Email Elizabeth2014 winter vacation
The Eratap Resort vs. The Havannah Resort
WWII Museum Tanoliu, Efate Island
Some of you might be wondering which Vanuatu resort you might stay at if you chose to visit Efate Island, and whether The Eratap Resort was better than The Havannah or vice versa. I put this out there because I had found it difficult to choose between the two, so I spent part of my 2014 winter vacation at both of them. While I had many glowing and wonderful things to say about Eratap during my time there, I withheld talking about The Havannah because a) I was staying there last and still wanted them to smile at me, and b) I wanted to give it more thought.
You should know that The Havannah is located on the northwestern side of the island, more north than west, and the Eratap Resort is on the southern side, more south than east. Also, The Havannah is located in a harbor with a view of the ocean passage a long ways off, whereas the Eratap Resort is smack dab on the ocean, for the most part. It does wrap around a peninsula with a few islands on the other side, but my villa #4 was 4 doors down from the restaurant and faced the rugged ocean.
My personal preference is the ocean. I adore walking out my back door, across the lawn to the sand and jumping into the water. With The Havannah, you have a ways to go, although my villa was #15, on the water, and right next to the restaurant. Which meant on New Year’s Eve I sprang outta bed at midnight like a rocket when the firecrackers exploded in front of my window.
Eratap Resort Villa Yard
The villa at Eratap was actually a one-bedroom suite. The living area was separate and set back from the bedroom. Picture two squares adjoined about halfway and you’ve got the layout at The Eratap. I was exhausted when I arrived from Honolulu via Australia. The following morning when I sleepily ventured out on my deck, I was very careful to quietly close the door to my deck because I did not want to disturb my neighbor on the other deck — and it took me a day or two to realize that the other neighbor was me. I had two decks. One for the bedroom and one for the living room.
Also, the interior of the villas at Eratap were island style, with high thatched roofs, and The Havannah was more modern, flat walls, flat ceiling, only one room with a step up to the sleeping area and bath. It felt like a cave. But it had a tremendous view of the water.
The Havannah Resort Yard
I think the prices were more reasonable at The Eratap Resort. The villas cost less, and the restaurant seemed comparable except that the portions were larger. When I first checked into The Havannah, I ordered a Greek salad for lunch. What arrived in front of me was a bit of a shock: a few leafs of lettuce, a couple of chunks of feta cheese, a handful of black olives and a few hard tomato wedges, laid out artfully on a pristine white rectangular serving dish. The overall ambiance of the restaurant at The Havannah was more luxurious than the Eratap, but it was also a bit distressing that the staff were required to address me by name over and over. Not just one server, but a whole bunch would welcome me to the restaurant, and some people like to be fussed over like that in a pretentious way, but I’m not one of them.
Bedroom Suite at Eratap Resort
The Havannah grounds were laid out just like a South Pacific Island resort, which is neither bad nor good, it’s just predictable and cookie-cutter, like every other resort. Eratap Resort is more like a bunch of cottages that formed a community but are private and quiet. Eratap was a place I could envision myself living whereas The Havannah was more of a manufactured experience. Although the trip to the Kava Bar and the village of Tanoliu was simply incredible and a day I will remember the rest of my life.
Villa View from Bedroom at The Havannah
I also enjoy fishing, and the charters from Eratap were much more reasonable than those at The Havannah. I got the sense that The Havannah connected guests with charters and probably picked up a fee for doing so, whereas the Eratap has their own boat and their own guys who take you out. There is no set time for the trip at Eratap as it is by the hour and you can come back whenever you want. That to me is a true vacation experience. Also, The Eratap was $30 an hour, and I split it with a guy two doors down, so it was only $15.
The Havannah wanted $600 for half a day. When I pointed out to General Manager Frederick that I could grab a cab for fifty bucks each way, go fishing at Eratap Resort and return to The Havannah, still ahead by four hundred bucks, he just shrugged. Seems like highway robbery but I suppose the Australian tourists don’t mind.
Eratap Resort Pool, Efate Island
Then, there’s the pool. Even if I don’t swim in the pool, I like to lounge by the pool and imagine that it is my very own private pool and all the grounds around it for as far as the eye can see. I can sit by a pool and read a book for hours. Especially if I can watch the ocean from the pool. Eventually, I will get up and go for a dip in the ocean.
The pool at the Havannah is rather small and villas hang over the top of it. It has a bar, but I never saw anybody staff the bar. It’s not really very private. Whereas the pool at The Eratap reminded me of the solitude at the Neptune pool at Heart Castle in San Simeon, without the Grecian statues or Roman Temple facade.
