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As I arrived in Port Vila, I thought about how I even ended up there. It wasn’t that I never planned to visit Vanuatu. Ever since I hosted an Australian teacher who told me about Million Dollar Point, Vanuatu had been at the back of my mind. But there were just so many other places on my list.
And then the pandemic happened. When international borders re-opened, my travel mood had changed. I wanted to prioritise people, not countries. And besides, I knew that the airlines were still scrambling at the time. Airports were understaffed. Flights were often cancelled, there weren’t enough planes anymore. Baggage got lost. It was not as predictable as before. I thought to play it safe, and go to a destination that had a direct flight from Kuala Lumpur, with no need for transits.
So I booked a flight to see an old colleague in Australia. I had promised to visit him on one of my numerous transits in Australia, but never did because I took it for granted that I could do it ‘next time’. Besides, that way I could have a second go at diving in the Great Barrier Reef, since I wasn’t successful the first time.
But many other things changed after the global Covid-19 pandemic.
Why I decided to go to Vanuatu
The Australian eTA process for Malaysians used to be easy. It used to take like, an hour online. Many Malaysians have personal and business ties in Australia. My boss at the time even had his ex-wife and son there, and regularly visited. But when the borders re-opened, thousands of us discovered the eTA was no longer just a formality. (This was not without reason. In the period immediately before the pandemic, the political situation in Malaysia was depressing. Many Malaysians went to work on Australian farms and overstayed their visas.)
At first, I figured that’s ok, I’ll just treat it like a visa application. But it was the weirdest visa application in my experience. And that’s including the USA and Canada, that ask things like your war crimes history and museum pillaging experience. I mean, usually a visa form basically just wants to know if you can support yourself in the country, and plan to go back afterwards.
However, I also had to list out all my family members’ personal details, which made me uncomfortable, plus everyone I knew in Australia. There was a panicked period of calling up old friends and asking them their birthdays and citizenship status. (Ironically, most were British immigrants, not Asian!) Yet the form didn’t ask for normally relevant information, like my travel history. Long story short, I guess I didn’t submit enough documents, and didn’t get an eTA.
But I was used to the process being easy, so I had the flights booked already. That was when I remembered Vanuatu. And while it wasn’t cheap to change my plans at the last minute, I figured maybe this was the universe’s way of making me spend in a country that needed it more than Australia!
Running the painful gauntlet of post-pandemic air travel
I was not wrong to be hesitant about travelling a complicated route right after the pandemic, though. A Filipina transiting in Sydney on work travel didn’t arrive with her luggage.
My own onward flight to Vanuatu had a timing change, but my booking agent couldn’t get through to Qantas to confirm the flight. The Qantas transfer desk sent me away to the Air Vanuatu transfer desk all the way on the other side of the airport. But no one was there, and I was sent all the way back to the original place.
I would have been stuck in this transfer desk superposition, were it not for a couple of elderly airport staff. It wasn’t really their job, but they were old enough to know how the airport works in analog. So they were able to call human beings they knew personally rather than rely on the computers. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known which gate to wait at!
When the boarding gate opened, Air Vanuatu was there as if they had always meant to be there at exactly that time, and that you were always meant to end up at the right gate no matter what. This is the irritating thing about Pacific travel; it doesn’t always go quite as planned, and yet my bags and I did arrive in Port Vila roughly when I meant to.
First impressions of Vanuatu
Perhaps it was the timing of my visit, so soon after international borders re-opened. But my plane didn’t just carry tourists. In fact, it wasn’t even mostly tourists. Actually, most of my fellow passengers seemed to be Ni-Vanuatu men. From the safety boots they wore and their rough demeanour, I thought perhaps they worked in construction.
For the first time, I was in a place where the tourists look nothing like the locals, and I looked like neither.
Bauerfield Airport is small, simple and not fussy. There were not a lot of electrical displays, but the telco services were modern, and the currency notes were polymer with transparent sections like Malaysia’s. The signs are trilingual – Bislama, English, and French – but some signage also had Chinese. You change money at the airport bank counter. They wouldn’t take $21 of the USD Jason gave me in exchange for baht in Phuket – the notes are too old, apparently.
I took an airport taxi to Moorings Hotel. It was not far, but we passed by a town area and landscape views in the distance. It was my first time in Melanesia. Vanuatu looked very like Malaysia’s heartland regions, I thought. Except the people look very different. No, wait. The people all look like our Bateq rainforest people.
