Papua New Guinea, to help prepare us for the next chapter in our happy and unforgettable marriage.
All my love,
L xxxx
•••
To mark our imminent departure from Papua New Guinea, Julian and I decided to go on a long walk from Goroka down to the Ramu Valley with a group of local guides. We had initially talked about going on a boat trip up the mighty Sepik River – Julian had never been and it was one place he really wanted to see. But ultimately, we both wanted a real adventure, to do something we would never forget. We arranged that George would stay in Port Moresby with Nina.
I always knew most Papua New Guineans who lived a subsistence life in the mountains were robust, but on this expeditionthe resilience and good humour of our guides was extraordinary. It wasn’t actually a walk, more a bush-bashing scramble up and down ridges, hanging on to slippery tree vines and trying not to look down into the chasms below. At night we camped in heavy rain, our meagre tent buckling under sheets of water, the incessant noise of the forest animals making it almost impossible to sleep.
The guides’ consideration of my poor agility knew no bounds – wherever I looked there was always an outstretched hand to steady me across a precipitous log or help me find my footing in the mud. We even took a young boy of six whose father was accompanying us, and watched in awe as he deftly negotiated spindly rope bridges over raging rivers without a moment’s hesitation.
One night we stayed in a remote hillside hamlet consisting of two tiny, almost bare woven huts where a middle-aged man lived with his two largely silent wives. As darkness fell and the rains came once again, the temperatures dropped dramatically and we were grateful to be given space to sleep by the smoking fire. We shared our food with the family and in turn they offered us what tasted like cooked meat from the hearth, although what we were eating was impossible to see. When we were packing up in the morning, I asked one of the guides if we should give them anything to say thank you.
‘Do you have any shoes?’
Sporting a pair of Julian’s old sandals, our host gave us a rousing farewell. I could hear his long cries echoing down the mountain as we slowly made our way towards the coast.
Filthy, tired and damp, we ploughed on until we reached the bottom of the Ramu Valley. There was little point in looking back to see how far we’d come – the forest was so dense. We then made our way by road to the northern coastal town of Madang, where Nina and George were waiting for us at a beach resort, and spent three heavenly days swimming in the pristine ocean and recovering from the trek. It was now only a matter of weeks before we would ship all our possessions back to Australia and begin another life.
•••
Sadness washed through me as we packed up the house and gradually said goodbye to all our friends.
•••
The moment I dreaded most was leaving Nina. Her loving constancy and good humour were qualities I had come to rely on to lift me during my darker days, and I wondered how George would grieve for her when he realised the finality of our departure. Having been such a powerful presence in Julian’s family for more than twenty years, I knew our departure weighed heavily upon Nina and as the time grewcloser, neither of us could speak about our uncertain futures without tears
On one of our first ‘dates’, Julian and I had decided to see a play at the University of Papua New Guinea Arts Theatre on the other side of town. When we eventually arrived on the dimly lit campus, I began to have second thoughts about the wisdom of our venture. We slowly cruised around looking for lights that might suggest a performance, but after ten minutes it was clear that we had got the day wrong.
Slowing down outside an open shed, I noticed the partially carved figure of a life-sized woman with a child in her arms.
‘Look at that,’ I said. ‘It’s beautiful.’
I
All my love,
L xxxx
•••
To mark our imminent departure from Papua New Guinea, Julian and I decided to go on a long walk from Goroka down to the Ramu Valley with a group of local guides. We had initially talked about going on a boat trip up the mighty Sepik River – Julian had never been and it was one place he really wanted to see. But ultimately, we both wanted a real adventure, to do something we would never forget. We arranged that George would stay in Port Moresby with Nina.
I always knew most Papua New Guineans who lived a subsistence life in the mountains were robust, but on this expeditionthe resilience and good humour of our guides was extraordinary. It wasn’t actually a walk, more a bush-bashing scramble up and down ridges, hanging on to slippery tree vines and trying not to look down into the chasms below. At night we camped in heavy rain, our meagre tent buckling under sheets of water, the incessant noise of the forest animals making it almost impossible to sleep.
The guides’ consideration of my poor agility knew no bounds – wherever I looked there was always an outstretched hand to steady me across a precipitous log or help me find my footing in the mud. We even took a young boy of six whose father was accompanying us, and watched in awe as he deftly negotiated spindly rope bridges over raging rivers without a moment’s hesitation.
One night we stayed in a remote hillside hamlet consisting of two tiny, almost bare woven huts where a middle-aged man lived with his two largely silent wives. As darkness fell and the rains came once again, the temperatures dropped dramatically and we were grateful to be given space to sleep by the smoking fire. We shared our food with the family and in turn they offered us what tasted like cooked meat from the hearth, although what we were eating was impossible to see. When we were packing up in the morning, I asked one of the guides if we should give them anything to say thank you.
‘Do you have any shoes?’
Sporting a pair of Julian’s old sandals, our host gave us a rousing farewell. I could hear his long cries echoing down the mountain as we slowly made our way towards the coast.
Filthy, tired and damp, we ploughed on until we reached the bottom of the Ramu Valley. There was little point in looking back to see how far we’d come – the forest was so dense. We then made our way by road to the northern coastal town of Madang, where Nina and George were waiting for us at a beach resort, and spent three heavenly days swimming in the pristine ocean and recovering from the trek. It was now only a matter of weeks before we would ship all our possessions back to Australia and begin another life.
•••
Sadness washed through me as we packed up the house and gradually said goodbye to all our friends.
•••
The moment I dreaded most was leaving Nina. Her loving constancy and good humour were qualities I had come to rely on to lift me during my darker days, and I wondered how George would grieve for her when he realised the finality of our departure. Having been such a powerful presence in Julian’s family for more than twenty years, I knew our departure weighed heavily upon Nina and as the time grewcloser, neither of us could speak about our uncertain futures without tears
On one of our first ‘dates’, Julian and I had decided to see a play at the University of Papua New Guinea Arts Theatre on the other side of town. When we eventually arrived on the dimly lit campus, I began to have second thoughts about the wisdom of our venture. We slowly cruised around looking for lights that might suggest a performance, but after ten minutes it was clear that we had got the day wrong.
Slowing down outside an open shed, I noticed the partially carved figure of a life-sized woman with a child in her arms.
‘Look at that,’ I said. ‘It’s beautiful.’
I
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