The Havannah Resort Pool, Efate Island
While I left too soon to enjoy a massage, which I had booked for later in the day of my departure before I realized I was instead supposed to be checking out, I did walk through the spa at The Eratap. It was open and airy, with a light ocean breeze throughout. All the towels and tables and supplies were laid out, waiting for a guest to dial the reception. At The Havannah, where I did actually have a massage, the room as small, dark, enclosed and while enjoyable it fell along the lines of my massage at The Four Seasons in Lanai in Manele Bay, which is to say it fell short of expectations. But I am probably not the best person to talk about massages because I’m overly particular about them.
In conclusion, my vote will go with The Eratap Resort. But I crave solitude, privacy, and I don’t want to be needlessly fussed over. Luxury without the fuss is my review for Eratap. If you’re more social and don’t care how much it costs, you might prefer The Havannah. Both resorts are a great place to stay in Vanuatu.
Top Things Not to Do in Molokai, Hawaii
Sunset on beach at Molokai Hotel
If you ask me, but you didn’t and maybe should, travel agents have it all screwed up about the order of things for a winter vacation hopping islands in the South Pacific. They have their own order of how they believe a vacation should progress, from worst to best, just like Sacramento Realtors have an order in which they often show homes, which isn’t, to say the least, the closest home next in distance as much as it might be the one you want to and should buy for last, so now that you’ve compared every other dog, let’s tour the home you will absolutely love, shall we?
I mean, everybody thought I was a bit nuts to “downgrade” the experience of my winter vacation by going to Molokai last. The way they see it, my vacation was backwards because I did the most luxurious and pampered, laid-back vacation I could possibly afford first by going to Four Seasons in Manele Bay in Lanai. If I had gone directly to the South Pacific instead of via Vanuatu from the Four Seasons, the feeling would have been different. But I tempered it in the middle with a 3-day stay at the Moana Surfrider in Honolulu for that “shock-back-to-reality therapy” I needed, so by the time I reached Vanuatu, a bed with clean sheets seemed appealing. See, it works out in my convoluted manner.
Visiting Molokai is giving me a chance to unwind, to re-discover seaside peacefulness without all of that tourist bullshit you get at high-end resorts: is everything all right ma’am, what do you think, how did you like, what can we do, all of that in-your-face nonstop pretentious bullshit that can make you wanna puke. Molokai will allow me to ease back into a society in Sacramento where the ocean isn’t sucking my toes and Diet Coke is served in pull-tab cans, without ice, straws, lime or accompanied by a side of cashews, where if we forget to stock the ‘frig I sip it warm. In Molokai you get: would you like a plastic fork with that styrofoam box of take-out chicken, and I say yes but eating grilled chicken with my fingers is actually preferred.
Which brings me to the things I will not be doing in Molokai. My first night here, I was so exhausted from traveling for 2 days that I was willing to shave my head bald in exchange for a dinner delivered to my door. Bear in mind, there is no room service. Not only is there no room service, but there is no restaurant within a good two miles. I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if I am going to either eat dirt or drink myself to death, and the same thing occurred to me. There is a bar but there is no restaurant.
Not to mention, I have no car. I have two feet but let’s get real, they are not walking four miles roundtrip in the dark for dinner. If I have to walk four miles, I may as well shoot a deer. My bartender shot a deer and showed me a photo. Looked just like Bambi, of course. Head all bloody. Why did you shoot him in the head, I asked? So they could use the entire body for food. He took a hunting guide with him from California, and then they argued over who should shoot the deer.
Bartender: You kill him; you haven’t shot a deer in Molokai.
Hunting Guide from California: No, No, that’s OK, I shoot lots of things other places; you go ahead and shoot.
Bartender: No, I insist. You are a guest.
Hunting Guide from California: I just get a thrill by the shooting, you do it.
Apparently this exchange went on almost long enough for the deer to relocate before it met its fate. In the head and in a photo on the bartender’s cellphone. It will supply the bartender’s family with ground hamburger for a while. I don’t know why they don’t call it venison-burger.
Another thing I won’t be doing, apart from ordering room service or visiting an onsite restaurant, is riding a mule. I thought I really really wanted to ride a mule, primarily because I coveted the bragging rights. There are lots of animals I have ridden such as an elephant and this guy from Brooklyn Park, Minnesota, but never a mule. It seemed so idyllic, riding through the unspoiled countryside, looking over cliffs to the sea, all on the back of a slow moving, ambling along mule.
