🇵🇬 Papua New Guinea and 🇸🇧 Solomon Islands By Suki Nakamura, Out of Office
The Western gym — fluorescent-lit, mirror-lined, full of people staring at their own reflection while pretending to read a phone propped on the treadmill console — does not really exist in Papua New Guinea or the Solomon Islands, and neither country has lost a single moment of sleep over the omission. Fitness here isn't a category of consumer spending. It's rugby on a patch of grass, it's swimming that also happens to be how dinner gets caught, and it's a level of everyday physical competence that would embarrass most gym members back home within about four minutes of actual comparison.
I've had people describe both nations to me as "untouched," a word I find almost insulting in its laziness, as if the point of a place is how little it resembles somewhere else. What's actually happening here is a fitness culture built entirely around function rather than aesthetics, and it makes the entire concept of "leg day" look faintly ridiculous by comparison.
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Join a local touch rugby or rugby league game if invited — it's the fastest social integration available | Assume you'll be taken it easy on because you're a visitor; you won't be |
| Use hotel or expat compound gyms for weights if that's your preference, but know they're rare outside major towns | Expect a commercial gym in most towns outside Port Moresby or Lae |
| Hike with a local guide, both for safety and because trail fitness here means something different than at home | Underestimate PNG terrain; "a short walk" can mean serious elevation and mud |
| Respect that rugby league is closer to a national religion than a pastime | Talk down PNG's team while wearing an Australian jersey; you will be heckled |
| ✅ Do | ❌ Don't |
|---|---|
| Swim and free-dive as the default fitness activity — it's functional, not recreational, for most locals | Treat the ocean as a gym prop rather than the working, living resource it is |
| Join a village volleyball or football match if welcomed in | Expect matches to run on a fixed schedule; they start when enough people show up |
| Paddle an outrigger canoe if offered the chance — genuinely one of the best full-body workouts available | Assume it's a tourist novelty; for many, it's daily transport and daily training combined |
| Accept that fitness here is largely inseparable from subsistence activity — fishing, walking, carrying | Look for a "gym culture" in the Western commercial sense outside Honiara's small handful of options |
If you want to understand fitness in Papua New Guinea, understand rugby league first, because nothing else comes close in terms of cultural weight. This is a country where entire villages stop for State of Origin broadcasts, where kids play barefoot on rough ground with an intensity that makes professional academies elsewhere look under-motivated, and where the sport functions as a genuine unifying force across a nation of over 800 languages that otherwise has very little standardising it. Turning up to a local game as a visitor and getting invited to play is one of the fastest ways to be genuinely welcomed anywhere in the country — and one of the fastest ways to discover you are considerably less fit than you believed.
Formal gyms exist almost exclusively in Port Moresby and Lae, largely serving the expat and resource-industry population, and they bear no resemblance to the broader national relationship with physical activity. Outside those bubbles, fitness is inseparable from daily life: walking significant distances on genuinely difficult terrain, carrying loads that would necessitate a spotter and a waiver form anywhere else, and working gardens on slopes that would be marketed as an "extreme incline setting" on a machine in Manhattan. Hiking the Kokoda Track has become something of an international rite of passage, but treating it as a weekend workout rather than the serious, demanding trek it is has ended badly for underprepared visitors more than once.
What's most striking is the complete absence of fitness-as-identity performance. Nobody in a PNG village is documenting their macros. Physical capability is simply assumed, exercised constantly through necessity, and never narrated for an audience — which makes the entire Western industry of fitness influencers look, from here, like an elaborate, expensive way of reinventing something everyone in this country already does before breakfast.
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The Solomon Islands takes this even further, because here the ocean isn't a lifestyle backdrop, it's the primary training ground, workplace, and pantry, all at once. Free-diving and swimming aren't recreational fitness choices; they're basic competencies most children develop before they can properly read, and the resulting aquatic fitness of an average Solomon Islander would put a competitive triathlete through their paces without much effort. Watching someone paddle an outrigger canoe for an hour to reach a fishing spot, then dive repeatedly, then paddle back, reframes the entire concept of "cardio day" as something faintly comic by comparison.
Honiara has a small number of gyms serving the expat and NGO population, but they are genuinely peripheral to how most of the country stays fit. Village life in the Solomons runs on walking, paddling, fishing, and informal but fiercely contested volleyball and football matches that start whenever enough people have gathered rather than at a scheduled time — a system that would drive a Western fitness-app user to some kind of breakdown but works perfectly well for a culture that has never needed a calendar notification to remind it to move.
What foreigners consistently misjudge is the sheer physical competence embedded in ordinary daily tasks here — carrying water, husking coconuts, climbing for fruit, paddling for transport. None of it is labelled "exercise." All of it would exhaust a gym member who's only ever lifted something built specifically to be lifted, in a room built specifically for lifting it.
Papua New Guinea wins on sheer competitive intensity — rugby league here is functionally a national identity delivery mechanism, and nothing in the Solomons quite matches that fervour. The Solomon Islands wins on pure functional fitness — an entire population whose baseline physical capability, built on swimming, paddling, and diving, would humble most Western "advanced" fitness levels without anyone breaking a sweat about it.
Neither needs a gym membership. Both have quietly made the entire Western fitness industry look like a very expensive workaround for something these countries do as a simple condition of daily life.
Quora — a former Port Moresby-based volunteer paraphrased: I joined a local touch rugby game thinking I'd hold my own, and I was quietly and thoroughly humbled within ten minutes by twelve-year-olds.
expat.com forum — a Honiara resident noted that the closest thing to a "gym" in most villages is an afternoon of free-diving that leaves you more exhausted than any spin class ever managed to.
Internations Port Moresby forum — a longtime expat paraphrased: the Kokoda Track is not a casual weekend hike, treating it that way is how people end up being carried out by porters they didn't budget for.
There is no gym membership, no fitness influencer, no wearable device anywhere in the West that replicates what daily life in Papua New Guinea or the Solomon Islands already builds into a person by necessity. Stop looking for a treadmill. Go find a rugby pitch or a canoe instead, and prepare to be humbled by someone half your size and twice your capability, because that's the actual fitness culture here, and it was never going to fit inside a franchise.
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Photo by Vika Glitter via Pexels
Suki Nakamura
Staff writer covering financial markets and corporate strategy. Has strong opinions about spreadsheets.