Even though as the crow flies, Madang is maybe a 1 hour flight from Rondon Ridge, we unfortunately have to fly over about and hour south to Port Moresby, then layover for a number of hours, then transfer to another plane that gets us to Madang just before 5pm. We have to be at the airport in Mt. Hagen (near Rondon Ridge) by 9:15. So the whole day is lost in transit. Sigh.
TNT has tried to take the sting out of this by arranging to pick us up when we arrive in Moresby at 11:15, and transfer us to a nearby restaurant for lunch, then transfer us back for our 3:35pm flight.
When we arrive, sure enough, an agent from TNT is there, escorts us to a car, and whisks us the the Airways Hotel, Security here is tight: we have to clear a big iron gate, and pass through armed guards, guard dogs, the works. A gigantic iron fence, with sharp spikes at the top surrounds the hotel. Basically, a really, really nice prison. We are dropped off, and left alone for lunch, which turns out to be a gorgeous buffet. The Airways Hotel appears to be lovely, a class above anything we've seen. We've heard a story about the guy who owned this place: he was recently on some construction site in Moresby when his car was stopped, and he was stoned to death. Another nice tale for Rachel's compendium of death and mayhem. However, we are happy with our delicious smorgasbord of lunch items, and a jazz band is on hand, softly strumming "...tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking...". A lovely breeze wafts in across a sparkling blue swimming pool. The juxtaposition of this place with everything we've seen ... very odd. But we enjoy a leisurely lunch, chatting about our trip so far, wondering what other adventures lie ahead of us.
Finally it's time to go, and we head back for the next flight.
The plane lands in Madang, and our driver is their to meet us, wearing the now-familiar blue Trans Niugini Tours garb, with the yellow logo. His name is Bugao, and he has a nice smile and a kindly manner. We pack up our luggage and head off with him in a jeep. We are headed to the Malolo Plantation Lodge, some 40 km up the road. Mercifully, the road is good, and it only takes some 45 minutes to get to the Lodge. But we are driving through coastal coconut palm plantations, dotted with occasional village cluster of huts. As the afternoon is casting long shadows, and the road is long and winding. I start to get nervous about being in a car for more than a few minutes, and being out in the country with sunset not far off. I cut right to the chase. "Are there many raskols out here?" I ask, trying to sound casual, like I might have heard about raskols in some adventure book in the library. Bugao smiles amiably. "Not very often." I guess I'll have to live with that.
We arrive at the hotel safely, no problems. We are greeted by a very jovial man named Lawrence, who is the manager. He welcomes us, and we area given giant green coconuts, carved with the words "Welcome to Malolo Plantation Lodge!" They are filled with coconut juice and a straw. We gratefully accept, and sit by the pool as the sun sets.
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| Rachel and Kris at Malolo Plantation Lodge. We are the only guests. |
Once again, we are the only guests at this lodge. The lodge is set up for at least 50 people. But, with the exception of a few locals who stop by to drink at the bar, we are alone here. Our room, on the second floor, with a balcony overlooking the ocean, seems reasonably secure. We hope.
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