Wow, Port Moresby is quite the place. 80% of the people are unemployed and wander aimlessly about watching traffic and chewing beetlenut. We stayed for a short time at the missionary guest house Mapang. It was right next door to a “house cry.” When someone dies, all the relatives and friends travel for miles to come to the house of the deceased. They play drums, sing songs, feast and cry for days. At Mapang we met a number of fellow missionaries on their way out to an orientation on the north side of the country. We had a great time talking about our travel and reminiscing about that last hot shower at home.
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