SOME TIME APART

I awoke this morning excited about the day. Paul was in Sydney on a three-day trip that I declined to join for many reasons, one being that I am pretty sure we have seen each other every single day since February 2. Nothing against my husband - I do love being with him when he's not annoying me or elbowing me in the eyeball (it may have happened this evening) - but even people who like each other need space.

While I am confident that I would have loved spending four days in Sydney (I would have had to fly out a day ahead of Paul), attending Hillsong services and eating first-world food, the decision of whether or not to go on the last-minute trip was too much pressure. I had things I needed to accomplish over the weekend, including finishing a book that my internet library would be revoking on Monday and I really wanted to finish that book.

Saturday morning I drove Paul to the airport for his 7:30 show and drove to the Airways. I had decided to start the day with coffee and a breakfast that someone else would prepare. I enjoyed most of my undercooked omelet with all the fixings and sank into my chair shaded from the ever-more-boiling sun's rays in the open-air restaurant overlooking the runway while reading my electronic TIME magazine.

It was a beautiful day, the temperature creeping toward  90 before 9 and a faint breeze hitting me like someone gently blowing air through pursed lips. The birds were almost as loud as the planes on the runway below.

I kept myself busy throughout the day but remained on the compound. I spent the afternoon at the pool following an internet pilates video and relaxed the rest of the evening. Though I had a plan to be asleep at 7:30, an evening call from my favorite Megan that kept me awake much later.

Sunday started out with an ambition: stay in bed for as long as possible. I have heard the term "lazy Sunday" but rarely do anything to align with the term. Of course, every other day in my life could quite possibly be construed as lazy.

Reading in bed worked out well; eating in bed did not. I watched two television shows all day and read portions of two books. Sunday was a boring day. I got bored. I suddenly wished Paul was back because even his annoyances would be something to keep me occupied.

This morning I awoke with vigor. I was excited. The sun was again shining (O.K. it shines practically every day). Paul was on his way home. I was ready for a morning coffee. It had been months since I had visited Duffy, so I decided to make a little trip to the edge of town.

After another impromptu phone conversation from an American friend that moved back my intended time frame, I headed out in a now-uncommon state: I was dressed in cropped jeans, real loafer-type shoes, I had done my hair and I had a bit of makeup on my face. I don't look this good when I go to the grocery store but my energy this morning made me want to put forth effort. And I had the time while chatting.

I practically skipped out of the house, sunglasses on my face, hopping down the 42 stone stairs that led to the parking area. I hopped into the drivers seat, rolled down the windows and picked a CD: Carrie Underwood's Blown Away. I drove down the hill excited to have the sun and wind on my face since I had only once the week before left the compound.

I felt a sense of freedom as I waited for the guard to open the gate. I smiled and yelled thank you while waving and embraced the day and the city before me. I drove about 200 yards before my pride and my exhilaration melted into heartbreak as I was once again reminded of the conditions for the people around me.

With the dirt steaming and the stones hopping up from the ground, I rolled up the windows as I got closer to the market population. My loud singing faded as I looked out my windows and saw people in torn, dirty clothes, some without shoes; one older woman carried a naked baby likely just under a year old upon her shoulders. It is quite common to see naked children on the streets.

I continued on my drive, more aware of myself than I was 10 minutes prior.

Duffy is one of the two pre-approved locations to which I may travel alone (by pre-approved I mean Paul-approved). With a tiny, often crowded coffee shop downstairs and a clothing boutique upstairs, it's one of the few places in Port Moresby with real character. Kind, over-protective security guards line the entrances and guard the vehicles while patrons enjoy their time inside.

Once inside the high walls, Port Moresby disappears and Paul and I talk about how we could be anywhere in the world. A grand patio features cloth tented areas covering comfy outdoor sofas and standard small tables and modern chairs. Not wanting to take one of the few tables for four as a single woman reading at a time that encroached upon the lunch hour and not wanting to sit at one of the tall counters by one of the two windows where ants like to live and hunt for leftover food scraps, I thought about sitting outside, though the temperature was a bit hotter than I would have liked. I did see a couple fans so I decided that was what I would do.

When I walked into the coffeehouse, I did not recognize the place. Two weeks ago Duffy completed a renovation that absolutely transformed the space into an incredibly eaterie three times the size of the original. Everything had changed. A creperie area was constructed at the front, the display cases had been extended and a new gelato case was the first to greet entrants.

A new coffee machine and new features like fresh juices accompanied the delicious-looking sandwiches and pastries.

The floors are now a concrete-looking tile that are reflected in grey-toned exposed brick walls and columns. Two seating areas on either side of the concrete floor are identified with dark wood flooring. Collapsible walls segregate each section and two rooms in the back are secluded with leather-looking sofas and chairs.

In addition to the standard coffeehouse tables, lower sitting reading chairs sit opposite small tables that would be used as decorative tables in a child's room but provide an acceptable small space for a cup of coffee and a pastry. Black and white art with sparse pops of select color mirror the dark, white and grey tones, allowing the products to create the color of the space and the windows now look out upon an herb garden.

I loved to visit Duffy before but I. Am. In. Love. with the place now! I want to be there every day, and not just for the cucumber-celery-spinach smoothie that I chose in lieu of my coffee this morning (my mom just said whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!)

SPRING CLEANING

While my friends and family in the U.S.’s Midwest struggle to tell the difference between winter and spring, my days in PNG have been filled with hot temperatures, glorious sunlight and some minor breezes. It feels like summer.

