Peace Corps Adventures in Vanuatu

Here is another great example of how the world is such a small place, especially if you live in Vanuatu. Scattered across 83 islands, there live approximately 250,000 Ni-Vanuatu people, and by now, many of them have encountered at least one or two white people in their lives. Whether those were early missionaries that they ended up killing and eating, or current Peace Corps or AuzAid volunteers that they mostly appreciate, depends on the island and time period we're talking about. But fast-forward to December 12, 2012, the day that one fellow female volunteer and I set out on our journey to our newly assigned island of Pentecost. We got on a plane with more volunteers and locals in Port Vila on Efate, and headed towards Santo. That's where all of us were supposed to board a second plane to take our friends to Ambae, and then continue on to Pentecost with us two. And that's where the *beep* hit the fan. Unbeknownst to us, they had not given us two the boarding pass for this second flight, only for the last one to Pentecost. So, even though our flight confirmation showed that we obviously were booked on this particular flight to Ambae/ Pentecost, the guy at the gate (the ONLY gate, mind you) would not let us walk onto the Tarmac to board the little plane. All our friends got on, and we stayed at the Santo airport, two brave souls, just wanting to get to our new island.
They told us to wait for two hours, and there would be another plane. Fast forward two hours, and a plane does indeed land, but then it's packed full of people and takes off without us again, this time with the excuse that there were no seats and that it's too hazy for the plane to land on Pentecost. This was a Wednesday, and the next flight would not be until Saturday. So, that was just peachy.
We complained so long that they agreed to pay the hotel fees since it was their fault we got stuck in the first place. But we really didn't want to wait that long. I contacted my newly assigned host dad on his cell phone on Pentecost, and he told me: "Look for the finance minister at the airport. He is there with his family, stuck just like you, trying to go to the same place, since a new priest is being ordained and he is on his way to the celebration. Since he is a 'bigfala man,' they will make a plane appear out of nowhere for him, so just introduce yourself to him and get own that plane with him."
Now, if something like that happened to you in the U.S.,....never mind, it wouldn't.
Anyway, I proceed to walk through this tiny airport, and sure enough, see a family sitting at a table. I break out my awesome Bislama skills and ask if they know Vanuatu's finance minister. The man says," that's me, what do you want?" I introduce myself and quickly tell him that we are in the same predicament as he is and where we are trying to go. He shakes my hands thanks me for my service as a volunteer to his country (you're welcome!) and goes back to the frazzled Air Vanuatu employee, who is just beside himself that he pissed off the finance minister.

Long story short, he arranged a plane for the following day, and it was the smallest plane I've ever been on. We flew over the ocean and I figured that was the day I was going to die, and I begged God to please let me die from the crash and not get eaten by sharks...

Well, we made it safely to Pentecost, and that's my story about why it's important to know important people, even in the remotest place in the world. :)

This picture shows my view of Pentecost. Sorry, I have no pictures of the this adventure because the airline lost my baggage that included my camera for a week, and then it miraculously found its way back to me a week later (this is the bag that belongs to the white girl on Pentecost- you had better get it back to her or she will do some black magic on you!)