We mixed chores with fun - in Port Vila, we visited the excellent museum (which we'd been to before) to see a sand drawing demonstration. And took a trip to the market to restock on some of the foods that had been removed from the boat on our arrival
{Maryanne:Sand drawing is ni-Vanuatu artistic and ritual tradition and practice, recognised by UNESCO as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. Practiced traditionally in the Pentecost Islands of Vanuautu. Aside from some initial guidline markings, each image is created in a single run of the finger (no lifting up and moving to start a new line). Each image has meaning; they are nearly all beautifully symmetrical.}
By our last full day, I was feeling well enough for an around-island tour with the nice man who drove us to Tusker in his shared minibus on Day One (he also did tours and had left us with a leaflet "just in case"). William met us at the marina right at the agreed time. He flashed a big smile (THAT'S the Vanuatu I remember!) and welcomed us aboard. Soon, we were on our way out of town.
We didn't have a formal itinerary. Maryanne and I wanted to see a cultural village nearby and to possibly take in a bonus scenic view or two. William seemed to think we had time to complete a whole circuit of Efate. We agreed to re-decide after each stop.
William was very accommodating. Although our first stop was ostensibly the Pepeyo Cultural Village, as we passed a sign for Aelan ('Island' in Bislama) Chocolate, he asked if we were interested in a little detour. Chocolate? No. I mean, YES!
Aelan Chocolate Factory, Port Vila
Aelan chocolate is grown and produced within Vanuatu AND it is delicious. It is also significantly cheaper than the imported bars in the grocery stores, but they have no distribution system, so if you want some, you have to come and get it yourself at the factory. William procured us each a bar to nibble on while we drove. He also stopped at a roadside stand and paid for drinking coconuts for us all, plus snacks, and even a big hand of local bananas for us to take back to the boat.
This made us somewhat nervous. It wasn't too long ago, when we were in Jamaica, that a similar tour ended with the guide making angry demands of more than triple the agreed price for all the 'extras' we had neither wanted nor requested along the way. I still believe that if we hadn't been separated by a chain-link fence at our last exchange, he would have taken a swing at me.
William did pretty much the opposite. He collected our fee and then paid for everything out of it, even the bananas, which we only bought then because it would save us a separate trip to the market later. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that every little unexpected add-on was cutting into his profit. I suppose that an 80% fee is still a positive number, and his many kindnesses only endeared us to him more. The transportation and William's company would have been well worth the fee itself, even without William constantly telling us to put our money away so he could pay. Ironically, both guides got the same parting wish: that they get the lives they deserve.
The Pepeyo Cultural Village was interesting. There are a lot of these on Efate and also on the other main island of Santo, up north. Vanuatu has eighty-three different islands, each with very different customs. The Kastom villages are set up as a kind of annex for each island, where people from those islands come to live and teach their particular way of life. Each serves as a repository of the cultural traditions of a particular group. Having so many Kastom villages on the main islands also means that it is a lot easier for both tourists and ni-Vanuatu from other islands to learn about the people of this country, without having to travel to so many far-flung places. William explained that it is considered an honor for villagers to travel to live in the Kastom villages and only those in good standing are offered the position. Money made from entry fees is sent back to the parent villages to help with schools, electrification, etc.
Pepeyo Cultural Village experience
Pepeyo Village is populated by a group of dozen or so from the Futuna Island, Vanuatu's smallest populated island. Our tour started with Willam dropping us off in front of a barrier marked with two crossed boughs. We had just learned the day before from an excellent guide in the National Museum that this is a signal that an area is tabu. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and had some idea what might be coming. Maryanne did not, and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a loud crack, followed by much yelling and snarling and aggressive thrusting of spears in our direction from men who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Then, once it was determined that we were not thrusting any spears ourselves, and therefore have come in peace, scowls turned to smiles and we were heartily welcomed in. While this particular version was for the amusement of camera-toting tourists, the underlying message is real: villages are considered private property, and it is very bad manners indeed to enter one without being vetted and welcomed.
The presentation was geared a bit too much for the tour bus crowd for Maryanne's and my taste. We sat in bleacher seats with five others as the Headman did his demonstrations. Maryanne and I generally prefer our own method of wandering around and introducing ourselves to people, but we understand that, had there actually been a couple of busloads in attendance, that could have been a bit chaotic for the villagers. At any rate, our guy was a natural showman with a broad smile who cracked one joke after another as he showed us their way of life. We were also impressed by how musical everyone was. It seemed three-quarters of the village could play some type of instrument, and they were all really good at it, too. As we were leaving, Maryanne and I even managed to sneak in some one-on-one time after all. Everybody was very nice and seemed to genuinely appreciate or interest.
William next took us to a waterfall and then a sea turtle sanctuary, where we got to play with iguanas and big coconut crabs. Each time he told us to direct the staff to him for the entry fees.