But I was also a rare visitor from Malaysia. Especially, since I came from Malaysia, and not because I was living in Australia. The taxi driver and I compared our 300k and 32M populations, and what that means in terms of density and lifestyle.
“Vanuatu time”, and other similarities with Malaysia
Something unexpected happened when I began settling in. When I posted my updates on the travel Facebook album I normally share with my friends, it suddenly seemed easier to post in my native Malay. Normally, I choose English to accommodate everyone. But there was something about Vanuatu. There was something in how everything in Vanuatu felt true to their identity.
Suddenly, my own native language worldview became more comfortable to ‘wear’ to adapt to Vanuatu, rather than my Anglo filter. So when I made my updates, I had to use Malay, or they would lose the correct sense and meaning, the down-to-earth flavour, the unassumingness. I pledged to return to my notes when I could put more thought on how I could frame them in English to carry the same sentiment (I’m not sure I’m really succeeding).
It’s in the little things. For example, even though Bislama is a very different language to Malay, the intonation often felt familiar. Sometimes, I would hear Ni-Vanuatu people speaking in the distance, distant enough that I couldn’t make out any words, just the tone of the questioning and answering. And I’d swear that they were speaking Malay, except that I knew they couldn’t be.
They also have “Vanuatu time”, just as we famously have “Malaysian time“. The hotel’s information booklet actually mentions this, to prepare tourists for the phenomenon, and adjust expectations accordingly!
I happened to arrive on the eve of a Vanuatu public holiday, so I asked the hotel staff what National Unity Day was about. But instead of explaining it, they remarked that Vanuatu has so many holidays (actually, no they don’t, compared to Malaysia), and yet service industry workers still can’t take time off. Which is also the exact same response we would give!
Random familiar things
It’s also in other, more tangible cultural things. Melanesia is distinct from the Malay world, but it is nonetheless next door. Like in Tonga, the similarities intrigued me, because it hinted at the parts of Malay culture that must have been truly ancient.
The house compound, the halaman rumah of a Vanuatu home looks strikingly similar to the food garden of a Malay village home. The broom made of coconut leaf spine, or penyapu lidi, is identical. The woven crafts could have come from anywhere in Southeast Asia.
It was in the contemporary and social habits too. Young men buy cigarettes not in packs, but one stick at a time. Same as us, back in the day. And of course, elders will ask you when you’re getting married, and feel like you should visit for longer. A pastor in Santo asked where I was from, and how long I would be staying, only seeming satisfied when I explained it’s only three nights because the original flight was cancelled. Likewise, he was only satisfied when I explained I was previously married, but haven’t yet re-married!
How people actually dress in Vanuatu
I caught up with an ex-colleague the other day. When I talked about my Pacific travels, he was surprised when I told him that Pacific people dress like anyone else.
When he thought about it for two seconds, it became obvious that they couldn’t be wearing grass skirts and coconut bras while having international airports and shops, banks and post offices. But the only images we ever see about the Pacific show them that way, and if you never stop to question it, that’s your mental image.
Now, that’s not to say that Pacific peoples don’t wear grass skirts (although to my knowledge, coconut bras were never a thing). Tonga still wears their nature-woven garments as formalwear. Polynesia still wears flowers, but the grass skirts are mainly for dance performances now. Vanuatu still wears their cultural dress for ceremonies. However, the everyday clothes are regular shirts, pants, and skirts. Brightly coloured pareos and muumuus in bold Pacific patterns have taken the place of the nature-based garments as de facto native clothing.
What I found interesting in Vanuatu was how the women’s sartorial habits are the same as ours. Cloth stores are common, where you could buy fabrics by the yard and get them tailored. There were many seamstresses in Port Vila, and they also sell ready-made, tailored clothing.
Traditional ceremonies aside, Vanuatu social norms are modest. Like in Tonga, the people dress conservatively and are family-oriented. I guess, maybe because both are staunch Christians. These norms were explicitly mentioned as cultural information in tourism brochures. Perhaps its Pacific paradise setting has led tourists from a more liberal background to assume otherwise?
