Down days, mad bees and tropical nookie
March 28, 2005
Pacific Harbour, Fiji
10:12 am.
It was tough to top the river adventure so yesterday was a more familiar, need groceries, have lunch kind of day. We dropped by the resort to pay our cocktail bill from the previous night. I love the trust. Can you come back tomorrow? They said, we have no change tonight. Of course I can come back tomorrow. And I did.
We also signed up for next week’s adventures, which are a day trip to Suva, the capital of Fuji on Tuesday and a day trip to Yanuca Island for snorkeling and lunch on Wednesday.
Suva should be fun. It is with Anil, an Indo-Fijian with a bad moustache and even worse repertoire of jokes. He sees himself as the resort comedian and I think he is a bit of a letch. Every time I returned from the bar or the bathroom he was kind of hovering on Steph, laughing at his own inane banter, nudging her milky shoulder. He is harmless though, and will serve as a good host for the trip into Suva. I am sure he will be miked and armed with a cornucopia of jokes about the heat and the intermittent power outages and the gassy chicken curry.
So we paid our drink tab, said hi to the local roosters, pet the three legged cat and made our almost daily journey to the Cultural Centre where grocery shopping and lunch await.
I checked the e-mail and the blog as I am a sucker for comments, and need to ask one favour, can someone contact Andy and ask him how Alice is doing? I can’t really give the number out here, but if anyone has it, please ask him or Tara to e-mail me or comment on the blog. Every time a piece of food falls to the floor I think of Alice, with her Sylvester Stallone eyes, rushing to snarf it up. Oh Alice. What a pretty bunny. I hope Ike has not eaten her.
So we had lunch (yep, chicken curry, yep three Fiji Bitters) and Hud ran into his two friends from the resort, Justin and Jacob, 11 and 7 respectively. Hey guys he says, want to play with me? They are American and have been living in Fiji for the past six years, with I think, just their mother. Steph and I have of course created a fictional tale about her being a woman on the lam, escaping the abusive husband, disobeying the court order for joint custody and fleeing to the south pacific. Total goofballs we are.
Steph looked so pretty yesterday, wearing a pink and peach flowered, no sleeve top, her hair a little lighter, her skin a little darker, both from the sun. She wears no make up and her skin was glowing like a full moon.
Grocery shopping was a breeze. The store is adequate, but not abundant. The produce was better this time but I forgot to buy yogurt, popcorn and chocolate, standard necessities.
Another small but great part of this country is there are cabs everywhere. With no minimums. We had a heavy load of groceries so we decided to take a cab back to our villa. $2. For basically the distance between University Ave and Spadina. Which is about C$1.60.
At the villa, groceries unpacked, drinking Schweppes mineral water with Orange and Mango, we all decide to go for a dip in the pool. Hud of course now jumps in regularly and yesterday, we put him in an inflatable ring. With a few back and forths he realized that he could both control the speed and direction of this ring all by himself. So within 10 minutes, he has now mastered laps in the pool and doing a full 360. I tell you, surfing by Australia.
At five o’clock we stupidly started watching a kid’s movie, and because of all his laps in the pool, and the day of a lifetime the previous day, Hud fell asleep. We knew it was wrong, we knew it would be difficult to wake him for dinner, but whatever, sometimes the structure can be altered, so we put Hud to bed.
This left some alone time for my wife and I. I have one word for you. Prrrorrwwrrr.
After three hours of torrid lovemaking, or twenty minutes, I can’t recall, we slipped into our pool naked as newborns and kissed like teenagers. Total lovely.
We tried Mitch, we tried to wake him at 6. But he wanted none of it. So we left him in his bed, with the plan that we would both get up when he did, as it was a mutual decision to let him sleep.
He did not wake up. Well he did come to our bed in the middle of the night, but he slept until 7. He must have been zonked, and after battling the Navua River and climbing a waterfall, wouldn’t you be? He woke this morning with a giggle and chuckle.
Today it is rainy for the first time. I know I know, poor baby. Chris, our landlord came over to try to kill a torrent of bees that has nested on the north side of our villa. Seems to me they just got angrier. Steph hates bees. I am indifferent.
