From the Puzzle to the Pitch . . .

We are avid crossword puzzlers and have easily filled in the five-letter word for 'rugby field maneuver'' with only a dim idea what a 'scrum' was. We are about to find out.  It's Saturday morning and we're off to a real live rugby match - our first ever!!  Paul is delighted (dare I say smug with just a touch of gloating) that after many nights of bridge instruction with us in the know, he is now the rugby expert and we his eager students.

Here he is demonstrating the proper way to throw a rugby ball - a two-handed, sideways, underhand maneuver (executed while running flat out!)

Rugby is a lot like American football but since soccer all over the world is called 'football', rugby is, well, rugby.  I think some British wag described rugby as a bunch of toffs acting like ruffians and soccer as a bunch of ruffians acting life toffs.

At the local rugby pitch (field) four teams are about to face-off for cash prizes in something called '7's'.  Each team has seven players (plus three substitutes) and they play for 10 minutes a half, 20 minutes in total.  It's intense and exhausting (remember it's about 95 degrees and moisture is literally dripping off the banana leaves).  Their gear consists of shoes, socks, matching shorts and shirts.  No helmets, no pads, no face guards, nada; this is bare knuckle ball, folks.  Not for the faint of heart.

This team was warming up and it looked a lot like the hokey pokey to me ('put your left hand in, put your left hand out . . . ')

Paul tells us that the Fijian rugby players are first rate and rank with the best players worldwide.  That's confirmed when a man in the stands (whom we learn is from Brisbane, Australia) is boldly going on the field, taking photos of various players.  Day-Glo baseball cap, next to Debbie - he's a scout.

Paul is a good teacher and we catch on pretty quickly. Object:  get the ball (much like a bloated football) over the end line, score the equivalent of the conversion point(s) and try not to get your self obliterated by a half-ton of high speed flesh in the process.

Back to the scrum - after a minor infraction, four players from each team form a scrum - sort of like a jump ball in basketball only there are eight players competing for the ball rather than two and the ball's on the ground, not in the air.

These eight players huddle in a semi-oval formation, arms around each others' shoulders, heads down and one player puts the ball in the middle of this mass and all the players try and kick it into their portion of the pitch where it can be picked up and run with.  Once the ball leaves the scrum, it's fair game.

It's fast, it's intense, and very demanding - think soccer, coupled with the full-body plays of American football absent all protective gear.  The first game goes quickly, one team clearly dominant, and the next pair of teams takes the field.  That game is halted when a player is carried off the field with what looks like a very nasty ankle injury.  There is one first aid worker with the tiniest first aid kit ever that appears to contain a few bandages and a leather thong for the injured player to chomp down on when she tries to push his ankle back into place!

Not a food or drink vendor in sight - just a whole bunch of locals come to cheer on their teams.

Now, is there a cricket match we can attend??

PS - Scrum is short for scrummage.  Is that where we got the word 'scrimmage'?
PPS - Any errors in my narrative are mine and not attributable to our teacher!

A Very Special Fijian

Maybe, dear readers, you've figured out that our travels are made magical by the people we meet.  I am constantly thrilled and humbled by the kindness and generosity of people we've met all over the world.  Many of these people live on in my imagination, some I hope I've been able to help in some small way (writing a rave review of a restaurant run by the best cook in India struggling to recover from the death of his only son), and still others have come into our lives and remain with us, enriching us beyond measure.

One such person is Sailosi, a Savusavu native, a Fijian man of such intelligence, grace, and gentleness he continues to impress us, even 15+ years after we first met in 1999.  We came here and rented a house in the jungle, sight unseen, and Sailosi was the caretaker who lived a hundred yards or so from our back door.   He made that week memorable.  Every Christmas since we've exchanged cards, caught up on each others' lives, never dreaming that we'd be back.  When we learned that Debbie and Paul were coming to Savusavu, I immediately wrote to Sailosi and included a photo of the four of us so he'd know what Debbie and Paul looked like.

The day they arrived, Sailosi showed up at their door with two hand-made leis to welcome them to the island.  By then we'd decided to join them at bulavista and were eager to reconnect with our old friend.  His caretaking job at the house is long gone (we knew that from his Christmas updates) and he's now caretaking for his long-time employer, Denise (our landlady from 1999) in a building she owns on the main street of Savusavu.

