Today is Saturday, and I'm finally getting over Thursday's birthday celebrations. I'm not sure it should be this much hard work.
It all started with a taxi to the Melé cascades - amazingly beautiful waterfalls coming off a lush green mountainside into pools of cool, clear water. perfect for swimming, soaking and generally lounging around.
"I'll be back for you in an hour" threatened our taxi driver.
"Make that two hours" said we. We were still late arriving back, such was the luxury of the rainforest pools.
Back to the hotel for a few drinks too many, poolside. We were joined by the lovely kiwis, who happily showed me the naked photo's they had taken at the waterfalls the day before. Seems I was there a day too late....
The afternoon soon became evening and, after a coconut shell or two of Kava (makes your tongue curiously numb) we headed out to the hot spots of Port Vila.
Waking up yesterday with a raging hangover was bad enough. Having to fly to Nouméa was even harder. That said, I had a little ego boost at the airport.
I was stood on the roof of the airport at Port Vila (Bauerfield International, flight fans) waiting for the incoming plane from Nouméa before I went through security (once bitten, and all that). A young Melanesian guy, early twenties, approached me.
After tales of his island (where, it would seem, everyone is largely naked but the men wear just penis gourds) he popped the question:
"You married sir?"
"No, not me"
"Me either". I was getting an idea of where this was heading.
"I have been reading about Europe. I like European men."
"Do you?". I'm now wishing my flight would land so that I can leave....
"I like all European men. But not Hitler. I think he is crazy"
"You may have a point there"
"You going to Nouméa tonight?"
"Shame. We could have had some fun. I like fat European men".
Nice. Strangely enough, I left at this point.