I think I will take Hud swimming now. He is being a bit of a brat and I think he is just bored. Later on it’s the beach where we will try to avoid having lunch at the posh restaurant as we have $0.08 left in our restaurant budget.
Damn you chicken curry. Damn you.
Love to all,
J.
March 29, 2005
Pacific Harbour, Fiji
6:25 am
Dawn. It rained all night. Torrential. Which is good for droughty Fiji, but bad for us, as it does not look like it is going to let up.
I am sitting at the dining room table typing into my brand new G4 Powerbook listening to Clocks by Coldplay using my Ipod with ITravel on the stereo in my rented 2000 square foot villa listening to the globby raindrops fall into our lap pool out back. Like Swiss Family Robinson we are.
Yesterday we hung out at the villa until lunch where Hud continued to accelerate his swimming by now jumping into the pool without us, with the inflatable ring around his waist. You should see his little brave face when he leaps off the edge, so small and determined. And when he hits the water the shock and surprise and almost panic until he realizes he is going to be ok. The only drawback to this new confidence is our fear that he will just casually, like Johnny Weismiller, stroll up to the edge and dive in, sans ring. We are never more than a step away, but we do not want him to scare himself back to the edge. We shall see.
After lunch of macaroni for Hud and toasted ham and cheese sandwiches for Steph and I, we went to the beach to get some much needed exercise. It was still overcast and very windy, but we walked a mile up the beach anyway. The waves were bigger and more fun for Hud, although he needs to hold one of our hands if we get anywhere near the water. Half scared and half protecting us from the crashing waves.
Steph and my dreams of surfing will have to wait until Australia it seems. It is all reef surfing here, only for the more experienced surfer, including the world famous Frigate Passage.
It started to rain so we made our way to The Pearl, the posh resort with the really nice furniture to dry off. Dry off yeah right. Steph had the chicken curry (a theme here me thinks), I had a burger with onion rings and garlic aoli, Hud had chicken fingers and Caesar salad. Five beers later we have now fully blown our restaurant budget and could not care less about it. We trudged home in the rain.
Fatter. Poorer. Happy.
The bees were still hanging at our pad, reconvening in a different corner, plotting their revenge against us. A number of them did not survive the blasting with the can of chemicals and are scattered, burnt like toast, around and in the pool. I finally got stung yesterday by trying to get one out of the pool. Bees can swim. Remember that.
And last night, after I narrowly beat Steph at Trivial Pursuit (if she would have won, I would have come home, went back to work at Sentry, to further my life of complete and utter shame) we were getting ready to watch a movie until Steph ran into a little friend in the bathroom.
Oh yeah baby a cockroach. A cockroach with its own area code sat on the mat staring at us, its feelers waving back and forth like a rock concert crowd. It was big and creepy. Like me sometimes.
Lucky for us, unlucky for it, Chris had left us an extra can of bug killer. I had to spray this can for about 15 seconds, right into this thing’s mouth until it finally back flipped, screamed an obscenity, and died clutching its cold black bug heart. Together, Steph and I picked up three legs each, and flushed it down the toilet, almost clogging it.
Another bug adventure, and I did not even tell you about the spider.
Lying in bed this morning I had dreams of writings of poignant thoughts and feelings about how my life had changed and how it will continue when (if?) I return.
But forget it. I will leave it like this. All boring and shit.
Love to all,
J.
Many rivers to cross; waterfalls to chase
May 25, 2005
Pacific Harbour, Fiji
9:28 am.
First off, I need everyone to comment. It will be my connection to home. Knowing you all are reading this means a lot to me. I will have trouble answering the e-mails so my little mentions in this journal of you or you or you are my way of letting you know that I love you and I am thinking of you. Ok. If don’t mention you it does not mean I do not love you. Except you. You I truly hate. Tee hee. Now then. Read on.
Hud is sitting beside me eating Snaz, a Ritz cracker rip off that I am quite sure Mr. Christie would not be to happy about. He has also made up a friend named Chucky Beaver who he plays cards with and pretends the couch is a tractor. I have met Chucky Beaver. He is an excellent play partner for Hud, but he is a little thin and sometimes I think he is jealous of Hud and my relationship. Perhaps his relationship with his own father back at the dam is estranged, perhaps there was a fight about how lazy Chucky was and thereby destroying the “busy as” analogy, perhaps I am babbling as the Fiji heat melts me away like a big, fat, hot popsicle.
