June 10 Wednesday: I stayed in bed until 6:30 but was awake earlier. Took down my tent, packed my bag up and headed outside. The women were all singing religious songs as they cooked. After another filling breakfast with the men, we headed back to the river and our boat. An elderly woman was riding down stream with us and we were going to get out and walk a portion of the way ourselves. Riding in the boat yesterday I found it somewhat amusing that every time we passed people on the riverbanks, people in the canoe would shout out greetings and messages to them. We could barely make out what someone at the front of the boat was saying to us in the back, so I figured they were talking to themselves when they yelled to the riverbanks. But when you are on the banks themselves, you can quite easily make out what is said on the water, and the distance sorts out the engine noise enough to aid that process. They apparently have learned this from experience and it makes a good deal of sense when I think about it. We did eventually get out of the boat and walk a section through the jungle. The bird sounds are incessant and obviously nearby, but we only glimpsed hornbills and cockatoos, as before. After walking about an hour we emerged on the far bank within sight of Apu Apu village. There were two canoes waiting for us and so we were ferried across. As we approached the drums started up and a group of dancers came to the shore to greet me. They were outfitted in colorful costumes of flowers and feathers and I had to climb from the canoe and make my way through them. Tommy lead me to a house that had been specially prepared for us and after climbing the ladder I watched as they did three more dances, with Marcel describing what the dances meant. They left after that and we set up our sleeping arrangements including my tent. I soon was called to witness the various stages of processing sago since it is such a staple in their lives and diets. First, we came to a felled sago palm where they were using a wood mallet to mash the fiberous trunk into smaller strands. These were similar in color and size to good sized yellow string beans. When a large pile of these had been gathered the operation moved over to an actual sago press/trough. They will continue until the entire sago trunk has been chopped up. At the press the loose sago is added at the top, a filter of banana and palm branches is set halfway down and a banana leaf catch basin sits at the bottom. As bowl fulls of water are added at the trough top, the sago is kneaded and a milky juice filters down to the catch basin. This is repeated until the catch basin is filled with milky water. Then everything is let to settle. We went and had dinner during this time. At the end of dinner a young boy brought in a three foot crocodile he had caught and I got a picture before he headed off to kill the creature. We returned to see the next part of the sago process. The sago had indeed settled and the water was poured off, leaving a cake of sago at the bottom of the banana leaves. This was scooped up into a seperate bag and taken over to the open air kitchen for baking, frying, etc. The process can be repeated until the sago pulp is no longer producing milky runoff and sago paste. As a special treat, they brought out the village generator and set up a couple speakers, tv and dvd player. We listened to a cd of songs from the area that was recently recorded right there in the village and is being pressed in Moresby right now for public sale. Then they had a couple dvd's of PNG music videos, most of the music seems to be heavily reggae influenced with some r n b thrown in. After the music was done, they wanted to watch a movie and what they had was the first season of a miniseries from HBO or one of those about Rome. Rome or Empire was the title. They watched about four hours worth. I was fading out after a couple and had to wonder how much of that they were understanding. It certainly was not high class, historical work in any case and if I had had more time I would have liked to find out what they thought was going on in the film.

June 11 Thursday; I awoke at 6:30 again. My hips are not accustomed to sleeping on hard floors with a few straw mats on top of it and despite my sleeping bag in addition to what they have available, I am sore. It continued to rain most of the night so the guides confirmed their decision to head back up river and take an upper trail to avoid the swamp. They say if we take the swamp we will be wading chest deep in sections and that is a no go with all our packs. While we waited for breakfast a tribesman who had been out hunting came into the village and said he shot two pigs on the far side of the river. Excitement all around! Tommy, Wally, myself, 6 other guys, and several younger boys hopped into a boat and crossed over to retrieve a pig. While he had hit both pigs, one ran off and they would search for it with the dogs later in the afternoon after we were gone. A ten minute walk/machete chop into the woods brought us to the fallen boar, a husky healthy specimen resting in the mud. The guys quickly had its legs tied with vines, a vine through its mouth and another set of vines around its midsection. Then a small palm was chopped down to get a pole to carry the pig on. Since it was such a large beast the guys frequently changed places, but the pig never stopped moving and we got out of the jungle faster than we went in. With the pig secured in the boat we headed back to Apu Apu. Lots of people came for an appreciative look and to congratulate the hunter. Palm and banana leaves were spread out, the pig was put down on them and washed off as best you can with dirty river water and the butchering process began at once. We got called to breakfast shortly thereafter and my dilemma began: I knew as guest of honor they would try and get some of the pig to us to have with our breakfast. I ate quickly and gorged myself on sago, green banana, rice, sweet potato, etc. They confirmed that they were boiling some for us and that we could take it to have with our lunch, since breakfast was clearly over. In less than an hour the pig had been completely dismantled and divided amongst the various families in the village. It is rather disgusting to see so many pieces of meat with hair still on it, the flies indiscriminately walking all over it, etc.