We track him down through one of the shopkeepers and arrange to take him to lunch.  The years have not been kind to him.  Diabetes threatens his extremities, and we are stunned to learn that he is a week younger than Tim.  But the elegant, kindly gentleman is still very much there, and he is thrilled to see us again.

I so wanted him to leave his John Lennon sun glasses and beret on for this photo.  We knew that he was the son of a chief, but we learn now that it was his mother who was the chief!  She was also the one who taught him to play the piano, sent him to private school, and made sure he had tennis lessons.  Later, after retiring from the police force in Suva (on the big island of Viti Levu), he took care of an older gentleman here in Savusavu who introduced him to opera.  And a lifelong love affair began.  His one trip away from Fiji was to Sydney where all he wanted to do was go to the opera - and he did.  He saw Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro.

After lunch we accompany him to the hospital where he has his foot and leg dressings changed daily. We part, promising to get together again with Debbie and Paul who have fallen under his spell too.
We arrange for lunch at another of Sailosi's favorite places, the local Chinese restaurant and, again, see him home in a taxi.  Before parting, we press some money on him (he's far too gracious to refuse) as it's become quite obvious that times are hard for him.  He knows we are leaving in a couple of days and assures us he will come for a goodbye visit.

The day before our departure, he comes up to bulavista.  And, he is bearing gifts.  It appears that he has taken some, if not all, of the money we gave him and bought presents - for us!!  We each get a handmade bracelet, Fiji tee shirts, special shells (he always remembered how fascinated I was by all the shells of Fiji), and I get a necklace, with a beautiful shell.  I get all weepy just writing this . . .

I promise that as soon as we get home, I will make a photo album of our 1999 trip for him, and send along a couple of boxes of Sleepy Time tea (his favorite and not available here), something I'm sad to have forgotten in the rush of departing the US.

Sailosi, you are a dear and special man - thank you for being a part of our lives!

A Day at the Beach

New Year's Day 2015.  The first day of the brand new year (we're a day ahead of all of you in the US), it's traditional for Fijians to go to the beach for a lovo or cookout.  No lugging the Conquistador 2000 (the name given to a particularly muscular BBQ grill of a friend), no fancy grilling equipment, nope, none of that.

For a lovo, you start by digging a hole in the sand (shovel optional) far back from the incoming tide, cutting dead palm fronds, gathering bits of wood scraps, making a fire, letting it burn down to little more than charcoal and then roasting some sort of meat, a very big piece of meat.  This whole process takes a good long while and involves carloads of families, lots of tarps strung between trees for shade, blankets on the ground, volleyball nets being strung between coconut trees, teams formed, kids frolicking in the water, and, yes, the requisite pre-teen socializing under the watchful eyes of very large, very extended families.

We aren't doing a lovo (we didn't win the Christmas sheep lottery), but we are thoroughly enjoying being part of a typical day at the beach with the locals.

This family set up camp right next to us.  (We were the only 'Westerners' on the beach.)  This beach is on one of the famously pot-holed, unpaved roads that are so worth exploring.  At the end of this road is a modest house where the Fijian patriarch collects his 'parking fee' for each car (a grand $2 Fijian); we didn't have the correct amount, he didn't have change, but we assured him we would come back later in the week and pay up.

We weren't here long when one of the kids from next door showed up, shyly looking at the rope swing hanging tantalizing close to us.  Can I swing on it?  Of course, you can swing on it!!

We spent several hours dabbling around in the water, loafing in the sand, eating lunch . . .  not once did we hear a child cry, whine or otherwise 'act out'.  Their 'toys' were this rope swing, a few things for playing in the sand, and just generally having fun in the water.  We didn't hear one adult (it was impossible to distinguish which kids went with which adults) speak harshly to a child.  Quite remarkable.

Reminded me of so many happy days at the beach with my dear boys . . .

And the minute we packed up our chairs, picnic leftovers, and towels, the youngsters waiting patiently nearby swarmed over the tree we'd been sitting under, climbed easily to the upper branches and waited their turn at the rope swing.

The tide was rapidly advancing.  In less than an hour the water under the rope swing would be more than deep enough to land in with a resounding splash.  This young fella looked like he couldn't wait to try it.

What a sweet, sweet afternoon - Happy New Year Fiji!!