There have never been any accidents, the bartender said, but some people have jumped off the cliffs. Why, would somebody jump off a cliff? Because the road the mules travel on drops thousands of feet in elevation and it’s narrow enough for a mule, meaning you’re looking right over the edge down to the water on that mule’s back. They freak out.
Ya gotta trust the mule, says the bartender, the mule doesn’t want to die.
Says who? That mule could be suffering from end-of-life issues or swollen feet or maybe just an itty bitty toothache painful enough to cause a sidestep mistake, which will cost him and all persons on his back everything they hold precious and dear in the world. The only thing anybody could utter in commentary at that point would be: oops.
I do not want to put my trust in a mule. I realize that I am giving up the Talk Story rights around the bar the following evening, but I decide I would feel better not having to actually experience a heart attack to talk about it. If you’re thinking about things not to do in Molokai because maybe you’re really not an adrenaline junky, then you might want to think twice about riding a mule.
After surviving and living to write about the Road to Hana, there is also a road with similar types of myriad switchbacks in Molokai to the waterfalls. But I would have to drop some Draminine, suffer the ride as a passenger in a tour operator’s vehicle, and then hike a couple of miles, and all I really wanna do is unwind and relax. Knowing that I have to haul some guy outta bed to drive over to my hotel in a taxi or walk two miles to a restaurant is enough to ponder for a few days.
Groundhog Day from Vanuatu to Hawaii on New Year’s Day 2015
Public bench in Port Vila, Efate island, Vanuatu
Traveling from Vanuatu to Hawaii means crossing once again the International Date Line. Hearing about the International Date Line in grade school was fascinating to me because I could not wrap my head around the idea that it was a day later on the other side. I understood time zones — when it was 6 PM in Minneapolis, it was 5 PM in Colorado and 4 PM in California, but that 24-hour thing was confusing and it still is.
It wasn’t much fun losing a day when I flew from the United States to Vanuatu, via Australia. In fact, I wondered why I made a reservation for a check-in date of 12/19 when I didn’t actually check in at Eratap Resort until 12/20, and yet I paid for a whole day I didn’t get. In retrospect, that seems like a ripoff. But getting in after midnight I was happy just to have a spot to plunk my head.
The trip today will be worse, I fear, even though I leave this morning from Vanuatu and will arrive in Molokai, Hawaii, this afternoon, after traveling for more than a day. I get the day back that I lost on the way out. Like Bill Murray’s Groundhog Dog, I get a do-over.
It is New Year’s Day for me and New Year’s Eve for you, if you’re reading my blog on the day it is published. The resort woke me this morning at 4:30 AM. Good thing I wasn’t out hooting and hollering all night, and the fireworks did not keep me up. Still, nobody should be up at 4:30 in the morning unless one hasn’t yet gone to bed. Just doesn’t seem natural.
My plane leaves Vanuatu at 7 AM and flies to Sydney, about a 3-hour flight. I will go through customs and immigration and then check back in on another level to get my boarding pass to Honolulu, which doesn’t leave until 6 PM. I could grab a taxi and drive about Sydney, which I might consider but who am I kidding? There are plenty of portals at the Sydney airport to play Ingress, and that will keep me occupied for a few hours. When I visit Sydney for real, I’d like to do it with my husband.
I will land in Honolulu around 6:00 in the morning, and go though immigration and customs again because I arrived from Australia. It will be a long wait at the airport for my flight to Molokai. I’ve never been to Molokai, and some people have warned me it will be too boring. Boring is good. No planes, no deadlines, no pressure and, best of all, it will still be New Year’s Day when I land in Molokai. My cellphone will work again, but who cares? Who calls you on New Year’s? When I look back on this trip, I bet traveling from Vanuatu to Hawaii won’t seem that bad after all.
A Trip to the Kava Bar and the Village of Tanoliu, Vanuatu
Leitau Harry and Pony in Tanoliu, Efate Island
For those who worry about trying Kava in Vanuatu, my experience is everybody made a much bigger deal out of it than it actually was. The staff at the Havannah Resort warned me not to have more than one cup of Kava and that two cups of Kava might be pushing it. As it turned out, it mostly made me a bit sick to my stomach but I didn’t get the high or euphoric reaction I had been expecting.
