Rabaul and Neil Diamond

On the way

Market

Market 2

No, I don't know what they are.

Remains of the 1990's eruption

The harbor, leaving Rabaul

The pilot waving goodbye.

It really blew its top.

Rabaul moon

Papua, New Guinea

Gliding into the harbor

Hot springs in the lava fields

Hot lake - lots of sulfur

Volcano - earthquake monitoring station

Plumes of smoke

Home, sweet home seen from the monitoring station

Clumps of sulfur at the lake shore

Flowers everywhere

Our fearless explorer - me!

A steaming volcano welcomed us into the anchorage place. Barren, dark gray and smoking - where is King Kong when you need him?

It was hotter than Bali but somehow not as humid. I had signed up for a tour which came with a disclaimer: Rabaul is not geared for mass-tourism, nothing is air conditioned, etc. All true. However, Jack, our tour guide, made the tour so interesting that most of the time I did not notice the heat. He took one look at my hair, recognized a "sister" and promptly fell in love with me.

The tour included a visit to his (Methodist) village, a Japanese war memorial, a submarine base, a hot springs lake with globs of solidified sulfer and water about 37degrees C - hot to the touch - and what was really fascinating - the seismic (volcano and earthquake) monitoring station. It was actually the only air conditioned room on the island I saw. They recorded the earthquake in Sendei because it was deep. The one in New Zealand was too shallow.

We were told about the Fuzzy-Wuzzy Angels - local people who helped Allied soldiers before and during the Japanese occupation. As they have still not grasped the concept of political correctness (actually, neither have I), they are proud of their title and their history. When they march in the AnZac parades, they get the loudest cheers.

There are 2 volcanoes, one dormant. In 1994, one exploded (the one still venting) and buried the town of Rabaul city. We drove through what looked like a moonscape and in the middle of it, Jack casually mentioned that we were driving over the town, now buried under about 20 ft (6+ meters) of ashes. It was eerie although no one was killed as a result of the eruption so no people were under us.

One sure sign (aside from my fuzzy-wuzzy hair) that we were in the tropics: I was standing with another woman from the tour group when we heard a sharp snap, then a loud thump. A huge and heavy coconut had fallen from a very tall tree and anyone under it would have been dead. The resourceful driver put it under the front wheel, drove over it and handed out pieces to the childen who had followed us to the water.

Jack asked me where my home was and again I was somewhat lost for an answer. I told him Germany, but thought about Neil Diamond's song which I paraphrase as:

I'm an American, born and raised
Nowadays, I'm lost between 2 shores.
Germany's fine but it ain't home -
America's home but it ain't mine no more.

Rabaul is not geared for mass tourism. The people are friendly - the national pastime seems to be smiling, waving and calling out "Hello" with a slight question mark at the end. Some of the roads have holes, some of the children have no shoes but no one begged, everyone waved, even the construction workers repairing a bridge. You would love it, even if your hair is naturally straight!