryan, whom I met in Bangladesh came up and gave me a big hug! I wondered whom else I would bump into - I knew a few others were around! Who would have thought PNG Mount Hagan festival would be the rendezvous point for so many buddies at once!! Or maybe I should have guessed?!
Port Moresby is a beach capital and has all the usual buildings you would expect, including parliament, we we stopped briefly outside to look at. It was usually shaped (although a traditional style for the country) and was decorated with local designs.
I was surprised at how clean the beach was. I, of course had to run and put my feet in the water, as I do in most places (no time to swim sadly!) and get the customary picture by the “Port Moresby” sign!
As the main focus of the trip was Mount Hagan Festival we didn’t have too long in Port Moresby but we did see the parliament building which despite its strange shape was incredibly beautifully decorated and head to a wildlife centre, where we saw birds of paradise (once they’d been pointed out to me) and an incredibly large crocodile. The keeper, was either on drugs or drunk as he was dancing around the crocodiles mouth and then sitting on it. We all wondered if we were about the witness a terrible accident, but maybe the crocodile was not hungry. The keeper was not harmed whilst we were there! .
Dinner at the yacht club and an early night rounded off our first afternoon in POM.
We flew early the next day to Mount hagan, after having our first meat pie of the trip and we were on our way. Mount Hagan is a small town of around 30-40,000 people and formed in 1934. It is named after a German called Kurt van Hagan. The town was of interest due to the gold rush. However mount hagan is mainly a town of farmers and a focal point for selling products but hosts a cultural festival each year.
The festival was not for another two days so our plan for today was a tour of the market and a trip to one of the guides villages. The market was one of the better markets I’ve been to around the world. The fruit and veggies looked really healthy and tasty and the people didn’t hassle you to buy anything.
The people were more interested in having their photos taken by us or with us and of course we indulged. The local people are historically farmers and come to the Mount Hagan market to see their products which reach far across the country.
We left the town and drove to a village where we were going to see some tribal dances and have a traditional momo feast. Almost instantly on arriving we saw the pig that was going to be our lunch happily running around. A few raised eyebrows but then we were whisked into the village by the locals dressed in their tribal outfits to meet them properly.
Each tribe performed a dance and we were explained a little about the various outfits we were seeing.
The Weldo tribe had incredible headdresses that came from the feathers of birds of paradise, parrots and coconut trees. Other tribes wore different outfits however what was most noticeable was there were a lot of saggy boobs on show! (but as Facebook keeps telling me, I can't post some tribal photos online!)
Between dances we were shown how to prepare the traditional celebratory meal. The vegetarians of our group couldn’t watch and the meat eaters I think were more than a little shocked watching a tribesman beat the pig over the head with a makeshift baseball bat and the squeals of the pig as it writhed in pain, dying on the ground. Despite the brutality, it was difficult to look away.
We were assured the pig was dead as six tribesmen dragged/carried it to the fire, however this became doubtful as the pig squealed loudly and stood bolt upright trying to distance its body from the fire. I felt sick and at this point had to look away and take a few deep breaths. I look back, the pig was indeed dead and its fur was being scrapped off, preparing it for cooking later on. Once the skin was removed, the knife went in and cut a long line into the body so that the guys and internal organs could be removed. This included removing the ribs, for us to put straight in the fire to cook. It felt strange seeing your food killed before you ate it, but equally incredible to see how others lived and the teamwork involved in preparing a meal for an entire village. The cooking and preparation of the pig, was done solely by the men. Can’t complain - the lunch we’d have later on was incredibly tasty!
Whilst the food was cooking, the men painted some of ours faces and dressed us up on tribal gear. I order to get everything to stay in place, you had to somehow squeeze into what I can only describe as a 10cm thick waist band that had no flex in it. The first one I couldn’t even get over my hips and the second one I wondered if I’d ever get out of! Once it was on, the blue fabric was hung over the front part of the waist band, and these huge tree branches were forced down the back of the wastt band. Once enough branches were shoved into place, it eventually felt like the outfit was secure enough to start attempting to dance like a tribesman.
For those of you that have ever seen me dance or try to follow a routine, you’d know I’m totally uncoordinated and equally self conscious! However as I had my face painted no one would never know it was me - time to shake that ass with the rest of ‘em!
After a very late lunch, it was time to leave the village and attempt to get the paint off my face (and indeed my arms and hands and clothes. The paint seemed to be very slow drying and very itchy. Ever time I touched my face to relieve an itch, my fingers would come away with red, yellow, white or black paint, which then promptly got wiped on my black shirk and two minutes later the exercise was repeating! It took a good 20 mins in the hot shower, often stepping out to look in the mirror to see where I should focus the attention to get my face clean before we headed out to dinner.
