Proof That There Are Too Many Celebrities

On my way home, I stopped at the Hudson's (it's Australian for "Starbucks") at the Brisbane Airport and realized I was standing in line next to reality TV personality Kendra Wilkinson.  I wasn't positive until the barista asked for her name and her dad answered with "Wilkinson."  By the time we got to our gate, people started to figure it out.  If I appear in any tabloid photos, know that my presence in those photos was just a coincidence.

This year alone, I have walked past Al Roker and later Joy Behar on the same day in different cities, sat on a plane directly behind Hulk Hogan, rode in an elevator with Sheryl Crow's band, and seen NBA players and coaches from multiple teams at a hotel I lived in for 4 weeks.  And I didn't even spend any time in L.A. or N.Y. this year.  When the celebrity to normal person ratio is getting this high, there are clearly too many celebrities.

And on that note, this year's Big Trip comes to a close.

Cairns & the Reef

My trip ended in Cairns, Queensland, Australia -- the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef and a popular tourist destination.  It's just a hop, skip, and a jump from New Guinea, and you can't go all the way to New Guinea and not see the Reef.  I only had 2 full days here, so apart from the obvious trip to the Reef, I chose to spend my other day rafting on the Tully River.  Most visitors choose a side-trip to Kuranda via a scenic railway and/or cable car that offers views of Australia's tropical rainforest.  Since I had seen plenty of rainforest in New Guinea (and in Ecuador last year), I opted out.

This entry will be brief because there isn't too much to say.  There are plenty of tour operators that will take you out to the Reef and offer snorkeling, scuba, and semi-submersible options.  Rafting the Tully was even more fun, but this brings me to my one tip: if you're coming to Cairns, you're in north-eastern Australia and it gets hot up here, particularly this time of year.  The temperature gauge was in the low 30s C/low 90s F, but with the humidity and the more direct rays from the sun, it easily felt over 100 F.  It was worst-sunburn-of-my-adult-life hot (which is more my fault than Cairns' fault), but if you have a choice, you'll probably want to visit during the Southern Hemisphere's winter, even though hotel prices will be higher than I found this week.  (The already expensive Australian food and tour prices are probably the same all year round.)

Obligatory Reef Photo #1

Obligatory Reef Photo #2

Miscellaneous Travel Tips for Papua New Guinea

1.  Western doctors will recommend you take anti-malaria medication unless you are only travelling in the Highlands.  I was a little skittish about the prospect, because I heard the drugs can cause nausea and -- get this -- nightmares.  Plus, I was only going to be in the country for 3.5 days.  Anyway, I thought I had better be safe than sorry, so although I did not have a chance to visit the Travel Clinic at Northwestern Hospital in Chicago in the few days I had at home before the trip, I made an appointment with a Travel Doctor clinic in Sydney before I even left the States.

The helpful doctor gave me some PNG travel tips and basically left the decision up to me: 1) I could take nothing; 2) I could take a drug called Malarone the night before my trip to PNG, each night during my stay, and one night afterwards, or 3) I could take a different, less expensive drug for 40 days.  I chose the Malarone and did not notice any side effects.  The doctor's visit and the pills cost $71 AUS, or about $60 US.  (On a side note, the Australian dollar is at a 4-year low right now against the US dollar, and it helps, because Australia is a very expensive country to visit.)

2.  Americans (and several other nationalities) can apply for a (free) visa at a PNG embassy, but really, all you need to do is show up at the airport in Port Moresby.  Australians, on the other hand, have some rigamarole to go through.  I don’t fully understand the situation, but it seems Australia requires visitors from PNG to go through several hoops before entering the country.  In retaliation, PNG requires the same now of Australians (despite the close economic, historical, and social ties between the neighbors).  I was told in Australia to be sure to sit toward the front of my plane because I would face a long line at customs in Port Moresby.

In fact, I sat in the middle of the plane, sauntered off, got into the terminal and saw a long line of Aussies in front of me.  Then I walked over to the lonely person at the “Visa on Arrival” desk, waved my US passport, and got my visa in about 90 seconds.  I felt a little badly for all the Australians watching me enviously, but not too badly.

3.  I saw some contradictory information on-line about this, so in case anyone comes here wondering, Americans do not need to bring passport photos for the visa.  I brought some new ones along, but found out that they would only be needed if, for some reason, I had applied through an embassy.  You don't need them at the Port Moresby airport -- they simply stick the visa onto a blank page in your passport.  

4.  If you're flying on Air Niugini -- and you probably are -- I have a few observations.  The surprising good news was that on my flight from Brisbane to Port Moresby, I had a selection of about 25 films to watch on a tablet-like device attached to the back of the seat in front of me.  Airlines in the US really need to get with the program.

