Carol and Tim's Excellent Adventure: 01/17/15

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 . . .