Port Vila – Vanuatu

Now I have almost already pushed the last days of New Caledonia, or rather Nouméa, out of my mind again. That happens quickly when you are on the move. That is why I try to write as fast as possible, to still have things fresh and half formed in my head. Unfortunately, when you find something really wonderful and already know it will soon be over, time slips through your fingers like sand. It passes so quickly, and that makes one slightly melancholic several days in advance already. At least it does for me. That is how it was with me and Nouméa, the last days in Nouméa. What can I say, I tried to imprint as much as possible on my mind, of the city and of the beach, Lemon Beach. Soaking it in and branding it into my brain through music and images.

Unfortunately, the weather was no longer good enough for a boat trip, or rather, at midday I would get a yes yes, tomorrow we go, and in the evening a no, actually not. Too bad. I would have liked to head out once more and see another island. So Amédée is missing. I could still have done Îlot Canard or so much else, but I settled for Lemon Beach. I have saved the rest for next time, as usual. I think it would be worth coming back with a bit more preparation, a renewed diving licence, and perhaps a bicycle.

As had become usual in New Caledonia, my departure was moved as well, to an earlier time, which meant no drama. I received four emails a day telling me so, already four days in advance. So everything nice and relaxed. Two coffees in the morning at my new café, I was already missing my atrium a little, and then one last look at Lemon Beach, and off I went to the airport. Why did I not do the islands after all? Well, one look at the departure board, all flights cancelled. Phew. It is quite difficult to do something spontaneous on this island when time is running out. If I were to plan it again, I would spend more time on the island and bring my bicycle, but it is what it is, and there I was already at the airport.

There was not much going on, and then I already know what that means, everyone gets looked at a little more closely. My second bag would not count as hand luggage, she said. The bag in which I carry all my batteries. And after she put it on the scale, she was right, too heavy. I was briefly tempted to repack, but then thought I should first check the old wisdom, two operators, two interpretations, and sure enough, the young man at the counter looked at my luggage and said fine, you have two bags, somebody else has none, it is okay, and in it went. I repacked the batteries beforehand. Ne problem pas. And after a triple customs inspection, including questions about cash in German, I finally sat on the plane, next to me a man of the sort man, legs spread wide, loud, he could have brushed his teeth. Ah well, sometimes you have no luck, and sometimes you get bad luck on top of it. The flight over New Caledonia, oh man, I really left something behind there. That island is incredible, and I have to come back.

So now New Zealand, South Island, and New Caledonia are on the list: I have to go back there. Let us see whether anything else gets added.

I had looked at the weather for the coming days, according to the app rather rainy, and my two minute bit of research told me: do yourself a favor, get cash at the airport and do not forget the mosquito spray. You are heading into a malaria area. So, best possible conditions. Then I looked around for a hotel, and a place on an island caught my eye, Iririki, with sea view and on the sunset side, and I thought to myself, why not. Port Vila in Vanuatu on an island, why not indeed. And that choice was as good and as bad as it could possibly have been.

But first, Vanuatu. Who does not know it. The South Seas paradise? Vanuatu is not a single island paradise, but a Melanesian island state made up of 83 islands whose appeal lies less in perfection than in its rough, vivid variety. Here one encounters not only tropical water, earthquakes, and volcanoes, but above all a culture in which kastom is still not a museum word, but lived daily life, shaped by ancestral ties, respect, closeness to nature, and passed on knowledge. In Vanuatu, kastom means far more than custom or tradition, it is a lived way of life made up of ancestral knowledge, rituals, rules, and community. If you want to understand the country, you cannot just look at beaches and palm trees, but at what continues to operate beneath it all. Added to that is a linguistic diversity that feels almost unreal. Bislama, English, and French are the official languages, and alongside them there are over 100 local languages in the country. That is exactly what makes Vanuatu so special, because it often feels less prettily polished than other Pacific destinations and instead more direct, more original, and more culturally dense. Anyone who arrives here quickly notices that Vanuatu is not only beautiful, but has a temperature of its own, more village than façade, more reality than backdrop.