We sat on a wooden bench under a makeshift lean-to of sorts with a dirt floor, waiting for Lietau’s son to finish mixing the Kava. Lietau Harry has 4 sons and hails from the island of Tanna. She came to Efate Island to teach secondary school, and met her future husband, Charlie, in the village of Tanoliu. After raising a family, and she is now a grandmother, Lietau went to work at the Havannah Resort in housekeeping.
Elizabeth Weintraub at the Clam Shells, Tanoliu
She walks to work from the village of Tanoliu down a blacktop road along the beach, and then veers off on a dirt path that takes her to the resort. They say it’s a 10-minute walk, but at our pace it was about 30 minutes. Along the way Lietau showed me pummelos, mangoes, coconuts, avocados, oranges and bananas growing on the other side of the road. If I heard her correctly, her husband’s brother is chief of the village.
When her son finished mixing the Kava, I asked him how much I should pay. 55 Vatu. I had only American money, so I handed him a dollar. He turned it around and examined the paper. He was a quiet for a few minutes, then asked: how much is this in Vatu? About 100 Vatu. He was OK with that, I told him to keep the change and he handed me the cup of Kava. He has actual glass cups shaped like the kind that used to come with punch bowl sets, but no handles. Maybe they were dessert bowls. I had been expecting the Kava in a coconut shell but some places don’t serve it that way, I guess.
Leitau’s son on their horse
The water was a muddy brown, nothing at all like the Kava I saw him chopping up earlier. The Kava itself is sort of a light yellow root. Lietau was gracious enough to take me to her family home, which is situated high up a hill and was a bit of a climb. All of her sons and their families live below in handmade huts. The kitchen is typically separate from the house and consists of a tower of stones, a pile of fire-starting material made from dried fronds, a mat they used for dining, and the structure is encased in chicken wire with a tin roof.
Peter Harry Kickboxing
There is not much electricity; no live TV, they gather around an oil lamp at night. Lietau and Charlie’s son, Peter, which they pronounce Petah, built his own kickboxing and workout area. Part of it includes a log planted upright in the dirt with bars made from wood and attached perpendicular. After he twirls around and kicks the bag secured to the log, he then pumps his arms up and down between the bars for strength. He won a bronze medal in Port Vila. Says he is “maybe 21,” when I ask and shoots a help-me-glance at his mom.
They have a horse they keep across the road on the side of the ocean, and a pony is tied up in the yard. Of course, they raise chickens and Charlie showed me their stash of chicken eggs in the nest. Lietau continued to warn me that I should watch where I was walking because if I hurt myself, I still needed to walk all the way back to Havannah Resort. I wondered if she had this problem before where a guest had injured herself and could not leave. I could think of worse places to be laid up, that’s for sure. This place was paradise.
Freshly cut coconut
On the way to the Kava Bar, Lietau asked one of her sons to climb the coconut tree and gather us a few coconuts. He handed his mother his music device and earplugs and darted across the street. I was amazed at how quickly he scooted up the tree. It was as though his arms simply pulled him up and his legs ran around the trunk. He tossed 3 coconuts to the road. Lietau cut them open with a huge butcher knife, slicing the sides at a diagonal until she got down to the skin.
This was young coconut, not the dried brown type. Once we got to the skin, Lietau cut off the top revealing a small hole and handed me the coconut. The water wasn’t as coconut-ty as I expected but it was a refreshing drink in the heat. I drank about half of it and handed the coconut back to Lietau, who finished it off. Then she cut it in half and used a piece of coconut shell to scoop out the flesh, which we also ate. It, too, wasn’t really like a coconut but instead more almond-like.
Lietau’s granddaughter Sarah
Her granddaughter Sarah grabbed a big chunk of it, and soon her face was covered in coconut, with pieces of the flesh stuck to her legs. Sarah has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a little girl. She’s gonna knock ’em out when she grows up. Lietau thought nothing of handing the toddler her butcher knife to put away. I wanted to jump up from the mat and help her but instead thought otherwise. Not really my place. I was a guest and a very fortunate guest at that.
Family washing clothes in the river, Tanoliu
We walked down to the river to visit Lily washing clothes. Lily also works in housekeeping at Havannah Resort. It was more like a private pond in the middle of the water. Children swam while Lily and her family pounded clothing. They had backed a pickup truck down by the river to load up the clothing after the family finished washing. It was pretty much a weekly ordeal. I met a gorgeous woman there and asked if I could take her photograph. At first she was shy and somewhat reluctant. I explained that she was beautiful and deserved to be captured in a photo for eternity. Her eyes lit up, and I could see the proudness in her soul emerge and begin to shine. It was a moment that almost made me cry.
