Day 4 - Wednesday December 12, 2001 - 6:45pm

Just waiting for 7pm and the Chanukah-themed dinner. Tonight it’s “Pig On A Spit”. Which, on balance, is far preferable to “Spit On A Pig” - they hate that. Although probably a lot less than the alternative.

I had my first experience of ‘left a bad taste in my mouth’ syndrome today. In my younger days this incident may have cast a pall over my entire Fijian adventure in general, much as my first Mexican experience left me leery of ever returning there. These days it’s a mere observation, nothing more (older and wiser, you see!)

But seriously, consider this: While sunning myself at an exclusive resort on the sandy white beaches of Musket Cove, Fiji, I was accosted, albeit in the nicest possible manner, by a young well-dressed Fijian soliciting money for tickets to a religious family gathering on the ‘mainland’. I was agog.

I’m naturally distrusting of these types at the best of times finding them in most of the usual venues as we all do, but here on the beach in Fiji?!

Realizing that both religion and family are cornerstones of the Fijian existence (along with a dollop of racism when it comes to ‘dealing’ with the East Indian ‘problem’ - but that’s an argument for another time) it comes as no surprise that the two are supported and promoted. However, it seems completely bizarre to me that tourists (sorry: travellers) should be hit upon while relaxing on a private island beach, a fact this practiced hawker managed to work into his spiel. I watched him ply his trade down the beach, stopping at every towel, beach chair and table exhorting the same pleas. Strangely, each person allowed him to proceed to almost the exact same point as I allowed before sending him unceremoniously on his way. I’d like to think my fellow tan junkies waited this long in turning him away because they were overcome with astonishment as I had been, and not because they gave his ‘pitch’ the slightest moment’s consideration.

I may seem unduly harsh until you understand that he was selling rather official-looking tickets to a dance and social gathering in Suva, the capital city. The purpose, he explained, was to celebrate the Fijian’s rich religious history (one nailed to the bottom of their ‘heathen’ feet by British missionaries I hasten to add. Again, a story for another time) with family and friends. However, sleight-of-hand wasn’t his forte and I noticed the tickets, which he handled during his discourse, all carried the same serial number and were rather badly photocopied onto blue paper. OK - I’m going to get off my soapbox now.

Weird shit that you see…

    Urinals: the urinals here in Fiji in the men’s bathrooms (which is to say different from the urinals in the women’s bathrooms!) are tiny, minuscule. So small in fact that if your mind wanders, even a little… well… so does everything else, that’s all I can say about that.

    Crabs: I watched a small crab scramble onto the dry beach this morning and dig himself a rather large hole in which to hide, I presume, from the torrid heat. Quite amazing to watch. He didn’t so much push the sand aside as dig it out, carried it to an ever-larger pile and dumped it there. Quite fastidious. Bob The Builder would’ve been proud.

    Water: The water here is famous for being almost body temperature year-round. Well, scratch that! I waded out into the incoming surf during low tide and you could’ve dropped a tea bag in there and had a large cuppa. It was bloody hot! No wonder the crab wanted to get cool.

    Floppy Disks: Here’s one for the books (never did know what that meant). I went looking for a floppy disk today. Thought I had brought everything with me. I brought the floppy disk DRIVE, but no floppies. I thought I would convert some of this tome to MSWord and e-mail it to some friends, but I need to put it on a floppy in order to transfer it to the local PC. I asked around and it was clear I had hit a nerve of some kind. I eventually found myself at reception where I asked if they had any. The woman in charge looked all sheepish and apologetic. I couldn’t borrow, or even purchase a floppy disk because they had only one and it went missing somewhere between Nadi Airport and Musket Cove. Only ONE floppy disk for the entire island! This is a real problem since there are only three computers at Musket Cove (for official use anyway) and they can’t share information because someone made off with the essential tool for the purpose: the floppy disk.

    Tipping: Everything I’ve read about Fiji, including up-to-date information on the various websites, says that ‘tipping’ is not only discouraged here, it’s considered crass and impolite, demeaning even. So, why is it that I feel everyone here tips except me? If tipping here is an accepted practice, then the Fijian tourism people are doing the proprietors and wait staff an injustice by not informing the tourists and travellers.

    It’s All Relative: The native Fijians here on Malolo Lailai Island refer to the main island as the ‘mainland’.

Later

Met David, a freelance cameraman from Melbourne, Australia today who’s here shooting an episode of the Channel 7 series, “The Great Outdoors”, a travel series.