Perhaps I should move on.
Yesterday we were triumphant in booking our first adventure. Tomorrow, we will be traveling up the Navua River on a longboat, stopping to wander into the jungle and swim at the base of a waterfall. On the way back we go by raft, yes raft, all Huck Finn like and also perhaps enter a Fijian village. Where tramps and sluts are not allowed and I will have to take off my ball cap for the first time in 5 days.
We booked this at the resort up the road from our villa on our way to the beach. It was Tuesday, around 1:30pm, and we were the only people on the beach for at least 5 miles. It was weird and wonderful all at the same time.
At the beach I took Hud into the water and suggested Stephanie go check out the posh resort next door. About ten minutes later, she walked over the grassy knoll, followed by a Fijian woman and a tray of cocktails, cold beers for us, grenadine and Sprite for Hud (pink lemonade, just go with it, we did). My lovely wife informed us, that as long as we purchased a couple of cocktails we were free to use the resort facilities including their beautiful pool and even more beautiful menu. The place is all South Beach. With brown and cream coloured towels and wood and wicker everywhere. Just another bonus in the land of the lucky. We had a pizza with roasted red peppers, basil, black olives and mushrooms. And a Caesar salad on the side. The basil was arugula but it was still a cummer (for you Lo Lo).
Speaking of Hud and water. Yesterday morning we spent a fair amount of time working on Hud’s confidence in the pool. Let me tell you, this once tentative kid now leaps off the side into our waiting arms with a smile so wide it almost touches at the back of his head. He also has gone from solo descending to the first step (his ankles) to the third step (just under his wee nipples) in five short days. Having a pool is such a nice bonus. With all the stuff we are doing it is nice to have the option of down days where we can play around the pool, make lunches and have a simple walk to the store. This also affords Hud his nap, as the days have been so active, he has fallen asleep between 6 and 7, and waking up early accordingly.
And like true nimrods, the latest Steph and I have stayed up is 8:30. This wakes me up of course around 4 and Steph around…oh 8:30….just joking honey… Actually, last night was different, Steph actually managed to watch Troy in its entirety, which was a task in itself. I drifted off somewhere between the first and 19th battle at the wee hour of 8:10pm. I like to party.
In other Hud news, his toilet training is going well. Sure there have been some logs on the tile floor, but his holding of the peeing until appropriate lawn or reciprocal has been outstanding. And there has actually been some success in going poo in the toilet. For all those not comfortable with poo talk, I apologize. But as there are parents and siblings reading, this is quality information that must be shared.
Today is one of those down days. We need some more groceries and I only had a chance to skim over the e-mails after posting yesterday, so at some point we will make our way to the Cultural Centre which houses are grocery store and bakery/internet café.
Steph and I talk a lot more. Of course we do. We have to. It’s nice. We are more apt to divulge a little more than we are used to. The trusting factor between two people, even two happily married people still accelerates when you travel across the world together.
The one thing we both agreed right away was how great it is to wake up and then stay with Hud. His smile and comfy cozy cuddles in the morning make this trip so worth it. He continues to grow at breakneck speed; physically, emotionally and mentally, and he is by far my most proudest accomplishment yet. And I am forever grateful to my wife for sharing him with me. She is a beacon of patience, where as I am a ball of anxiety. Somewhere along the line we puzzle piece together almost perfectly and hopefully we can continue to turn Hud into a really sweet loving smart honest little boy.
Who poos in the toilet.
Love to all,
J.
May 26, 2005
Pacific Harbour, Fiji,
5:17pm
Yesterday was perfectly uneventful. Swim lessons in the morning, lunch at the local restaurant where I had chicken curry with naan and chutney. Yes chutney. Oh the days of melted cheese on Melba toast with chunky fridge door chutney seem so far away now. I love you mom. Steph had a lobster burrito and Hud had fish and chips, which of course is just chips and a sniff of fish. He did have some salad though so all is well on the green front.
After the walk home with cherry slushes in our hands we relaxed again by the pool and Steph treated me to a late afternoon siesta. I have almost read two John Grisham novels in five days to perfectly numb my literary brain. I say this because the one I am reading now is the perfect nap inducer. Two pages of Memphis lawyer fighting back against the man and I am sucking slumber. The nap was dream and boner free.