What reminds you of summer? The blue satin skies accessorized with a few puffy white clouds opposite the brilliant green blazes that rise from the ground beneath you as you lie on a smooth blanket, feet bare, and breathe in the wonder that is nature perhaps? For a few minutes you stay there, back against the ground, completely relaxed, eyes closed just embracing the natural world, forgetting all about life’s distractions, social media updates, news crises, family demands, work encumbrances, just breathing. And then, you feel a little something on your appendages.

Is the wind rustling your arm hair? Is that perhaps a bit of dust that just plopped on your leg? Intrigued but not yet annoyed, telling yourself it’s nothing, you stay turned off from the other world and continue engaging in the present. Until the present bites you.

Suddenly aroused, you find yourself among natures beasts – ants, gnats, flying bugs that want nothing but to come as close as possible to your face. Bugs have suddenly reminded you that you cannot be alone in nature. Neither can we be alone in our house.

When Paul returned to PNG in January, he told me about a few buggy annoyances he experienced before I made my way back to our foreign home. He returned to find tiny bugs in our dry goods. My fault – I completely forgot to toss or freeze the flours and grains we had in our cupboards. The greater of the weevils had taken over our kitchen. In one swift effort, Paul threw away our contaminated goods and cleaned the cupboards.

He also told me about some special visitors he received at 7 p.m. every evening – some sort of light-colored flying bugs that made their way in from who knew where and just swarmed the inside of the apartment. He figured out that they were coming in from behind our living room’s wall-mounted air conditioning unit and had maintenance spray the problem away.

The extermination worked for a while and I returned in early February to a standard tiny, white apartment with a red leather loveseat. Things were fine until a few weeks ago when those buggy buggers came back.

At 7 p.m., we started to notice a few little guys flying around our faces. Paul grabbed a towel and started swatting. He figured out that if he hit them once, he either killed them or knocked off their wings and left them stunned on the floor. We also quickly discovered their attraction to lights so we cleverly switched off the main lights, drawing them into one target battle zone.

Sometimes I helped; other times I felt I was doing absolutely no good. They would come one night, skip the following night, and then come back the third. We had an ant/mosquito Raid-type spray can under the sink, so Paul sprayed around the only exterior door, not sure if that was where they were making their entry.

Once the swatting and spraying was complete, our janitor’s broom, which is actually a cotton dust mop, came out and cleaned up the mess. We kept the door closed after sunset and turned off our outside light at night, hoping that would remedy the issue. The bugs stopped for a week, maybe a little longer.

The day we got back from Brisbane, I arrived before Paul. I had been in the apartment for a while, walking around in my bare feet and doing whatever it was I needed to do. At one point I sat on one of our too-tall kitchen stools and then hopped off. I don’t know how I missed stepping on the dead cockroach in between the two stools but when I saw it I had a brief, OMG! moment, jumped back and assessed the situation.

God has been working with me on my fear of bugs. Slowly, very slowly, I have become less freaked out. My peace is in the Lord; my trust is in the Lord. Whom then shall I fear? Greater is He that is in me than the bugs that are in this world. This is what I keep telling myself. It’s working.

I was only freaked out for a second or two and while I thought about how much better it would have been to have Paul do something with the carcass, I realized he wasn’t there. Secondly, the thing was dead so obviously our preventative measures are still working though where this guy came from I had no idea. Third, he was dead so he wasn’t moving so why did I need to be freaked out? I just needed to get him out of my sight. So I did.

I grabbed the janitor’s broom/dust mop with it’s half-meter width and fluffy cloth head on a swivel, plopped it on top of the guy and chucked him out the front door into the bush. I was then on live-cockroach alert for days – the kind where any shadow appears to be the bad guy and then I realize there is nothing actually moving and that my house is in fact very clean. There have been no sightings – dead or alive – since.

Ants are few and far between but they like to come in from the door that is not properly sealed and from the windows which apparently are the same. We sometimes find them crawling toward or around our kitchen cabinet that acts as the dry-goods pantry and we use our ant killer and our fingers to destroy them.

Last week I decided to face off with a spider. It was not bugging me so I decided that I might let it live. If I let it live, it would continue living in my house. It could eat the annoying bugs but it could also drive me crazy knowing that there is a beastly spider living next to my microwave. Paper towel in hand, I decided to make my move. I was not intent on killing, just moving my prey to the garbage can and then to the outside world.

With one weak effort, I gracefully pushed my hand toward the wall. The thing jumped at the site of the large white object coming toward it and then moved higher onto the wall. “O.K. You want to play it that way?” Yes, I spoke to him. “Alright, you win. You can stay.”

I left it alone, continued on eating my lunch and casually keeping an eye on the continually moving spider that made its way from the side of my microwave, up the wall, over the laundry area, eventually hovering over the kitchen sink. Paul saw the spider and I explained my failed attempt. I didn’t have enough will to kill the thing just because I didn’t exactly like the sight of him in my house so I told Paul I decided he could stay. Paul was fine on my humaneness but he wasn’t so keen on the spider-in-the-house plan so he grabbed a glass and trapped the spider against the wall.

“Uh huh,” I said. “Now what are you going to do?” The glass was against the wall high enough that Paul was on his toes, reaching over the sink, and he had nothing to put flush against the rim. I handed him a towel and as he moved the glass, the spider inside jumped. Paul was able to successfully trap and release said spider and gave him a new home in the bush outside.

