One day Kailopa and I decided to hitch around the island. We walked to the one road that circled the island and turned right expecting a vehicle to come our way, any minute, but none came. It was hot and getting decidedly hotter. We sought out the shaded parts of the dirt road and ambled on in hope. The sweat ran down my back, poured down my front, dripped from my nose and stung my eyes. No car passed in either direction. We took an interest in the house that slowly separated itself from the thick foliage on the seaward side.=20 A man in the driveway hailed us, "Bula." We both replied, "Bula, bula." "Come. Have a seat." He beckoned us to a shaded table and presently iced water was brought by his wife. We passed a very pleasant hour with our host who, it turned out, had had a lot to do with Rotuman politics. It was he who had lobbied for Rotuma to be made a Fijian Port of Entry. "So that you could trade with Tuvalu." I chipped in, showing that I knew a thing or two. "That was never going to work. We didn't grow enough produce to make the ship, Tuvaluan, economically viable. That business folded soon after we got the port of entry status. No, we lobbied for that status for all the development that goes with it - airport expansion, new hospital, better roading. Infrastructure. And we're getting it. You'll see the hospital under construction if you ever go to the top of the island." When our host discovered our interest in seeing his island he suggested he drive us. Our lifted spirits dropped when he realised he didn't have enough petrol for the journey and, being Sunday, gas stations would be closed. But a moment later they were lifted again. "Ah, but I can get some from Boaz on the other side of the island. He'll be there." "How can you be sure he'll be there and have you enough fuel to get half way round the island?" "Oh he'll be there. Should be enough fuel for half the island. Let's go." Our host, I wish I could remember his name, gave us a thorough tour of the island, stopping to show us sights and take photos and providing a running commentary. Rotuma is a mountainous island, lush and green with classic palm-studded, white sand beaches. The soil is rich and easily produces an abundance of fruit and vegetables. We knew that we would soon be cruising among coral atolls where the soil is poor and water often scares. I wanted to soak up as much as possible this idyllic, exceptionally beautiful place. The island gave a well-cared for impression, clean, very little litter, lawns mowed and gardens tended. All was as close as I'd come to the perfect, postcard Pacific Island of everyone's dreams.=20 Our driver never mentioned the petrol situation but I watched the fuel needle move inexorably toward empty and began wondering about where we might spend the night, should it come to that. We passed no petrol stations. I had no idea how far around the island we were. With the needle hard on the empty pin we stopped outside a house. Our driver came back shaking his head. "No petrol. All empty." Then he disappeared into another house, re-emerged and drove us a few houses further into the village. =46rom this he returned with a two litre milk bottle of petrol which he poured into the tank. Remarkably this got us home. Postscript Since leaving Rotuma we have had consistent unconfirmed reports that the port of entry status for the island has been withdrawn.