The next day was the pre Mount Hagan festival - also known as the Paiya Show. The show was a kind of warm up event to the festival to give tourists a taste of what was to come. This sometimes meant it gave the local tribes kids a chance to perform as well, which was fun to see them learning the moves.
I’d had a message from a mate before I got to PNG saying heads up your ex is also coming to the festival. I was pissed at this. My ex was meant to be in the Guyana’s on the trip he’d forced me to come off because his travel was far more important than mine. My mate was leading the Guyana’s trip and I’d been annoyed at having to come off it. I was now fuming that after forcing me off the trip, he had not even gone himself and was now in the same country, and soon to be at the same event as me. Luckily he always wore the same clothes, a blue T-shirt, mustard trousers, a white baseball cap and blue trainers, he wouldn’t be hard to spot (well to anyone that could see!).
That morning is received a message alerting me he was in PNG and on a flight up to where we were. Half was through the Paiya show, my guide was suddenly seen crawling across the front of the audience, in a bright yellow T-shirt to where I was sitting on a plastic bag in the mud and said “gotta message me you” in his gruff voice.
I replied “me?”
“Your ex is here, back right”.
He then turned and crawled back past the same audience, full builders bum on show -
Even the tribe stopped their dance to laugh at the scene in front of them and I must admit despite the message that had been delivered, I was laughing uncontrollably.
A few mins later I got a WhatsApp message with a picture of me sitting where I was sitting and my ex standing two rows behind me - in a blue T-shirt and mustard trousers. I clearly wasn’t the only one who knew he never changed his outfit! The whole situation was indeed hilariously pathetic. I was glad to have friends around me for support and laugher and the great trip I was having!
The Paiya show was amazing and especially as most of the tribes had never seen a bald white chick before. The children preformed incredibly well and really enjoyed getting to participate. They were amazed that I had no hair and wanted to touch my head like I was some kind of magical being. I got some amazing photos with the different tribes and it showed me that being bald didn’t need to always be a disadvantage, but could indeed be advantageous!
After hanging out with the tribes I was again covered I. Paint, initially black dots on my head - fingerprints, but then as the day progressed I ended up with black smudged all over my face! Obviously having so many friends around me, no one told me and let me walk around like I didn’t know how to wash my face!
The next day was the eagerly anticipate Mount Hagan festival and despite the excitement, no one knew what to expect - was it going to be like Rio Carnival where you are seated in band stands and each tribe comes through separately and in turn or would it be entirely different?! We arrived early and got prime seats near the stage, but soon it was clear that the tribes would enter a big field in turn and then head to a designated spot where they would continue performing and you could interact and get photos with them.
Despite my initial reluctance of wandering round a packed field, it was incredible fun. It actually did fill up slowly so in the first few hours you could go and see each tribe perform after they arrived and then join in or just watch. This was great and again being bald proved advantageous! I went for a dance with a tribe painted totally in black using drain pipes as a musical instrument which they played by hitting the pipes with plastic flip flops. I danced with a tribe with hair stuck up in the air waving their heads and loved the contrast of the crazy hair against my bald white head! I learnt how to move like the Mud Men and I danced with the conductor of a band, and almost asked if I could control the band and then much to my excitement at almost midday, the skeleton tribe arrived!
The skeleton tribe were the hit of the festival! They move and scream and scare the kids. They get in your face, with their beetle nut stained red tongues sticking out and screaming a noise you’ve never heard before whilst dancing and jumping about trying to “kill the ghost”. The ghost being a monster than killed people in their village which lead them to becoming the skeleton tribe. When they finished their impressive entrance, I asked several of them if they would paint me like them, the leader eventually agreed but said they had no paint today and would do it tomorrow. I was very excited.
After the show, we went out to a different village for a swim. Our group had two buses, one went to the right place and the bus I was on went to a different place (the guides assured us they knew where they were going) but clearly had no idea, but we decided to make the most of the situation, open a beer and go for a swim. Problem was, the water didn’t even reach our knees! However in an attempt to show we were up for swimming we tried to get covered in water as much as possible before giving up and eventually getting sent the pin for the proper location that we headed over to.
This time the river was far deeper and did indeed allow for a chilly but fun swim! We also seemed to have attracted the entire village who came to join us and started a dance off! We later found out that while we were out in the village there had been a gunfight between locals at the town we were staying in - other tour groups had stayed in the town for dinner and could hear the shots being fired and required police escort to get them back to their hotels!
