Fiji time

It's a beautiful thing if you can appreciate it. But then again, you already see the beauty in anything if you appreciate it. For if you didn't, you wouldn't think of it as a beautiful thing at all. Fiji is one of those places.

I've seen it on both sides of the coin. The resort style living where tourism brings in a heap of money into the economy. I've also seen the real side of Fiji. The side most of my wife's brothers live in. Dwellings with one bedroom that the entire family share. Families that can't afford to buy bread, so resort to stealing it or begging for it.

It's not all doom and gloom. The people are partly like this because they are truly lazy people. I don't blame them either. The heat we lived through slowed me right down. I pretty much crawled everywhere I walked. And the places I drove to, or more realistically got driven to because I didn't hire a car this time around was at a crawling pace anyway.

On a particular night I was chilling out with my brother-in-law I met a friend of his, who is actually the ex-husband of his wife's sister... did you get all that? Well, he asked me what I did, and I have made it a goal for me to ask the same in return once I spill the beans on my career and personal life to a stranger who asks me. When I did, he told me he's a vehicle import/export agent. And he is soon relocating to Japan, invited me along and said I'll love it. He doesn't know me well, but he picked that. Japan is a place I have thought about visiting on many occasions.

Japan will have to wait for another day. In the mean time, Fiji is nice and close, and for once on our travels to the airport, our taxi arrived to pick us up from our home on time. Every other time we've booked a taxi, it has never shown up or turned up with 30 minutes for us to get on a plane, us stressing out because the trip to the airport takes 45 minutes. This taxi driver turned up before our arranged time and was friendly, got us to the airport on time and wished us a good trip.

Taxis in Fiji are funny. All the cars are pieces of shit. They rattle, shake and rattle some more. The smoothest of roads isn't enough to stop the rattling. And since their meters don't function properly they just pull a figure out of the air when you ask them how much it costs to get to a certain destination. While you often think you're being swindled, when you convert their dollar to yours and factor in the distance to travel between villages, it's all worth it in the end. But on this occasion when we went through customs and got out of the airport, my wife's brother was waiting for us, with the van running and the air-con on. What a brother.

Getting through customs in Sydney on the other hand was my usual event. Each time I go through the place, I get held up for something. Last time was something I forgot. A camping spoon. Considered a weapon, thanks to 9/11. A spoon! This time around I got called over to a guy checking for bombs. Why me? Because, I have to always get called over for something. The guy handed me a letter I have to read and verbally agree to which discusses things like me accepting the fact that I might get asked to strip off and be examined outside and in. I agreed, much like software installation, because if I don't, I don't fly.

They checked my bag for any bomb making chemical residue. They found nothing. Surprise surprise. And my wife and I went on our way to get on our plane.

Arriving in Fiji, you're greeted with a more laid back attitude. Customs smile at you. Then you leave the air-conditioned section once your bags are collected and you go into the heat.

The van was a warm welcome.... err, a cool welcome? We were off to our hotel. We checked in, received decent service and were surprised for that in a place like Fiji. Trust me, I'm not being negative or anything derogatory. But the service in Fiji is pretty much non-existant whether you stay in a roach motel, or a 5 star hotel. Ours was a 4.5 star hotel. However, Fiji-afied, it was more like a 3 star place. Which kinda sucks because you're paying 4.5 star prices.

We did have a choice of staying with my brother-in-law but decided it would be better if we hotel it so we didn't intrude, and we could be a bit more free to head out and do our own thing when we want.

The next morning the girls went out, shopping. What else? Us boys went to pick up 7 tables and 40 chairs from the party hire place as the main reason we went to Fiji was because of my brother-in-laws daughters first birthday. We thought we'd need two trips but made it in one. Once we arrived at the party hire place, I was warned that the girl there is cute and single, and may jump on us. He was right about the first two parts. The third part was only a day dream. She was pretty cute.

We arrived at the house to offload the party gear and set up the PA sound system, when we got there the tent hire people were there and preparing to set up the bigtop. I call it a bigtop because once it was erected, you could see it from miles away. It was about 25m X 10m in an oval shape. It did well to keep out the hot sun, but unfortunately did a decent job of breaking the wind too and it was a nice breezy day. Luckily towards the end of the day the sun dropped into the sea and the breeze picked up a bit more, we all sat around drinking, playing cards, telling jokes, laughing at nonsense and general chit chat about nothing in particular.

I was hungry again, so I ate a bit more. Everyone else thought it was a brilliant idea and followed suite. The night was over and while we sat around chatting some more, some other mates turned up. One of them was the guy I mentioned above who offered me a place in Japan. I didn't get his number, but I know who's got it and he knows I'll be getting it off them.

We caught a taxi back to the hotel that night for $40. Not bad considering our taxi ride home from the airport this afternoon cost $45 and was half the distance. We got out the taxi and the first thing the porter at the hotel said was "Where did you get that bag?". Pointing to the Pure Fiji soaps and bath gels that I really like. I told the guy it was a gift. He interrupted with "You know we have a Pure Fiji outlet right here". So I repeated, "It was a gift from family. I didn't buy it. If you have a retail outlet selling them then maybe you should speak to your boss about advertising the fact in the documentation you get next to the telephone in our room."

The fact was, there was no information about the hotel in our room. We weren't sure what the hotel had and were really never there long enough to investigate. We didn't know about the services or restaurants. It didn't really matter, but it pissed me off a little when the guy told me all about them like I should have known.

