The Global Volunteer: Part 2 – Arriving in Country

 As we stepped into Bauerfield Airport in Port Vila at midnight on a Saturday we were greeted by a four piece string band. I defy anyone on 2 legs to actually stand still and ignore a string band! So the sight of all the passengers of the 737 swinging and bopping along in the arrivals hall was quite amusing. At this particular airport there is always a string band playing island music to greet newcomers and returnees. It really diverts you from the fact that there are only 2 desks to handle immigration cards and 2 customs officials to deal with incoming cargo! Who cares how long it takes if you can bop along to a string band?

From the airport we hop a cab (which would never meet Australia’s road worthiness certification) to our accommodation at one of the local hotels. Now I am not talking the Sofitel or the Rotana here – this was a really basic motel style resort that you would find in one of the tourist villages down a dirt track on the coast of Australia. Probably built in the 50’s, refurbished in the 70’s and left to cope with the tropical elements since then. The manager had stayed up till 1.30am to greet us and the staff were all lined up and waiting to take us to our rooms. They were curious about us and very interested in welcoming us and making us feel right at home. We had our first introduction to the local language, Bislama, a sort of pidgin English/French and local language mixture.

The people of Vanuatu were voted the happiest people on Earth the year we arrived there and I have to say they were just lovely – welcoming, smiling, gracious and understated, shy people. After escorting us to our rooms they disappeared into the night and we settled to sleep. Ah, but sleeping was not part of the plan in Vila that night. You see the French had been playing the Italians in the final of the World Cup and the town had taken sides. The Francophone community naturally aligning with France and everyone else in town including Australians, Americans, Germans and who knows else, were backing anyone to beat the French. When the Italians beat the French 5-3 the town exploded and there were convoys of young men driving around town hooting their horns and loudly celebrating the defeat of the French, who it appears are becoming less and less popular in the town!