Last week we were once again met by our now arch enemies, the flying nighttime bandits. Paul and I were in bed at 11 p.m. reading our tablets and we thought we caught a glimpse of something. I was on the phone at the time and needed to explain the sound of a whipping towel and clapping sounds when the towel hit the ceiling or the floor.

Paul locked me in the bedroom as he assumed battle mode in the living room. I heard him banging for 20 minutes. “Are you O.K. in there?”

“Yeah, they are just everywhere. There are probably a hundred of them!”

An hour after he began, Paul was declared victorious and had successfully killed his bounty. This was what a portion of the battlefield looked like when he finished:

That photo was immediately sent to the head of maintenance and the compound’s second-in-command. Read that as: Paul meant business.

Paul sent a kinder version of this message: Listen, we have had ants, cockroaches, spiders and countless flying bugs that swarm our home nearly every evening. The maintenance team has been great at spraying when we ask but obviously what they’re doing isn’t working so please let me know when an exterminator will be here. And he attached the photo.

The next day a maintenance tech came in to spray around the air conditioner. “No,” Paul tried to explain to a man whose first language is not English. “You need to take the unit off the wall. There is a hole in the wall behind. Must spray behind.”

It took a little while but the guy got the gist and did as Paul asked. Paul was pleased with the turnout, the guy finished and we were happy. Until those damn bugs came back. Paul said that time they were coming from our kitchen island that is really a peninsula because it sticks out of one wall. Again, the area is neither sealed properly nor installed flush because standards are different in the third world so we have some holes.

Again Paul asked for the exterminator. Late last week, three amazing men in masks arrived at our apartment, spraying inside and out. We were instructed to remove every item from every cabinet and Paul showed them the areas requiring specific attention: the exterior door, the two windows, the island, the area behind the air con unit and the cabinets. These guys sprayed everywhere.

Noticing the masks dangling from the men’s necks, we knew we needed to vacate so we headed down the hill for a little more than an hour. When we returned, it was almost like we were moving out of our apartment.

Did I mention I had recently gone to the store? We had quite a bit of stuff.

I promise our house doesn't usually look like this.

Our previously-concealed kitchen items were strewn all over the living room and kitchen area on four separate desk or countertops. The floors, cabinets and baseboards were covered in bug spray residue. If ever there was an evening for spring cleaning, that was the evening.

Paul started to dial housekeeping at 4:30 so that someone could come up and mop the floors but I immediately pressed my finger to the hook and halted the call. While my husband will have the housekeeper do anything and everything for him, even at the end of the work day, I am not a fan of having people do for me what I am quite capable of doing myself.

Having someone do deep or non-traditional cleaning once a week is fine by me – especially when I do not have the tools or the time to do so (obviously I have the time now), but I am not about to call someone who has just completed a day’s work – one of six in the week – to mop my floor while I sit by and watch.

When Paul and I got back to the apartment, we began wiping down the cupboards and putting away the goods. I continued cleaning organizing the reachable surfaces while Paul filled the bucket and mopped the floor. We finished in roughly the same time, finishing a bigger task than we both originally conceptualized.

I enjoyed the opportunity to scrub down and re-reorganize my kitchen. I had just reorganized one area a week before but that method did not solve all of my issues so I was definitely ready to give it another go. Oh, and those annoying flying bugs that Paul thought were living in our walls? They were. Flying termites. Yes, flying termites. They are a big problem around these parts. Good riddance.

UPDATE: We do not have air-tight plastic, glass or stainless containers for our dry goods. I did not want to buy any since we have some in storage. I do keep all of the dry goods in ziplock bags and place grains, flours and rice in the freezer for a bit before putting them on the shelves. This is something I have done in the past and it has worked very well. I knew to throw away the cupboard goods before we left for 2+ months but I forgot. No issues since. 

SELFIE CHALLENGE

I was 22 when I found my first tumor. I was on break from my senior year of college, reclined on the couch watching an Oprah episode about breast cancer. An expert was demonstrating to the audience how to perform self-exams, when to perform self-exams and how to determine abnormalities – more importantly, how to identify breast cancer.

My mother was working, my brother was at school and my grandmother had left the room so I decided to play along. I placed my hand under my shirt and followed the woman’s instructions as she and the audience members used a prosthetic to find the “frozen pea” under the surface.

I did not find a pea but I did discover something that felt a little odd. Under my skin I felt something hard and painful to the touch. While I was pretty sure I did not have cancer, I was sure that I should have the mass investigated so I called my family doctor.

A few days later the doctor confirmed that I did indeed need to go for some tests. She referred me to a specialist near my university. At that point I figured I needed to tell my mother. When I saw her that night, I told her matter-of-factly: “I saw the doctor today. I found a lump in one of my breasts earlier this week and I had it checked out. I am not worried; it’s not a big deal. But she scheduled another appointment with a specialist so I thought you should know.”

Thankfully, my mom left it at that.

The doctors at the women’s clinic were amazing – so kind and advisory. They chatted with me and explained every part of every procedure. My ultrasound revealed that even my A cups could hold a lot of unnecessary objects; I had three cysts and a definite mass that was likely a tumor. Whether the tumor was benign or malignant they did not know but a biopsy would determine the answer.

In the same room where I had my initial ultrasound, I was given a local anesthetic. The doctor and her team of nurses were with me as I witnessed the cyst expulsion and tumor biopsy. Two weeks later I returned for my results.

