I see some very remote islands in my near future!

What a great way to wake up after a very long flight – cappuccino and “kathi goja”!!

This is in the Fiji Airways lounge in Nadi airport. The effect of Indian culture is all over the country.

It has been a long journey. Five hours from Atlanta to the West Coast. Overnight stay. Then nearly twelve hours to Fiji. That was followed by an eight-hour wait at the airport before a much smaller plane carried me and a handful of fellow travelers to this remote Melanesian island nation.

As the plane finally descended through the clouds, I caught my first glimpse of Vanuatu.

I first learned about this country during my Covid project of memorizing every country and its capital. Vanuatu caught my attention for a rather odd reason. While neighboring capitals had wonderfully local names like Funafuti, Nuku’alofa, and Honiara, this one stood out. Why was it called Port Vila? It sounded as though the British had wandered by, run out of imagination, and simply named it after… well… a port.

That was the extent of my knowledge for quite some time.

Then I stumbled upon another fact. Vanuatu was one of the last places on Earth where cannibalism was practiced. They had incidents of cannibalism even after I was born!!

My immediate reaction?

“I have got to visit this place.”

To be clear, they do not practice cannibalism anymore. At least, that is what the local tourism brochure told me. I have decided to take them at their word.

I have also learned that Vanuatu is considered the birthplace of modern bungee jumping. Except their version is considerably less reassuring. Every year, men climb a tall wooden tower, tie vines around their ankles, and leap headfirst toward solid ground to usher in a great harvest (of yams). No elastic cords. No river below. Just vines, gravity, and what I assume is an extraordinary amount of confidence.

That particular cultural experience, I am perfectly happy to admire from a safe distance.

I cannot wait to discover what else this fascinating little country has in store. Somehow, I have a feeling that this is not going to be an ordinary trip.

Looked like one of those typical villages in an underdeveloped, tropical country. Remember seeing exactly this scene while getting down in Belize and Guyana.

Wonder what is the story behind those. This country does get hit with all sorts of disasters – floods, hurricanes, earthquakes…

And the country count goes to 85 ISO / 71 UN

It helps to come during low tourism season!! That be my abode for the next few days! Can’t complain. It is a mix of the Momi Bay property in Fiji and the French Leave in Eleuthera!

The water is simply crystal clear and there are starfishes all over the floor!!

Beautiful sea breeze blowing…

Henry David Thoreau was onto something.

There is something about watching dawn break before my own eyes that comes close to a spiritual experience. It is as much an awakening of the mind as it is of the day itself.

Back home, my ritual is simple. I pour myself a cup of coffee, sit quietly on the balcony, and watch the night slowly surrender. There is no urgency, no agenda. Just the patient unfolding of another day.

Here in Vanuatu, the experience is even more profound.

There is almost no trace of the artificial world. No streetlights. No passing traffic. No distant hum of civilization reminding you that someone, somewhere, is already rushing.

Instead, I am reminded of our days in Kalyani. My father and I would sit on the tiny balcony with endless cups of tea, watching the darkness. Hardly a word was exchanged. None was necessary. Silence has a language of its own. We were fluent in it.

This morning, sitting on the balcony over the water, I find myself in one of those rare moments again.

The sea gently but relentlessly crashes against the supporting posts beneath me, creating a rhythm that alternates between splashes and soft gurgles. From the nearby village comes a chorus of roosters, each one apparently convinced it has the exclusive responsibility of announcing the morning. Every now and then, a dog barks indignantly at something invisible to the rest of us.

The water itself never truly slept. Even in the darkness, its ceaseless ripples hint that life had carried on through the night. Nature does not punch a time clock. The tide, like time, bide for none.

A warm breeze drifts past, as gentle as the waves below. It brushes against my face with such tenderness that it creates the curious feeling of being completely alone, yet deeply accompanied. Surrounded by water, air, earth, and sky, solitude no longer feels like an isolation. It feels like belonging.

Even as I write, the darkness slowly begins to loosen its grip.

The sandy bottom beneath the crystal-clear water gradually comes into view. Shapes emerge where moments ago there was only shadow. Soon, I can discern the outlines of starfish resting motionless below, as if they had been patiently waiting for the light to reveal them.

By now, the birds have joined the morning in full-throated frenzy. Their songs overlap in an endless tapestry of calls, each species adding its own note to nature’s orchestra.

And yet, somehow, above all the sounds, the stillness remains.

A day has dawned.

And I was awake to it!!