On my exit, there were about 100 passengers on an almost completely full flight leaving tiny Madang for Port Moresby at 6:30 on a Saturday morning.  Since there are only a couple of flights leaving that airport every day, I thought there would be no need to get there too early.  I arrived at 5:30 and found most of those 100 people in front of me.  All luggage is screened by hand -- not by machine.  The plane departed 15 minutes late simply because of how long it took to process everyone.  A picture of the "departure lounge" in Madang is below.

All luggage is screened by hand at the table underneath the Hertz sign at the entrance to the Madang airport.

5.  The mask and figurines I purchased at PNG Arts in Port Moresby (and referenced in my earlier post), had to be inspected by Australian customs upon my entrance into the country, because they were made of wood.  I was warned at PNG Arts that this would happen, but after making me unwrap the packaging, the Aussie customs official saw no problem with the items.  And, while I'm on the topic, here's a photo of the 2-foot long mask, bought for about $16 US.

Reminders of World War II in Papua New Guinea

Military history buffs may be interested in a few things I came across in Madang and its environs.  The northern part of what is now Papua New Guinea was originally one of the few German colonies in the world.  After World War I, the Treaty of Versailles gave it to the Australians and, for a while during World War II, the Japanese occupied this area.  

In the village of Alexishafen, about 15 miles north of Madang (and the subject of some serious Allied bombing), the rusted remnant of what locals assume is a Japanese tank (though, at a glance, what is left of it resembles a US-built Sherman) sits quietly by the waterfront.  There is no marker, no plaque, no museum.  It is just there.  And in Madang itself, a lighthouse memorial has been constructed in honor of the “Coastwatchers” – Aussies and locals left behind enemy lines who were able to report out to the Allies on troop and ship movements.  A separate marker denotes the day in 1944 when the Australian Army re-took the town after a short battle.

The remnants of a tank in Alexishafen, PNG.

The Coastwatchers Lighthouse in Madang.

Uncle Arnie

Shortly after his ordination as a priest in 1957, my Uncle Arnie set off for New Guinea, where he has lived ever since.  Now 85, some of us had gently tried to suggest he retire in the States, but he does not want to.  And when he comes back in the summertime every few years for a medical check-up, he is invariably wearing a sweater, even if it’s over 80 degrees in Iowa.  He has really gotten used to the tropical heat.

So, while I see Arnie every few years, I thought it was time to visit him in his natural habitat.  And he does have some good stories – like being the first white man to go into some remote villages in the western part of the country, or contracting malaria multiple times, or walking out in the highlands and seeing the ground literally ripple around him during an earthquake.  Given PNG’s reputation, I asked if he ever felt like he was in harm’s way.  He has one story – it involves waking up in a remote village several decades ago and seeing a man with a machete standing over him.  In his re-telling of this story, he’s remarkably blasé about it.  He simply explains that everyone knew the guy was harmless, if deranged.  Doesn’t sound harmless to me, but hey, I wasn’t there.

I’m not sure what I was expecting in the coastal town of Madang, where he retired to a few years ago, but let me be clear – this is not a place of creature comforts.  One unexpected bonus – I could legitimately claim to (usually) be out of reach of my work e-mails.  And while the town fathers have labeled it “The Prettiest Town in the South Pacific,” frankly, this is the Third World.  If you’re a Catholic worried that your donations are being wasted on palatial living, I can guarantee that’s not happening in Madang, because I lived with Arnie and his fellow priests for a few days.  It’s a very simple life, but he is well cared for by his young brethren and the staff – and they clearly look up to him. 

But whether it was when we were out around town and locals would come up and talk to him, or when we went to a parish and he was mobbed by nuns (it was like travelling with a rock star, if nuns mobbed a rock star), or when, on 2 occasions, someone told me privately how much he had done, then I felt very proud.

My being here also gave Arnie the chance to do some sightseeing that he hadn’t done before.  Thus, when we “chartered” a simple boat from a fellow in the town harbor to take us out around the area, it was the first time he had done it here.  In the same way, I only go up in the John Hancock Building in Chicago when I have out-of-town visitors.  His last visitor was my dad, approximately 50 years ago.  Dad was in the Far East on a trade mission (what may now be considered a “junket”) and popped over to PNG on his own dime.  Back then, Arnie was in the Highlands, and he took Dad out driving on some bush trails.  He offered to let Dad drive, but Dad declined.  Like most sons do of their fathers, I always thought of Dad as a fairly intrepid fellow, particularly in all matters automotive, so I can only imagine just how rough it was back then.