Rarru Cascades/Waterfalls, Eden on the River, Rentapao River
Iguana, coconut crab, and Turtles, at the Avi Bay Turtle Sanctuary
After all this, I was starting to wane, as I wasn't sure I was completely recovered from my cold yet. William was keen to complete a lap of Efate and convinced us to carry on with promises of an interesting cave up north. Our main concern was our CO2 cylinder. There had been many delays in its filling and it was now waiting for us at the brewery. Today was to be our last day in Port Vila, so we really wanted to make sure we were at the brewery to pick it up by closing time. William assured us we could make it. Sure, why not?
After a recent earthquake, kayaking within the cave has been suspended - but you can still mail a postcard if you feel so inclined!
The cave, apparently the biggest on Efate, turned out to be a bit of a dud. We paid 1,000 Vatu (~$8US) each to get in, only to discover you can see the whole thing from just inside the entrance. We were done in five minutes. At least we could hit the road again.
The one room war museum is a collection of artifacts left behind by the American soldiers based here in WWII
It was early afternoon as we closed on Port Vila. Schools were starting to let out and some businesses were closing. There was an increase in traffic, which was almost entirely flowing from the city. Since William's day job is bus driver, he asked if it would be okay if he picked up a couple of fares. Sure, as long as we can still make it to Tusker in time.
The first woman, who had been visiting her family for the day, said she had been waiting a very long time for a ride back into the city. Same with the next man who boarded. We were glad we hadn't encouraged William to leave them behind.
The bus system in Port Vila is fun in the way that taking the subway in New York at rush hour is fun. That is to say it's not comfortable or relaxing, but it sure is entertaining.
Public transportation here consists entirely of shared minibus taxis. They have no fixed routes or schedules. The way you get where you want to go is to flag one down and ask the driver if he'll take you there. That's the way people like Maryanne and I have to do it anyway. That's the way we met William the first time.
The process goes like this: You see a cab with "B" plates (for "bus") and wave at the driver to stop. They roll down the window in front of the passenger sitting next to them. You say something like, "Hi, we're trying to get to the big hardware store at the edge of town so we can buy a new bucket with a shiny chrome handle. Would you happen to be going that way?"
"No problem," comes the response. "I just have to drop a couple of people off first, and then we'll get you right there. Climb in."
"Gee, thanks, Mister!"
And then a bunch of people rearrange themselves to make room for the new arrivals.
We quickly noticed that, for savvy locals, these entire conversations consist of one second of eye contact, followed by a barely perceptible nod. Many times, the bus doesn't even have to stop. William explained that a lot of the drivers and passengers eventually recognize each other and know each other's habits.
He picked up a kid without even looking at him. When we asked why, William explained that he always goes home from school about this time. He needed a ride.
"What about the other twenty people who were standing there, also needing a ride"
"They aren't going the same direction."
Somehow, they all knew that, without anyone saying a word. Quite entertaining.
As we approached the outskirts of Port Vila, traffic started to get bad. It's always bad in the daytime. Maryanne and I started to get re-nervous about making it to Tusker Brewery in time for closing.
This is when William pulled out a few proper Boston Cab Driver moves. He pulled off the road, drove through a gas station and two strip-mall parking lots at speed, then rejoined traffic a hundred spots ahead.
He wasn't done. At other points, he left the road to drive through a ditch and over parts of a sidewalk behind the roadside stalls.
We got to Tusker with ten minutes to spare, at the expense of his suspension and our general sense of well-being. Then we all waited for Maryanne to go inside and collect our CO2 cylinder. We apologized profusely to the other passengers for the delay, but they were all completely nonplussed by it. A few said they would rather be in a seat than standing on the side of the road in the sun.
The same thing happened again when we popped into the Bon Marche, in Nambatu, to buy a case of beer. We offered to walk back to the marina from there, but William had promised to swing by Bon Marche for us earlier, so he was happy to wait. Neither of the other passengers seemed to be bothered. Again, getting on the right bus was three-quarters of the battle for them.
The store was incredible! It was better even than the big store in Labasa, Fiji. It was like a pair of Costcos that had knocked out the wall between them. It stocked supplies from both New Zealand, and French Polynesian stores - so had pretty much EVERYTHING we'd been struggling to find. Oh, we should have skipped provisioning in Denerau and held out until we were here! There was no time to revel in it. We swiped the first case of beer we saw and headed for the checkout.
Then it was our turn to wait. We dropped off the others, and then William took us back to the marina. True to his word, he never asked for another cent, after having shuttled us around all day. We parted with hugs and well-wishes all around.
Whew! What a day. Maryanne and I were exhausted and in no mood to cook, so we decided to drop off our stuff at the boat and then head out for dinner to a nearby pizza place that Maryanne had seen between the marina and Bon Marche.
We followed the signs and it quickly became apparent that our pizza joint was more of a pizza restaurant. That turned into a fine Italian Restaurant by the time we were seated with a flourish by or waitress. The place seems to be catering to the monied patrons of the adjacent casino.