The next day, we headed to the second day of the festival. I wore all black again and waited patiently for the skeletons to turn up. We wandered round again, catching up with new and old friends and seeing the tribes dancing again. This time there were a few new tribes including what we named “the penis tribe”. This tribe as you may guess had the men entirely naked with the exception of huge wooden penises. There were many different shapes and they danced around jumping up and down waving their very large and very long wooden penises about. It was also possible to buy these wooden objects which some of our group did and promptly wore them on their heads to be dickheads! 😂😂😂
Just before midday, the skeleton tribe arrived, again making an entrance. This time when they got to their allotted space, they said “we will paint you, sit”. I sat down and immediately white paint was being drawn into bone shapes on my arms and face by two different skeleton men. A few others from my group including my buddy Susan also had their faces painted, taking advantage of a rare opportunity - our guide told us they had never seen the tribe paint any tourists before.
By the time we were covered in black charcoal and white paint, the tribe told us it was time to “kill the ghost”. They really wanted us to join in! This was incredible as they were so excited and keen to arm us with weapons and show us how to move! The only bit we were not totally like the skeleton tribe was out tongues! The red comes from beetlenut, a mild hallucinagenic plant that they chew. I must admit, having danced with the tribe for around an hour, I can understand how they meed a little something to do this all day, for multiple days in a row - it was SOOOOO exhausting!!
A little later on, Rowan one of our tour leaders came up and not to his surprise said “we could hear the commotion at the seats, we came to check it was our group” and indeed we had attracted a huge crowd of tourists and local people alike, wanting to watch the tourists dance with the Skeletons! After we’d performed several times, I was exhausted!
We thanked the tribe and wandered back to our seats. However, the locals and other tribes had different ideas. All the locals wanted photos with us, and even some of the other tribes came up asking for selfies! It was such an amazing experience to be embraced by a culture that’s not your own and be welcomed so warmly. Even the governor, the police and the festival presenters wanted photos with us, and invited us onto the podium where we could see the sheer volume of people and tribespeople at the event.
Back at the hotel, I grabbed a beer and headed for the shower. It was going to be a huge task to get all the charcoal and paint off my upper body and head. I grabbed a bar of soap and sat down under the burning hot water and proceeded to attempt to de-skeleton. Half an hour later I gave up. I’d used a whole bar of soap, most of my cleanser and some baby wipes and I was still covered in black!
It was time to go back to get my lunch which should now be ready. I wander into the cafe and the others looked at me laughing, black smeared across my face and the exact same black paint covering my back. I asked who wanted to clean my back for a beer! Soon enough I was a lot cleaner (not perfect!) but could actually leave the hotel without people wandering if I washed. We were off to another village for volleyball and a different traditional meal. I was sleepy, but happy and somehow ended up out til late having watched the lionesses defeat to Spain. 😕
An early start was not what I wanted the next day, head pounding, sleep deprived and hoping I would sleep on the bus. We were heading to Goroka, another town in the highlands of PNG, and heading towards the coast. Goroka was rougher than we’d seen earlier in the week. All the buses and trucks had wire bars across all the windows (including the windscreens) - I’m surprised they could see to drive! This was to prevent car jacking and protect the drivers and passengers alike. It put you on edge. We were more alert.
We’d been told the skeleton tribe were unavailable and instead we'd be going to the snake village and the mud men’s village. I promptly fell asleep propped awkwardly between two seats and kept being woken up when we thought we were near our next stop. After a couple of false starts we stopped at an entrance but no one had any idea what it was for. We waited while the guides (again having no clue about anything!) went to investigate, only to find it was the skeleton hotel and village . AND they were free to see us! We wandered down and checked out the skeleton hotel, where Susan and I agreed we’d be going back to stay at in the future and then headed into the village.
I was at the back of the group and several other group members kept coming up to me saying “they are looking for you” or “they want to see the girl with no hair”. I even heard them asking “where is the girl with no hair, we want to see her”. When they saw me, several of them (who were at the festival the previous day) came up and gave me a big hug! It was so cool. They kept asking “do you remember me” - some were now in regular clothes, whilst others were again painted as skeletons! I said I recognised them all and some I did recognise their voices but not their faces. We again did a bit of a skeleton dance, laughing as we did. I bought a cool skeleton paining from one of the guys who’d painted me and went to watch the show.