Food in Vanuatu
You could guess from the similarity of what home gardens grow in Vanuatu, that food is fairly familiar here to a Malaysian. As with much of the Pacific, they rely on various kinds of yams rather than rice, although rice is now a very common staple as well (mainly imported from Australia!). You can easily get tropical fruits and green vegetables at the markets, coconuts, eggplant, bananas, papaya. Groundnuts are common too, sold in bunches with the soil still on the nuts.
Unsurprisingly, fish is common. Like us, people here also consider the fish head to be a delicacy.
On the other hand, chicken can be quite expensive. RM23 a kilo even in a store at the Port Vila outskirts! I was surprised, but then remembered my mother telling me that back in the day, chicken was also the expensive protein in Malaysia and fish was the cheap one. It flipped in a generation or so because we increased chicken farming domestically, and also because of overfishing.
Food is called ‘kakae’, but the word also means ‘to bite’. Maybe it’s similar to how we would say ‘mengunyah‘ using the root word for ‘chew’, but to mean snacking.
Vanuatu cuisine
Most restaurants in Vanuatu cater for tourists. Since most tourists are from Australia, the restaurant cuisine reflect Australian preferences. This is good for me because it means vegetarian dishes are labelled (I’m not vegetarian, but vegetarian food is effectively halal). On the other hand, as a Malaysian, it does mean I get bored of it.
But it took me nearly two weeks before I really began to miss nasi lemak. And it’s probably because rice is common here. The best bet for local food is to go to the back of the main market, although I also had local food every day in Espiritu Santo because I stayed at a local-run B&B.
But even if you’re not feeling adventurous, Port Vila also has Thai restaurants. Kesorn is an excellent one not far from my hotel, run by migrant Thais. I regret to have only discovered it near the end of my stay.
Contemporary Vanuatu food uses Asian sauces and spices to cook gravy dishes with a similar palate to Southeast Asia. The original Vanuatu cuisine is quite bland. My host in Espiritu Santo told me that the cuisine doesn’t even use salt, never mind other seasonings. He was motivated to experiment with a fusion evolution of Vanuatu cooking, and wanted to set up a show kitchen with an earth oven so that tourists could see how it’s done.
Kava in Vanuatu
In terms of beverages, there are no notable ones in Vanuatu except for kava. They don’t just have kava culture in common with much of the Pacific, but even claim to be its origin. There are kava bars you can go to for this local experience.
I’m told that there would usually be a counter or hut at a kava bar, where local women sell laplap, Vanuatu’s national dish. However, if you’re there for the kava, you shouldn’t eat at the same time. This is because kava is a relaxant, so the stomach muscles would relax and the food wouldn’t be digested until about an hour later when the effects of kava wear off.
Discovering laplap
As I was preparing for my trip, I learned that laplap is a vegan dish. So I decided to try it in Vanuatu. This turned out to be a little trickier than I expected. Despite being Vanuatu’s national dish, it isn’t everywhere in restaurants. I eventually figured out that you should look for it in local markets, and by the roadsides outside the city.
At first glance, laplap looks like lepat. The names even kind of sound the same. However, they are quite different. For starters, laplap comes in slabs, whereas lepat is snack-sized. Secondly, it is cooked in the ground, not grilled or steamed. There are versions made from yam, tapioca, and banana, which are ground and then kneaded until it becomes like a dough. Then it is wrapped with leaves and baked in the ground. Personally, I didn’t think it tasted of much. But I did feel tempted to find out if it would be great in soups if you slice them thinly like kue teow.
There are no posh versions of laplap. It is only available in the traditional version. You have to get it from the mama’s markets or a kava bar. When you buy one, the seller would rip off half a banana leaf and pack it up for you. That’s all the packaging you get, not even secured with a rubber band or plastic twine – the OG zero waste!
Vanuatu’s common language
Vanuatu is surprisingly very diverse, considering a population of only about 300,000. It’s not diverse in the way that Malaysia is, where the diversity is contributed by migration of ethnics from a variety of nations. Rather, its diversity is more like Indonesia, comprising numerous indigenous cultures in the same modern country. Consequently, Vanuatu has more than 120 languages, almost all of which are indigenous!
I wasn’t very prepared for my trip to Vanuatu. However, fortunately English is widely spoken. English, however, is not the common language of Vanuatu. Or at least, it’s not the main one. The common language of Vanuatu is Bislama. Ironically, it is not one of the indigenous languages of Vanuatu, but a pidgin language based on English. It sounds kind of cute, and if you speak English you can usually work it out.
