Blame It On Brian

With my back in full hurt mode, I'm passing the torch of exciting conservation travel (and colorful travelogue) on to my esteemed boss and friend Brian Huse. Brian is a guest speaker this week in Porto Alegre, Brazil (Google it) for the Destinations 2006 Conference dedicated to sustainable tourism. Brian is presenting our work on coral conservation and marine recreation standards development along the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef (Google it). I begged him to email a bit of the flavor of the field. To wit:

Hey guys,
Of course, when arriving in a new country, one looks for the local color, customs, and unique attributes that define "place." Often there will be one feature so pervasive that it almost becomes syonymous with that place - London = fog; Australia = beer; France = berets, you get the idea. While I have only been here less than 24 hours, I believe that southern Brazil = meat. On the way from the airport, I counted 15 MacDonalds. I now find out that Brazilians eat more hamburgers than the US. When a fellow from Panama suggested dinner last night, we were directed to the nearby churrascuria. Of course. Within 2 hours of landing in the country, I proceeded to consume roughly 6 head of cattle before realizing that it would not stop until I turned a little card over. The menu of the hotel restaurant proves little different, the ratio of meat items to non meat is precisely 5 to 1, excluding drinks. But I think if they found a way to infuse beef into the matte...


Porto Alegre is very familiar, feeling quite bit like San Francisco with hills, similar skyline, its being situated on the water, and - at least today - rain. The areas around the hotel are very clean, but the evidence of poverty is prevalent. On the outskirts of the city is a large delta like region with extensive rice fields cut through with canals and rivers. On one canal will be a shanty town of dilapidated shacks and refuse piles, where the next will boast three story mansions with boats docks. There seems to be no in between once you leave the city proper. One curious feature that stands out is the number of locksmiths. In addition to storefronts, many street corners have plywood huts just to meet your need for making spare sets of keys. The city is inhabited by no less than 5 million, but how many keys do you need?


The big buzz early on here was the last minute participation of President Lula at the opening ceremony. There was a rush to get security clearances for those lucky few who were invited to the real ceremony - as opposed to the closed circuit tv virtual ceremony. It was never clear whether I was counted in the lucky few, and I began a series of inquiries. Soon word came back that, YES, I am to have cocktails with Lula and, by the way, you need a coat and tie. My mad scramble to find a tie was averted, however. Lula had abruptly sent his apologies, and perhaps he might show up later.

At noon today the conference facility was no where near ready, so this evening ought to be interesting. Now must prepare for my talk tomorrow - you never know, Lula might show up.

When Good Discs Turn Bad

After several weeks of pain, bed rest, pain, x rays, lost work days, MRI's, pain, refills on prescription pain killers, and still more pain, I finally have at least a provisional diagnosis. And the new info brings me no great sense of relief. Seems I have what is called Lumbar Spinal Stenosis, or a narrowing of the canal in which the spinal cord passes. Due to loss of disc height in my lumbar vertebrae, my discs are getting squished and putting pressure on nerves both inside and outside of the canal. Or at least this is what I think is going on since it changes depending on who is explaining the whole thing to me on any given day.

Regardless of what caused it, bottom line is it doesn't seem to go away on it's own. So it becomes a managed condition through physical therapy and the assorted anti-inflammation drugs. If the conservative treatment brings no relief, there's always surgery which is about as appealing an idea as another long plane ride to Singapore right now. To be honest, the whole thing makes me feel old, defeated, and somewhat angry. Mostly, I'm pissed at these lame disks that couldn't handle the evolutionary challenge of upright walking. I've been scheduled to have a consult with a neurosurgeon (even the name makes me cringe) to determine the urgency for cutting open my back. In the mean time, I'm resisting the temptation of starting a new blog that allows me to vent my spleen on the joys of navigating the health care system. All I can say is do your homework when you are healthy regarding your health care provider including how well your primary care doctor is networked.

Homeward Bound

Can't wait to see my guys! And my doctor!