The skeletons explained how a long while ago, a monster had gone around killing their ancestors. The monster lived in a cave nearby. In order to kill the monster. They had painted themselves like skeletons and hidden in the monsters cave amongst the bones from their ancestors. The monster wasn’t able to see them and eventually they were able to save their village by killing the monster. They did a cultural show for us, before telling us it was time for us to leave. It was hilarious how funny it was. “That is the end of the show. Now you leave!!!”. 😂😂😂😂
On the way out, my skeleton buddy whom I bought the painting from, came running up to me and handed me a painted stone with two skeletons on. He said “this is for you so you remember me.” I felt so humbled to have made an impression on this lad and that him and his tribe as included me.
Next we headed to snake village which we were told was closed. There were several sighs of relief - I think a few of the group were scared of snakes and we headed towards the mud men. We had been driving a while before we stopped. The guides again had no idea where they were going! This was quite comical as we had about 8 guides with us between the two buses yet not one of them had a clue. “The mud men have moved” they said. I’m not sure this was the case but hey…
The Mud Men paint themselves with the clay and make these large masks with scary faces and weigh around 10 kg each. They have to learn to balance the mask on their shoulders as it it far too heavy to balance on your head. I know, I tried a number of times but could not manage to get my shoulders high enough to hold the mask steady. It felt incredibly strange and unfamiliar. They performed a show for us and explained how other tribes had pushed them out of their villages and they’d had to flee and take refuge with other tribes. But they weren’t allowed to grow food as it wasn’t their land. They had to get their land back in order to survive, so they created their masks and hid in the forest around their old land and they would scare the inhabitants away. Eventually they managed to get their land back.
They then explained the rituals of the men in order to clean their blood. They said that the women were lucky, they got their periods so each month the women had their blood cleaned. The men weren’t so lucky. The men had to perform rituals in order to bleed and “clean”. This involved sticking long tubes down their throats, up their nose and hitting a spike into their tongues all to prompt the body to bleed. They performed each of these rituals for us. It was a rare occasion that being a woman seemed to be of real benefit in the tribal sense!
It had been a long drive day and everyone was ready to get to the hotel and have a beer. We finally arrived at the hotel to a large sign on the gate saying “STRICTLY NO ALCOHOL”. We all laughed! Maybe a dry night was much needed…. Beers appeared with dinner! Thanks Gaz and Ro!
Our final full day was a drive to Lae - a coastal town but also some WWII memorials. We left early and completed the seven hour drive in good time. However, again, upon arrival we were told we were going straight to the university to the wildlife park. So the guides took us to the hotel. Rowan started to try and resolve the situation “Andy, mate, (Rowan is Aussie) we discussed this, let’s head to the university - do you know where it is?”
“Yes, was the response”.
So we set off…
A while later, “Andy, are we close?”
“I don’t know, Rowan, I haven’t been here before, I don’t know where it is!”
“Can you ring James (the owner of the tour company” said Rowan.
“I have no credit”
You could tell Rowan was trying very hard to remain calm.
“Andy, mate, what about the money I gave you yesterday for credit?”
“That wasn’t for credit…”
Rowan got out the bus and started asking around. He got directions (and a police escort) and we found where we were going! The wildlife park was an area filled with trees and plants with netting as a roof and immediately you felt like you were in the Hunger Games because of the enclosed space with the spherical roof.
We wandered round and saw the birds (well some people did), before we saw the tree kangaroos,
Wallabies and finally went to watch the crocodile feeding. We all hoped it wasn’t a repeat of Port Moresby, with the guide sitting on the crocs mouth! This was indeed different and a chicken on a string held by a long stick, was lowered into the enclosure (which featured a rather small pond) and the crocodile stretched to grab it before the feeder yanked it out of reach, this happened several times before the croc showed its full size - it was huge and wide and the flimsy wire fence separating us from the croc suddenly seemed inadequate. In my head I was thinking “just give it the damn chicken! I don’t want it coming for me!”. Luckily the croc eventually managed to secure its meal and I breathed a sigh of relief. Off to the WWII monument and a repeat of trying to get to the university. No one knew where to go!
Eventually we made it to the Australian plane memorial and subsequently the WWII memorial and Cemetery. The ground were kept immaculate, very different to the rest of the country. The grass was mowed short and every memorial plaque was in an ordered row across a large area. It was a beautiful memorial and cemetery.
This rounded off the trip and only dinner and a flight back to POM was left. Early dinner of soup and a 4am start to fly back to POM and onto Brisbane. On to the next adventure… Nauru.
Thank you Gaz and Ro of Young Pioneer Tours for a super fun trip! See you soon!
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