Madang

Snorkeling at Pig Island is the kind of activity that makes you question humanity's collective sanity and genius simultaneously-because someone, somewhere, once looked out at a tropical island paradise and thought, "Hey, let's populate this gorgeous slice of nature with swimming pigs." As you glide through water clearer than a Hollywood smile, marveling at psychedelic coral reefs that rival any Pink Floyd album cover, you're occasionally nudged by curious, rotund porcine companions paddling past with an enthusiasm usually reserved for a bacon buffet. Historically speaking, there are rumors that these porky residents descended from shipwrecked swine or were purposefully marooned by clever sailors prepping an emergency food stash-either way, they're now the island's indisputable ambassadors. Plan for an early morning snorkel session, around sunrise, before the tour boats arrive and the pigs get a bit too "hangry" demanding handouts. Pack some eco-friendly sunscreen, a waterproof camera-because no one's going to believe this ridiculousness without photographic evidence-and budget at least $50-100 for boat transport, snorkeling gear rentals, and obligatory pig-approved snacks. Sure, snorkeling among floating pork chops may sound absurd, but trust me, you'll dine out on this tale for years-it's worth it purely for the look on your relatives' faces when you calmly say, "So, have I mentioned the time I snorkeled with pigs?"

If your idea of adventure involves clambering into a narrow canoe at dawn-a time usually reserved for regret and hangovers-then a fishing expedition in Kranket Lagoon might just be the best questionable decision you'll ever make. Nestled just outside Madang, Papua New Guinea, this lagoon has seen it all: once a strategic hideout for warriors, later a refuge for smugglers, and now frequented mostly by fisherman with more patience (and far fewer teeth) than you. Make no mistake, this isn't your grandfather's sanitized fishing trip with overpriced gear from an air-conditioned sporting goods store; here, you'll paddle out in a hand-carved outrigger with local fishermen who've perfected their craft through generations of trial, error, and possibly a bit of mystical chants to charm the fish. Aim to set off before sunrise, when the lagoon remains glassy and serene, and you'll have time to question all your life's choices in peace. Book a day or two in advance with the locals, toss a few extra kina (budget around 80-100 kina, roughly $25-30 USD) for your boat captain, and pack sunscreen, insect repellent, and possibly a baggie for your smartphone-not because you'll get reception, but because your phone definitely didn't sign up for swimming lessons. At the end of the day-whether you reel in a giant barracuda or just find yourself tangled hopelessly in the nets-you'll have earned a front-row seat to the beautifully gritty reality of island life. And, fish or no fish, you'll return with bragging rights, sunburn, and the unshakeable conviction that you've just had an experience worthy of retelling at every cocktail party from here to eternity.

Picture yourself strolling through Papua New Guinea's lush coastal plantations, swatting mosquitoes while a guide-whose machete is suspiciously longer than his patience-explains the sultry secrets of chocolate's scandalous colonial past and its deliciously painstaking present. You'll start off politely nodding at the finer points of cocoa pod harvesting before surrendering completely to the pungent aroma of fermenting beans, a smell curiously reminiscent of a rugby team's locker room, yet somehow promising decadence at journey's end. Mornings are prime cocoa viewing time, when the heat hasn't fully metastasized into soul-crushing humidity. Plan your pilgrimage a few weeks ahead and budget around $50 USD per person (not including bribe money for rogue monkeys or tips for your machete-toting guide). Bring sturdy walking shoes, mosquito repellent strong enough to deter flying demons, and a healthy skepticism towards any promise of "easy terrain." But despite sweaty brows and insect-induced paranoia, the guided cocoa plantation tour is utterly worth it-not just because you'll finally learn what the "70%" on your expensive chocolate bar actually means, but because you'll gain bragging rights for having wandered into the chocolate heart of paradise and survived deliciously to tell the tale.

If you've always fancied strolling across a moody volcanic wasteland that whispers threats of imminent eruption, Karkar Island Volcanic Adventure is your tropical, slightly reckless, dream come true. Nestled off Papua New Guinea's northern coast, Karkar Island deftly balances lush jungles, fiery lava fields, and local lore that casually advises visitors to "listen to the mountain"-a charming euphemism meaning, "if the volcano grumbles ominously, hustle back to your boat pronto." Aim to start your hike in the early morning, when mist hangs poetically over the vivid greens and steaming vents, and the air feels refreshingly cool rather than oppressively volcanic. Plan a month or two ahead-and budget around $150-$200 for guided treks, supplies, and the inevitable "we survived" celebratory round of beers back at the village. Pack sturdy boots, plenty of water, sunscreen, and spare socks, because volcanic gravel is annoyingly proficient at sneaking into footwear. Why risk singeing your eyebrows on an island that rattles its tectonic cage with alarming frequency? Because nothing spices up a dinner party anecdote better than casually dropping, "Did I ever tell you about the time I walked across an active volcano in Papua New Guinea?"