Free Association

Australian expats, humidity, sweating, ceiling fans, mosquiito nets, doxycycline, tonic water, nasi goreng, beeping bemos, PMVs, "good morning sir," kopi Bali, Semenyak dinner, Raja Ampat, biodiversity, musical gecko's, roach in my shirt, bottled water, 1,000,000 Rupiah meal, instant friends, partnerships, complex logistics, back pain, hip pain, knee pain, 30 Vicodin in 18 days, batik, Moresby artists row, Ubud, Kimbe Bay, dodging Jemma, meeting at the UN, SP beer, chilled red wine, Singapore Girls, Malaysian desserts, missing Sze-Ling twice, missing the whale shark, missing Bali so much, cremation ceremony, whacky Indonesian TV, painful Singaporean pop bands, Huli Wigmen, 19 hour flights, long waits in stinky lines, Asian toilets, explosions of flowers, rice paddies, betelnut teeth, friendly hand-shakes, scary turbo flights, "Are you the fat man with tatoos?," 12KBS dial-up, volcanos, haunting Balinese music, Mark's humor, Villia's going the distance for me, my boss's email reminders that I'm missed.

Villia Nambawan... Thank You, Tru!

Spent my last day in PNG tooling about Port Moresby with Villa. She managed to snag me easy and painless flight changes back to Singapore. Drinks on me at DEMA, Villia! After limping about the Air Nuigini offices, we stopped by a favorite Chinese restaurant which I'm told also serves a big pot of strong PNG coffee. Twist my arm. The place makes good on the strong coffee promise, but I look around and there are posters of the various fish served on the menu. A good many of them are local reef species and a quick look at the menu confirms that indeed they are local purveyors of the live reef fish food trade. Wrasse cheeks, lips, and assorted body parts from high value target species like Napoleon Wrasse and Bump-Head Parrotfish. Kind of soured the taste of the coffee a bit.

After coffee, I stopped at a local pharmacy to pick what is rumored to be the surest way to knock-out malaria if I get home and a blood test turns up positive or if I find myself with a mystery fever and uncontrollable shakes. It's a mixture of herbs that's supposed to be taken in two stages. Artesunate tablets taken for 5 days, then three Fansidar tablets taken on the third day. Everyone here swears by this remedy, though US Food and Drug doesn't allow it's sale in the states. I'm bringing it just in case the Doxy missed anything.

With miracle drug in hand, back to the PNGDA offices, also known as Villia's home, to meet her parents and make a final call to Singapore Airlines to try to move my flight up from next week. Nothing like navigating a Byzantine electronic answering system on unreliable phone lines. I'd get so close to the final "Press 2 Now," only to be disconnected. After four attempts, I manage to reach a human and make provisional reservations to leave on Friday the 13th. The obvious bad omen notwithstanding, let's keep our fingers crossed that I can get home without a hitch or too big a penalty.

...but the Flesh is Weak

After 15 days, 13 flights, 16 meetings, and way too many pain killers, I've had to make a tough decision to cut my field work short and begin the slow process of heading home. The lower back pain has morphed into some bizarre hip and knee pain that's just unbearable. I think it's muscle and joint pain from all the compensating I've been doing on account of my back. Regardless, making this decision while I can still stand in Kimbe Bay is a lot easier than if I wait to get to Kavieng (which makes the remote bush of Kimbe look like Los Angeles.)

I'm sending Cam on his own to finish the mission, but the added complexity of a an erupting volcano (yes, a volcano,) Mount Tavurvur, on Rabaul may not even allow him to leave Kimbe either. This is wild and wooly country to work in.

Getting out of this country off schedule is no cake walk either. Try making arrangements with no e-mail and terrible yet expensive phone connections. My savior and project partner, Villia Lawrence, brain and go-to person for the PNG Divers Association, has offered to handle my in-country flight logistics from Port Moresby, so all I need to do is handle the Singapore Air leg once i get to Malaysia.

It All Starts With Education

CORAL knows that tourism professionals like dive and snorkel operators can be highly effective agents for conservation, but it has to start with changing attitudes and behaviors. That's where our Field Representative comes in. I'm here to model our Sustainable Marine Recreation workshop so Cam can continue the learning process even after I leave. We have a great turnout for the two-day trainings. About 20 participants both days representing the bulk of dive and boat staff at Walindi Resort, key Mahonia staff, LLG (local-level government) officials, some folks from the terrestrial TNC (The Nature Conservancy, AKA one of the BIg NGOs) project, and the manager of the LMMA (Locally Managed Marine Area), essentially a community-managed MPA.