As we got into the boat to leave, the last thing to get loaded on was a portion of pig meat for the crew members. And a small package for us to celebrate the morning with. That turned out to be boiled pieces of pig heart and I was doled out a portion. I have never had pork before and people always tell me how great it is in its various incarnations of bacon, ham, snout, pepperoni, hooves, etc. I have not been tempted. But given what the pig meant to the village and the honor they were giving me as a co-participant in their lives over the past few days, I made an effort. As I said it had been boiled, there was no seasoning, just meat. I managed three bites and it was all I could handle. I had this overwhelming sense of taste and smell that shouted swamp. Since so much of their food is bland this was a powerful sensation and stuck with me the rest of the day with a thankful respite when I had some black currant juice during our late lunch on the trail. What I didn't eat I dispatched into the jungle when an opportunity arose. It made the guys all happy to see me take part and I do not think they had any idea of the internal battle my stomach and mind were making to keep it from coming back up. They all had large hunks, more for lunch, and still more for dinner, carrying it in their backpacks. **CORRECTION** everywhere I have the name Pukei listed, it should be Putei. My notes and the map are at odds and I think the map wins in this case.

The trek itself was an adventure/ordeal. As already noted we went back upriver to take a higher trail due to the rain. Well, I was only able to wear hiking shoes for about half an hour and by then they were partially wet and I had been carried over water by the guides once. There was a lot of water. I knew continuing with hiking boots was pointless and it was slowing us down to try and make a new trail beside the existing (often flooded) one. So I switched to my sandals. The others were all barefooted by this time having removed their hiking shoes earlier on. The sandals seemed to work okay for awhile, but as we slogged through knee deep water and thick mud, I was still slowing the whole thing down. Every few steps I would be suctioned down in the mud or the sandal toe would catch a vine. This was putting extra strain on my feet and once I realized I was rubbing several spots raw, it was already too late. I went barefoot like everyone else and that was actually the fastest option. I should have done it earlier. The soles of my feet were completely fine and I got no cuts or punctures from going without shoes for a long time. As we waded on mile after mile I could only imagine the other route if this was the dry one. There was definite consolation in knowing that at least this was fresh rainwater and I did not have to worry about leeches, which would have been an issue on the other trail. It took us four hours to finally get out of the deep water. We had lunch in a dry spot and shortly after crossed paths with a group of 10 people walking back to the village we had left that morning. I went back to the sandals for a time, as there was still lots of mud and puddles to get through. The sandals just confirmed that I would have several blisters or raw spots on the tops of my feet by the time I was done for the day. When we came to the hill portion of the days walk, I thankfully put my hiking shoes back on and we covered a lot of ground in the next two hours. That took us to the 'highway': a dirt road connecting Makara and Kerema 67 km apart. The road is impassable during the rainy season, but now it was drying out enough that some vehicles would brave it. We emerged onto the road about 5 km from Makara, which in turn would get us quickly to Moveave and our final resting place for the trip. We were all tired. They said that when the weather is good and the trails dry that would take just over 3 hours. We made it in 6 and a half. I was disappointed that we did not see more birds and animals, but it was clear that they had moved to higher and drier ground and I did hear their calls and sounds throughout the week, so that was something. I also had taken only a few photos during the jungle/water portion of the day, since I was concentrating on not falling in. But it was a great experience and I am glad to have done it. We had another feast for dinner, told stories, showed pictures, and talked until 9:30, then we all crashed and slept.

June 12 Friday: Tommy had said that we should head to Terapo Bridge by around 9 because the PMV's start arriving between 11 and 12 and it is basically first come first on. We all got up at 6:30 like normal and broke down all our gear. I went around with Tommy on another walk through a different part of Moveave and we met one of the eleven SDA members: a lady going to a small home store. Back at the homestay house I took pictures with many of the family members, met a couple more old people who had heard I was in the area and came to say hi, and the husband of the lady we met earlier in the morning. He was happy to meet another Adventist and asked me to be a good example for the guides and porters. I think I have done my best in that regard. It is an easy task when I compare myself with their stories of the last American. Breakfast eventually was ready and I filled to bursting. Some of this food is so dense that you fill up on just a small amount, but I usually have more food on my plate than I need and keep finding ways to pack it all in. I think so far on the trip I may have lost a couple pounds, so this is good for getting that back, too. This last home cooked feast consisted of two kinds of green bananas, sweet potato, rice noodles, fish, and still more pork. I used the family outhouse one last time. A whole bunch of people came out to see me/us leave, including a couple young boys climbing palm trees leaning out over the river. They jumped into the water as we motored by. I have only spent a few days with these people, but it is an emotional farewell for me.

