The island paradise of Vanuatu reveals life forms startling in color and infinite in variety. In a tropical setting, there is sometimes little distinction between indoors and outdoors. Shops, restaurants, and even bedrooms are often open-air. A gecko may scurry across your wall at night and startle you with a high-pitched squeak.
During our first night at dinner, Jeremy noticed a baby gecko sneaking across the white linen of an empty table near us. In similar fashion to a seven-year-old boy unaccustomed to fine dining, I scooped up the reptile and placed him on our tabletop instead. Unfazed, he pattered over to Jeremy's water glass, clasped it with his front feet, and began sucking up condensation with a tiny tongue. When our kind waiter blushed and tried to remove it for us, I had to explain that we liked him.
Hibiscus blooms under a searing sun
A local boy displays a giant blue sea star
On the island of Efate, we visited a reserve for the Hawksbill turtle, an endangered sea turtle species. Workers gather newly hatched turtles and take care of them in tanks for one year--giving them time to gain size away from the threat of predators. The one-year-old turtles are then released.
Hawksbill babies!
(about 4 inches long)
Getting closer to release time
On the island of Santo, we traveled to the Vatthe Conservation Area and hired a guide to take us into the forest. Few people venture this far outside the main tourist zone. The forest steamed in sultry air, thick with mosquitoes. Our slender guide led the way, and a cloud of wings followed his head. He smacked at them with a leafy branch, while I followed his footsteps intently. Last came Jeremy. With detailed medical descriptions of malaria and dengue fever fresh on his mind, he delivered rhythmic bursts of OFF--alternating between my neck and his--as we walked along.
Beneath the trees, a vast quiet was interspersed with subtle coos and purrs, like Luke's path through Dagobah, and spiders of unorthodox size posed in silence. The guide and I passed beneath their abandoned webs, but Jeremy took most of them in the face. Below our feet, the pattern of brown rotten leaves merged with a fresh carpet of magenta petals. A rush of wings marked the flight of a startled dove.
The destination of our walk was a legendary tree of impressive size with giant buttress roots. Our guide took a rock to one of the roots to demonstrate an attention-getting boom that shook the forest.
Another interesting root system
On our way back out, our guide quietly pointed to a cluster of giant bats swaying and fluttering upside-down in a tree top.
Then suddenly, we ran out of amazing sights, and I started to realize: it was hot. Too hot. And there were too many bugs. Our odds of contracting jungle bug fever were increasing by the moment. I wanted to escape.
After another hour, we arrived back to our starting point, near a clear cold river emptying into the ocean on a beach of black sand. We stood enjoying the view, and I splashed cold water on my neck and arms, happy to be out of the forest. Suddenly I felt a persistent piercing sting on the back of my right thigh. Thinking an ambitious something was penetrating the fabric of my pants, I looked down to brush it away, but saw nothing. Then I realized with horror that whatever it was, was on the inside! It kept stinging. I panicked. The next thing I knew I was unzipping my pants and trying to grab whatever it was. (A very elegant image indeed!) Then one very large and very brazen black ant made his way over my waistband, antennae waving, just after delivering one last wallop to my lower back. How many more were there!? I had been pushed to my limits. "There're ants in my pants!" I exclaimed, and promptly burst into tears.
Jeremy stood staring at me in shock. "Sit down in the river," he proposed quickly. The end of this scene is me sitting in a rushing river, fully clothed, trying to pretend I hadn't just dissolved into hysterics. If there were any more little devils in there, they were sufficiently drowned. I still have a large red bruised area on my leg, with bite marks. One of the pitfalls of foreign travel. No diseases yet, but we're still taking our malaria pills.
Equatorial Shelob
Lest I forget to mention the underwater world, the coral reefs of Vanuatu are second to none. We snorkeled at several locations and enjoyed fish and coral of every size and color, anemones, urchins, and giant clams. But perhaps our most enjoyable experience was observing a miniature reef from a dock just above shallow water. This photo below is just a paltry representation, but near the center, you can see an orange-and-white-striped clownfish surrounded by a cluster of tiny turquoise fish.
And the angelfish never fails to captivate
This is how excited I was. (Thanks, Jeremy)
Photos by Jeremy and Marisa