Today, poverty and corruption are endemic in PNG, but the local population is educated like never before and Arnie’s order operates a university with several thousand students here in Madang.  There is development – I saw 2 tuna canneries, a coconut oil facility, a meat packing plant, and the aforementioned nickel mining company in Madang (a town of about 30,000), as well as a couple of resorts taking advantage of the beaches, but as in all such countries, the trick is to make sure the nation’s wealth is fairly distributed.  Everywhere you looked, there were individuals operating little stands – either in the formal markets, or in parks or in front of their homes, so this is clearly an entrepreneurial culture.  There is a free press, and political issues were discussed openly, at least as far as I could tell.  I did not note any disruptions in the electricity, though the priests have a back-up generator for when that happens, and most people have running water – though it was sadly common to see dilapidated tin shacks and outhouses.  Hunger did not appear to be an issue, but adequate shelter clearly is.

Unlike Port Moresby, there is no reputation here for violence, though burglary could be an issue.  The priests have a gate to their home and nice homes had tall fences.  I never felt unsafe, but I also was only out and about in the daytime.  And I was a bit of a celebrity – I saw someone taking my picture, so perhaps game show re-runs air 20 years late in PNG! 

To sum up my 3.5 days in Madang, really all I can say is that, on the one hand, you can look at a place like this with its obvious problems, and think of how far it has to go.  Or, you can look at it and think of how far it has come.

Arnie & me, a few miles north of Madang.

My Day in the 3rd Least Livable City in the World

Flying north on my way to visit my Uncle Arnie in Madang, Papua New Guinea, I stopped to change planes in the country’s capital, Port Moresby.  Telling an Aussie you’re going to PNG is like telling an American you’re on your way to Honduras.  And Moresby is the reason why.

The city’s high crime rate has it frequently listed as among the most dangerous cities in the world.  In this year’s rankings by The Economist, Moresby came in as the 3^rd least liveable city in the world, behind Damascus and Dhaka.  I hasten to mention, however, that Baghdad, Kabul, and Monrovia were apparently not included, so Moresby cannot be worse than 6^th.  The Economist did rank both Karachi, Pakistan & Tripoli, Libya as more liveable than Moresby, though, so that did cause me some concern.

The travel doctor I saw in Sydney to get some anti-malarial tablets told me about how a buddy of his had been a resident physician in Moresby in the early '90s.  At least then, the city’s nightclubs were only open in the day, because it wasn’t safe at night.  To create the nightclub experience, they blacked out the windows.  Other Aussies will have other stories – the Aussie media makes Moresby sound like the Seventh Circle of Hell.  Representative examples are here and here.

I would never seek out Moresby or suggest it as a destination.  For starters, PNG doesn’t really have a tourism infrastructure (only 5,000 Americans even came to the country in all of 2013), and if you are coming here, you will want to see the Highlands (that’s the New Guinea you know from National Geographic) or the islands or coastal towns like Madang with beaches -- which are more peaceful, less crowded, and just all-around more pleasant.  But since I had to be in Moresby anyway to get to Madang, and I was faced with a 4-hour layover in a really dismal airport, I hired a driver in advance of my arrival to take me around town.  And I had to pay a not-insubstantial sum for his driving/guiding/bodyguarding (?) services.

I had a few requested destinations.  The first was a store I saw featured in The New York Times called PNG Arts.  It’s basically a large tin roof building that, from the outside, looks like it was a car repair shop that went out of business about 20 years ago (though in fairness, much of Moresby looks like that right now – though that’s changing).  Inside is a collection of tribal art and artifacts that could be a museum exhibition in the West all on its own.  I was expecting high prices – all I knew about PNG’s economy at this point was how much I was paying for my driver/guide/bodyguard.  The pieces, however, were amazingly inexpensive.  I bought a mask for 42 kina – less than $20.  Large pieces could be bought for as little as $100, US.  Getting it shipped back might be an ordeal, but there were bargains to be had.

PNG Arts, Port Moresby.

On the inside.  I purchased one of the masks hanging on the far wall.

My next request was to see the Parliament House.  It’s a really striking building – with the front meant to resemble a village’s “spirit house” (i.e., a sacred temple-like structure in the old days).  The area around the Parliament is not supposed to be the safest part of town, and I noticed that my guide was a pretty fast walker, despite weighing almost twice as much as me.  The Parliament is not usually open, but for some reason, it was when we showed up, even though no one seemed to be there other than the security guards.  We strolled in and had the place to ourselves (well, I couldn’t walk on to the floor of the chamber, but could go right into the Visitor’s Gallery).  Unfortunately, I could not take pictures of the chamber itself, but you can see that here. 

The front of Parliament House.

We drove around town and my driver/guide/bodyguard? showed me the neighborhood where the ex-pats (largely Australian) live behind a lot of high fences and barbed wire.  He said some Papuans live in that neighborhood too, but they were public servants who had made money off of the nation’s recent resource boom and then spent the income on a nice house in Moresby rather than on their constituents.

