BEWARE THE TOMATO SOUP

At the end of my first year of teaching in PNG in 1964, I was getting used to living away from home in another country. I had made quite a few friends and I was having fun. I was living in a women's hostel where our meals were provided in a communal dinning room. One evening we were served tomato soup as a starter. It tasted quite nice but I felt something crunchy enter my mouth. At first I thought it might have been a piece of parsley so kept on chewing on it but it didn't taste like parsley. When no one was looking I discreetly spat out the crunch into my soup spoon. Upon examination I was horrified to see a half chewed up cockroach sitting in my spoon. I promptly put off all my friends at the table from completing their meal by telling them that I had found a cockroach in my soup.
Needless to say the hygiene in the kitchen wasn't the best.  Just to prove that point a few months later I became very ill and I was diagnosed with hepatitis. I couldn't keep anything down and I turned yellow. I was admitted to hospital and isolated. I was looked after well in the hospital and after a few weeks I was almost better and allowed to go back to the hostel and work.
I even managed another weekend outing to visit the village of Riga on their show day where they display their traditional culture in houses, art, dress and dances.

 Tradition Riga village houses.

I was amused to see the bicycle, ice cream carts which were in contrast to the ancient culture of the native people.

I tired easily and suffered from the heat as I was still weak after being so sick. Luckily a few weeks later it was end of year school break and I returned home to Sydney on leave for six weeks. I was pretty tired and run down but my Mum brought me back to good health again ready to return to PNG the following February. I was happy to return but I was determined to find better accommodation. 

YELLOW, DROWNED RATS

Towards the end of 1964, I had been living in PNG for about 9 months. I had made friends with a bunch of nice people. We belonged to the Pt Moresby Judo Club and we went on outings on the weekends on our motor scooters. However, I became quite ill and ended up in the isolation ward in hospital. (That's another story.) I recovered in time to go on end of year leave back home. When I returned I didn't rejoin the judo club and so these photos are the last of those outings. 

Once again we scootered up the dirt road Sogeri for a picnic at Crystal Rapids. We stopped on the way for a cool drink at the Roana Hotel. Notice we are wearing our club yellow shirts. There follows a story about those shirts.

At Crystal rapids the water skimmed over the slippery rocks and bubbled like crystals in the sun.

 In places there were deep water holes good for swimming if you could brave the cold, cold, mountain stream. It was too cold for me so I took photos while Del contemplated jumping in the cold water but boys being boys didn't give her time to think about getting wet.

 Elwyn preferred to cook the lunch than have a cold swim. 

It was a bit squashy finding room on the steep slope of the river bank to eat our steak sandwiches. I can't say our picnics were very sophisticated but we didn't care.

Elwyn and Pam went for a paddle but found it too slippery and good samaritan Charles went to their rescue. Then it was homeward bound after another fun day.

I have mentioned before, how we decided to form a scooter club and all wear yellow shirts. However, when we went looking to buy a dozen yellow shirts none could be found in any store in Pt Moresby but there were plenty of white ones. So we bought white shirts and dyed them yellow. However, I don't think we followed the instructions too well.

For the first few trips the shirts were fine but on one time we set off up the ranges when suddenly storm clouds rolled over the mountains and the tropical downpour drenched us to the skin on our scooters. We gingerly manoeuvred along the muddy, slippery road until we reached the safety of the Roana Hotel. We looked like a bunch of drowned rats, YELLOW drowned rats. The yellow dye had run out of the shirts all down into our pants, our socks and into our underwear and skin. Luckily we had towels with us for a swim and I always carried a light jacket in my saddlebags which had kept out the rain. 

 So we went to the bathroom and tried to dry ourselves and put on what few dry clothes we had. Not the best attire for a hotel but luckily the hosts were understanding. We stayed there until the storm was over  and the sun came out to dry up the road a bit before we ventured further on.

 Needless to say the yellow shirts ended up in the bin and we returned to everyday wear for our future trips. (Del, Elwyn, me, Pam and Graham.)

Fooling around in the gardens of the Roana Hotel pretending to be kids. It has been fun remembering the great times I had with this crowd during my first year in PNG. (Bob, me and  Graham.)