I was not nervous going into the appointment. In my mind, I had no reason to be nervous. The doctor had already advised me that the tumor was likely benign and I was only 22. A woman I did not recognize walked me into a room, positioned herself behind a desk, opened my file and then asked me if I had anyone with me.

I had heard about these types of encounters. Companions were only required when bad news was provided because the patients would black out once a key word was announced and the supportive person was supposed to actually hear what the doctor was saying. Why did I need a person? I was fine.

For someone who was not at all nervous, anxious or discombobulated when I walked into the room, I was absolutely on alert. “No,” I stated. “Do I need someone with me? Should I call someone?”

“Well, we usually recommend that someone be with you, just in case.”

Ohmygoodness, ohmygoodness, ohmygoodness just say it. SAY IT!!

“I have the results of your biopsy. The tumor is benign.” Holy sigh. Why the heck did she get me so worked up? She then went on to educate me on my specific type of tumor, indicating that I would likely have more throughout my life.

I was 22 when a plastic surgeon removed my first tumor. While my friends were all on spring break creating memories, I was with my mom recovering from surgery. She was kind enough to drive across the state to be with me throughout the whole thing.

A plastic surgeon was recommended because scarring would be less evident, so I agreed. Looking back on it, I have no idea why I was concerned with scarring. No one besides my husband is looking at my boobs and neither he nor I care whether they are scarred.

My second scar occurred on the same breast seven years later. My doctor found a second tumor during my 29^th birthday exam. I had wondered if the thickness I felt was just scar tissue buildup after my first surgery, or whether I was just feeling the mammary gland – that plastic surgeon did tell me I have very lumpy breasts. Thanks, doc, I remember telling him. “That’s exactly what a 22-year-old wants to hear.”

The week before Thanksgiving I had my second surgery, in Singapore. On my 31^st birthday exam, just six months ago, my doctor revealed a third tumor. Because I could not feel it and it was not bothering me, we decided to forego another surgery and just let this one slide. If the mass grows, becomes intolerable or starts to resemble something malignant, then we can talk about another surgery.

Why am I writing about this?

Two days ago I was asked to participate in a grassroots social media campaign. Last Friday I saw a Facebook photo of my friend, Sue, making a goofy face in front of a mirror. Her post stated that the picture was for breast cancer awareness and that she was on her way to her regular exam, minus her makeup. I just assumed she forewent the makeup due to the exam requirements. Then I began to see similar posts from some of my other friends.

One by one, make-up free selfies popped up on my newsfeed. I noticed my friends were tagging friends to do the same. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that the photos were promoting breast cancer research and requesting donations to a specific foundation. Then I realized that all of my make-up free friends were British, either by nature or by marriage.

Friends were tagged and advised to text a code to a specific number that would automatically donate £3 to cancer research. Within a weekend, £2 million had been raised.

Nicola and I spoke on the phone Sunday evening; it was the first call we had had in a month due to her working travel schedule. During the call, she told me about this selfie challenge and asked if she could nominate me. “YES!!” I graciously and ecstatically replied. “I have been waiting for someone to nominate me….but I don’t think that I can contribute because I am unable to text international numbers.” I told Nic to move forward with the nomination and that I would figure out what to do before I continued the trend.

The next day I researched breast cancer awareness organizations. I immediately thought of Bright Pink, an organization focused on awareness, but I decided not to donate that day because I did not see funds set aside for cancer research, which was the apparent selfie platform. After about an hour or more of research on cancer organizations, breast cancer-specific organizations and third-party associations that rated charities, I decided to donate to the Susan G. Komen foundation.

Before I knew which organization I would choose, I knew that I should share my story. I am not a private person but I do choose to keep some things quiet for one reason or another. Only a few people outside my family – and I mean no more than three people – knew about my tumors and my surgeries. I did not feel that I had anything to hide; I just chose not to share because what happened to me was in my opinion no big deal. I did not want to tell anyone at the time because I did not want the attention – only the very first time did I even request prayer in church.

As I prepared to post my selfie and my story, I suddenly realized that by not sharing my story, I had helped no one. What good is an experience if no one learns from the situation? By not sharing my story of nearly a decade, I have lost millions of opportunities to share with friends and acquaintances a positive example of self-exams and reasons why donating to foundations for education as well as a cure is such a great idea. Had I not watched that woman on Oprah meticulously explain what I needed to do, I do not know when I would have discovered my masses. My boobs, as small as they are, could have been overtaken by tumors and I never would have questioned the lumpiness because, as my favorite plastic surgeon so eloquently told me, I had very lumpy breasts.

So here’s my story. And here’s what you need to know:

·         Check yourself for any abnormalities

·         Feel around the breast tissue and under the armpits and the soft tissue between

·         Seek medical attention if you even think something is not quite right

·         Spread the word

·         Donate what you can to trustworthy organizations

·         These no make-up selfies have raised £8 million in under a week (that’s more than $13 million) so even small donations add up very quickly

·         The Susan G. Komen foundation’s website can be found here: http://ww5.komen.org/

God bless. #nomakeupselfie 

PNG ACCORDING TO DEUTERONOMY

Paul just came in. This is the second time he has interrupted my study this morning. Lately I have made a commitment to do some personal Bible study each morning. This is my time to dive into the Word and learn for myself what I may or may not learn in church.

I saw a Facebook quote the other day that said something like If people actually ate food like they read the Bible, there would be a lot of people in intensive care. Now, that is not a direct quote – it is my interpretation of an actual quote. I had to read the quote a couple times to understand what the guy was saying, and then I got it.

