I never knew I had a bucket list until I saw the movie. Not that I'm terminally ill. I'm not. And, not that I have a list of places I must go before I do kick the bucket forsaking everything else. Well, I do have a list of sorts. But, in the days after watching the movie, I slowly realized that my life has been my bucket list. I don't expect the reaper to be knocking at my door soon, but, if he dropped by a few days before the day for a chat about my life, I think I'd tell him that I've done most of the things I wanted to do. Not that I popped out of my mom's womb trailing this long list of things to do and places to go. It took me at least eight or ten years to begin the list. And, most importantly, not that I'm done with the list. I hope I'll keep crossing things off of it until the day the reaper finally says, "OK, that's it. Put down your list." But, until that day, here are some of the things off my bucket list ....... in no particular order .......

Guns, Germs and Steel

I have always wondered why some societies around the globe thrived, prospered and evolved into our modern day civilizations while others seemed to sort of get stuck back in their own time. In his book, Guns, Germs and Steel, Jared Diamond proposed it was because of differences among peoples' environments, not because of biological differences among peoples themselves.

Primitive civilizations probably found their way onto my list as I dreamed of swashbuckling adventurers I met in books or movies finding themselves on the short end of the stick in the midst of head hunters or people making human sacrifices off at the far corners of the world. As I grew up and learned more about the world, the idea of visiting one of these places and meeting the people in an effort to understand these larger questions in life stuck vividly with me. And so it was one day that we found ourselves departing home for a 22-day 28,000 mile oddysey to the highlands of Papua New Guinea.

It took us three days of travel to reach Mount Hagen, a comparatively large town (17,000) in the New Guinea highlands. Our lodging,located in the hills above the town, was a small bungalow constructed in the native fashion. Everyone staying at the lodge socialized and took family style meals at the main building. I truly enjoyed our accomodation. By PNG standards, it was deluxe. We did share our room with all the local critters (but we were bigger than they were).

One family we visited was just finishing the cooking of several days worth of yams, the most common food. They asked us to join them in a meal, which consisted simply of taking a yam from the baking pit, peeling it and eating it. Yams are not only a staple for humans. They are also fed to dogs and pigs (I'm not sure where we fell in that heirarchy).


A note about clothing. We got the distinct impression that the missionaries didn't work too diligently to get rural folks to wear clothes when nobody else was around. But, we noted that almost everyone donned some sort of local or westernesque garb whenever we appeared. We'd see kids dressed only in an adult western style shirt, which worked well as it would hang to their knees or lower. In towns and larger population centers, locals were always dressed in western attire.

We learned that most tribal folks do not identify themselves as being New Guineans. They do not have much of a concept of nationalism as their worlds still revolve around their tribal lands and associated boundaries. Altercations between tribes usually involve members of one tribe doing something in another tribe's territory or doing something to a member of another tribe. Retribution is usally the result. Interestingly enough, tribes are seen as families, so it doesn't really make any difference who the offenders are. Retribution is simply taken against any member of the offending tribe.

After visiting some small villages, getting a thoroughly warm welcome from the locals, and learning a lot about subsistence and local traditions in PNG, we flew from Mount Hagen to Goroka for the annual tribal dance festival. The festival is THE annual event in PNG. We were told that it attracts the single largest group of visitors of any event in the country. Over the days we attended, I think we may have counted something between 100-200 foreginers. Tribes from all over the country came to the festival to out show and out dance their rivals. It wasn't that long ago that these same tribes were attacking and killing each other.

To say the least, the festival was spectacular and colorful. Every tribe is visibly different from each other as they turn out in their traditional tribal regalia. Dress is tribal, so all members of a tribe wear the same clothing and plumage and paint themselves similarly.
There was only one hotel in Garoka, and we were not able to secure a room there for the dance festival. So, we followed the suggestion of a local tour company and booked lodging in Kainantu, a provincial center about 90 km from Garoka. The tour company informed us that we would have to travel through an area that could be dangerous for visitors between the two towns. They notified the local constabulary, who was quite willing to escort us back and forth each day.


Locals had heard of our arrival and we spent a few hours each evening after dinner in the company of the local Commissioner, Police Chief and doctor quaffing local brews and discussing current events in PNG, America and the rest of the world. When we travel, we are always amazed at how similar our issues really are around the globe despite the different ways in which they are couched.


All of PNG is quite lawless. Interestingly enough, the capital, Port Moresby, can be one of the most dangerous places in the country. Hotels there are surrounded by high walls topped with barbed wire and broken glass. Armed guards patrol their perimiters. Guests are not permitted to leave hotel compounds in the evenings without an escort. Similar situations are found in the larger towns across the country. It seems that as the population becomes less urban and more rural the safer one is there. Of course, there are tales of busses being stopped by bandits as they ply the lesser populated areas of the country. All of this is because there is extremely high unemployment in PNG. So, thievery has grown into a means of support. I don't want to unduly alarm readers. Visitors from across the word visit PNG annually and trek its rural areas without ever running afoul of ne'erdowells, as did we. But crime is a risk that needs to be heeded.


As we boarded our flight in Port Moresby for our return trip home, we felt as if we had grown some more. We had traveled to remote places and met people on their own terms. We had been rewarded with their smiles and friendship, and we had learned from them. Again, the globe shrunk a bit more for us.