Tonight's special guest is.....
May 29, 2005Pacific Harbour, Fiji
Exactly 6:30 pm.
Two entries in one day. I suppose I could garner the ambition to continue my novel, but the truth is, I am stuck a little, and I am hoping the journal writing will kick the wide load that is my ass into high gear. Besides, the brain spittle that I get to write here is somewhat cathartic, if not banal.
Ooo big words there cheese head, who really are you trying to impress? Your father?
With his furrowed brow and his squinty eyes whom you have been seeking approval from since you dropped out of high school?
Or your mother? With her huge heart and own frustrated ambition who you are more like than anyone in the world
(Ah ha, I get to confront feelings with words in a forum that lets me say what I want without thinking (too much) about your retorts. Oh I might be scathing, I may be insightful, I could be completely off my broken legged rocker but I might, I just might, leave a light on for you. Besides, you can always change the channel if you want).
I am probably just trying to make sure this writing maintains some level of intelligence and emotion before it slips into a recap of every day, boring or not, productive or not, and wanes once I leave this tropical country and end up in some small suburb of Melbourne, in a house like all the others, waking up (before sunrise) and thinking, oh crud, what the frig do I write about now?
Moving on.
We went to the beach, Hud and I, without Steph. Steph went to the cafÈ/restaurant to firm up our three days in the city of Melbourne and arrange the rental of our car for the first leg in Australia. It was high tide, the first time we had seen it, and it was high all right, higher than Coburn before basketball. Waves basically lapped at our toes the moment we left our villa. Ok ok that was an exaggeration, and every one knows, I have never, ever exaggerated in my entire life.
So Hud and I walked. Man and boy. Hand in hand. Careful to not step on the driftwood, the coconuts, the kelp, that washed up during last night’s storm. We found a little spot where Hud could play with his Bob the Builder trucks and I could take a dip in the vast ocean. Chicken mentioned in e-mail before I left that I should try to embrace the ocean, take advantage of it and not be afraid of it (oh chicken of the sea…)
I am trying. I am not the best swimmer and I do have some trepidation about the ocean and its gnarly inhabitants. But I am getting better. Everyday. Every day I am getting better.
If all this self help crap gets any smarmier, soon I will be a guest on The Okra Winfrey Show. Musical guest on said show? Urethra Franklin.
So Hud fiddled with trucks, I read my Clive Cussler book until it started to rain. We walked back through the posh resort where my unshaven mug is becoming a regular appearance. We went to the store where Hud got a Popsicle that tasted like sweet potato and I hustled four quarts of beer. The beer had to be wrapped in newsprint and stuffed into my knap sack as beer sales are restricted on Sunday. I bought two boneless chicken roti parcels for lunch and they were so good, I ate mine and half of Hud’s.
Steph came home while we swam, all missions accomplished. I bitched a little about the price of the accommodations in Melbourne, but then I relented, and apologized. Must be some backlash from my giving up Diet Coke.
Whaaaaat?
Yes. As part of the new improved (yet still strangely plump) Jason, I have given up Diet Coke. It has been four days now. And if you think it is not an addiction, have I got a finger for you. After 10 years of at least six to eight litres a week, it becomes quite habit forming. It truly was the only thing that would make me leave the house, no matter what the weather, to go to the store to purchase. And it remains the best hangover drink ever. For me that is.
Maybe that is why I have chosen to banish it from my glugatoire, because I have yet to be hungover.
Oh hangovers, the hairy tongue, the skippiness where I am truly at my funniest (white nights not included), and the culinary cravings of grease and salty chips.
Only to be washed down by the bubbly goodness known to many, but not to all, as DC.
I raise of glass of water to salute you.
I am babbling. I am done.
Love to all,
J.
May 30, 2005
Pacific Harbour, Fiji
7:45 pm.
My skin rash came back. How is that for an opener? Perhaps you would like to hear some boil lancing talk, or perhaps about more Hud poo tales? Captivated? Enthralled? Sitting on the edge of your plush seat?
I am writing for the audience again. I have to stop. I have to let the train of thought chug without thinking of Cullen at work sneaking a peak, or Dante, my pork and cheese former co-worker trying to fill up his days reading my senseless blather. I have to stop.
My skin rash came back.
It started back when I lived at Rosewell, and I got a burn on my arms in all likelihood while playing golf. Small red bumps appeared on my arms and I went to the walk-in clinic on Fairlawn. An attractive female doctor wearing an African hat like the surgeons do on TV hospital dramas checked me out, whist I checked her out. Meow. She said it was probably nothing, took blood, and told me she would run a test for this rare skin condition and call me if it came back positive. Well she never called and every time I spend a dent of time in the sun certain portions of my bowling pin body break out in this red bumpy rash.