The menu began with a two-page bio of the chef, who has studied in many regions and worked for very many important people. It then went on at length about how every item was specially infused with this, or flash-braised in that. Two paragraphs for an egg sandwich? Oh, dear. How do I explain this to the waitress?
Me (in my best California accent, ala Jeff Spicoli): "Duuuude! I don't think we're, like, your target demographic... We're just really high right now and we need some carbs."
We weren't.
Maryanne and I muddled through, doing our best impersonations of respectable people. The pizza and everything else we ordered was very delicious. It appears all that chef-ery wasn't wasted on us after all.
Where are you Going?
That was the question our driver, William, put to me in Port Vila as we parted ways for the last time. That's when I looked him in the face and lied to him. I didn't do it because of him. I did it because Maryanne was right there looking at me. I've been trying to keep that particular cat in the bag for months.
As we were leaving Port Vila, Maryanne asked me why, if we were supposed to be sailing such a long way, had I not un-bagged the mainsail or set up any of the rigging?
"Shaddap!"
"What?"
"Nothing. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. We'll be there in a few minutes."
"Where, exactly?"
"Shaddup!"
"What?"
"Nothing! I can't remember exactly where we are going. I just know we're almost there."
That should throw her off...
A few minutes later, we dropped anchor in front of The Beach Bar, in Mele Bay (Still on Efate Island). Dammit! There goes that cat!
The Beach Bar Vanuatu is a pretty nice bar/restaurant in its own right, but its Friday Night Fireshow is the best we have ever seen, hands down. That's the reason we are here. I said many effusive things about our last visit at the time. I was wrong. It's better than that. I'm just crap at conveying it.
Because of our last experience here, every time we see some sort of fire show or fire dancing advertised, we always make a point of attending. After sailing all the way around the entire planet, I am convinced nothing even approaches the show held here, at a small beach bar on the outskirts of the capital city of a country most people have never heard of. Since we were crossing the North Atlantic, three-and-a-half years ago, it has been totally worth sailing across the other half of the globe to get here. Returning was non-negotiable. I've been looking forward to this for months and specifically wheedling for us to be here on this particular weekend.
Maryanne has not been making it easy for me. She also knows about the fire show, of course, and spent much of our time in Port Vila dropping increasingly big hints about how she would really like to get a bus to Mele so that we can see it sometime before we leave again for who knows how long.
I was thus forced to spend my time grumbling about how it's too far and too much hassle, and we've already seen it anyway, etc.
She says she was actually buying my little act until she looked up after deploying the anchor and recognized where we were: Mele. That's right, Baby! You, Me, Fireshow!!
It gets better.
Back when I went to make a reservation at the restaurant for a table on Friday night, I was asked if I might prefer booking on Saturday instead. It should be quieter because, even though they are having an extra performance of the same exact show that particular week, they're not advertising that one.
What?!?! TWO fire shows in two days?! Yes, please! We'll stand with the crowds on Friday and come back the next day for a generous dinner. Perfect! That doubles my chance of giving Maryanne the fireworks she deserves.
A fine beach, and two nights of fire show (with cocktails!) at Mele bay to celebrate my 60th Birthday
The shows were even better than we remembered. Maryanne and I were on our feet for five hours straight after staking out a vantagepoint for the first show. We didn't even notice, we were having so much fun. The second day, we had the prescience to bring a couple of floating cushions, which we used to claim the best two seats in the place, while we ate a generous and delicious meal at a nearby table. Being experts now at the show, who know exactly which cues lead up to each crescendos, did nothing to diminish our glee at not having to wait another seven years to see the best fire show on Earth for our third time.
It gets better.
On the next day, Sunday, the same acrobat/dance troupe, Vanua Fire, does a non-fire show they call the Sunset Circus. This gave us a third chance to drop off fistfuls of well-earned cash at The Beach Bar Vanuatu, saving our biggest notes for the Vanua Fire collection bucket. We couldn't have been happier to do so. They are worth everything we could give them.
Circus night (and additional cocktails)
During a midday break in the festivities, Maryanne and I also took a meandering walk in the direction of the Mele village center. We heard music and headed toward it, eventually spotting large groups of ni-Vanuatu standing around, socializing. It felt good to us to get away from the throngs of fellow foreigners at the big tourist attraction and step back into the real Vanuatu.
In typical Vanuatu fashion, even though we were clearly the only two people who were not from around here, instead of giving us the stink-eye or acting suspicious of us, we were heartily waved over. A group of tattooed young men greeted us with big smiles, asked us if we were enjoying our day. then they chitchatted with us for a while before wishing us well on our travels. A second man explained that the festivities were part of weeklong celebrations leading up to a wedding and no, we weren't intruding in any way, feel free to mingle. Another woman later clarified that it was actually a double wedding of two brothers. She then went on to patiently explain all the traditions involved to us. She treated us more like long-missed family than complete strangers.
Overall, it looks like our stop in Mele was a hit.
Anchorage location >> On google maps
