As follow-on to yesterday’s teaser, I was planning to do a semi-serious news report of the event.

Forget that; I’m just going to have fun. All of my serious genes seem to have expired from overwork along with fifty percent or so of my brain cells. Actually, it’s quite fun being whimsical and semi-brainless. One isn’t obliged to feel so horribly responsible all the time.

I received this invitation a day after the RSVP requirement. A quick phone call fixed that little faux pax.  It cost me K977 for a return fare. Nobody was offering  a reimbursement, so I didn’t press the matter. Still, it seems a little cheesy. I am  a shareholder (albeit a tiny one) and I am  a contributor of an article to the first issue of Our Way,  the APNG in-flight magazine, and I am  still rather handy with my fists, but I suppose that none of those salient facts are sufficient to warrant a free flight to Moresby. Okay, I’ll stop whining now.

Let’s get to the festivities.

There were plenty of free drinks and finger food plus a very nice, if broiling hot, venue in the VIP parking lot at Jackson’s Airport.

Also present were many of the beautiful people  from the power centres where all of the string pulling happens.

Here’s a beautiful person with a cheery message on her back:

The cultural show was supreme. Afterwards, the name of the game was getting a photo for the family album:

I’ve already forgotten everybody’s names, so I won’t try to fake it. However, if I’m not mistaken, this is our Deputy Prime Minister:

A nice fellow next to me asked, “Do you trust  that man?” Knowing next to nothing about politics and caring even less, I answered, “Well, I suppose that I would buy a used car from him.” He seemed to be satisfied with that.

By the way, why do so many politicians insist upon styling themselves as leaders ? I though that they are supposed to be representatives.  It seems to me that there is a substantial difference. Do we need  to be led?  Are we sheep?  Isn’t our need  to have our interests represented? Maybe we have too much leadin’  and not enough representin’.

Bah-ah-ah-ah-ah!  (That’s sheep-speak for, “Huh?”)

I will say that our Minister for Tourism and Culture (I think I got that right) is a handsome and very articulate  young man – just the kind of fellow that infuses a soupcon of confidence in the future in this aging hippie expat.

He apologized for his shades and explained that he had been the recipient of a rather impolite poke in the eye at a basketball game. Here he is exposing the injury:

I wanted to talk to him, but I get all timid around powerful people.

All of the speakers were enthusiastic and compelling. Since I’m not doing names, let’s call this fellow The Balloon Guy  and leave it go at that:

Here he is getting a present from another EIP (Extremely Important Person). Honestly, I can’t remember which one was the recipient and which one was giving it up, but the guy with the very presentable blue shirt and tie is unabashedly making aigris  *  on that beautiful copper garamut. *  I wouldn’t mind having it myself, so I can’t blame him:

If memory serves me, this is the honcho supremo  of Airlines PNG. If I’m wrong . . . well, somebody will correct me. People kept referring to him as The Man,  so I can’t be far off:

He apologized for not being a great orator, but I think he really should stop doing that. I think that his delivery was clean and affable and his message was clear and crisp.

And, the message of the day was that there are more changes on the way. Most will welcome that message. Some will not. I think that we all probably know who will cheer and who will sob. Eventually, even the sobbers will come around.

There was nothing that I heard on Monday that did not encourage me.

Are the dark forces weakening? Is the future truly brighter?

All I can say is:

You beauty!

* For you foreigners, aigris  (pronounced eye-grease ) is the Tok Pisin  word meaning “to look at with greed or desire.” A garamut,  (gar - uh - moot ) is a large drum, often over two metres long – technically, it’s a slit-gong. It’s also the name of the tree from which they are usually made.

I’ll have news tomorrow about the ceremony that I attended yesterday in Moresby. I’m too knackered today to write much, so I’ll show you some photos from my trip.

I had to leave on Sunday morning at 7:00 and did not get back until today, Tuesday at about 8:30 AM. All this for a two hour meeting. By the way, it’s only a one hour flight. Not all of this will mean much to folk in foreign lands, but here in Madang, it’s a contentious issue.

To whet the local appetite for tomorrow’s post let me give you a preview of the New Kid in Town. Well, the kid’s not actually in town yet. However, many of us are hoping against hope that she’ll be moving here soon:

Of interest to those abroad might be a few shots of the cultural festivities and some snaps through my grimy airplane window of the local scenery on the way from Port Moresby to Madang.

There were several cultural dance groups performing at the celebration. These fellows were pulling out all the stops:

This group was a little more restrained, but only slightly:

It was blazing hot next to the tarmac. The reaction of the crowd demonstrated that everyone appreciated these excellent displays of our local performance art of singsing.

In the Domestic Departure Terminal, there are a series of lovely paintings of local costumes, musical instruments, and cultural dances. Here is one of them:

I’m sorry that I do not have the artist’s name. I would certainly like to give credit where credit is due. If anybody knows, please inform me.

Leaving Moresby, I snapped this shot of the early morning sun’s rays glorifying the mountain slopes near the capital:

Have you ever noticed the rainbow effect that you can sometimes see on the cloud deck? If the sun is on the opposite side of plane from you and about half-way up in the sky, you may see a circular rainbow:

It is usually most visible if you are close to the clouds and the upper cloud surface is fairly smooth.

Approaching over Astrolabe Bay, we see sleepy Madang in the morning sun:

Nearly at the end of the runway, I snapped this shot of our house:

Where, you might ask?

Click on the thumbnail to enlarge it. Look for the large orange-brown pile of wood chips in the middle of the frame. Look to the left a bit and down. You will see a silvery-roofed house. You might also make our Faded Glory sitting at the dock in front of the house and our red Nissan truck in the yard.

Casa MadDog welcomes you any time.