The fact that they elevated a pidgin language to be the national language blew my mind a bit. It would be like if we took Manglish as a primary language! But while there is a tension between Malaysians who have an affection for Manglish and Malaysians who look down on it as not being ‘British enough’, it doesn’t seem like Vanuatu people are embarrassed of their creole version at all. I kind of admire that.
But how did Bislama come to be? Unlike Malay, which was a lingua franca at one time due to trade, Bislama has a somewhat sad history. The 19th century brought colonisation into the Pacific. Hundreds of thousands of Pacific peoples were kidnapped for labour in a practice called ‘blackbirding’. Since they were trafficked from different islands, with different languages, they began to develop a simplified language to communicate with one another.
Interesting Bislama translations
My mom somehow found an English to Bislama glossary before my trip. Although I didn’t need it in the end, it did prepare me for the style of the language.
Some words are just phonetically spelled English, such as bol for ‘ball’. Others are replaced by word combinations to reduce vocabulary, such as foldaon (fall down) for ‘collapse’. Still others are translations of the concept, such as glas blong daeva (glasses belonging to diver, or diver’s glasses) for ‘goggles’. Or tingsave and looksave for ‘realise’ and ‘recognise’, which suggest a kind of mental file recovery process!
However, what intrigued me the most are the unexpected substitutions. A sorcerer is a kleva, certainly deriving from ‘clever’. The same word is the translation for ‘expert’. And while they have emotion words like sad, kros (angry), and jalus, Vanuatu’s worldview seems to consider ‘crazy’ differently, since the translation isn’t related to crazy or insane or anything like that, but krangke. I wonder whether no one is crazy in Vanuatu, or they don’t judge it as a disorder, i.e. the person is just cranky!
Does Bislama have familiar words?
But does Bislama have familiar words to a Malay? After all, Melanesia is just next door, and Malay has many old words still in common with various Polynesian languages.
It’s not very apparent in most Bislama signs I saw, but there are a few prominent examples that this is the case. The name Vanuatu itself comprises of two words, vanua and tu. The first is the same proto-Malay word that gave us benua. Though our benua has since come to mean ‘continent’ exclusively, here it still has its basic meaning of land, in the sense of daratan or tanah. Tu means independent, terdiri or mandiri, and seems to have no relation to Malay (unless, it is related to satu, meaning ‘one’?). Hence Vanuatu means ‘sovereign land’.
Another example is in the name of Vanuatu’s currency. Its money is called vatu. The word also means stone or island, which is the same as how we use batu to mean stone or rock in general, but also small rock islands.
Vanuatu’s folk tales
Sometimes, when I visit countries with a completely different culture, I like to get a book of their folk tales (cerita dongeng). I think the stories that endure and gain the status of a ‘folk tale’, give a flavour of the culture’s worldview. I’ve found that reading a variety of such folk tales from around the world gives you perspective. That your own culture’s concepts on the point of folk tales, and why we tell them to children, aren’t necessarily universal.
Vanuatu’s tales, for example, kind of have no point to them. There is no moral to the story, nor does it even highlight traits valued by the culture that they want the next generation to embody.
The tales generally explain why some things we observe today are such, akin to origin stories in most cultures. But the plot line is typically low stakes and involve unremarkable characters. There are no evil characters, only an everyday sort of pettiness or deceit. Nor are there any ‘hero’ characters, at least in this compilation. Such tales are just described as things that happen, without a need for a deeper meaning, an epic struggle, or moral lessons.
If I were to summarise it, Vanuatu’s folk tales seem to say “shit happens”. Coming from a culture with melodramatic folk tales, this was so unusual to me.
Vanuatu’s colonial history
But the most remarkable thing in Vanuatu to me was how intact their cultural integrity is, even though they were also colonised. In fact, they were colonised not by one, but two European powers, simultaneously! The British and the French both established themselves on the islands, and eventually agreed a ‘condominium’ arrangement where they both administered Vanuatu in parallel (then called New Hebrides). The islands were not divided between them. They just somehow occupied the same space, but are separate governments.
You can see traces of it today, in the names of the streets. Many are named ‘Rue’ in the French way. Yet the names are also English, like Rue Edinburgh and Rue Cornwall. Vanuatu currency has its value written in French, English, and Bislama. There are public petanque courts, but the World Cup was very popular as well.