The Word should be like food to us, yet so many people do not spend enough time in the Word to adequately feed their souls. I. Am. So. Guilty.

So often I sit in church or sit on the red leather loveseat with Paul watching sermons from our two favorite pastors (Joseph Prince and Judah Smith, by the way), and I think to myself, I should read that book; I should read that passage or story again; I have never read that book; I would like to know more.

Sometimes I do go investigate the Word and sometimes I just let it lie. I have a Bible and every available translation is on the internet so I have access to a Bible but, for some reason, I find myself not reading the Bible. I read books; I read TIME magazine; I read clues to crossword puzzles I may or may not finish. Why can I spent hours reading those things and not the greatest book ever written?

This week I challenged myself to dive in – no rules, just time. No strict schedule of when to start, when to finish, or how long to devote, just a commitment to making a time commitment.

The first two days I read short books, jotted down some notes and personal questions. Today is the third day, when I am taking on a bigger book: Deuteronomy. Enter Paul.

He came in to tell me about yet another job that he may or may not want. Paul is excited as always about a [shiny object in the corner] new job and the prospect of living somewhere else – this somewhere would be Dubai.

He is worried about Dubai, specifically the case regarding a European woman who was jailed after she was raped. According to Reuters, after drinking with a colleague, she was pulled into his hotel room after she asked him to help her find her own room. She reported the rape to the authorities and was then sentence to 16 months in prison for having sex outside of marriage, drinking and making false statements; in Dubai, Islamic law states that either the accused must confess or four adult male witnesses must testify to the act in order to confirm the act. The punishment was a result of judgment according to Islamic law, which does put some fear into our minds.

It was at that moment that I picked up my Bible and read to Paul the last verse I had finished before he entered:

For the Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hand. He knows your walking through this great wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you; you have lacked nothing.

That was Deuteronomy 2:7 and likely the reason I was led to read Deuteronomy today. When debating places to live, which we discuss A LOT, we are sometimes faced with options that we do not necessarily want to take, but we constantly remind each other – sometimes instantly and usually simultaneously – that we live in Papua New Guinea. Unless we are moving to Syria, Crimea or some other war-torn country, there are not many places that are considered worse.

However, the last six months have made me realize how not awful living in PNG really is. We are blessed. We are protected. The Lord has given us everything we need: food, shelter, a place to sit, a place to sleep, internet and cable television to fill our down time, books, crossword puzzles and computer games to keep us entertained. We have each other every.single.day. We are not harmed; we are not poor; we are not without.

We are with: with each other, with balance that was so hard to find years ago, with God in our quiet times (and sometimes interrupted times). We are with knowledge and with protection. We are with blessings that are seen every day – even in something as simple as God reminding me that I had biscuits in the oven so that they did not burn. Those biscuits were perfect, thanks to God. Some people might wonder what God has to do with perfect biscuits, I know.

The Amplified version of Proverbs 3:6 says “In all your ways know, recognize and acknowledge Him, and He will direct and make straight and plain your paths.” In case you missed it, that word is ALL, meaning every, the whole quantify. Everything in my life I have because of God – even perfect biscuits.

As I refer back to my verse of the day, I cannot help but wonder: If we continue to know that God is with us and acknowledge that God is directing us, maybe we will see that this time in the third word – which doesn’t seem so third world anymore – is just our time in the great wilderness. Maybe our Canaan is just around the corner.

TAKE ME HOME: WHERE DO WE SIGN?

I never thought that I would find my dream house in Papua New Guinea, but oh my goodness, I found my dream apartment in Papua New Guinea. I give Paul all the credit for looking into places that I would have passed every time. I had absolutely no idea what awaited us inside.

We absolutely have our first pick in mind and, luckily, we also have a few backup options in which we would be quite content, just in case we do not actually get to live in what we deem is the best place ever.

Before we get to our dream locations, let’s talk about our wants and needs. First, we need at least one bedroom – a full bedroom with walls and a door. We need a kitchen with an oven and enough cupboards to handle my version of Williams Sonoma that will be arriving via sea shipment. Ceiling fans were also a requirement – they are actually a stipulation of Paul’s pilot agreement (we are currently sans ceiling fans and we no likey). And having a washer and dryer in our unit is a requirement on our end – I don’t want to share appliances here.

With the requirements set, we discussed the things we want but absolutely under no terms actually need in our new place. First, we want a view. We don’t really care what the view is, we would just like to look out to something, preferably something pretty. So whether mountainside, seaside or (fingers crossed that it’s not) airport side, we would like to take in some sort of view...preferably on a porch or balcony.

Two bedrooms would be nice for the space and Paul prefers townhouses for the appearance of more space. I don’t know where developers and contractors got the idea that people in a one-bedroom unit only require 10 square feet of space for the kitchen, living room and dining areas combined. Those people need to go back to school and learn about real people requirements. Looking for a two-bedroom apartment was actually much easier than viewing one-bedroom apartments; one-bedroom apartments have been hard to come by. Most of the places we saw were two- or three-bedroom units.

As far as bathrooms go, I am a "the more the merrier" person and having a tub would be fab but not necessary. I have survived three years without one. Just so you know, my ideal ratio is one bathroom per bedroom plus at least a half bath on every level. I don’t care how many bathrooms I need to clean; I would gladly clean five bathrooms in a three- or four-bedroom house. And, for the record, they would be the cleanest bathrooms in the entire city because that’s how I roll. I would win awards.

