Easy movement

It is easier to move in Fiji than in the US. About an hour ago I called Kalaviti Carriers and asked if I could hire a truck and a driver in 45 minutes to move some furniture. Sure enough, at 3 pm, a truck (barely moving) and a driver were outside of my house to help me move. Well, actually--Babu (the driver) stood at the bottom of my stairs while Mike and I carried down the two tables, one desk and five stools that are going to find a new home in my friend Jennifer's garage till I return.

During the ten minute drive to Jennifer's, Babu didn't say much but he had a very nice demeanor and now all that is left of my moving is to pile some clothes, books, and house plants into Grant's car and see if I can't squeeze him right out of his flat.....

Earlier today, in town, I moved with ease down the street wearing a black, with pink and white flowers, gold leaves and silver trim, Sulu-Chamba. I received many compliments and felt quite elegant in the easy-to-wear, never-mismatched, one-piece that adorns most Fijian women. I am hoping next year to have at least four of them for teaching purposes and the fact I don't have to search for an iron, or clothes that fit when I wake up. The beauty of tailored outfits is that they always make you look good....

My essay contest has been a raving success--with all of the seven entries from around the country. To my dismay, I found out that some schools decided they would 'democratically' go through the essays, pick out their favorites and send them on to us (the essay selection board). The only reason this perturbs me is because there is a lot of favoritism and rote teaching in Fiji, and therefore an essay that the board may have thought to be original, creative, and concise--would be removed from the school's submission b/c it was deemed unfit. However, some essays were perfectly crafted with original thought, cultural uniqueness and solid observations on what it is like to grow up in a hybrid, post-colonial nation. Others were pedantic and borrowed various dictionary definitions of "culture"--these particular essays were chosen by the heads of school and mailed to us.

Things are moving with great speed and alacrity here in Fiji. The earth is shaking; my plans are progressing; the school year is ending, and my Rotary year is slowly coming full circle. I am looking forward to being back on US soil, ordering pizza, eating cheese and enjoying the many, many lovely people I have in my life!

See you soon :)

Cheers....Namaste...peace....

Where to turn

I just had the most peculiar visit from a little boy name Willi. He only looked about 11, 0r 12 years-old, short, clean shirt, dirty shorts, bare-foot, with cracked toenails and various scabs and calluses on his exposed skin.

He walked up my stairway and quietly tapped away, wondering if anybody was home. I only answered after I looked through the window and saw it was a child. (Usually it is an adult from the squatter settlement begging, or trying to sell me some half-dead seafood.) He told me he was hungary and wondered if I had any work for him to do, so he could earn a few dollars to get bread and a drink. I told him I could give him a glass of water and offer him some bread, but I had no work. (He declined the bread, but took the water.) I started asking him his story, as he gulped down the water.

I asked him where he went to school because he spoke english very well and he said an Indian man had recently taken him in and put him in the Hilton Special School (for students with disabilities), although he had no apparent disability, Fiji is a place where if you know someone, you often times can be enrolled. Anyway, his parents left him as a baby and since then he has been living with a Rotuman woman, who has now gone to Savusavu. He has no aunties, or family that he knows of and is kind of wandering the streets now looking for work and a way to support himself. He told me he was 14, born in 1994 and his favorite subject in school is English.

The best I could do for this boy was make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and give him a couple of glasses of water. I listened to his story, suggested what he might do to find work, or relatives and wished him luck. I told him to keep the faith. I didn't have any spare clothes, or shoes for him, but I did send him off with $3.20--a small amount that he could squander and I wouldn't miss, if he was feeding me lies, but a large enough amount to get him a few bus fares and some food if he was in real need. I hope that boy finds what he needs and that I won't be targeted in the future for a break-in. There's a fine line here of who to trust and what to give and I'd like to hope I did the right thing. I saw gaps in his story and made sure to emphasize I was a volunteer, who makes no money here and also I leave with my large boyfriend, who is home most of the time. It saddens me to not be able to trust a child in need, but I think I found a middle road.

On a happier note, I went to an amazing island last weekend with snakes, white sand, teal water, and a peaceful breeze. The island of Leleuvia is a 45 minute drive from Suva and an equal boat ride. It's weather is mainly nice, getting about 30% of the Suva rain and it is inexpensive. I went there with a group of friends and we stayed in grass bures, only 20 steps from the beach and made the island our own little kingdom. It is easy to walk around the island at low-tide in about 5 minutes, minding the black and silver snakes that travel from the small forested area to the water when a cloud comes. I found that on land snakes move slowly and are non-intimidating. However, when in the water--they are fast and supple. (Making snorkeling a bit scary.)

After two glorious nights of sunsets, sunrises and beachy-days, my better half and myself came back to Suva with one extra passenger from Barcelona. As I do, I made friends with this eclectic man named Albert, who has been traveling the world for two+ years, volunteering his time to teach in orphanages and special-needs schools. He is writing a travel book and has really enjoyed escaping the rat-race city life and the fancy job. Can we not all learn from Albert?