Irrespective of whether the British or the French were in charge, native people (the Ni-Vanuatu) still weren’t citizens in their own homeland. It wasn’t until the 1970s that an independence movement emerged, with the Vanuaaku Party. I would guess the name means something like Parti Tanah Airku, or Patriot Party. They eventually formed a provisional government, perhaps similar to ours prior to the Malay Federation.
But violent riots occurred when the Vanuatu flag was raised for the first time. I guess, given how diverse the islands are, not everyone was happy about the new government. Thus a Unity Day was proclaimed to foster integration among Vanuatu’s many peoples. And that was the holiday on my first day in Vanuatu.
Who Vanuatu supports in the World Cup
The reason that I know that Vanuatu is crazy about the World Cup, is because the Qatar World Cup was taking place during my trip. The local van-buses were decked with the flags of countries the driver presumably supports. Flags flew from flagpoles in front of homes and on top of mango trees.
Some houses flew the French flag, some England’s. Some flew the Australian flag, and Spain’s. But hands down the most popular team in Vanuatu was Brazil. Whenever Brazil won a match overnight, you would know, because the van-buses would be driving around town flying giant Brazil flags, honking their horns and blasting music!
Vanuatu’s sovereign attitude
Vanuatu’s colonial history was evident to me right away. Yet despite learning about it, and realising that they were still colonised long after Malaysia was already independent, I can’t write about Vanuatu in a depressing way. These traces are evident, in buildings and roads and place names. But very little of it is evident in the mindset of the people.
It is not a posh country. There is nothing fancy to be seen. And yes, it’s more ‘relaxed’ than what people from more efficient countries are comfortable with. However, everyone seemed to actually know their job, and took it seriously, without being unfriendly. People are courteous, but not in a people-pleasing way.
Now I don’t know if this extends outside the urban and tourist areas. But what I saw in Vanuatu was cultural security. You wouldn’t find them constantly asking a foreigner’s validation. Nor are they defensive, which is the other side of insecurity. They are aware that their country is poorer, yet it does not make them feel less worthy.
I think you need to be from another post-colonised country to understand how amazing this is. That Vanuatu was colonised just as we were, and in fact by two of the most imperialist of European powers at once, that they became independent even later that we did – and yet today they somehow hold a more sovereign mindset than we do. That they did take on board many amenities from other races, converted to Christianity during colonisation, that they still accept migrants coming to live there – and yet they aren’t insecure about themselves, that they’re not ‘good enough’ to be someone else.
However they managed it, maybe that’s why Vanuatu is the happiest country in the world.
Friend to all, enemy to none
Part of the cultural worldview is a neutral attitude. It is a position largely shared across Pacific peoples, and also Southeast Asia.
As far as I understand it, from Vanuatu’s point of view, many countries have had their influence here and they got along. So why should it become a problem now? Even the British and French co-ruled, after all.
In Feiawa Park, a bust commemorates a Russian admiral who made contact peacefully in the early 19th century. Australian influence is evident all over Port Vila; developing the capital city’s infrastructure and the host partner for a Melanesian football tournament. New Zealand assisted with a market building in Luganville. And the new convention centre was contracted out to China, who also co-sponsored the same football tournament.
Like many developing countries, you can see many Chinese businesses in Vanuatu. Unsurprisingly, many of these are grocery stores and wholesalers, because who else can supply daily goods to a poor country at affordable prices?
And I suppose, Chinese goods have an element of novelty as well. My European host at Espiritu Santo disapproved of Mama Elizabeth’s garishly coloured plastic Chinese decorations, insisting that native flowers are more aesthetic. Personally, I agreed. Besides, the plastic waste wouldn’t be good for a small island country. But I also remember a time when the plastic flowers and decorations were new to us, and all the rage.
When you read the news, it seems as if geopolitics is super important here. But actually there is very little hate. Australian ties are clearly important to Vanuatu. But others are welcome. On my walk back from the Thai restaurant, a truck passed by with some local children in the back, who waved energetically at me, cheerfully shouting ‘Ni hao*!‘
More Pacific travel woes!
My air travel woes extended to domestic flights in Vanuatu. The flight to Espiritu Santo was cancelled at the last minute, forcing me to spend an extra day in Efate, and one fewer in Santo. But as it was still within the flex I planned into my itinerary, it wasn’t the end of the world. (As an aside, Pacific travel trains you very well to cope with uncertainty, a useful skill in a world growing less predictable.)
