It all began on one Christmas season day one of the first years we were here in PNG. It was a typical tropics December day, the sun was shining, the grass was green, the air was warm, and everything felt so not Christmassy. As I innocently played with my baby dolls, or whatever kept me occupied those childish days, the ground began to roll. The rolling turned to shaking and pretty soon we were in the middle of a big earth quake. Once the earth quake stopped we looked at our tree to see our angel dangling on a wire from the top of the tree. We thought she looked as if she had been bungee jumping. And to this day, we call her the bungee jumping angel.
This story often is told at Christmas and I just told my best friend about it the other day.
Today I was sitting innocently in my room watching TV when my room began shaking. And before I knew it, the earth quake was pretty intense. I ran to the kitchen as I heard things falling, in time to catch the toaster- on its way off the counter. Candles fell off shelves, the wise men fell, and our carved wooden baby Jesus sky dived from the shelf. I held the kitchen together and finally the earth quake calmed. But I was still shaken (no pun intended :P) and then, I looked over at the tree, realizing that once again, our angel had bungee jumped.
Come to find out later that it was a 7.3 earthquake! and we found it ironic, that the first and last Christmas (and no others out of the 11 I've had here in PNG)the angel bungee jumped. Now I have two stories to tell :)
That's kinda funny! I'm glad you're okay. That's a pretty big earthquake. :)
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