The ride up to the bridge passes quickly and then we start the waiting game. As mentioned already, the PMV's start arriving at a standard time and it is first come first going. There was already one PMV there when we arrived. Tommy said they had been here all night, because they did not have enough passengers for a full load. We did not fill it either, so we still waited. Slowly people drifted in, some waiting like us for a PMV, some to sell their wares at the impromptu market that sprout up in every village and along many roadways. A man came through with a large butterfly on a string leash. I got a few pictures of the butterfly itself and it with the man. A little while later I saw he had let two children play with it and within a minute they had released it unintentionally. Bye Bye Butterfly, good luck with the string. Since they do not expect visitors out in these parts of the country, none of the vendors is selling bags or statues or crafts. It is all food and in a limited variety. Shortly after noon, the cry goes up and a PMV is ready to go. We quickly get our things on board and in a few minutes it is packed with 30 people and their belongings, bags of betel nut, sago, mustard and more betel nut. We all rode in the back this time and I now know it would not have made much difference for picture taking. I was tired and have taken enough pictures (and know what pictures look like from a moving vehicle). I was content to watch things go by and nap when the feeling struck. There is an ebb and flow of humanity on any bus-like vehicle and we were constantly losing and gaining passengers. We got stopped at the one police checkpoint and held for close to 20 minutes. The main offense was that the driver had not bothered to take down all our names for his passenger registry (I could easily understand why given the number getting on and off so frequently) and that if we were in an accident it would make identification a much bigger nightmare than it would be otherwise. He was also chastised for being over the 30 passenger limit at the time we hit the checkpoint. With that behind us we made the rest of the journey in reasonable time and a little over five hours after starting we were in Moresby again. We got dropped off directly at Ecotourism Melanasia's headquarters in Bokoro. I called Clare, who I had arranged to stay with for the weekend, but her phone was off. I left a message and we waited half an hour, but then Aaron brought me to the Gordon's Transit Lodge, a slightly more expensive place than the Magila, but in much better shape, no alcohol on the premises, a decent working kitchen, a neighborhood Aaron says I can walk around in without worrying like I would have to in 6 Mile. So I'll see how it works here for a few days. First things first, I took a nice cold shower and rinsed off the jungle. Then made some cous cous, read a little and went to bed.

June 13 Sabbath. Today turned out quite a bit differently than I had planned, but looking back it may have been for a positive reason and the next few days will tell. I asked at the reception how to get to the Gordons SDA church since we are in the Gordons neighborhood. He did not know exactly, but said if I take this road down to the main road then follow the main road about 10 minutes, I should start asking people and someone would point me in the right direction. That was good enough for me. I enjoyed walking outside without an escort and with Bible in hand, I think I was even less threatening/a target. So I was asking people and they continued to point further down the road and I continued to head that way. I met up with a young man named Andrew, who said he was SDA and would walk me to the church even though he was not going to church that morning. Just a few minutes later we were there. BUT it was not the Gordons church I was at last week. I was warmly welcomed to the Foale SDA Branch church with around 250 members. Sabbath school was just starting and after the preliminaries we broke up into smaller groups for lesson study. In this case that meant everyone moved outside to sets of benches made up for this purpose. There was no English class, only options in Pidgin and Mokala (the dialect predominant among the membership at this church). I was guided to a class that was made up primaarily of new converts and those interested in learning about Adventism. Iwas again a center of attention and I soon found out that I was the first white person to ever attend services in this church. We all moved back into the sanctuary for church and had a wonderful service. The women's ministry and ACS groups were leading out this week. We finished just before 1pm. Now here is where things started diverging from 'my plan' even further. I had intended on going to the Gordons church because Lala Gilis and her sisters had told me the Adventist Youth from Gordons was going to PAU for the afternoon and I had wanted to go. As soon as church was out I called Lala's dad, whose phone number I had. He was not at Gordons church either, but his wife and daughters were. He said they would be leaving around 3pm and he would give me a call. That sounded okay and it allowed me to have lunch with some of the people from Foale who were inviting me over. Andrew also showed up again, this time with a bag with some bananas and fresh peanuts. We had lunch together and talked about a two week revival series that was starting up on Sunday in a public park very close to where I am staying now. After eating an elder at the church gave me a ride back to the Transit Lodge. Andrew came along. At the lodge he and I talked some more and he kept volunteering to show me around thecity and other places. He wants me to come again after my two year trip is over and he will show me 'all of PNG' and I can stay with all his friends. He is well connected both as an SDA and as the son of a councilman. Anyway, he left, I took a short nap, and at three o'clock I got ready for a phone call which never came. Periodically there are service outages on the cell towers here and this happened to be one of them. I could not call Tom to find out what was happening and if he tried calling me, I'll never know. So PAU did not happen, which was quite disappointing.