Anyhoo, I woke up and we had bbq chicken with potatoes and onions and Chinese cabbage and carrots. It was awesomely good and cheap. Hud fell asleep to Charlotte’s Web, which I watched if only to hear Paul Lynde snicker away as the rat Templeton. He was such a queen, even as a rat. Hud fell asleep halfway through at a semi-reasonable hour and Steph and I watched the campy remake of Walking Tall on this very computer. We both high fived each other after it was over as we had actually stayed up past 9:30.
Sleep was dream and boner filled.
So. Now I am back to today. Sitting at the kitchen counter sun soaked and beaming like a pregnant woman in the honeymoon trimester. We were just dropped off down the road after a day of true adventure and wonder. Today was our trek up the Navua River. So I will recap in painstaking detail to bore you or excite you at work or at your computer in your big double chair, with your wireless mouse, on your giant plasma screen, sipping a nice, easy Dewars with just a little water and a lot of ice. I love you dad.
9:40 am we arrive at our meeting place to get the bus. We sign our waiver. Yes waiver. Nothing instills you with a raging sense of confidence then the demand that a waiver must be signed prior to your trip. We signed and paid our $130 Fijian dollars. About $80 Canadian.
The countdown to the 10:15 bus ride was on. And all that know me; who know me well, know exactly what is going through my mind at that moment.
Where are the bathrooms? Are they functional? Should I bring a roll with me? Will I have to slip gently into the Fijian jungle and be attacked by a snake in truly man’s most vulnerable position? Ahh the nervous poos. I should give lectures.
I enquired at the front desk where we signed our waiver and she led me to a nice, clean bathroom with even some timeshare reading sitting next to the toilet. Moments later, I was satisfied that I was good for the day. I sat down outside and watched Hud play with a kitty cat. What’s that? A rumble in my stomach? Its now 10:08 and there are a number of blue haired Australians milling about signed up for the same excursions we are. Another grumble. Damn you chicken curry. Damn you. I wait until the front desk girl is making another couple sign their waiver and slip back to the loo.
Moments later, I am cleansed and in fact interested in renting a beautiful two bedroom condo in Sri Lanka. Things are good. For now.
10:15 the bus arrives. I am still very anxious but I sit down. Steph and Hud are already chatting up the people beside them. I am sweating and give a nice clenched tooth smile to the hairy Scottish guy beside me.
Navua is only ten minutes away from Pacific Harbour. It is the village where we picked up all our cheap produce a couple of days ago. We are led to where we are to receive our life jackets. I notice there are a couple of bathrooms in the little tourist shack where our adventure was to begin. It’s all good, although the blue hairs with their manic incontinence are basically lining up to use the facilities. I ignore them and receive the largest life jacket they have which of course just covers my nipples and the black straps span the rest of my girth and I look like I am wearing a multicolored strait jacket. Hud’s fits perfectly although I am convinced it was stolen off a Japanese war ship circa 1944. I stifle my concerns because there is really nothing anyone could do.
The plan is to first go to an actual Fijian village about twenty minutes upstream, participate in a Kava ceremony, learn a little about Fijian culture, have lunch, be entertained and then re-board and travel 50 minutes up stream to a waterfall where we can swim and frolic like forest sprites. After that we travel downstream in Billibillis, traditional rafts for about 20 minutes and then back in the longboats to return to Navua.
Our guide for the day is William. A skinny, handsome Fijian man who is from the village we will be visiting. He suggests we ride in his boat as it is wider and it will allow the three of us to sit all in a neat little row. We take the bow. Hud is excited. So are we.
The Navua River is a huge river that bleeds into the ocean. It’s about 80 meters wide and very deep in some parts, and extremely shallow in others. It runs far and branches off into Viti Levu, one of the two main islands (the other being Vanua Levu), and one of the 333 total islands that make up the country of Fiji.
We are on a longboat, with a Mercury 50 on the back, carrying about 10 passengers including the three of us. It is sturdy; the scenery at the moment is basic, foliage actually very familiar to home. Cows wander the banks staring and chewing.