Today I spent an obviously unhealthy amount of time in the sun without lotion, and on my back, right at my armpit (this entry just gets better and better doesn’t it?) is an intense gathering of red bumps. I also have a patch on my ankle and on top of my feet. Care to diagnose?
The reason I spent an unhealthy amount of time in the sun today is that I caught a writing wave and was able to plow into my pending novel again. I first sat with a notepad and mapped out the basic scenes and what I needed to accomplish in the next part of the story. With the notebook open beside me, I was able to capture the voice of the character and feel great about the direction again. Steph, my editor, my love, my friend, read it and agreed it fit in with the 35 pages that sit in Internet limbo right now. So that was good news. Now when I want to write it won’t be that tripe I wrote yesterday. Blecch. How needy am I.
Today was a pool day, with a couple of walks to stretch the legs. Hud and I went out before lunch to pick up some roti parcels (chicken curry wrapped in a naan, we eat nothing else) and four more big ass quarts of Fiji Bitters, which I still had to smuggle because it is a Fiji holiday today. The holiday is a dedication to an indigenous man who furthered the Fiji cause to colonize. I can’t remember his name.
Hud and I ran into some local kids, about seven of them, that had gathered on a bridge near our villa. They were quite taken by the little man and tried to touch him and squeeze his cheeks. One chunk of a woman actually kissed him on the temple. Hud ignored them all and trudged along. Interested only in Bartok the bat in one hand and a really smooth rock in the other. Either that or he was so focused on the popsicle he was to receive, that he completely zoned out the rest of the world. He got an orange one.
So we had roti parcels for lunch and for dinner. Both times complimented by a group of vegetables. Hud is eating well, and his mosquito bites are not as severe looking anymore. Steph’s health is good, she has a number of bites too, and she got a lot of sun today. Stranglely, I have yet to be bitten by a mosquito. Maybe cause I shower once every four days. C’mon! I swim nonstop! There is no pigpen linger. I hope.
I feel good, my finger and tinger are still numb, and the odd fever I had at mom’s before I left never materialized into anything serious. I am still off diet coke and feel no different, although I am sure I am better off. My other vices are gone as well. There is ample opportunity to plant my bum down on a bar stool and order up a good couple of packs of Benson and Hedges, but the urge is waning, although the romantic version of myself still wants one. I am sure I will lapse, I am also sure it will be gone soon enough.
I do like the icy quarts of Fiji Bitter but that’s a when in Rome thing.
Tomorrow we are off to Suva tomorrow with your ham and mine, Anil! I just hope both hands are on the mike and not on Steph’s good stuff. I joke. She would never allow such philandering.
Even if she does secretly dig his thin little mustache.
Love to all,
J.
May 31, 2005,
Pacific Harbour, Fiji
7:02 pm.
Nothing more luxurious than jumping in the pool with your nudie wife and son after drinking a bottle of Australian Shiraz and eating bbq chicken and sausages with buttery potatoes and onions, with fresh cucumbers and tomatoes on the side.
Now that is a much better opening than the rash one from yesterday. I feel better, although there is a slow trickle of pool water splitting my shoulder blades as I type.
Today was Suva, population 160,000, all in about three square miles. It was kind of disgusting actually. Diesel fumes clouding our lungs and senses, and all the while we were on the look out for the scammers and the shysters we were warned about on the bus ride from Pacific Harbour.
And who was our host for the 45-minute drive to Suva? Oh yes, Fiji’s answer to Magnum himself, Anil. With his tight pants and bad shoes, and the white polo Fiji Palms resort t-shirt, he entertained us on the microphone until that gave out, and then with just a loud voice, ensuring the people at the back of the mini bus were able to fully digest his Henny Youngman version of humour. Take my four wives please.
The best part of the trip was the Fiji Museum, where for $7 dollars you could walk from glass showcase to glass showcase that featured different items and tidbits that made up Fiji’s somewhat colourful past. The best part was obviously the cannibalism part. You see, up until about 1860, indigenous Fijians still ate people. The rabid influxes of Christianity changed all that, but not before a couple of missionaries were served up with some Kava and breadfruit.
Oh what a tasty meal for eight I would have been. A little fatty, but with some HP sauce or maybe some melted old cheddar, my arms and legs would have been pure salivation, and salvation for that matter.
After the museum we walked through the botanical gardens, which were neither botanical, nor a garden, discuss. But it was the shortcut to lead us into the congested centre of Suva where we warned about the men that would approach you and either carve your name into a sword for a small fortune, or whisk you into stores to shop so they could receive some sort of commission based compensation.
A couple of dudes approached me, but with a gruff no or no thank you from my now imposing nine-day beard, and they faded into the alleys, waiting for the next mark.