I have recently started to read my work-load for next year...Midnight's Children, Love in the Time of Cholera, Great Gatsby, The House of the Spirits etc.... I will be completely enveloped in amazing, but difficult literature for high school students...living the lifestyle that Albert has now and I have taught myself to appreciate...

What is my plan for next year, you might ask? Well, I am moving back to Fiji after a 2 month sabbatical at home to finish my Rotary speeches and share some of the cultural nuances about Fiji. I will be home from the end of November through mid January and have lots of appointments scheduled with family and friends, Rotary clubs, and other civic organizations...I will be a busy girl, stuck in the rat race for two more months before returning to the South Pacific as an English teacher, a thesis student, and a purveyor of the good life.

Do what you love. Live simple. Breathe easy.

Shock and waves

Yadra readers,

The South Pacific and Asia have been dealt a serious blow. The tsunami and series of earthquakes that hit this region last week are shattering and mind numbing. Whenever a tragedy happens near you...could have happened to you... affects those people around you...it is cause for reflection.

So far Rotary has put together a drive for clothes and supplies--which Mike and I happily added to after reading the instructions and going to Nivis Motors in Nabua to drop of our bags of clothes. The very nice men at Nivis motors, who sell Mitsubishi cars did not know what we were talking about...a Rotary donation? Bob...oh, io our boss "Rob..." We can open a bank account for you and you can donate there.....OR you can head down the road to Niranjan Motors in Raiwanqa. Ah...set, wrong business sent out on the newsletter.

USP has started a few fundraisers and has also opened some revolving bank accounts that donate to various organizations and families in Samoa. I will be attending one of the fundraisers tonight and wearing feathers in my hair (a traditional hair piece being sold to raise money for the victims) and may attend a prayer vigil.. although in the South Pacific, those are fairly intense gatherings with large numbers of people and very passionate guidance.

Meanwhile, on Tsunami day I was on my way to work, next to the sea wall, and I received a phone call about the disaster that already struck and the thought that it might come our way by 10 am. I called my boss and she said we would have a work from home day since we were in the tsunami zone...so I worked from her home. Fortunately for us in Fiji it was a beautiful, calm and sunny day. The kids were released from school and some people were released from work and there were large waves experienced on the outer group of Lau (near Tonga) and a small quake felt in the North (Labasa) and a push towards developing a warning system in Fiji.

The next day, since the weather here is finally sunny, me and my mates went to the beach! On the way home Mike and I caught a local bus--45 minutes away from Suva. A small girl got up so I could sit in her seat and I put her on my lap, while her mother took a nap in the seat next to me. The bus stopped every 20-100 yards... letting passengers off and on, filling up the standing room in the aisles. And when the bus stopped, after some trouble catching third gear, and we were told to get off the bus and hop on the one behind it--I wasn't fazed because I was thrilled they preempted the broken down bus we were on and brought another for us to switch onto.

Two hours and three busses later, Mike and I arrived in Suva--happy and tired. It is amazing how Fiji has changed my sense of urgency and time. Last week I went to a friend's house for dinner--a new friend I had never met, and we headed over around 9 pm on a Monday night. Masta had invited me, Mike, and Brittany over for Eid (Muslim celebration). We were considered chief guests in his home and were fed a table full of sweets before we sat down for a delicious dinner of curried delicacies. Sweets before dinner was different, but tasty and all of the food led up to the viewing of Mecca. In side his house, his lovely parents showed us all of the large plaques and pictures, some with gold leafing, depicting Mecca and the millions of people who journey there to worship Allah. I felt very welcomed, culturally enriched and exhausted by the time I got home at 12:30 am.

Next week I am looking forward to Diwali celebrations (Hindu festival of lights). I am getting a new sari blouse tailored and am anticipating many dinners of delicious food, as well as the delivering of Diwali baskets to needy families in the area.

The next two weekends are three day weekends and I will hopefully travel to an outer island for one of them, continuing my exploration of Fiji and begin bringing my experience to an end as an Ambassadorial Scholar.

Matakatale

10K people, a lost toenail, and a river

As an Ambassador of Good Will, I have had the chance to connect with many lives in Fiji, and when you connect with a life you are invited to share an opportunity.

In the last two weeks, I have been fortunate enough to attend, VIP style, the largest festival in Fiji--possibly even the whole Pacific, and accompany 36 11-13 year-olds on their annual camping trip to the interior of Viti Levu.