While I do not require much more than a refrigerator, stove and oven in the way of kitchen appliances, Paul is pretty adamant about having a dishwasher. Again, it’s not a deal breaker. Speaking of doing the dishes, Paul would prefer to have a housekeeper on site but many places did not offer the service. Security is obviously a factor and we definitely wanted on-site security but we were not picky on all of the security features offered. Our top location did have the most security elements but those elements were not yet functional when we toured the property.

So there you have it: our mini list.

First up is a property in which I would be quite content; Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t so much a fan, mostly because he had already fallen in love. The property was located near Ella Beach with a view of the sea. Set higher on the hill, there was a row of condos and two roads between the townhouse and the sea but the sea was there. 

The view from the balcony off the main floor

The complex is called either Queensview or Queensway; it’s managed by Strickland Real Estate. For the record, if anyone is looking into an apartment, I recommend just calling Strickland – they have a ton of properties, listing agents and they manage a lot of buildings across the city so they are practically a one-stop shop.

The Queenswhatever was a townhouse with a carport adjacent to the unit. 

The exterior isn't exactly pretty but the interior was quite surprising

Inside was a massive kitchen and living space on the main floor and three bedrooms on the top floor, along with two bathrooms. I was impressed with the size offered and the great kitchen features. 

Hello, amazing refrigerator!!

There were three bedrooms; two had a single twin bed and this is the master

The screen between the master bedroom and the master bathroom was quite odd but I did like the tub. And can we talk about the closet?!

The only downside was the fact that the wash room was enclosed in a tiny room outdoors. Having to go outside to do laundry in the rainy season would not be ideal.

Can you spy the laundry room?

It's teeny tiny

The Ela Vista, located high on a hill behind the Ela Beach Hotel, is a great new condo development that is surprisingly very quiet for its location. The rooms are spacious and quite cheap for their level of quality. There was a multi-level parking area so the lack of elevators (yeah, no elevators) was made O.K. knowing that we should be able to park on the same level as our unit.

The Ela Vista is seen through these pillars

Inside we were met with the nicest place we had seen to date. The décor was definitely more modern but I decided I could live with it. The two-bedroom unit again looked over the sea from high upon the hill. The two bedrooms were equipped with massive wardrobes and the bathrooms were pretty classy.

If I am in the photos, you know who is taking the photos

We do not have any photos of the Peninsula residences because they were under construction when we met the developer. I was astonished when we were driven to the site and asked to follow the developer around the inside of the scaffolding and cement blocks that were getting covered in drywall. I did not think that my flip flops were up to code and I was actually surprised that I was not given a hard hat but what the heck. I went with it.

We toured the space, climbed raw stairwells, were pointed toward elevator shafts and led into a two-bedroom and a three-bedroom unit. Though they were surprisingly similar, we actually preferred the two-bedroom unit due to the site and layout of the master bedroom. We were impressed with the features, the on-site power and water, the backup generators and the security features. The one thing that the three-bedroom unit had over the two-bedroom’s head was a giant wraparound deck that the two-bedroom lacked since the smaller apartment was located in the middle of the building and the larger units were placed on the ends.

What we did not like about the Peninsula was the amount of construction going on in the area for the next several years. The condos were said to be opening the end of April but then two more developments are planned for the next year at least. Plus the new U.S. Embassy is under construction behind the ever-developing property and that is not supposed to be completed until 2016. Who will be able to nap with all of that construction going on?

Our top contender is going to remain a secret for the time being because there were only two available units when we toured the property and I feel like being selfish. I can tell you that we found a townhouse with almost everything on both or needs and wants lists: lots of space, as close to a gourmet kitchen as possible, great furniture, brand new, massive fridge, spacious bedrooms, great wardrobe in the spare room, balconies with views and great shared amenities on the property.

I am leery about posting photos at this time because I do not want to give anything away. I know I am being totally selfish but, hello, there were only two units available! I think I have the right to be selfish here.

I hope you enjoyed the home tours. I can’t wait to move into a place and really make it our own. Living in a place that I know is not mine definitely takes a toll on my creativity, my moods and my own sense of style. Plus, I miss having people over. We need a place that can hold more than 1.5 people. 

TAKE ME HOME: THE CONTENDERS

Port Moresby has a pretty sizeable expat population considering its city population. Many expats come to start enterprises, plan projects and then turn the positions over to local representatives once the major phases are completed. In order to cater to Western comforts, Port Moresby has developed some outstanding properties, most of them with steep rental rates. 

The Airways Hotel and Residences is one of the most prestigious and most populated long-term stay compound. Boasting two restaurants, a small café, a convenience store, on-site bank branch, hotel pool and a membership fitness club that offers a gym, tennis court and lap pool among other things.

The rent at the Airways is beyond ridiculous. Rumor has it that an executive for Exxon met the owner of the Airways one night at one of the compound’s restaurants. After some drinks, at least one was completely sloshed. When the Exxon executive told the Airways owner that he would be sending people over for a big project and needed some condos, the Airways owner supposedly agreed to construct some buildings for the incoming expats and, when discussing pricing, the owner offered an outlandishly high rate. The Exxon executive agreed.

What we would consider normal Western apartments are now as expensive as residences suitable for the ultra-elite. I just did the math. For the list price on our current two room, one-bedroom apartment with the red leather loveseat, Paul and I could be living in a spacious two-bedroom apartment in Midtown Manhattan’s Trump Towers. No joke.