We checked out a Chinese food restaurant but it did not pass muster, so we went to an Americanized bar where we drank beer and ate nachos and Caesar salad. Once again immersing ourselves into Fijian culture. Hey. They do drink beer.
Feeling guilty about our lunch, we tried a curry stand, but it was too crowded and Steph and I conceded that we were not even that hungry. So off to the ice cream stand it was to sate Hud and watch movie trailers on TV (the ice cream stand was part of the movie theatre).
Ice cream now gone, Hud got to play in a mock park with Astroturf for grass and a big pile of mud or a turd right in the centre. I sat on the stairs and watched, slowly satisfying my need for nicotine by inhaling all the diesel smog that drifted into my lungs from the road inches away. Ahh we’re in Marlboro country now.
Oops almost forgot, we were able to burn our current Fiji pictures on a disc, so don’t forget to scroll through to actually see all the things I have been droning on about.
On the way to the open aired market, a man crouched down and kind of prodded Hud, who was between us, holding a hand of ours each. We kind of grinned, annoyed, but Hud is cute, and has that effect on people. But then this man tried to slap our hands away and both Steph and I pulled Hud away and said a resounding “no!” in unison. The man moved on. You just never know.
The open aired market was pretty neat. With Fijians and Indo-Fijians competing for the produce market. All carrying the same items, we purchased tomatoes, cucumbers and a double-headed pineapple. It was time to go back to the bus.
They split our group in two and we took the bus back with Peter and Pam, a retired couple from just outside of Melbourne. They were sweet, even if he did keep clearing his throat to hawk. They had been to Fiji a number of times before and gave us some hints about our upcoming time in Australia. They had a grandson that was born the day before they left for Fiji. They did get to see him and had pictures to show us. It was their seventh grandson and you could tell Pam missed them because she took a shine to the shooting star that is our son.
So here we are. Back at “home”. Hud and Steph are watching Charlotte’s Web again and I am here with you. All the entries cannot be as passionate as the river one. Some of them are just my way of recording what I hope to be the best year of my life.
Off to Yanuca Island tomorrow to snorkel and bask in the sun.
We also met a stray dog yesterday. We named her Priscilla. Don’t tell Alice.
Love to all,
J.
June 1st
Pacific Harbour, 7:37 P.M.
Yanuca Island today. Jason asked me not to write in his style, so I will refrain from being funny and clever. Bare with me.
So the day started off a little rainy, but the trip was still on. We ventured over to the Pacific Palms to get fitted for our flippers. Once Jase found some flippers in giant size, we were good to go to the boat. Six Kiwis, two Aussies, two Fijians and we three Canandians squeezed into the wee boat and 1 ½ hours later we arrived at the tiny island of paradise. Hud slept on the ride over after saying he wasn’t feeling good. He most likely felt a little sea sick…. the boat was a little rocky at times.
Never the less we landed upon the shores of a small backbacker/surfer resort beach to stay for a day of snorkeling, lunching and relaxing. Hudson was quite impressed with the hermit crabs. He caught a few in the morning and made sure that he showed all of the women on the island his find. Since there was only a handful of people on the island you can imagine how quickly Hudson would have gone through everyone with the crab showing, over and over again. Nobody seemed to mind his persistence.
Lunch was yummy. The Fijian cook (also our sea captain) whipped us up some yellowfin tuna (good), steak (rubbery), sausage (Jase says this was alright), coleslaw and white bread with butter (always good). We chatted with a Kiwi couple over lunch who told us that the locations that we had picked for New Zealand were both great coastal towns. Phew. That was comforting to hear, as we just guessed on locations.
Jason and I took turns snorkeling. There were lots of coral and a few good fish. I’m torn about whether to go diving or not before we leave here. I felt like I didn’t see enough underwater life today. Will decide over the next few days. We are at our halfway point in Fiji. There was a moment on our boat ride home that I felt so happy to be here and with my two favourite guys. Hud was asleep on my lap and I was leaning into Jason.
He had his arms wrapped around me and the sun was setting over the mainland.
Ain’t love grand in Fiji.
We got home around 5:00 and all jumped into the pool for a dip. Then got changed and walked to Oasis restaurant for dinner. We had chicken curry again. I think that I’m officially over my curry phase. My belly is queezy now. I guess that’s what a week of daily curry will do to you.
On another topic, that dog that Jason mentioned in his journal yesterday, I think that she’s a thief. My beautiful Solomon water sneakers that I left outside to dry are missing. The dog tried to steal my bikini bottoms yesterday and that is why I’m blaming her. The only other person that could have taken them is the pool boy. Unless there have been other people in our backyard…..I don’t even want to think about that.
Also on another note, the bees seemed to have left the hive. I am really scared of bees and I know that I will sleep better tonight without their presence.
All in all, a good day. Happy June to all. Love, Steph
posted by Jason @ 4:00 PM
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