June 14 Sunday: Today was a fantastic day and lived up to the PNG motto of 'The land of the Unexpected'. So many people I have met want to talk my ear off about all the things I should see and more specifically things they want to show me and be my tour guide. With language barriers, prohibitive costs on some of these grand ideas, gold speculating, oil prospecting, etc, I listen and know not much will come of it. I had gotten this immediate sense from Andrew, the man who showed me to the 'wrong' SDA church and who talked with me for quite a while in the afternoon. One suggestion had been picking me up at 4 am from my lodge so we could go to a place called Sogeri before sunrise. Sogeri itself sounded interesting, but not if it involved that time condition. After the missed communication on PAU yesterday and having not heard back from a Couchsurfing contact, who had said she would have something planned for Sunday. I gave Andrew a call at 9 am and it went straight to his voicemail. So I figured the day was going to be a slow one and set about labeling pictures and checking my notes from the past week. I need to get on a computer with internet access soon for several reasons, posting to my blog being a big one. Anyway, at 10 my PNG phone went off and it was Andrew wanting to know if I was busy and if not if he could come over and take me some places. The day was saved. From the first days of being in PNG when the taxi driver wanted $80/K200 to drive me to the Parliament building, the National Museum, and an internet cafe and warned me not to leave any of the buildings, but to call him and he would come get me, progress has been made. The world is not so scary. Andrew said if I paid for his bus fares and got him lunch we could go where ever we wanted. That turned out to be a steal. First we headed to the much talked about Sogeri and for K12 for both of us we rode well outside of town, into the mountains (beautiful beautiful), past the start/end of the Kokoda Track and to the town of Sogeri and back. Because the land is so steep and mountainous in this area PNG Power has converted a lot of water to power generation. So pipelines channel the water through their plants and on down to supply water for Pt. Moresby and power is sent further up into the mountains and back to Moresby as well. The views were spectacular and while I'm not happy with all of my pictures (many were taken from a moving vehicle), the trip itself would have been worth MUCH MUCH more. Seeing the monuments at the Kokoda trail head was impressive. Seeing water falls and rapids and eagles and rural markets and the wonderfully windy road (I have video) made me very happy. We had left from the main Gordons bus depot, so when we got back we were right outside the main Gordons farmers market. This was also a treat. So many of the vegetable stands I have seen to this point have the same betel nut, pumpkin greens, banana, sweet potato selections. The options were very limited in the rural areas I visited last week. But this was an oasis. Everything imaginable: garlic, cucumbers, bell peppers, hot peppers, carrots, sweet potatoes, ginger, eggs, fish, oranges, bananas, strawberries, squash, onions, mustard, green beans, peanuts, and so many other things I'm forgetting now or do not know the names of. So after passing through the market, we headed over to the Botanical Gardens,which are located on the campus of the University of Papua New Guinea. I would never have found it on my own and to this point I have not been able to locate anyplace that sells maps either of Pt. Moresby or of the country as a whole. But we did find it and it is a beautiful setting, a wonderful place to walk around, see the plant life and animal life common to PNG, and even glimpse their orchid garden (which only had a few blooms as it is dry season). They even have a wedding chapel on the grounds and a lush grassy area for receptions. After thoroughly exploring the gardens, we set out to one more location: Ela Beach. They normally have big craft markets here on Sabbaths only, so I missed that, but the beach itself was lovely. Families sitting together on the beach, several volleyball courts in use, a couple basketball courts also in use, people in the water, the cool breeze from the ocean, a trio of comedians entertaining a crowd, the normal food market, all made for a pleasant late afternoon walk along the promenade. We also walked past the Central Papua SDA headquarters and had a nice view back to the Koki SDA church which is situated on a hill overlooking the Koki neighborhood. This section of town is built up on stilts in the bay, but the houses themselves are quite modern looking despite their precarious positions over the water. Returning home I marveled at how much we had been able to do and how cheaply it had all been accomplished. If this was the norm, PNG would be a fantastic place to visit, but unfortunately, it is far from the norm and the cost of my staying here continues to go up. The trip would not make it around the world if I kept up this spending pace for very long. Luckily, this should be the most expensive place of the entire trip and so far I haven't lost control.