Vanuatu Unplugged
A Pacific crossing can bring the lucky cruiser to many pockets of paradise. But nowhere did we experience quite the raw, unadulterated version we found in Vanuatu: paradise unplugged. No power, no price tags, no Internet. Lush, green mountains where nature is king. A way of life that is both exotic and accessible. Visiting Vanuatu is like stepping into a photo spread of National Geographic magazine: we saw grass skirts, fierce face paint and fiery volcanoes, all up close and personal. It’s a place where some people worship a bizarre cargo cult and the national newspaper covers allegations of witchcraft in local sports competitions. What’s not to love?
The minute we stepped ashore in Anatom, we realized that Vanuatu is different than its Melanesian neighbors. Our first impression was of a reserved population, particularly in contrast to the outgoing Fijians. Our reception in the village of Anelcauhat was polite but muted; people waved absently and went around their business, leaving us to go about ours. Lesson 1: Vanuatu Is Not Fiji. Nor is it New Caledonia, with its paved roads and first-world services. If Fiji made us feel like royalty and New Caledonia made us feel like tourists, the people of Vanuatu made us feel like neighbors. We were left to wander, pursue our own interests, and generally observe daily life like over-sized flies on the wall. With time, we were also able to develop closer friendships with individuals, but no where else did we find the instant, easy acceptance that southern Vanuatu offered us.
We had spent the previous cyclone season in New Zealand, where outdoor activities are smoothly packaged and peddled. In Vanuatu, a minor tourist economy exists, but it’s all in local, amateur hands. Advertising consists of a guy named Colin in a dugout canoe, inviting you to a roast pig feast. Which brings me to Lesson 2: There Is No Middleman. Doing “business” is like drinking from a pure mountain stream: the water trickles, clear and cool, straight from the source to the throat of the thirsty consumer. Delicious.
Not long after, we sailed north to the island of Tanna. Tanna is a lot of things, but to us, it was the island of the most incredible 24 hours of our entire Pacific crossing. Things began on a Thursday at 3pm, when a rattling pick-up bounced us over hill, dale, and gully to visit the nearby hot spots - literally. First up was a village with steaming hot vents; the people there are members of a fascinating cargo cult set in motion by a mysterious 1936 foreign visitor named Jon Frum (a bizarre story milked to the hilt by Jimmy Buffett in his novel, A Salty Piece of Land).
Next up: Mount Yasur, an active volcano. Very active! We climbed to the crater rim just in time for sunset and a spectacular nighttime sound-and-light show. Our nine year old son called it the scariest and most amazing thing he’s ever seen, and we adults agreed. The earth shakes and the mountain roars while the crater spews cow-sized chunks of orange-red lava into the sky. We were torn between staring into the mesmerizing red glow and fleeing for our lives. Safe? Kind of. Given the number of flip-flop shod tourists who make it home alive every year (entire families, including babies in little snuggle packs, all watching the pretty lava go up and down), it seems safe enough. Our guide assured us that the national park authorities enacted safety measures after two people died there in the early 1990‘s; visitors are no longer allowed as far as the rim if activity exceeds a “gentle” level two.
Mount Yasur was a spectacle of nature, and we were privileged to observe its cultural counterpoint early the next morning. A local boy was celebrating his coming of age, and the whole village was invited - including the crews of the eight boats in the bay. Think National Geographic: grass skirts, squealing pigs, ground-stomping dances. A picture of worth a thousand words, and haven taken about 500 that morning, I’ll let the shots speak for themselves. Yes, a bit of western culture has crept in: women use commercial dyes to color their grass skirts, and the master of ceremonies wore Nikes under his sarong. But those are small distractions; the overall impression is of a timeless ceremony from the far side of the world.
But our busy social calendar was not yet complete, because we had agreed to a feast at noon. Our hosts, Nelson, Vivian, and Lea, explained that while primary education is free in Vanuatu, secondary school is extremely expensive - to the tune of US$500 per student per year. Hence the feasts they offer for a very fair $5, featuring traditional dishes like sticky laplap served on beautifully woven palm leaf plates, not to mention the obligatory roast pig. Did I say tourist economy? Scratch that. These family efforts have more in common with bake sales: honest fundraisers to bring in cash earmarked for a specific purpose. Our hosts were quick to point out that they live well off their lush land and rich seas; their principle cash expenses are education and medicine.
By 3pm Friday, we had enough impressions to last a week, and spent the next days decompressing in the familiar comfort of our floating home. It was during that time that we got to know Tom, a quiet local who paddled over asking to borrow tools. It’s not something we do lightly when the nearest Home Depot is roughly 6000 miles away, but Tom was good as his word, returning the tools the very next day. In return, Tom invited us to the late afternoon kava hour at the nakamal, the village meeting ground. That is to say, he invited my husband, Markus; it’s a boy thing. Sorry, ladies, you’ll have to miss out on drinking mud-colored, mildly hallucinogenic liquid chewed and spit out by the two guys over there. Shucks. Markus described it as a hushed, ritual-heavy, Happy-Hour-meets-boy’s-smoking-club and council meeting. After all, people who lack Major League Baseball and sports bars need their own release. Or do we North Americans have MLB and sports bars because we don’t have kava? Lesson 3: It’s All About Perspective.
We thank the people of Vanuatu for their wonderful hospitality and wish them a smooth road to recovery after Cyclone Pam.