‘Have a nice trip.’ He flashed an expensive gold-toothed smile.

Such corruption had shocked her when she first came to Papua, but Paul had put it in perspective in his inimitable way.

‘My dear Mia, you earn more in half an hour than most people here do in a month. Why not embrace it as a harmless visitor tax?’

Remembering his common-sense approach to life, she smiled. Paul had made her a better doctor in so many ways. As she’d tried to explain to her mom and dad, both general practitioners in Connecticut, it went beyond diagnosis and treatment. Paul’s patients loved him because he really listened and cared about them beyond the duration of their appointments, and it was a major contributor to their health outcomes.

Mia made her way through the customs building to a car park framed by thick palm trees. An assortment of dilapidated cars and utes, known locally as PMVs – public motor vehicles – were waiting to ferry people to the coastal town of Vanimo, an hour away.

She rejected more modern air-conditioned 4WDs because of the way their drivers stared at her, and found a dilapidated van with several women and children already on board. The elderly driver quoted fifteen kina, a little under five US dollars. After stowing her large bag in the cargo bay, she climbed in and found two empty seats in the middle.

A little boy sitting in front of her turned around to peer shyly with big brown eyes. He was a cutie, with a shock of wiry red-brown hair and big round cheeks.

Mia raised one eyebrow. ‘Husat nem bilong yu?’

He giggled, and his mother, resplendent in a bright yellow T-shirt, turned around with a big smile.

‘Dispela nem, Joseph.’

‘Joseph, namba wan!’

Mia offered him a high five, which he smacked with delight.

The boy’s mother introduced herself as Mandy. Impressed with Mia’s pidgin, she offered her a banana.

‘Tenku tumas.’

In truth, Pidgin was easy to learn, although its limited vocabulary could be frustrating when trying to explain complex conditions to patients. Paul had taught her how to use metaphors and analogies. Her favourite was for rheumatoid arthritis: Bun paia bilong yu pait bodi. ‘Bone fire is your body fighting itself.’ The next challenge was to persuade them it was no one else’s fault!

It was a relief to get underway, for the humidity and redolent stench of durian fruit inside the cargo bay was suffocating. From her open window, Mia stared out at the vista unfolding. On her left sparkling blue water lapped at deserted idyllic palm-fringed sandy beaches, bisected by rocky headlands topped in lush tropical jungle, while on her right was a mysterious bulwark of green, the edge of a great forest that had once stretched almost unbroken for 1000 kilometres to the southern shore of the island. Now logging, mostly from Malaysian interests, was steadily reducing the great forests to a patchwork.