Twenty minutes in we arrive at the village. There are men in skirts, faces painted, with headdresses, banging on the large wooden drums to signal our arrival. We are the last of the three boats making this journey. Hud is wide-eyed and giggly as we ascend the steps into the village.
There are a number of thatch-roofed buildings scattered around about two acres. We are instructed to enter the largest building, with shoes and hats removed. This of course is when I start to worry about the smell of my feet. I quickly realize that in a room full of forty shoeless people in really hot weather, my feet will not be the ones that stand up and say hi. We sit at the back, cross-legged. Immediately my hips start to hurt. Hud is being very good. The Kava ceremony begins.
The Kava ceremony happens at numerous events, weddings, funerals, resolutions, and as a welcoming to Chiefs or very important visitors. Kava itself is a drink made from the root of the Kava plant. We are explained all this during the ceremony.
An old Aussie dude is chosen as our “chief” and he sits at the front as the Fijians go through the ritual chants and sayings which maybe interesting if we knew what they were saying. Ok, it still was interesting. The two “chiefs” and then two other village representatives, all take sips of the Kava from a half coconut shell, clapping once prior to drinking and three times after drinking. After the formal ceremony is over, we are welcomed as guests in the village and all have a chance to have a sip of Kava. Steph and I both wholeheartedly take a gulp. It’s peppery and its supposed to numb your lips and tongue but I think our batch was not strong enough. We still felt cool for participating as others waved it off like it was pee.
After the ceremony William took us around the village to the individual buildings to let us know what happens in each. The first building was the preschool. Four or five kids were learning their ABC’s. We were standing at the back until Hud weaseled his way to the front. He then slowly, shuffling half steps at a time, began making his way to the toys at the back of the classroom. It was hilarious, William was explaining how the monies from these tours went to help the Fijian children enter proper schools in the nearby town and here is Hud, thinking he is invisible, shuffling towards the toys. The teacher welcomed him with open arms and we actually left him there to play with other kids as we moved on to the next leg of the tour.
Now here is where your heart begins to leap. You think of yourself as a cubicle farm, Danforth living, social lush, scooting your child to his nanny for fifty hours a week, kissing your wife once every two weeks, and now, mere months later, you are watching your beautiful blonde son, sitting in a open aired thatch roofed classroom, with a woven palm rug on the floor, playing with Fijian kids who have only known electricity for about half their lives.
You think you can’t change your life in a flash? Bullshit.
The tour continued and William explained how other income was made (crafts and such) and where the Kava plant and other village needed plants were grown, and how last April, the Navua River flooded and everything in their village was drowning in waist high water. William was sincere in explaining the good and bad things about his village. He was educated in town, but he came back and probably was the driving force in developing this lucrative tour. There were 85 people living in the village, all related, descended from a white Brit back in the cannibal era, all working together for the good of the village, like a commune, or communists for that matter.
Lunchtime. Which is timely as Hud was hungry and we forgot to pack snacks (yep Mitch, no raisins, no sectioned off Tupperware with cheese and red peppers, we suck as parents and it gets so much worse then this, just wait tee hee).
A traditional Fijian lunch is cooked in a Lovo, an earth oven. A hole is dug and hot coals are created and the food is stacked over the hot coals, meat first, then vegetables, and then covered in coconut palm leaves, and left to steam cook for about an hour.
Fish and pork usually as the meat and yams, taro, breadfruit and sweet potatoes are the vegetables. Although our meal was supplemented with lamb sausage, boiled chicken and white bread buttered and cut into corners so even Charlie would have found something he liked.
After lunch Steph participated in the Bula dance where big, six pack stomached, scantily dressed Fijian men wrapped there bulging arms around the women and dance all around the room. I think I can feel Steph swooning again as I write this. I watched Hud play outside with Edward and Sawa, two kids he befriended from his earlier foray into the classroom. They played tag and balanced on bamboo shoots as I stifled tears of awe. I am such a sucker.
And after the showing of crafts available for purchase, it was time to go, to jump back into the longboat to continue up the Navua, where waterfalls await. All in all the village trip was wonderful, exposing ourselves and Hud to a culture that has been surviving for hundreds of years without much outside influence was eye opening and just darn interesting.