After a lot – I mean A LOT – of research, phone calls (some which were actually returned), and random driving in search of residences, we were able to tour more probably two dozen units.

The last post revealed some non-contenders; today I would like to introduce you to the contenders: places that were absolutely doable, if only…. If only it were in a better location; if only it had one more wall; if only there were actually one available.

First up is Paul’s dream compound, the Airways. Every time we go for a meal or to pick up something from the deli, as we walk out to the car, Paul begins to whine: I want to live heeeeere. At times he talks about all of the reasons why he wants to live at the Airways:

·        It’s pretty

·        It’s super safe

·        The guards yell, “Pass through!” every time we drive through the gate

·        There are restaurants on site

·        We have places to walk

·        They import air like in The Lorax movie (not really but there always seems to be a breeze at the Airways that we do not receive two blocks away)

When we first visited PNG a year ago, we stayed at the Airways Hotel. Paul was proactive and contacted someone about rental units. We never heard back from them…until two weeks ago.

Already having seen more than a dozen and a half units and having driven for days, we had decided we were done hunting until we received a confirmation that we could absolutely move forward with a relocation plan.

Then Paul received an e-mail from the Airways regarding available units. With that, we were back on the hunt for one more prized location.

Unfortunately, the units we viewed were not what we sought. We did not get to view the newest properties, which were idea. Instead, we saw two units, a one-bedroom and a two-bedroom, in an older complex that was so well hidden that we did not know the complex existed.

The location was the closest to the airport (we already have noise issues), close to a road and adjacent to a large construction site. The complex also sat just above the main security gate where the guards yell at each and every vehicle. Paul’s biggest complaint, however, was in the kitchen.

While I was not a fan of the cramped space and not completely ideal layout, one of the biggest downsides of the apartment itself was that the washer and dryer were located in the kitchen and most dryers here, like this one, vent inside. We don’t know why but it is common practice to have dryers vent hot, humid air and the accompanying lint, all make their way into the apartment. And it drives us nuts.

This is the two-bedroom view from the door.

Let me tell you how much I enjoy having a washer and dryer in between my oven and my refrigerator...

The layout of the one bedroom was smaller, complete with a table for two in the kitchen in lieu of the four-seater in the larger unit

We viewed six units at a place called the Fair Haven, located on a hill above the CBD. Paul really liked the complex but I was not as keen. The apartments were nice but I was not a fan of the location or the roads leading up to the complex. There were bars on the windows and bars protecting the doors, neither of which thrilled Greg nor me. The property is still on the list of contenders if we want to revisit the property at a later date.

Yeah, barbed wire is really common here - even at the top of a massive hill

Two places we really liked – as in we were sold from the moment we walked in the door. But, alas, no units were available.

Savannah Heights = huge and insanely cheap, which is probably why there are no available units. The day that we saw this one (the only one on the market at the time), we were the eighth group to tour the unit by midday. Can we say massive kitchen? This kitchen, by the way, came fully stocked with plates, cutlery, pots and pans, barware. The only thing it didn't have was a dishwasher and, apparently, the men are totally against that sort of thing.

How about powder room? Can you say powder room? Awesome.

Spacious bedroom

Welcome to the King Fisher, located next to the Yacht Club

Sing it with me: Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

This place had space and a bit of style

And a view of the boats

The final property on today’s tour lands us back at the beginning. The Era Dornia did have one property that really stuck out to us – the Phase 5. The modern architecture led us to believe that the interiors would be more desirable than what we had previously seen.

The interior were brand new and were definitely more upscale. Only two elements knocked this place out of the running: a common washer and dryer in a room shared by five units and the lack of a bedroom door. Loft spaces are great on the eye but do not always function well. I love the look of a loft and Paul and I both agreed that if we were single, we would have jumped at the place. However, Paul and I do not always have the same sleep schedules and having a bedroom door – and a wall for that matter – allows one of us to get some sleep when needed. A loft space at this point in our lives is just not practical. But it was pretty. Sorry, we do not have photos of this place due to photographer error (not mine, btw).

TAKE ME HOME: THE NON-CONTENDERS

I landed in PNG the morning of February 2, a Sunday, and once again unpacked in my tiny, tiny, two-room apartment. Tuesday afternoon Paul and I went to see the first of many apartments Port Moresby had to offer. And by many, I mean MAAAAAAAAANY, because my husband cannot just see a few - he needs to see all. And I mean ALL.

We began our search on February 4 and I finally convinced Paul to stop looking on February 24 when we officially saw our last apartment. 20 days, people - 20 days of calling, driving, searching, peeking, peering, inquiring, researching, stalking.

What motivated us to move?

To make a long story short, when we left Singapore nearly a year ago (four weeks short of a year ago, actually), we were initially told that Paul could be based in our favorite city-state, so we packed up all of our belongings (OK the sherpas packed up all of our belongings) and paid to have them placed in storage for a couple months. Fast forward to today: we live in PNG, our items are still in storage in Singapore and Paul is tired of paying the bill. If we are not moving back to Singapore, we are going to have our items shipped here. However, in order to have a place to put said items, we need more space.

We spent two months in the U.S. for the holidays and decided that when we returned to PNG, we were going to move. So we set out to find every available apartment in Port Moresby.

Our experience researching apartments was more difficult than prior experiences in Singapore, as many can probably imagine. In nearly a month researching and viewing available apartments, we found a total of four websites listing available properties; two were real estate brokerage firms and two were property sites. Translation: we did a lot of driving around, crashing compounds and asking for a property manager's phone number.