The hotel is giving out free kayaks. I need to venture out…

The hotel is giving these out. Seems like there is only a couple of controls. I am tempted to try it out…

Phillip and I are all ready to hit the road and see what has Vanuatu wrought for me!

The entire island – like most islands – are thick in green canopy. The recent rains have sprung the green around us with renewed vigor!!

As Phillip was driving me to our first destination, we suddenly came upon this scene. Clearly, some kind of festivities were underway.

We stopped.

I asked Phillip what was going on and whether it would be alright for me to take a few pictures. He smiled and explained.

Apparently, in Vanuatu, circumcision marks a boy’s transition into manhood. Traditionally, the procedure is performed using sharpened bamboo, after which the boy spends a few weeks in strict isolation while he recovers. Emerging from that period is a major milestone, and the family celebrates it in style.

As you can see, everyone turns out in vibrant colors and traditional bamboo skirts. And all their faces smeared with brilliant colors. There is music, dancing, laughter, and no shortage of kava being shared.

You might also notice the piles of gifts. Instead of gift cards or kitchen appliances, the presents here are taro roots, yams, and kava roots. And then there is the pig.

A pig, as I was told, is one of the highest-status forms of wealth in Vanuatu. Suddenly, the phrase “bringing home the bacon” took on an entirely different meaning.

The men simply lined up and started passing the taro roots from one end to the other!!

The taro roots, the kava roots and then the all important pig – the highest status of currency in the island!

The skeletal remains look beautiful though.

There are patches of Vanuatu when you drive around, you will see a lot of coconut trees witch their heads gone. Like each one of them has been struck by lightning. Turns out they all got affected by a foreign pest – CRB Coconut Rhinoceros Beetle – when one of them accidentally got transported from Papua New Guinea in an excavator!!

The distinct red color of the barks is genetic to the local variety though. The raw coconuts themselves apparently can be bright orange to deep red.

All along the road, we saw some interesting sights. There were flags of other countries – Brazil, Argentina, Spain, France and England were most visible, with an occasional German flag thrown in here and there. These flags were hoisted way up on the top of trees – often tied to an even longer bamboo!

Many of the taxis had similar flags tied to them!

The Vanuatuans take their support for FIFA teams very seriously, it would seem!

On the way, I asked Phillip to stop on the roadside at a random place to take in the huge waves. Look at the distinct blue color on the crests!

You can see how beautiful it is. This is connected to the ocean next door. All sorts of people were dropping from high platforms and tree vines into the water. I was tempted to do that but I reminded myself that I had already missed last week’s swimming classes 🙂

Not much of a big beach. But there is a river with crystal clear water disgorging into the ocean and all sorts of coral structures all around. And the water looks beautiful.

“He seems very unsure of himself on that scooter.”

I said it to Philip as we watched a scooter on the other side of the road. The rider was creeping along at a painfully slow pace with a lady riding pillion. It almost looked as if he had not been on a scooter in years.

We drove past them.

A few seconds later Philip glanced at his rearview mirror.

“I think they are stopping.”

We pulled over.

I turned around in my seat and began giving Philip a running commentary.

“The lady has gotten off… now he has gotten off too… looks like he is putting the scooter on its stand. I have no idea what they’re doing.”

After a pause, I asked, “Should we go back and check on them?”

“We should,” Philip replied, making a neat Y-turn in the middle of the road.

As we pulled alongside them, I leaned out of the window.

“You guys okay?”

“We have a flat tire,” the gentleman replied in an unmistakable Indian accent.

That immediately got my attention.

As we pieced the story together, we learned they were visiting from Kerala. Kochi, to be precise. Naturally, I had to tell him about my own trip to Kochi. They had vacationed in Fiji before coming to Vanuatu and had rented a scooter to explore the island.

Everything had been going perfectly until they met one of Vanuatu’s potholes.

Now, Vanuatu does not fool around when it comes to potholes. Many of the roads are built on a limestone base, and the potholes are not gentle little depressions. They are almost vertical drops of six inches. Mini cenotes masquerading as road imperfections, I might say.

A ten-inch scooter tire never stood a chance.

One look at the wheel told the whole story. The tire was completely shredded.

“The problem,” the gentleman explained, “is that I don’t know how to contact the rental company.”

“Did you try the number written on the side of the scooter?” I asked.

“I did, but my phone won’t connect.”

“I had exactly the same problem with my U.S. phone. Have you tried WhatsApp?”

He hadn’t.

A few seconds later he did.

