I was somewhere near the intersection of the equator and the international dateline when I saw this sign at airport security.

Plis putum algeta samting we hemi metal insaid smo basket long ples eia befor yu go thru long machine.

Just passing through Vila, in the Ripablik Blong Vanuatu, a volcanic archipelago nation independent since 1980 (before that, it was called The New Hebrides).

If you’ve ever collected stamps, as I did as a kid, your favorites were probably from Vanuatu. I remember ordering them: huge, gorgeous images of flora and fauna and, if I remember correctly, some odd-shaped stamps—I think diamond-shaped, or at least large squares on a 45-degree angle.

In the tiny airport lounge (difference: air conditioned) we were treated to banana chips and some other tasteless fried things. It was 10:00 a.m. but Bob and I toasted with sauvignon blanc from New Zealand, as we were in some other, unknown time zone.

When travel is not glamorous, it is, at least, amusing.