We had a great mix of people in a really interactive environment both nights. One of the highlights for me was modeling effective pre-dive environmental briefings. Seems like the staff at Walindi were delivering last second, "Oh, and don't touch the coral," briefings which research has shown have about the same effect as saying nothing. After modeling, I asked participants to pair-up and practice with each other. It was fun and one of the most practical tools they can take away and use tomorrow.

I'd call this a good beginning for Kimbe Bay. What's really exciting is looking forward on how we can build and support the LMMA network here, help local communities understand the benefits of marine protected areas and reef management, and perhaps link this educational work with what Mahonia is already doing. And maybe next time I visit, I might even get in the water too.

Walindi Plantations Resort

Thanks to the silver-tongued Cam, we got to move from the spare Mahonia house with all it's local color, to one of the posh waterfront bungalows of the Walindi Plantation Resort. Tucked away behind Mahonia, this is as out in the bush as any resort can get. But it's a paradise.

It's the dream of Max Benjamin, an Ausie agriculturalist turned dive enthusiast. Surrounding Walindi are his acres of oil palm trees which among other uses can provide an alternative to petroleum fuel (though it's still a greenhouse gas contributor and the clear-cutting for oil palm fields can lead to increased soil erosion and reef sedimentation.) But did I mention how nice the bungalow is? No ants on my pillow tonight.

We are training the staff of Walindi this week in sustainable marine recreation and reef ecology. To Max's credit, the majority of his dive staff are local New Guineans and they are excited to be presented with an opportunity to learn. From what I can tell, they can use any information on best environmental practices and proper reef etiquette. The dive shop runs a good business with shore-based diving as well as two big live-aboards.

I've met very few Americans while in PNG. No big surprise there. Combine the distances, exorbitantly expensive airfare, safety issues, Dengue Fever and malaria and you have a tough sell. You can yammer on all you want about highest biodiversity this and amazing culture that, but it's a lot easier and economical to dive Hawaii, Palau, and even Fiji than PNG. None of this hampers the Australian market, however. With Port Moresby only an hour and a half from Cairns, it's a much more attractive proposition for Down Under. Still, the strangle hold of Air Nuigini makes it close to US$1000 for that short jaunt. The PNG government hasn't yet recognized that tourism can be a sustainable revenue stream. Sadly, it's still too busy happily handing over mining, forestry, and offshore drilling rights.

Mahonia Na Dari–Guardian of the Reef

After being met at the airport, we load our gear into a truck and climb into the back of another for an hour ride over disk-compressing unpaved road to reach our destination. Our work here in Kimbe Bay is based at Mahonia Na Dari, the only local PNG-based NGO dedicated to marine conservation and education. They focus on providing environmental education and outreach to local children as well as teacher professional development. It's terrific work and much needed. Mahonia has generously offered the use of their classrooms for CORAL's trainings and they're also allowing Cam and I to stay at one of the visitors houses on their property. It's a small house built from traditional materials just up from the beach. The place has so much local color it's killing me.


After last nights class, I was exhausted from the early wake-up. I switched on the ceiling fan, brushed the ants off my bed and pillow, crawled under the mosquito net, and eventually drifted off to sweaty sleep to the music of assorted squeaking geckos, chirping crickets and burping frogs. I awoke around midnight as the generator kicked off and my ceiling fan spun slowly to a stop. As the heat of the night closed-in, I picked-up on a subtle white noise as background to the burps, chirps and squeaks. It was the sound of the waves breaking over the reef crest just beyond the beach. Local color not withstanding, a great way to drift off to dreams.

This 'Aint Your Aunties Wig

We arrive at Hoskins Airport in Kimbe and are greeted by a group of spectacular Huli Wig Men. They are a highlands tribe and I'm told it is very rare to see them in full dress. They are assembled in two lines facing each other. The Wig Men chant, beating small hand drums while hopping up and down in unison. Just amazing!

Apparently the Wig Men must live in isolation for the time it takes to grow their hair which is then cut and used to make the ceremonial wigs. Some of the wigs are more hat-like, but still absolutely spectacular. I could just imagine the look on the faces of other tribes who tried to mess with the Wig Men. These guys are bad-asses!