He’s part of a five-member crew including the extremely cute hostess (good TVQ!) and the producer. Will chat with them later. Apparently there’s an Aussie version of “Temptation Island” that will be shot here at Musket Cove and they’re here doing an episode that will give prospective holidaymakers a glimpse into the ‘real’ resort experience.

One thing I learned from David was this: he’s shooting in widescreen (‘postcard’ format as they call it over here) and digital. Why, I asked. Apparently two reasons. First, Australian broadcasting has to have 20 hours minimum of programming per week by sometime next year in wide screen (16:9), and two, it gives them an almost ‘slam dunk’ sale to European television by virtue of the format. As David said to me,

The Yanks just don’t understand what the rest of the world already knows - wide screen is the future standard and the future’s here now.

I offered that the ‘yanks’ just don’t understand that there’s a rest of the world. He agreed.

Same Day - 8:28pm

OK - second experience of ‘left a bad taste in my mouth’.

Dinner tonight was of the “meke” traditional variety. Here in Fiji that means the aforementioned Pig On A Spit. All well and good - and it was, by the way.

Meke Dancers

Accompanying the food and grog was an equally traditional group of musicians playing equally traditional Fijian folk music (apart from one of the guitarists attempting to give Don Henley a run for his money.) Part of a festive event such as this includes the imbibing of ‘liquor’ made from the local kava root - ergo: kava ceremony.

Kava Ceremony

Resembling the fibrous root of a small tree or bush (which it actually is), the root is soaked in water and ritually ‘squeezed’ and ‘twisted’ until the water turns a muddy, translucent brown colour with a brackish taste. But drink it we must - this is a ceremony after all.

The resulting cup of liquid leaves your mouth quite numb like Novocain on a trip to the dentist (in larger quantities it leaves you completely paralyzed, not unlike a trip to the corner of Fifth and Vermouth!) But it is nonetheless ceremonial, ritualistic and very much a part of the social fabric of Fiji. Imagine my surprise when I caught one of the band (it’s always someone in the band!) slipping a few grains from a bag labeled “Instant Kava Flakes” into the ceremonial hand-carved bowl!

Alright, it didn’t actually say ‘instant’, but can I be criticized for envisioning Wiley Coyote taking receipt of “One (1) Bag - ACME Kava Flakes” in the belief that he’ll finally catch the Road Runner…?

Perhaps it’s just another manifestation of the meeting of the ‘isms’: tour and commercial. I wonder what else in the evening’s festivities was suspect?!

More…

Before the nineteenth century turned the automated corner into the twentieth, Mark Twain said the following:

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.

What was true then I believe to be true today. I’ve travelled enough to see that it is so. But to it I would add the following:

Travel may be fatal to prejudice, but it also heightens ones awareness to prejudice, and to the commercialization of our world.

And…

I mentioned earlier the proliferation of mango trees. The first one I saw was on the front lawn of a McDonald’s on the road to Denarau Island. They even serve a special ‘McMango Burger’. Yeah, yeah, I know: McDonald’s are everywhere, get over yourself. But when the brochures, travel books and videos extol the virtues of Fiji’s unspoiled wilderness and pristine beauty, the least they could do is add the following: “Do you want fries with that…?”

Later

The place where I’m staying resembles something out of the American ‘Deep South’, part of a back lot from “Gone With The Wind”. You approach the two-storey wood structure from the front and are greeted by two huge trees that were probably around when those British missionaries were teasing the locals away from humanism and toward the monarchy. Giant, green leafy things they are (the trees, not the missionaries). The grounds themselves are a harbour for anything that grows and sprouts colour. The smell is a mixture of the flowers and the sweet aroma of smashed mangoes that have fallen from nearby trees to be picked over by the many species of bird that inhabit the island.

Later Still

There are moments here when I’m looking off into space (this happens a lot, I’ll have you know) and find myself staring at the row of swaying palm trees across the way at Plantation Resort… my mind begins to wander.

Speaking of Non-Sequiturs…

I came upon an old World War II landing craft - a small one. Upon closer inspection I discovered Japanese characters on the side. It didn’t seem the least bit out of place. Yes indeed, there are times when I feel as though I’ve stepped directly into a James Clavell novel.

Time to sleep and dream of what Thursday — Day Five — might bring.

Photo: Meke Dancers Copyright © John Chinneck, Carlton University
Photo: Kava Ceremony Copyright © Ryan Photographic