Edward and Sawa waited near the boats to say goodbye to Hudson. Very cute.
All loaded up, and back in the longboats, the motor kicked in and we were off, further up the Navua. As mentioned, the water level varied, but as it had not rained in two weeks, the water level was very low and the boat had to fight the rapids very slowly, and a couple of times the motor hit and the bottom scraped. The scenery also changed as we moved upriver. It was mountainous and so lush. Vines growing on trees growing on bushes. And every ten minutes or so, a waterfall bursting out of the side of the rock, trickling down the side and into the river. Pretty awesome stuff. Hud started to drift off and as per the normal he fell asleep five minutes before we reached our destination.
The destination? Our waterfall.
With boats docked along the shore, and Hud now asleep in Steph’s arms, we began the five-minute tramp up the rocky slope to the first, smaller waterfall. Hud’s head bobbed and weaved like Sugar Ray, his eyes barely open, not knowing where the hell he was. Sugar cane bags full of sand had been placed along the path to allow for better footing and it was needed, even if it did mar the pristine setting a little. Another guide, William’s cousin, led us and offered a strong hand to Steph over some of the more unforgiving rocks and stones.
After five minutes we reached the base of the smaller waterfall. This is where we are to leave our bags and give our cameras to one of the guides to bring up to the larger waterfall. The small waterfall was about 20 feet, and you had to go directly up it with one dangling rope as help. This is when Mark, one of the guides offered to take Hudson, as he was a barefoot expert in traversing this part of incline. We agreed as we knew he was a better climber then us. So we watched, in true parental horror, as Mark began making his way up the incline, Hud dangling precariously off his back, his large black feet almost sticking to the side of the cliff, until he reached a plateau where we had to reach to sate our now screaming child.
At this moment, Steph and I looked at each other and while we did not say it, we both were thinking; “ what the hell are we doing to our kid?”
Needless to say, others, the elderly, were also thinking the same thing. This is also the point where I thought to myself….if Michele could see this she would kill me.
But. And this is a big but. Once Hud was now in my arms he was fine, and I had to one handedly go through chest high water, over rocks as big as cars, for about 500 more meters, to finally reach our destination.
Our destination? The large waterfall.
And of course we made it. Hud was still a little shaky and nervous, but now fully alert as we approached the roar of the waterfall. What a sight. In the middle of a vast, dense forest was this spouting of tons and tons of water, into a pool about an acre in size, where I was now wading with my son. The waterfall’s aggressive spray would mix with the sunlight and create an instant rainbow. And now with Steph in my arms as well, we stared at the true majesty of Fiji’s beauty and almost exploded into, I can’t believe we are here, hearty laughter.
With Hud now happy in Steph’s arms, I swam to the base of the falls. I climbed some easy rocks and stood on the side, allowing some of the water to fall directly on my fleshy head. What a feeling. I could barely see as water filled almost every pore. I leaped off the ledge and dove deep into the pool below. Underwater the furious sound of the falls was still surrounding me. I swam, and then bobbed to the surface. Now on my back, I let the current take me back to waiting family. Looking directly up at the falls, I drifted, soaking in the scene, letting it sluice into my brain, so I would never forget it. To never forget how lucky I am to see something like this.
I took Hud to let Steph swim around. Hud and I watched as some of guides scrambled up the side of the mountain to around 60 feet. And with a hearty screaming Bula! They jumped, one by one, to the amazement and applause and equally hearty giggle from Hud, into the waiting pool below. And here I thought my life was pretty good at the moment. These guides do this everyday; seek out new adventure, scramble up new mountains, as their profession. Something to be learned here I think.
We spent about 45 minutes at the falls before it was time to make our way back to the boats. Hud went with Mark again, but he was fine this time, accepting that Mark was a superior climber, leading me to believe he was just really tired on the way up. At the small waterfall we were able to jump the 20 feet down to the much smaller pool below. I did it in a flash, but Steph, in a hilarious moment of fear, shook her hands manically and then hugged the guide beside her as she wanted to hug someone in case she did not survive this jump. A number of us saw this display and laughed out loud. What a doll my wife is. She jumped and screamed as she came up for air. She was glad she did it. I love her so much it hurts.