Smart people contact an agent, right? Right. We were smart. We spoke with a few property agents and told them our requirements and our desires. Every one of them was kind enough to tell us which of their listed properties met our requirements (not many, by the way) and refused to do any research on their end. Translation: if the brokerage firm did not represent the property, the agents were not going to inquire about availabilities or show us any residences.

Luckily security guards understand basic English and know who the property managers are. We were able to pull into compounds, roll down the window and politely ask for a property manager. Guards willingly provided phone numbers, allowed us to drive around the properties and sometimes accompanied us to management offices so that we could meet the manager. Translation: security guards are friends.

We searched high and low, on top of the hills and down at sea level. Since we visited so many properties and viewed so many units, I thought I would give you a tour in three parts. Over the next three posts, we will take a look at the contenders, the non-contenders and the must haves. Let's start with the non-contenders.

Our first property is located on a hill overlooking the valley. There are five classes of buildings constructed at five separate times: building 1 is the oldest; building 5 is the newest. Paul and I took a look at one- and two- bedroom units. Since those are hard to come by these days, we also saw a few three-bedroom units.

I would like to point out that these photos were originally for the sole purpose of reminding ourselves which place was which - we had no intent of sharing them so they are not pretty. Also note that there are three men in the photographs: Paul and two co-workers who also came along for the ride. They were also looking for places. One is living in our current compound and the other has been living in a hotel room since August. No joke.

PROPERTY ONE: ERA DORNIA
These units qualified in the non-contenders category because they were just bad compared to every other property we saw...and smelled. They were old, unclean, musty, rundown and, ultimately, not contenders in the long race. We looked at four of the five buildings on the compound; three of the four units fell into the this category. We'll get to the fourth one later.

In the older buildings, only three-bedroom units were available. They were within our budget so we went ahead and scheduled a viewing. The pictures are so bad that I almost don't want to post them but I know some of you really want to see, so here we go.

The main floor of the three-bedroom townhouse. For the record, Paul loves townhouses but this one did not make the cut.

I believe this was the worst place we saw, so nothing completely awful, but we knew we could do better. There had to be better. One of the benefits of this place was a small fenced yard that came with a place to hang laundry.

The kitchen was decent but outdated.

A laundry room was a plus; there is a dryer but no washer. I'm pretty sure the washer would have been provided. The laundry area was on the lowest level.

Upstairs were the bedrooms and where we lost interest. Ugly carpet, musty rooms, awful furniture.

This concludes property number one. Next!

The second building was newer than the first but still not great. All in all, it would have been fine but we were looking for better than fine.

Paul and I could have our own beds!

Or that one.

You're so jealous of this kitchen, aren't you? I know you are.

The view of the valley was nice and quite unique. The property is one of just a few that look inward instead of outward toward the sea. 

Our final Era Dornia property was actually the first we saw. The area was spacious but very dirty. The fixtures were more modern than the other two and the furniture was slightly more upscale. This one had great views.

Spacious living area....check.

Kitchen...O.K.

Ceiling fan and ample storage. Good.

Great view, right? *Sneak Peak* This view also includes an actual contender.

So this place wasn't bad but there were other factors. The common spaces were not ideal and neither was the location. While the compound was on a hill and definitely guarded with low traffic flow, there were no amenities nearby. The grocery stores, gas stations and restaurants were all off property. The buildings were also constructed up against the hillside, which made me leery about overall safety (mudslides, earthquakes).

All in all not a bad property, but it was the first we saw and we hoped others could do better.

One morning later that week, Paul and I took a drive down roads we didn't even know existed - some of them should not have been roads in the first place. Potholes - craters, really - and rocks were more prevalent than pavement.

We looked like common stalkers as we drove slowly, crept in front of compounds, cautiously checked out the area and sometimes rolled down our windows to speak with security guards. If we saw a place that looked nice, we wrote down the name, a phone number if we saw one or occasionally left a business card for the property manager.

It took a bit of research and persistent calling on our end but we were eventually able to secure appointments at some of the places. One such place stood high on top of a hill overlooking in marina. The building was gorgeous and so was the view. Unfortunately, the nicest thing about the apartment was the set of stairs leading to the lower level.

PROPERTY TWO: THE GRANVILLE
The Granville property had a great location on top of a hill, not far from amenities like the clubs and the grocery. The guards looked rough but were kind and the property manager was very kind. The property was managed by a brokerage and management firm that was well-known throughout the city and reportedly provided great service.

The unit we saw was a two-bedroom, two-level unit; the bedrooms and ensuite bathrooms were on the main level, along with a small living space; the kitchen area, which included an area for a dining space, was located downstairs.

The laundry facilities were located outside on the lower level, but the only way to access the laundry area was through this glass door, to the right, down external stairs that led to the left. Even though the laundry area was on the other side of the kitchen windows, there was no door leading from the kitchen to the laundry area.

Back inside, these stairs led to the lower level

Though the apartment had some great features, the functionality was wrong. We could not see ourselves living comfortably in the apartment.

We could, however, see ourselves living comfortably in the complex's gym, and I may have asked the manager how much it would be to move into that room.

The view was stunning and I loved the space with its wood floors and four walls of windows. I would have needed a bathroom but not much else.

The views were stunning and the breeze was incredible. Unfortunately the unit we saw was not privy to either. Cue Debbie Downer music.

So those were the non-contenders. Next up are the contenders - the spaces we liked and would be happy in, if only.....