An entry in the Crocodile Prize
Award for Tourism, Arts and Culture
I was in Mt Hagen recently on my first trip ever. One of the stories I’d heard about the hotel where I was staying was that it had the most exquisitely written menu.
My colleagues had joked about the overuse of superlatives by the menu’s author. One thing they did not mention though is that it had another trick up its sleeve.
On that first evening the wind seemed to have picked up and a slight drizzle sent the temperatures plummeting below my comfort zone. The grey overcast sky hung heavily against the black silhouette of casuarina trees and crooked spine of the ranges.
I sat at the restaurant trying to order from that colourfully written menu while watching wafts of mist rising from the cold water of the swimming pool and listening to canned music spewing of the speakers.