Back at the boats now we all boarded for a short trip down river. About five minutes around the corner we all boarded small, narrow bamboo rafts called Billibilli. These are the traditional rafts Fijians used prior to the long boats with motors. We sat; half submerged on two bamboo poles and began drifting down the river. The elderly among us mildly complained that they were now sitting in water, and this is not what it looked like on the brochure. The younger folks, including the hairy Scot and his girlfriend all chortled. Hud was pure Hud at this point, batting his massive eyelashes and splashing the Scot’s girlfriend.
We drifted, pretty slowly down the river until the Scots and I jumped off the raft and began floating downstream in just our life jackets. This was another highlight for me as I just jumped in, jumped without thinking as I did at the waterfall, jumped without caring about the consequences, however slimy or rocky they may be, jumped thinking that I need to experience this, I desire it.
Consequences are just something anxious people think about.
Back in the longboats now, and back to the town where we boarded. Faster of course this time as we were going down river and at the treacherously low points, William just flipped the motor up and then down again when it was deep enough. It was deft and knowledgeable river running. It is his river after all.
Back now in the bus with everyone more familiar and lamenting on what a great adventure we just went on. One of the Scottish couple was doing the same thing as Steph and I. Quit his stock market job and touring around. Only for six months though.
Rookie.
We arrived back at the house where I started writing this. It’s the next morning now and we went for another traditional Lovo dinner last night at the resort down the road. It was the same resort we booked our trip through so a number of people that were there did the river trip as well. I sucked back four really cold Fiji Bitters and Steph had three banana daiquiris. Hud played with two older kids. We ate and listened to Fijian renditions of Harry Belafonte (I thought again of you Dad) and Bob Marley. At 9:00pm, we said our goodbyes and thanked the manager for a great day and a wonderful meal.
Back home Hud fell asleep very quickly as it was a very long day for the little man. All the people we saw at dinner mentioned how good he was for surviving and experiencing so much. We nodded and told them how lucky we are.
I went for a quick nudie dip in the pool before lying in bed. Letting the overhead fan dry me off. Steph snuggled into my chest and fell asleep. I read two pages and then dropped my book on the floor.
I closed my eyes. I fell asleep.
Smiling.
Love to all,
J.
Big ass bugs and Bulas all round
May 24, 2005
Pacific Harbour, Fiji
6:22am
Lilo and Stich it is. Hud seems to wake up earlier here on the other side of the world and popping a DVD in allows me to talk to you. Hi. How are you? Good good.
Day four in paradise. We have been to the beach. Eighty degrees and endless. Sandy bottoms and two-foot breakers that Hud thinks are nature’s big toys. We walked about two miles from our entry point and only saw one other whitey. This ain’t no Floridian coast full of restaurants that end in ees or eys or ies, this is raw and tamper free. This beach was sparse and what people we did see were just local Fijians enjoying their backyard. All welcoming us with a big fat smile and a hearty Bula. They really are warm people. Particularly with a blonde kid weaving in and out of our legs.
Hud seems to long for friends his own age. Every one we meet under seven, Hud bounds up with a big hello, or a warning of some sort. We were walking over a bridge near our villa and four kids were jumping off the bow of a boat and Hud yells down to them;
" Hey guys! You shouldn’t be jumping off that boat!"
Then he repeats it. And then casually skips away to warn the next group of kids of impending danger. What an odd little egg he is sometimes.
On Sunday evening, Chris dropped by with fish he had caught that afternoon and some homemade cinnamon rolls. He also dropped off 10 or so movies. Talk about making us feel at home. And home is what it feels like already. With our various clothes and crud hanging about we have established an instant familiarity that I knew would not take long. It never takes us long to at least acclimatize ourselves to our domicile. A couple of flung boxers and hanging bras and baybee we are home sweet home!!
I barbequed the fish and some chicken and we had that with some frozen broccoli as greens are hard to come by here. Hud is eating like a champ although his body is covered with mosquito bites. The bugs seem to truly dig his sweet, white skin.
