Day 9 - Monday December 17, 2001 - 4:56pm

Hard to believe it’s been a week.

This morning I ran into a family from North Vancouver who had just arrived in Fiji. The husband and wife were travelling to Fiji and New Zealand with their young son and daughter and were full of questions about the area and such. I obliged them as best I could.

Got packed up by 10am, had breakfast (which is where I met the North Van family) and then arranged next week back at Musket Cove. Unfortunately, there are no Seaview Bures available as most people want to make their own Christmas dinner, so the self-catering bures are gone. However, not to be outdone I did manage to negotiate my old room — 104 — at a lesser rate than I paid this week: F$150, which is about CDN$100, CDN$50 cheaper. Apparently there’s a lot of this kind of negotiating going on. The reservations people have been charging whatever the market will bear. Such is the life of a resort owner in the middle of nowhere.

So, the boys went fishing this morning (everyone except Michael that is - he was a little under the weather) for big game fish. Speaking with Janice before I left she mentioned that radio contact had been made around 10am and the boat had broken down. Good thing Janice knows how to make yummy corned beef sandwiches. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when they get around to e-mail again in New Zealand.

More locals! The speedboat captain who brought me over to Castaway is originally from Vancouver. David’s his name. He came here on a cruise 12 years ago, went home, sold everything off, moved back and became a charter boat owner of the Energizer. Loves it, so he says. Can’t see why he wouldn’t.

Which brings up an interesting point. Many of the areas in the tourism industry here are regulated with a stringent licensing process and testing, etc. But I’ve seen flagrant violations all over this island and Castaway, and even though I spent less than six hours in Nadi I witnessed problems there too. Various pieces of boating equipment where outboard motors are lashed to the boat with bungee cords and gaffer tape, planking in outdoor restaurants with exposed rusty nail heads just waiting for soft tourist feet, unsupervised pool use by small children with no notice or acknowledgement anywhere that the management isn’t responsible for them (to say nothing of parents who would let three year old kids near a five-foot deep pool while they drink a Fiji Beer at the bar!), etc., etc. While we were motoring over to Castaway, David kept looking back at the motor. I asked him why. “Every once in awhile it falls off!” he says. (A three-hour tour…!)

Same Day - 9:45pm

So, I’m here. At Castaway Island Resort - destination number two. And so far it seems to exceed the expectations I had after my little excursion here earlier in the week. My own private bure — number 56 — is quite nice and will suit the purpose just fine.

Now it’s time to give in to a certain philosophical reflection.

Along with all those tried, tested and true axioms of life — among them, “don’t spit into the wind”, “never give a sucker an even break”, and “don’t take any wooden nickels” — I feel compelled to add the following three:

    1. Never get an insect bite on the bottom of your foot or between your toes.

    2. When applying suntan lotion don’t forget the BACK OF YOUR FUCKING NECK!

    3. Never — and let me stress this point — NEVER, allow a small sand crab to wander into the leg of your bathing trunks no matter how playful he seems. (Men, pay particular attention to this one!)

Later

I’ve been here eight hours and already there are two things I never want to hear again (but somehow you just know I will):

    1. It doesn’t seem to matter if it’s a volleyball, a football or a Frisbee, all the play balls here are called WILSON. “Pass me the Wilson”; “I’ll throw you the Wilson”; “Is that your Wilson…?”; “Excuse me, but are you using that Wilson?”; “Is that Wilson in your pocket or are you just glad to see me…?” FUCK TOM HANKS AND THE WILSON HE RODE IN ON!

    2. If I hear one more so-called ‘native’ Fijian band murder a Jimmy Buffett tune I’ll see to it they ALL waste away again in Margaritaville! Jesus, it’s like listening to Lawrence Welk Unplugged!

Along with the things I never want to hear again are two things that I would have a hard time finding better anywhere else. Man, that’s terrible grammar. Fuck it, I’m on vacation - I mean holiday. Here they are:

    1. Pizza
    Yeah, I know: what am I doing eating pizza in Fiji when I should be stuffing my face with fish and fresh fruit? Well, first of all there appears to be precious little fish or fresh fruit around! (More on that later.) But this was a great pizza! Upstairs above the surf shop is the Pizza Bar. They have about ten varieties of pizza that they make to order in their firewood brick oven. Mine was a Delizzia: pepperoni, anchovies, red peppers (capsicums as they call them here - another British hold-over), pineapple, mangoes and Camembert cheese with a small shaving of fresh Parmesan (a great combination!) But it was the crust that made it. The cook puts honey and olive oil into the batter before rolling out a twelve-inch pizza. Slightly over-cooked, brownish-black around the edges. Delicious! One of the best ever. Who’d’ve thunk it?

    2. Bloody Mary
    At dinner tonight on the terrace overlooking seven other islands (sorry, just had to put that in!) I ordered a Bloody Mary and I’m glad I did. What set this apart from the others I’ve had wasn’t the vodka, it wasn’t the right combination of Tabasco, Worcestershire sauce and lime, and it wasn’t the carrot spears they used as garnish instead of the usual celery stalk. It was the half-teaspoon of orange zest they put in each glass before they mixed the drink. Very yummy. Had two.

Much Later

Well, it’s quarter to eleven Monday evening, the first of six nights I’ll be spending here.

Lots of activities including guided snorkeling tours, parasailing, jet skis, kayaks, two pristine beaches to lie on and a 400-acre island to traverse, at low tide if I’m smart, so I’m told.

Can’t wait!