Papua New Guinea had rules.  I couldn't just fly there and pop in without a visa, and there were only two convenient places to apply for a visa close to my current location.  One was the Consulate in Manila in the Philippines, and the other was in Sydney.

The Consulate office in Sydney was no more than a small room in a modest home out in the suburbs.  Their national flag was flying in the front garden so I knew I had arrived at the right place.  The office had a small metal desk in the middle of the room and three chairs lined against one wall, which left little space for anything else.  On the wall behind the desk was an old PNG tourist poster with its corners yellowed and curling from age.

The Consular had no gift for conversation and seemed only interested in collecting the visa fee. I handed him a passport size photo, but he just handed it back.  The standard PNG visa was for 30 days and cost five kina, which was just over four dollars US.  Indicating that wasn't enough time, he asked how long would I like to stay and I said three months.  He looked surprised as if thinking "what for", but three months was not a problem and I handed him thirteen dollars.  The Consulate had no maps, no brochures, but did mention that Australian dollars were better than US dollars before stamping my passport.  

Boarding a full plane in Melbourne for Papua New Guinea, it appeared that a lot of people were going there, supporting a sense of normality. Arriving, however, only three passengers got off, as the rest continued onward to Manila.  Perhaps, I should have taken that as an omen of what I was soon to experience for the next three months. 

Photographed in 1989