The Wee Blue 4 x 4

Since we've received our certificates in 'Advanced Loafing', it's time for some island exploring.  Savusavu is on the island of Vanua Levu which I believe translates roughly as 'big island'.  It could also mean 'island with very few roads, many of them unpaved, even fewer road signs, and the occasional errant cow or pig or goat/sheep sharing the pavement with vehicles'.

Nonetheless, Debbie and Paul have rented a wee car (car hire comes in at about $80 Fijian - $40 USD - a day and this is for a modest vehicle indeed.  See photo; yes, 4-wheel drive is a must.)

Our first excursion is towards Lambasa which is on the north side of the island.  A super quick geography lesson:  Vanua Levu is shaped roughly like a kidney bean with the curved part of the bean being the harbor area near Savusavu.  Across the island (a spine-jarring 2+ hour ride) sort of north (?) is Lambasa, a town of nearly 40,000!  Who knew??  Roughly ten times the size of Savusavu, Lambasa is the commercial engine of Vanua Levu; Savusavu is its tiny, baby brother.  Outside Lambsasa they grow rice (and probably lots of other things) and see very few, if any, tourists.

About halfway there, we decide to bag this excursion.  The pathetic moans from the back seat where Debbie and Tim were gamely trying to keep from retching (I would have hurled after the first few hairpin turns, hence got to sit in the front seat with Paul) were enough to convince us.  We stopped to photograph 'our' bulavista hilltop from across the harbor.

This led to a heated discussion about which direction we were facing - or not facing -  'where the f*#* is west?'

Paul is relying on his 'map' to bail him out.  Debbie has been relying on the path of the sun . . .

Awww, who gives a rip!!

A bit up the road, we come to a nature walk (closed for today) and can't resist this sign - huh?  What 'scenic lookout'??

It must be time to head home and recover from this oh so strenuous excursion.

Advanced Loafing . . . Fiji Style

Those of you who may have wondered 'what happened to them?? why haven't they posted a blog update in forever?'  Here's the answer:  we have been taking the advanced course in How to Loaf.  Now you would think that with all the traveling we've done over the last decade, we would not need a course in 'taking it easy'.  That's what we thought, but we were sadly mistaken.  We were pikers in the loafing department - not even close to professional loafers.  Well, that was then.  We have graduated, with honors, from Advanced Loafing!

For our final exam and orals we had to demonstrate that we are capable of doing 'nothing' for days on end.  Oh we got up, made breakfast, ate it, talked and talked and laughed with Debbie and Paul, planned lunch, made it, ate it, took a nap (or as Tim has taken to calling it 'inspecting the sheets'), had a few pre-prandial libations, talked about dinner, made it, ate it, talked some more . . . and went to bed.  Repeat until perfected as evidenced by not caring what time it is, not knowing what day of the week it is or what day of the month (not knowing the month was good for extra credit).

All of this was made infinitely easier thanks to our outstanding tutors - Debbie and Paul - and the sub-tropical weather that resulted in soggy, sticky clothes after the least bit of physical exertion.  A firm understanding of a phenomenon called 'Fiji time' is a definite must (indeed, a pre-requisite) before we were allowed to enroll in the course.

Most of you know that we lived in Southwest New Mexico for more than 10 years.  The prevailing population is Mexican (49%), along with the cultural ethic, including the concept of 'manana'.   Technically it means 'tomorrow'; in reality it means 'any day but today'.  It could be tomorrow, it could be two days from now or it could be a week from now - it's just not today.

So Fiji time is . . . whenever I feel like doing it or remembering I said I would do it and then feel like doing it.  The result of this is that when people do something, you can pretty much be assured they really want to be doing it.  They're not doing it out of obligation, guilt (I think that concept is unknown here), to placate a nagging spouse, silence a whining child or appease an employer.

Sometimes you just can’t get a ride to town, a part for your car, or a desired object when you want it.  It’s just not in the stars, the cards or whatever.  Deal with it!  Live in the moment, cherish the beauty all around you, stop and talk to the person next to you in line wherever . . . in short, slow down.   Way down!  Don't worry - be happy.  I may be exaggerating this a bit, but my sense is that Fijians are a people who live totally in the moment.  The idea of 'worry' or anxiety seems foreign to them . . . there is a genuineness (dare I use the currently trendy word 'authentic' to describe them) that is contagious and utterly lovely.