Speaking of which, there is a lot of construction in Moresby.  The Chinese are here, with the Japanese and Exxon not too far behind, in the race for the country’s recently found oil and mineral wealth.  There is evidence everywhere, including a nice apartment building going up with a sales office’s signs in Chinese.  We came upon one police roadblock in the city and my driver/guide/bodyguard? explained that they were just looking for expired plates, but that the police would target Chinese people.  I gathered that there’s a little bad blood here generated from the popular conception that the Chinese are taking the nation’s wealth.  Combine that with an entrepreneurial police force, and the cycle of bribery continues.

And I’m getting ahead of myself, but while I’m on the topic, far and away the nicest building in Madang is the office of a Chinese nickel concern.  It’s a building that would look completely at home in Chicago (despite being only about 5 or 6 stories tall), but in Madang, I would do a double-take every time I passed by.

Anyway, apart from the ex-pat zone and the downtown, there is a lot of poverty in Moresby.  That said, I never felt unsafe (my tour was from about 12:45 PM to 3:30 PM).  We did pass by one burned-out hulk of a car on the side of the road and it was explained to me that you should never abandon your vehicle on the road, because it will be stripped for parts and set afire.  Good to know.

I left very glad that I had seen Port Moresby.  Since I was there anyway, I think there's nothing more worthwhile than getting out of the airport & seeing how people really live.  And as long as you do your homework and have a trusted local helping you out, I think it's fine.  I will leave the alarmism for the alarmists.

A View You May Not Have Seen of One of the World's Most Photographed Places

On the evening of Day # 2 in Sydney, I scored a ticket to a performance at the Sydney Opera House.  Surely its exterior is one of the most photographed places in the world, so I wanted to get a photo of the inside.  The lobby and hallways are very mid-70s, and not all that up-to-date, to be frank.  You’ll get a bit of that vibe from this picture of the concert hall.  That’s not to take away from the fact that it is an incredibly beautiful structure and deserving of its fame.

Obligatory Sydney photo.

And now, from the inside.

I attended a performance of the Sydney Symphony, which included Brahms’ first piano concerto.  Needless to say, it's far more difficult than anything I can play, though I continue to maintain that, if worse came to worse, I could always get a job playing the piano at a Von Maur’s. 

Sydney (with a Digression into Comparative Politics)

Spend a few days in Sydney, as I have, and you will convince yourself to move here.  The climate is more than agreeable, the people are friendly, and life is good.  After landing around 6:30 AM, I checked into my hotel and then headed out to explore the city, eventually making my way to Bondi Beach.  Bondi is like the Wrigley Field of beaches – lots of people are there for the scene more than the main event, but the people watching is notable.  I was probably the most pale person there, but that didn’t stop me from spending a little time working on a November tan.

Over the next couple of days, I toured some historic sites and museums, and hiked in the Blue Mountains.  None of that was blog-worthy, however.  My story from Sydney has to do with something else.

If this place were Cheers, I would be like Norm.

For lunch on Day # 2, I stopped at the 2^nd oldest pub in Sydney, The Hero of Waterloo (obviously, that would be the Duke of Wellington, not Waterloo, Iowa native Michelle Bachmann).  Famously, the Hero of Waterloo has a trap door that was put to use on particularly belligerent clientele back in the day.  Anyway, there were only 2 other patrons and the bartender in there when I strolled in.

My American accent gave me away, and I quickly became a popular customer.  Aussies love Americans as much as Americans love Aussies.  They wanted to know why I was there, what I did, what I thought about this, that, and the other thing.  And I was happy to pontificate.  It became a much longer lunch than I was expecting.  One of the other patrons paid for my second round.  We’ll call him Paul.  He was the perfect example of the kind of person I meet pretty often abroad: someone who considers themselves a political conservative in their own nation’s politics, but yet thinks American politics are way off to the right.

Paul is a supporter of Australia’s current conservative prime minister, who is a climate change denier, and is such a devotee of all things American that when I said I was from Iowa, he immediately referenced the TV show American Pickers.  Paul also was a charter subscriber to Sarah Palin TV.  I had to go halfway around the world to find someone who actually subscribes to that.

Anyway, despite all of that, Paul proclaimed himself to be a fan of Barack Obama and frightened by the Republican Party (still not sure why he subscribed to Sarah Palin TV, though he frankly admitted to being a bit smitten).  This is just example # 327 of how the left/right spectrum in the US is several clicks to the right of most other nations.  David Cameron, Bibi Netanyahu, Angela Merkel, and maybe Australia’s Tony Abbott and Canada’s Stephen Harper are all right-of center heads of government that could not get nominated to be dogcatcher by the Republican Party of Burlington, Vermont simply because they support a social safety net that includes universal health care.  Thus, they must be Socialists.

If the Republicans are even aware of just how far to the right they have moved, vis a vis their fellow conservatives across the Western world, they may not care.  To them, it may just confirm that they’re right.  And certainly, just because the rest of the world is doing something, doesn’t mean the world is right.  But when people like Paul find the Republican Party “frightening,” you know American politics are simply like nothing else in the world.