Success.

I could hear enough of the conversation to know the person on the other end was wonderfully calm. His instructions were simple.

“Just leave the scooter there. Walk to a nearby spot, relax, and I’ll come by with another one.”

That struck me as remarkably good customer service.

Later, Philip smiled and said, “I know him.”

Of course he did.

On a small island, everybody seems to know everybody. Apparently, the rental company was run by an Australian gentleman who is well-liked across the island.

As the guy began pushing the wounded scooter to the side of the road, I asked Philip where they could wait comfortably.

“The Blue Lagoon is about half a kilometer away.”

“Perfect.”

I rolled down the window again.

“If you’d like, we can drop you off at the Blue Lagoon. It’s only about a ten-minute walk for you, but we don’t mind the detour.”

The gentleman looked relieved.

“Will you drop us?”

“Of course. Grab your things and hop in.”

During the short drive, we chatted about their trip, their travels, and how one pothole had become the most memorable part of their Vanuatu adventure.

He thanked us repeatedly as we dropped them off at the spectacular Blue Lagoon to wait for their replacement scooter.

As we drove away, I turned to Philip.

“Did you notice something?”

“What?”

“The lady didn’t say a single word the entire time.”

He laughed.

I said, “I have a theory.”

“What is it?”

“I think she’s still mad that he drove into that pothole.”

Some silences need no translation.

Known to have the strongest grip of all animals, these crabs can open up coconuts, eat just about anything – including their own moulted shell – and are a bit of a kleptomaniac. They will steal dishes from your house just for the heck of it!

If you thought grabbing that coconut crab was fraught with danger, try this… these crabs grow up to 3 feet in size!! They can scare the heck out of a dog!!

This beats swimming for me!!

Visited a coffee factory in Vanuatu today. The factory tour was pretty much non-descript. However, I was able to pick up a prize possession – local coffee beans. This is from the island Tanna – an island I hope to visit some day. The coffee plantations thrive there due to the volcanic soil.

We drove up to a high point on the hill that you have cross to go to the north side of the island. It was a cloudy and rainy day but the views still looked great. The island out there is the Hideaway Island. It is on my list to visit today.

This is about as basic a motorized ferry as it gets. Most of the time, the water beneath you is only a few feet deep. At low tide, I suspect you could simply roll up your shorts and wade across to the other island.

The schedule is remarkably uncomplicated. There are no timetables, no ticket counters, and certainly no departure announcements. You simply stand on the jetty and wave your arms vigorously. The boatman spots you from the other island and, sure enough, heads over to pick you up.

It is a warm, albeit cloudy, day. Why the boatman is dressed as though he is headed for an Arctic expedition, I will never know.

There is nothing hidden about this island. It is visible in plain daylight. Also, there is nowhere to hide here either. It takes about ten minutes to go around the island on the coral-filled beaches. A great place if you are into snorkeling and diving.

Apparently, Vanuatu has the distinction of being home to the world’s only underwater post office.

See that little white buoy in the middle of the picture? About ten feet below it sits the post office. You can buy a waterproof postcard from the shop on shore, dive down, and physically mail it from the ocean floor.

Unfortunately, it is Sunday, so the post office is closed. If it were open, there would be a flag flying on top of the buoy to let you know. Even more amusing, if you search for “Underwater Post Office” in Google Maps, it dutifully displays the opening hours, just like any other business.

Despite appearances, it was not built so that passing fish could keep in touch with one another. It was created as a tourist attraction while also promoting awareness of marine conservation.

I did not mail a postcard. For one thing, the flag was not up. More importantly, there is the rather inconvenient fact that I can’t dive.

The going down part of a dive comes naturally to me. It is the coming back up that is bothersome!

There is only one Indian place in the island – Taste of India!

In the evening, I went out for a stroll to the nearest village to soak in a little of the local life. The walk itself was fairly uneventful. But once I reached the village, I stumbled upon a delightful scene.

A volleyball game was in full swing, with all the seriousness of a village family affair. Men and women, boys and girls, had taken up positions on either side of the net. Nobody seemed overly concerned about the score. This was less about winning and more about an enjoyable evening together with a little exercise thrown in.

There were exactly three spectators. That gentleman in a black T-shirt, yours truly, and a remarkable dog.

The gentleman eventually wandered off. I took a few pictures and continued my walk.

The dog, however, stayed rooted to the spot, watching the match with complete concentration. He did not even bother sitting down!! Gotta be the most dedicated sports fan in the village!!