Beautiful woman at the river, Tanoliu, Efate Island
Glancing back at the women washing clothes, I saw them eyeing me suspiciously like what in the world was I doing? Back at the Kava hut, Lietau’s son handed me the glass of Kava. Lietau grabbed my camera to take a photo. Her son decided to get in on the action, too, and he raised his cellphone. I stood there in the dirt trying not to dribble any of the brown water down the front of my shirt and downed the drink in one huge gulp. It didn’t taste bad. Not at all like I was prepared for. A little minty, there was a certain tingle, numbness to the Kava, and a bit of an aftertaste that seemed quite suitable. I think I shocked my new friends by my reaction. They clapped.
Downing the Kava in Tanoliu, Efate Island
Did I want water? No, but I’d take another Kava. They suggested I sit for a few minutes to determine how I would ultimately react. I noticed Lietau looking at me strangely. Was my face in some kind of contortion, I wondered, of which I was unaware? Nope, she wanted to know what the front of my shirt read. It read: Do I Look Like a People Person To You? I shared a story about this shirt, which is one of my favorite t-shirts. How I had been walking through a department store in downtown Sacramento and a stranger approached me to say, Why, Yes, you do. I forgot I was wearing the shirt. I do WHAT? I asked. You look like a people person, the woman responded. Well, F-You, I replied, because I’m not. I just said it because I am a smart aleck. But this story with its abrupt ending sent Lietau and her son into fits of laughter. They found it very funny and endeared themselves to me even more.
Even after my second drink of Kava, I still didn’t feel anything weird. It was near the dinner hour, and Lietau walked me back to the resort. I wouldn’t have found the way by myself, so maybe there was something to the Kava after all.
A Private Sunset Cruise in Vanuatu at Havannah Resort
Havannah Harbor Sunset Cruise at Efate Island
What do you say to a native-born from Vanuatu who asks: what is America like? Do you launch into a public relations campaign, talking about the home of the free, land of the brave, where any person allegedly can become president? Or, do you say America is facing severe socio-economic problems, is a leading contributor to global warming, but it’s still the best place to live. That our middle class is pretty much wiped out, fourth-generation farming families can’t afford to till the land, and for a land that was once settled by immigrants, that door has long ago been slammed shut.
My Beach at Havannah Resort, Efate island
Yet, our economy would collapse without the support of undocumented aliens. But we pretend they are not here. Our national debt exceeds $18 trillion, and we turn a blind eye to the revolving door between bankers and congress. People are much too consumed by materialism and commercialism to the point that it rules their lives. But by golly, we’ve got Big Gulps and Big Macs and chocolate chip cookies the size of a pizza.
Yacht in Havannah Harbor, Efate island
I realize that my rantings make no sense to the young man I’m talking to during a Sunset Cruise in Vanuatu’s Havannah Harbor. His teeth are Chicklet perfect and his hair is braided in rows into a tight short ponytail. He cracks a grin as wide as the Montana sky and agrees but I’m fairly certain my words didn’t register. He’s happy, polite and trying to make me happy by pouring me a glass of champagne. Who am I to disturb his task at hand?
This catamaran captain doesn’t get many Americans at the Havannah Resort. He’s never left the country and doesn’t seem inclined to travel. People in his village of Mele work at gathering food, if they don’t grow their own, and they have feasts. They go to church on Sunday and “blong” to a smattering of religions such as Nagire Presbyterian, 7th Day Adventists, or Church of Latter Day Saints but there doesn’t seem to be any Catholic churches or a Synagogue in Port Vila that he knows about. They have a chief in the village who keeps peace. And, they wear normal clothes, which I know because I asked.
Dock to Havannah Resort
At the end of the harbor is a huge yacht anchored. I asked if he knew to whom the yacht blonged. A person named Michelin. See, now I have an image in my mind of that fat guy inside a tire. It would make sense since most people drive vans or pickup trucks. Our sunset cruise in Vanuatu took us near the yacht, where we pulled the motor and sailed back.
We didn’t talk much about life in America. Instead I turned the conversation to Kava. He says some of his friends have been known to crawl home on all fours after drinking a few. He got down on his hands and knees in the boat and showed me in case I didn’t understand. I’m considering asking one of the women on staff here to escort me down the trail to town to a Kava bar. Kava is purportedly quite foul tasting, which is why it should be downed in one gulp. I’ll report back later.
