Veronika Wild

Greetings all! I suppose it's significant that our Christmas tree died this year. As promised, I won't be sending any cards as I am planning to put some money towards conserving the Vale of Belvoir near Cradle Mountain. It's a pretty spot where I almost froze to death a few of years ago while trying to track platypii. It is great place to watch wombats at play and also of high conservation and historical value. If you would like to know more click here . This isn't just about the money though. It's also about all those trees and postal related emissions too - (to which I am contributing enough already) -to say what? - Hi how are you? Sorry I didn't get around to writing or talking to you all year? Not that I don't enjoy hearing from you, but email me, write me a letter or give me a ring. It's all much more meaningful than those ubiquitous cards that have more to do with obligation than communication. Now what was it I learned from watching "Ratato...

Back on Efate, I do some of the more conventional tours which include dancing and traditional Melanesian feasts. I am particularly taken with the one whose brochure promises that "Our friendly warriors will attack you on arrival." They do. At the sound of a giant conch shell being blown in a forest clearing lit by torches and bedecked with flowers, scantily clad men with spears and clubs, leap out from bushes and trees. There is a bit of dancing based on events in daily life - planting crops, fishing - then a firewalk, another stringband, a taste of kava and quite a lot of cultural information - such as which plants to use to poison fish in a rock pool and which ones to use to render the poison harmless, how to make simple traps for wild pigs or chickens, how Nivans used to use spider webs to catch big fish and how to preserve food after a cyclone. The feast though, proves a little disappointing since it includes potato salad, beetroot and orange juice as well as the u...

    First Glimpse of Yasur the User- Friendly Volcano -well, most of the time anyway. In local folklore Yasur is the resting place of the souls of the dead I am now on the island of Tanna - far to the south of Efate and considerably cooler, to see "the world's most accessible volcano."  I flew this time, unwilling to spend more time waiting around or suffering long, miserable trials by water. Besides, by the time you add in the additional accommodation costs, flying probably works out cheaper. Tanna is one of the larger more fertile islands and apart from the volcano, is famous for it's coffee and  wild horses. Passing by on the way to The Jungle Oasis accommodation The Treehouse in a Banyan Tree in which I stayed, just under the volcano Kelson, local chief and the owner of this fine establishment, is also a politician and has just missed out by eleven votes. There is to be a by-election in Tanna. I run into both him and Raphael Worwor from Ambrym again in ...

A storm brews over Santo Espiritu Santo, the largest island, being closer to the Equator, is much hotter and more humid than Vila. It is also more laid back, cleaner and has home comforts like ATMS, hostel type accommodation and internet cafes. My family hasn't heard from me since I set off on that rusty ship for Ambrym. My first excursion is to Surunda where James Michener lived. It's easy to get there but hard to get back until I run into Daniel, the driver we had on Ambrym. This happens often in Vanuatu. One reason for this is that marriage is patrilocal i.e. traditionally the bride goes to her husband's village, but then his sister has to marry one of her brothers to keep the numbers even and to help build alliances in a country where there are hundreds of different tribes. The result is dense networks of relationships which involve much visiting between islands. The serene house of author James Michener, wartime historian who wrote Tales of the South Pacific on whi...

The Moika is an old Indian cargo ship that has a list to port even before it's loaded. The sign on the bridge says "Safety First." Very confidence inspiring. "Come Monday at six," the crew says. Three days later at 11.30, under cover of darkness we finally get underway. Nivans are a patient lot but no wonder a cheer goes up from the wharf as we leave Port Vila. This phenomenon is known as Island Time and drives foreigners, especially the ubiquitous and punctual Germans, insane. Mine is the only white face in the sea of smiling brown ones. On the open water the journey is rough and the boat heaves and shudders as it is hit by house -sized waves that spray over the passengers huddled on deck. A storm hits. I'm cold, wet and violently sick. Passengers sleep wherever they can. A lovely lady covers me and her son with a sarong and later her coat. Though a crew member offers me shelter in one of their cabins, this actually makes me feel worse, so I go back ...