Alexandra Harris's Blog

Kindle Countdown Deals!

The Frangipani Year will be available for only $0.99 on Amazon on November 21. The price will go up every 40 hours between November 21-28, so strike quickly! The Frangipani Year on Amazon

Enjoy,

Alexa

I recently visited Vanuatu in the Pacific, and wanted to share with you some of my impressions:

Coffee, Totems and Cascades in Vanuatu

Skulls on top of graves, not under the earth where we think they belong. Men are buried up to the neck. After a suitable time, their skulls are taken back to the village to be remembered.  “Just write the names down and bury the whole bodies under the ground,” said the good Christians, in the interest of hygiene.

Here in Vanuatu, a Pacific tourist destination I never expected to visit, it is windy and drizzling and the young tour guide insists that he is from the most civilized part of the archipelago. At the museum, an older man draws elaborate sand drawings with his finger. This one turns out to be a turtle totem.

“You never eat your totem,” he advises us solemnly, while my daughters fidget.   “What is he doing?” one asks. I’m trying to listen as he talks about the devils.    “Little devils. We don’t want to invite them in,” he says, talking about beliefs in the supernatural. I know some little devils.

What I didn’t realize is that when a minister (or two) is arrested on bribery charges in the capital of Port Vila, the entire city (town?) comes to the police station to see what’s going on. This causes substantial traffic.

“There’s also a cruise ship in port,” says our guide, Patice. [Patrice? I ask. No, Patice. Silly name, huh?] “Not helping things much.”

On the way to the waterfall, as we are finally escaping the crush of the city, we suddenly thrust forward and are jolted back. There’s a crushing sound of metal against metal. I clutch my little girl to me while reaching out to the older one.

“What was that?” I ask Patice.

“Ah, he didn’t move forward. I thought he would,” he explains.

“Please be more careful,” I say, feeling annoyed.

“Oh God,” he said, distracted. “It’s my Dad.”

“What did he say?” asks my five-year-old.

“He said the person driving that van we hit was his Dad.”

“Is it really?” she asks, suddenly interested and clearly unhurt.

“Yes,” he says, embarrassed, as the driver sticks his head out of the window, shakes his head and disbelief, and gestures for us to move on. Patice is quiet and sheepish the rest of the drive.

We finally get through the crush of minivans and we find ourselves at the waterfall. I look at the brochure in my hand and look back up again. In the brochure white tourist couples are drinking steaming cups of coffee in a lovely wooden café, with a mini-niagara in the background. Here we are at the cascades, and what do we have here? A basic rest area with a few plastic chairs and some bathrooms, a bridge over some gently cascading pools coming down through large grey rocks, and a path leading upwards.

“We will be walking about twenty minutes up to the waterfall,” says our large, tattooed guide. Patice has disappeared, back to the city. So much for relaxing at a coffee shop. I hoist the toddler up on my shoulder and wish (not for the first time) that I hadn’t forgotten my Ergo baby carrier.

We visit the coffee factory. The cruise shippers with their bright t-shirts and Australian accents sit drinking their coffee in a large open air café. We are led inside, past rows of coffee packets of all sizes, all embellished with orange volcanoes on brown paper bags. This is Tanna coffee, from the volcanic island. The smokiness lingers, and we are led deep into the shop.

“These are the green beans. See?” We hold and smell them. The coffee factory man points to a large black roasting machine, smoke billowing out of the top.  “This is where the beans are roasted.” He pulls out another handful of beans from a large jute bag. “These are the dark roast beans.” Again, we obligingly hold and smell the beans. The smoke is enveloping my hair.  “Okay, that’s it. Order your coffee here,” he says, pointing to a counter nearby.  Tour is over. At least we can get a nice hot cup of coffee here – no waterfall backdrop required.

The Colombo International Book Fair starts tomorrow at the BMICH Conference Hall! I will be at Stall A-79, my publisher Perera Hussein’s stall. You will be able to buy The Frangipani Year at a 20 percent discount there.

Come see me at these times:

Friday September 18 – 3:00-5:00 PM

Sunday, September 20 – 10:00 AM-12:00 PM

Monday, September 21 – 9:00-11:00 AM

Here’s the map with the stall location: Book Fair Map

See you there!

I’m a writer with an interest in fictional and non-fiction journeys. I grew up overseas and currently live in Colombo, Sri Lanka. My first novel, The Frangipani Year: Love and Aid Work in Post-Tsunami Aceh, was published in May.

This website is a place to finally put everything together, including links to my latest novel, children’s stories and travel writing. I will also include updates on interesting upcoming events.  Come along for the journey!

I will be at the Colombo International Book Fair on September 18th, 20th and 21st at the BMICH center at my publisher Perera Hussein's stall, A-79. Enjoy discounts of 20 percent off on my book, The Frangipani Year!