I had to root around in iPhoto for a couple of photos to include in this post, so here goes . . . 

Tim preparing for sheet inspection.

Picking a lime is extreme exertion.

Getting in the Fijian spirit to go hunter-gathering (we do need some fruit for breakfast).

Slicing a papaya - another extreme exertion.

One of the rewards for all of this exertion.

Our graduation field trip for ice cream.

Our ever-so-proud, tutor, Debbie!

Ahhhh . . . loafing is all it's cracked up to be . . . and more!  We may apply to be loafing tutors.

Christmas in Fiji

Debbie and Paul have arranged a gala celebration for Christmas . . . and my birthday!  To get us all in the holiday mood, they've decorated a sweet tree and sprinkled our bure (pronounced 'boo-ray' - that's Fijian for ones digs) with colorful ornaments.

The hammock has become a sort-of creche, complete with coconuts, green garlands, and an assortment of fruit from the property.  

We're going out for brunch but first -  it's time for presents!  Debbie and Paul noticed Tim checking out this shirt when we were in town and voila!  Now this is not something Tim would normally wear, but it is just perfect for him - he looks so absolutely Fijian in it!!

And we both get our official Fiji Bitter Beer tees . . . 

And (I still can't believe this!!), Debbie and Paul have brought the most beautiful, hand-painted fan and case all the way from Japan!  My very,very special birthday present . . . 

After this gift-giving orgy, we're off to The Captains' Table.  Some time in the last 15 years, several French chefs have moved to Savusavu - this is absolutely first-class.

And then it's home for birthday cake - lemon cake with butter cream icing.  It's been so very long since I've had a birthday cake . . . there's a real risk I'm going to go all weepy at this point!

Wearing our birthday hats . . . 

(Doesn't Tim look fabulous in his new shirt??)

No, there were not 72 candles, just enough to challenge my 'candle extinguishing' power!

What a lovely, lovely day . . . how incredibly blest we are.

Savusavu, Fiji - Then and Now

Then (15 years ago) we flew from Suva, on the big island of Viti Levu, at night, in a blinding thunder and lightning storm.  We landed on a grassy runway - surrounded by jungle - with a faded sign in Fijian, Hindi, and English advising pilots to watch for cows on the 'runway'.  The arrival/departure lounge was a quonset hut.  Not a light in sight.

Today we left Nadi (also on Viti Levu) just before 8 a.m. on a beautiful sunny day.  We had a spectacular view of the whole island, then a short hop across the Pacific into Savusavu, Vanua Levu, the second largest island in the Fijian chain.  We land on a proper, paved tarmac with a near proper arrival/departure building.  (According to the tourist literature, Fiji claims 333 islands in the entire chain, but I'm certain 320+ of them are a couple of palm trees on a rock.)

Then we were met by Sailosi, a gentle Fijian giant of a man whom we later came to know well, and he took us by truck to our rental home even deeper in the jungle.  Today, we are met by Mihin,  the official 'driver' for the owners of bulavista where we will stay for 19 days with our pals, Debbie and Paul, whom we met in India.   We are all thrilled to see each other!!

Tim wants desperately to get into this wee plane we arrived on and have a go!

Bulavista is up on a hill with a commanding view of the harbor.  Then the biggest boats in Savusavu harbor were sailboats; now we have cruise ships, this one from Hamilton, NZ.  The tenders disgorge passengers all day long.

View from the front porch . . .

A couple of days later, Mihin and his wife organize an Indian dinner.  Not shown is his FBI cap which we learn stands for 'Fijian Born Indian.'  Last visit, the population was about 49% Indian, 50% Fijian and 1% 'other'.  We're guessing that those percentages have remained constant, but the population - in Savusavu at least - appears to have quadrupled to around 4500.  Noticeable absence of elder Savusavu seniors.

Food is obviously going to be a huge part of our stay here - Paul and Tim both love to cook and we talk about meals (past, present, and future) a lot!

On a visit to town, where there are now three supermarkets (there was one 15 years ago), we are tickled to see a 'Holiday Sheep Lottery'.  Yes, I know, we thought 'it's a goat' - sort of -  but here everyone calls them 'sheep'.

He was gone the day after Christmas.  Next blog, our Christmas celebration and my birthday dinner!