SNAPPING away in Papua New Guinea’s exotic eastern islands, I feel like I’m on assignment for a vintage National Geographic magazine.
During our trip I’ve been entranced by elaborately adorned dancers, a writhing flurry of superstition-charged limbs, sacred shell ornaments, floral garlands and feather crowns, gyrating to primal beats.
I’ve plunged into the indigo water to look at psychedelic corals. With my feet springing over layers of fragrant pink flowers, I’ve ambled through pretty villages tucked under a canopy of gnarled frangipani trees.
For the keen photographer, PNG presents