"But this is Fiji", I reminded myself, and everything was okay again. The next day we did absolutely nothing at all. We stayed in the hotel, relaxed and read our books until the afternoon when we were to meet the relatives at one of the backpacker resorts they own just outside of Nadi (pronounced Nan-dee). We hung around, walked on the beach. Swam in the beach, of which the water was hot. Not warm, but hot. It cooled down the further out you went. So we hung around in the deeper water until I had enough. I got out, dried off, and then we sat on the beach talking. My wife fell asleep on the hammock and these two guys who were part of the "band" came around after hearing about me and my playing ability. The must have been told from the relatives. I didn't give too much away, so I just said I play a little bass, as this requires no thinking on my part. I just get up and play. They told me they had a drummer and a bass setup. But when we waited around for 3 hours during the power failure, I discovered that it was just them two, singing with an acoustic guitar with a bit of accompaniment from the friend with an electric guitar.

They sounded great. Everyone had left by now so my wife and I decided to eat dinner there. It was highly recommended, but it is a cheap and nasty backpackers resort, so the food wasn't what quality I'd normally eat. But it was food, and in Fiji you can't complain when you eat. Some people don't get to at all.

We headed back to the resort, showered and went to bed. The next morning we spent even more time lazing about the resort. We checked out the eating places, the beauty salon (which my wife rejected upon hearing the crazy price) and we walked around and looked at the rest of the place. I luxuriated in the air-con the rest of the time. I continued reading my book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. A frustratingly good book. Frustrating because it goes way over my head with all the words in it, but in the end all makes sense. It truly is a book of values.

The next day we were off to Denarau, the marina where we took a day trip on my wife's brothers boat out to an island the size of an umbrella. I drank and drank, and when we arrived at the island, we drank some more. Then went snorkelling. I took my wife's camera as it goes underwater up to 10 metres without the use of any special and cumbersome casing. We arrived back at the marina in the afternoon and went back to our hotel to shower and change because later that evening we were to be picked up and taken to the Marina in Denarau where my brother-in-laws boat sat. We drank some more, hung out a bit and then went into town in Nadi to eat at a nice Chinese restaurant.

The service, much like everywhere else in Fiji was dismal, but if you expect it, you'll be happy with getting any service at all.... thinking back to my posts about lowering your expectations, or abandoning them all together. The food was okay, the service was slow, but prompt for Fiji. The price of the meals were okay too, though our family paid for it on the sly before we noticed and tried to argue chipping in or paying for the lot.

We were dropped off at our hotel and did some rudimentary packing. I showered and went to bed while the wife stayed up and packed. I let her do it because my packing habits are embedded into my brain from my motorcycling days. I pack light, I fit everything in tightly, not neatly. On the other hand my wife likes to pack things properly. So I figured I'll save the argument and sleep on it. Waking up this morning, we ate what small bits of bread we had in the hotel room that we bought from the bakery the previous day. We did a check up of the place to make sure that we had it all packed. Once all clear, we checked out, caught a taxi to my brother-in-laws who was going to take us to the airport since he was going to see us off anyway. We ended up eating lunch there and then we were off to the airport. I got given a clock I thought was funny earlier that has all the numbers in a heap on the bottom of the clockface, and it just says "Who Cares". The hands move properly. I loved it. The alternative was a clock with all the numbers out of order and it said "Fiji Time".

Fiji time is what we say when things take too long after you've asked for them. Like your meal taking 2 hours, or your brother saying he'll be there at 12, only to arrive at 4 in the afternoon. Fiji time is great. Because it stands for "Who Cares", it stands for "So What", it stands for what I'd like to tell all my clients "No one has a gun to your head". I don't think it's that Fijians don't care. I think it's just their way.

There are exceptions, the taxi we caught to the bro's house was hooking all the way there. overtaking everything at any opportunity. It was almost like someone put some berocca in their V or Red Bull. That, or a chili up their butt. I was trying to show my wife some places I'd been with her brother but they went by so fast that by the time I pointed it out, it was gone.

Into the airport, without a hitch. This time my wife got picked on, which never happens. She was told to put her cream she had in her bag in a zip lock bag or something. Which she did to avoid any complications. We were through, said our goodbyes to the family and went to buy some duty free. I never really like duty free because it's almost like impulse buying. I don't do it. I have all the alcohol I need for a few years, and I supplement that with beer. The good stuff only comes out once in while. Besides that, I don't smoke, so cigarettes are out of the question. The clothes aren't really practical as I don't plan on wearing bula shirts (hawaiian style shirts with flowers all over them) every day. Then I noticed my flip flop. One of them was wonky and I realised that after 8 years of service, the strap was coming away from the hole it was mounted in. At first I figured that they offered me a great deal of service for a number of years. but then looked at them and realised I could at least attempt at super glueing them when I got back home. I'll try tomorrow in the light. No point in throwing out a good pair of thongs just because of a small break.

So, duty free shopping was over, we boarded the plane, told we were upgraded from economy to premium economy. But at the end of the flight I told my missus that I thought economy was actually better, and premium economy was a con job. Her private tv screen kept flopping down, needs tightening and I didn't have any tools on me, once again, thanks to 9/11. We both found the seats to actually look more comfortable but were really less comfortable with our seat of the pants experience.

We arrived without any commotion in Australia this afternoon. Customs didn't pick on me at all. We were out of the plane and out of the airport in about 10 minutes. In a taxi and home in about 30 minutes after that.

And that's our trip in a great big nutshell. Next I'll talk about working in Fiji and the gap between the rich and the poor.