Speaking of bugs, the other night I heard a buzzing sound outside our screen door. I flicked on the light and yumma humma there was a cockroach or a beetle the size of Hud’s fist hanging half way up the door. I kid you not this thing looked like it just swallowed an orange. And then to make matters worse it started to fly. And when I mean fly I mean struggle to hover. I think flying is this bugs last defense as it looked pained trying to keep its fat bug body in the air. And then it crashed to the ground. On its back. And wiggled its hairy little drumsticks to try to flip itself over. This of course is when I decided to get a closer look at this prehistoric insect.
I flicked it with my Fred Flintstone toe.
It skittered still on its back like a hockey puck.
I flicked it again.
It flipped over.
It attacked.
With all its disgustingly huge might, it took to the air and started to flying directly toward my now terrified mug. At first I thought that I could take it, one left hook to the jaw of this horrific beast and I would drop it like it’s hot. But then, as it approached I noticed on its actual jaw it looked like some sort of stinger or biter or claw or pincers or something that would lodge into my jugular and infect me with some sort of untreatable Fijian bug disease that would make my testes enlarge and my nipples leak mustard.
So. Like a real man. I dodged the airborne arachnid and chugged at lightning speed to the bedroom screen door and into safety. I did not see the bug again. But I know it’s out there. Waiting. Wanting to conquer and eat the largest man it had ever had the chance to run into. If only to tell the other monster bugs lurking in the South Pacific.
Yesterday, we loafed in the morning at the pool and then Steph suggested we go to Navua, a small town about 11 kilometers down the road and place where you could get more fresh produce. Steph also suggested we take the bus to further immerse ourselves into the Fijian culture. I, of course would have taken a cab and talked to the driver, immersing myself into his culture of nodding and not really knowing what we are saying.
So we took the bus. And by bus I mean open aired 1947 top speed 45 km, built for short-legged people bus. But it was fine, and as mentioned the Fijians are so nice and warm and totally gave us all big smiles for risking, I mean taking the bus.
Nuvua is situated on a large river that you can traverse various ways if you like. It may well be one of the adventures we choose to tackle either as a group or Steph and I as individuals. We have allotted and budgeted for three adventure days in our three weeks and we have yet to decide what to embark on. Pacific Harbour is known as the adventure capital of Fiji so we are in the right place.
Nuvua is pretty much dominated by Indo-Fijians and small little produce stands or larger, but still small grocery stores. I am still amazed at the amount of Indians living in Fiji, but it obviously adds to the culture and the cuisine. We ended up buying a fair amount of produce, including okra, Chinese cabbage and these little chilis that I of course had to try and prove that idiots can still burn their macho tongues off. We also got a pineapple, some oranges (which are green, and of course now ironic) a coconut, which we will eat in honour of Michele, some potatoes and onions, tomatoes (very expensive), cukes, grapes and big carrots. We took a cab home after waiting for the bus and realizing this wait could be five minutes or five hours. Hud, of course, fell asleep on the way home, canceling our plans to have lunch out.
Okra Winfrey and Urethra Franklin. These jokes will never stop making me laugh.
I popped out after we got home and grabbed beer and water. The local beer is awesome. It’s called Fiji Bitter and it tastes like Creemore and it wonderfully comes in quarts, which look so good in my hand, icy, beaded, glugging down my gaping maw. Oh my. I almost want one now. There are two in the fridge. Hmmm, 7:02 in the morning. I’ll wait until 8.
Last night I made a stir-fry with rice, garlic, onions, two small red chilis, okra, Chinese cabbage, carrots and the fish and chicken that we cooked up the night before. We have purchased no condiments, but it turned out pretty good. Everything was farm fresh and you could taste it. Things are good.
We also, some of you will be happy to know, produced a comprehensive budget outlining what we think we will spend in every location. BC was way too expensive including the purchase of this computer. But even with budgeting high, we still will have enough money to spend at least 6 weeks in Thailand come February. So it will be a full year we will have been at least not employed, but not necessarily away.
We were happy that we did the budget and it made us optimistic about the rest of the trip. Because all the jokes we were making about being home by September were being made through clenched teeth and with wide eyes.
Today it’s off to the beach and try to arrange our first adventure trip that will probably be a day trip to one of the islands for snorkling and lunch and maybe a Kava ceremony in a real Fijian village. Neato.
I miss Alice. I am sad that I will miss Coburn’s wedding. I have not started writing my novel. But I am pretty freaking happy.
Love you all.
J.
