Moning olgeta,

12:20 p.m. on Thursday. I guess I should say "apinun" to everone.

I'm back among the living again! The voice has returned. I can't tell you how ironic it is that in a society that values conversation so much, I was mute for four days. Ah well. Makes me appreciate being healthy. Now I'm dealing with slight health problems of a different kind, of which I'll spare you the dirty details. The traveler's greatest joy. Still functional though.

Monday and Tuesday I was out of commission. Yesterday, Wednesday, we had a busy day. I began it by slipping on the house stairs and falling all the way down. (Note to man bilong mi -- it was kind of like that time I was sick in Brooklyn and fell down my cousin's stairs...) Got a big "ooooh" out of the men who were standing by my grandmother and grandfather's roundhouse. We went back to my aunt Delta's hauslain and interviewed her brother, George. He had worked with poverty alleviation programs (UN and PNG government) and had some interesting things to say -- in English -- about comparing PNG's poverty to that of other countries he's been to. Some unnamed individuals in the area showed me a bag full of an illicit substance they've harvested and intend to sell in the islands, where it's big money. Risky, but big money. Let's just say it was strong stuff. I had a cold and I could smell it. One guy is trying to start up a tourist center in the area and wanted to talk about what he hopes to do. This is an interesting village -- the power line goes right up to the haus kunai, or grass huts. But nobody can afford to pay the K1,000 (roughly $330) it would take to buy a meter box and pay for the connection fees. Not to mention the cost of power... So it's a striking image: haus kunai (grass huts), clothes on the bushes drying, a "bed" for drying coffee beans before they're sold, all the usual tropical flowers, kids running around with kus (snot) coming out of their noses, and a big power line behind it all. Kind of symbolizes PNG as it is right now.

Anyway, after that we went to the P/deK's homestay mother's village, where she showed us some bilums she made for the New South Wales Blues (rugby team). She gave me one and gave me one to take to the P/deK's oldest child. I snapped a few pictures. She was a funny woman. She talked in tok ples, so I didn't understand much of what she said, but everyone around her was cracking up nonstop. People laugh often here, much more frequently than in the U.S.

After that we went and recorded the singsings of some young guys from Kabiufa village. I'll take them back to the States and make a CD to send (along with a CD of all the pictures, the "washed" pictures and a CD of the reports I do). They were pretty good. PNG songs sound a lot like reggae, but more bouncy, if that makes sense. I used my stereo mike, 10 feet away, since they rented speakers and a mike etc. for the occasion. They're convinced this could be their lucky break, once I send the CD.

Did I mention this before, that things are changing so rapidly here? It's striking how many women are wearing trousers now. Some women think they're better than skirts/laplaps because people can't look up them. There are ATMs and even the internet cafe (!!) I'm currently writing from. The secondhand clothing stores are alive and well. Seeing as I've given away half my t-shirts, I'm contemplating buying one or two.

Today we're planning to go see the woman who heads the Ifiufa Womens Resource Center, if she's traveled back from Lae. Apparently she went there a week or two ago to market some food and hasn't come back yet. I haven't seen the place unlocked yet, so I have a feeling it's not used too frequently. But it could be interesting to see...

I have most of my sound from Goroka. I think the next few days will be more restful. My aunt, Delta, has caught my cold and I have a feeling she'll want to take it easy. It's been cold and rainy lately. Yesterday there was some sun and I walked around Goroka Market with my cousin Sebastion, carrying my stereo mike. It was kind of a nightmare. All eyes are on me anyway, since I'm a white-skinned woman in a country of dark-skinned people. But put headphones on me and walk me around with equipment dangling from my shoulders and it's quite a sight. Everyone hushed up, aside from some wise guys who shouted into the mike and caused temporary deafness. I hope it's good sound -- haven't gone back and listened yet.

Glad to hear via email that Thacher School is safe (at least so far) from that big fire in Ventura County. I heard via man bilong mi that there was a coup in Thailand. Better check the NY Times website before my hour of internet time is up...

Quickly, though, it's amazing how differently time passes here. The days are long and lingering, even when they're full of activities. Sun is up at 6 a.m.; it sets at 6 p.m. Because it's close to the equator, it doesn't change much. Few people wear watches. The things that matter to people are family, food and good conversation. There's something to be said about that. It makes me take another look at my priorities, which is always good. People may be poor by U.S. standards, disease may be a given, but this country is rich in natural resources, fertile ground, friendliness and the up-and-down of living in the moment.

What a gift to experience that for a month before I go back to the rush-rush of life in L.A. Even in the moments where I want desperately to be alone -- a given when you're staying with a family in the village -- I am able to step back and relish this, at least for a moment. It's so worth it and I am eternally grateful to the bigman who made this possible.

S.