Pacific travel was already notoriously iffy even in the before times. The reasons range from the difficulties of balancing operational costs with low passenger loads, and safety in bad weather vs small planes. The long shutdown during the global pandemic made it worse. Even large airlines were in trouble then, let alone small regional ones of poor countries without the resources to bail out national airlines.
What happened was that Air Vanuatu couldn’t pay the lease required to keep its fleet, so they had a shortage of planes when borders re-opened. This meant that whenever any of them had technical issues and had to be taken out of service, they were forced to group flights together.
Tip: Try not to have domestic flights on a Sunday. If the flight gets re-timed or cancelled, it is more difficult to find someone in the terminal to ask, and more difficult to contact the airline to know what you should do. Fortunately, I stumbled into someone who told me what the ‘normal’ way is. So I returned to Moorings and let them handle the voucher process for Air Vanuatu to compensate my stay.
Why you shouldn’t worry
A good thing about going through this experience is that I learned you don’t need to worry about it in Vanuatu. There are certain hotels where Air Vanuatu normally sends its stranded travellers. Moorings was one of them so I chose it for familiarity. The process isn’t written anywhere, and that was disconcerting at first. However, it actually is really simple for the traveller.
All you need to do is go to one of these hotels, and they will sort out the compensation vouchers for you. You will need to wait until the airline sends across the vouchers before getting a room. But Air Vanuatu will give your accommodation and meal vouchers straight to the hotel. You don’t need to fight with them over this, it’s understood. I even asked for compensation for a late checkout because they changed the flight time again, and they accommodated it. So even though they may appear to be disorganised, at least they’re not stingy about hospitality if they mess up.
And you’ll want to be at one of these hotels if you’re in this situation. The flight could get re-timed several times. Mine was meant to depart at 9:50 PM, but ended up actually departing at 11:30 PM. This new time didn’t come in through the SMS alert. You’ll want the hotel reception to help you figure out why the airport pickup didn’t arrive when they originally said they would. Automation is all well and good, but when conditions are too variable, they tend to get in the way. And that’s when you want to know the people who have the phone numbers, to find out what’s the latest.
At the end of the day, process doesn’t get the job done. Process only helps people get the job done.
Notes:
* A greeting in Chinese, meaning ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’. I’m not Chinese, but perhaps the children assumed I was.
Carbon offset information to Vanuatu
My actual flights for this trip were slightly more convoluted. However, the best way to do this trip from Kuala Lumpur in the present day with the benefit of hindsight, is via Singapore and Sydney. This is because a direct flight from Kuala Lumpur to Sydney or Brisbane is more likely to result in layover time in Australia that might exceed the 8 hour visa-free period, requiring an eTA submission which has arbitrary results nowadays. This itinerary produces carbon emissions of approximately 4,605 lbs CO2e. It costs about $37 to offset this.
An alternative itinerary is to fly to Port Vila via Auckland, which is less risky since New Zealand allows visa free transit times that are more commensurate to Pacific flight connection schedules. This route produces slightly more emissions, approximately 5,462 lbs CO2e. It costs about $44 to offset this.
Vanatu was a discovery for me. And, getting a book of local folk tales in a country is such a great idea.
Isn’t it? I have a little – and quite eclectic – collection by now!
Such a great read! Vanuatu is on our travel list. I love hearing about the sovereign mindset, despite being colonized.
Thanks Sonia. The cultural confidence of Vanuatu people was impressive to me. Surely, they must also have been constantly told their culture is lesser, and yet somehow it seems little of that got internalised. I think many other countries could use some of that, to properly heal.
This is a great piece. Despite having stopped n Vanuatu on a cruise many, many years ago, I really know nothing about it. Your photos are great and the food looks good. The post pandemic travel is still a fresh memory for us and navigating all that kept most people at home. Glad you had this experience.
Thank you. It was a mess travelling then, wasn’t it? I debated whether to include it in the article, in the end I decided I would leave it in to remember that period by.
There was a cruise ship that came in port when I was in Port Vila. It seems that there are tours cruise ship passengers could opt for, but yes, otherwise there doesn’t seem to be enough time to get the vibe just from the shore days.