So, those are the lines from the brochure. Reality? Well, I am only getting off in Port Vila, for a few nights, so whatever comes, it will be fine. Standard procedure at the airport. First time here? Yes? Where are you from? Welcome to Vanuatu. Anything to declare? No? A tent. Ah come on, go into that customs line, you will get through faster. And that was true. Barely outside, hey, do you need a taxi? First, cash. Ah, the driver will stop for you at the ATM. 2000 VUV to Iririki, normally it would maybe be 1000 VUV, but okay, and off we went, passing a long line of cars in the taxi. The driver immediately started: what do you want to see here? I told him what I thought? He said, I can put together a tour for you, half day, you and me? 15000 VUV. I will think about it, was not the answer he wanted to hear. 12000 VUV. Well, I first need internet, could he give me his number? At that point he was already offended. Even by my standards that was quick. Barely twenty minutes on an island and already someone deeply offended. I would say I set a personal record.

The road was basically one long queue of cars. Passing huts and sea. Port Vila was struck by an earthquake in December 2024, much still has not been restored, and you notice that. Port Vila, the small capital of Vanuatu on Efate, lies on a large natural harbor and feels less like an actual metropolis and more like a tropical gateway to lagoons, islands, markets, and boat trips. Since the earthquake of December 17, 2024, the city has carried visible fractures, because parts of the center were or still are closed for safety reasons, while rebuilding and repairs continue. That is precisely why Port Vila today feels not only beautiful but also vulnerable and resilient, a harbor town that has kept its relaxed face even though everyday life after the quake is still not quite the same. And on some buildings you can see Chinese reconstruction aid, they are very prominently present here. I am just saying.

He dropped me at the bank, then at the boat jetty for the hotel. There I was, briefly disoriented, and immediately someone grabbed my bag and my backpack, quick name check, and I was on the boat to the hotel complex. In the middle of other arrivals and to my greatest delight, my favorites, all Australians. Around me all those naaaarrrs, woader and other dialect peculiarities that I love so incredibly much. In the middle of the boat one of them said, it’s a bit culture shocking here. What exactly he meant? No idea. Probably one of those usual racist remarks they make without really meaning it that way. I briefly thought about keel hauling, right there on the boat, decided against it, no sharks in sight, only lots of little colorful fish, and put my music in my ears so I would not have to listen to that shit, that dialect, any longer.

Hardly at the jetty, and I was already being welcomed with a drink, at least alcohol free, and my luggage was driven to my room. I was allowed to walk. Not, however, before first getting an introduction to the really large complex. Given by a friendly older Australian lady who seems to greet everyone here and tell the other staff to do whatever it is they are supposed to do. I was a little overwhelmed, since I am more the type: you want to carry my suitcase, careful, it is heavy, can I take it off you. But fine, after I toned down my usual gait and let the introduction wash over me, I was finally allowed to make my way to my room.

I now also know why I got it at a special price. Excavators outside the window and barely any internet in the room, but an excellent view of the sunset. Who needs Wi Fi in the room when there is a whirlpool on the sunset terrace. And the excavator, earbuds in, excavator gone. High class resort with a snorkeling cove for a low budget price. Works for me. Elsewhere you have playgrounds shoved in your face. Breakfast included, from 7:30 am to 10 am. But this morning I had to realize that this is Australian shaped, which means that if you show up at 9, everyone has already had breakfast. Yes, they all get up that early, at least that way I do not have to hear the naaaarrrs. But, and much worse, English breakfast. Ugh. You found colonies all over the world, trade because of spices and tea, and the one thing you manage to produce is what? This? Culinary culture for the bin. And they make fun of continental breakfast. There you stand in front of baked bean mush with bacon and some egg that has been violated and all you want is a Nutella roll. Just one.

Contrary to my usual habits, I did not run around Port Vila like a madman. I do not have that much time, so instead I booked a few tours for the next days and used today just to look around a little, just a tiny bit. I went shopping briefly and what can I say, the supermarkets are different, very different. The shelves are not so full, and what you find is not exactly what you are used to getting. I still need to get a feel for it, but they are proud of what they produce, their beer, their beef, and their sweet potato.

Otherwise I spent the day pumping iron. They have a gym here above the resort beach, and I had to occupy it for two hours. Somehow I was in the mood for maximum strength training, with lots of sitting around and staring at the sea. Somehow I have not become weaker over the last weeks. Actually it is like this: when you switch from a type of training such as the isolation training of the last weeks, so that the biceps would not shrink too much, back to free weights, the neural pathways first have to relearn. Neuromuscular coordination is what that is called in the jargon. Judging by the weights I pushed today, I am satisfied with my progress, that was already powerful. And for a hotel gym they have a surprisingly good amount of weight plates lying around, nice. Then I went snorkeling as well. Not quite like an island in New Caledonia, but those are special too. Here you have to swim more to see the same thing, but it was beautiful as well. In that spirit.