To give you an idea of the grandeur of the Hibiscus festival, it ended on August 29th and on August 28th, the committee members were already planning how to make next year's bigger and better. It was an honor to be invited into the VIP lounge all week, where I was able to meet the contestants who compete for the titles of King, Queen, Prince, Princess, and Lady Hibiscus and who give up their personal lives for a series of months to support their fellow citizens, share their community's ideals, and grow as individuals. I was also able to rub elbows with the men and women behind the festival--the ones who coordinate this event which caters to over 10,000 people a day from all over Fiji. It just so happens my connection lies with the speech and confidence coach. He thought he was lucky to have a charming and pretty woman on his arm, however I think I was lucky one, as it was an honor to be by his side and see the amazing transformations that he helped to inspire within each of the contestants over the last six months.

As many of you know when there is an influx of people I tend to run away. So during the middle of the Hibiscus week I accompanied the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades of The Learning Center on their rural camping trip to Namoli Village, in the Sigatoka highlands of Viti Levu, located in the province of Navosa.

The first day I got to the school at 8am, noticing that when kids go camping they don't bring hiking back packs, as I did, but they bring multiple large suitcases that have wheels in most instances. We arrived in Sigatoka at 12 pm. We traveled to the Keyasi police post by dirt road and were graciously fed tea and baked goods by the police wives. We then realized, due to the amount of luggage we carried, that we would need two carrier trucks--not one to get us over the mountain roads and to the village that was still over two hours away--or just 45 minutes in "Fiji time."

The kids, teachers, luggage, and myself (acting as Ms. Nina, leader of Group Awesome) climbed into the back of the covered carrier truck and started the interesting journey in the back of a truck to the river. When we reached the end of the road, a road that had only existed for 10 years, it was dark, it was 8 pm, we hadn't eaten dinner, and we had to wade across the river with all of our bags to reach the village.

If you've never greeted a wide river, in an unfamiliar place, at night, and been asked to traverse it--you haven't experienced adventure. It was invigorating to cross the cool, knee-high river and arrive in the village to be well fed and put to bed in the Chief's bure. Although, if you remember what it is like to be a tweenager and on a sleep over field trip, then you must know Ms. Nina, leader of Group Awesome, didn't sleep for more than a few hours that night. The kids were respectful, but excitable, and sure that there was a rat rummaging around in the bure at 3:30 am--for the sole purpose of torturing them.

Everyday we woke up before sunrise to the white mist of our breath. We crossed the river to do nature studies, swimming, horse back riding, fishing and bilibili races. When someone of adult stature sits on a bilibili it remains a sturdy bamboo raft, but it also neglects to float above the water because it flows in the water. However, if you are Fijian, you are naturally inclined to stand on the bilibili, carrying across the river any number of items safely and dryly. Luckily, due to village protocol I was swimming fully clothed all week--including my two bottom layers, consisting of shorts and a sulu.

The kids had an amazing time interacting with the village children, who were all on school holidays and normally have to board at a government school far away from their remote and rural village. There was no cell phone service, no refrigeration, one flush toilet--set up with a bucket of water, and no showers. We took our baths in the river, washed the pots and pans in the river and saw how vital the river was to daily life in Namoli. We ate fresh Talapia, caught with spears, bilibilies and cane knives, out of holes in the sand that were lined with banana leaves and also held games with the village children and the school children--the village children usually coming out on top.

Besides a few excitement driven behavior mishaps, a missing toenail, a roll-start carrier, fifteen tummy aches, one exploratory rat, and a sacrificed wild boar-- we had no fatalities, or desperate situations.

I was privileged to talk with the Chief's wife all week, Tai Livi and learn about access to education in the village and her thoughts on the rural and remote location of the village. I was also bestowed the high honor of staying her tent--an A-frame, circa 1970. It was very well loved and unfortunately past its prime--causing the boys to have to put a tarpaulin over it to make it water proof. It also needed to be tied down with a wide berth, and bamboo-fashioned-twine, which caused all of my darling students to trip over the pegs and regularly collapse my tent--only stopping their run enough to giggle and scream, "SORRY MS. NINA...."

Tai Livi was sad to see us go, as were the other villagers after they realized what entertainment our students provided amid the invasion of the peaceful mountain top village. The trip will forever bond me with the hills of Fiji, the villagers of Namoli, and the students and teachers at TLC. Once again I felt accepted and loved as a member of a community--a member of a family--and a contributor to the enlightenment of other's lives.

As a reward for my hard work I managed to lose my camera at Hibiscus on Saturday night--at the closing VIP cocktail party, in an area with thousands of people. I had not yet downloaded the photos from camping and spent all day Sunday wallowing in devastation at my stupidity. Lost and found seemed to be an unheard of concept around the Hibiscus grounds the next day and all hope was lost. On Thursday night, around 10 pm, my boyfriend received a text from a local TV producer saying he found a camera on Saturday night with scenic pictures and pictures of him--was he missing a camera?

My lessons learned were: Hope is never lost; there still is good in humanity; children inspire happiness and unrestricted laughter; and the citizens of Namoli Village are more than happy to share their love, peace, and home with complete strangers.

Pictures will be posted soon on facebook and on flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/35025666@N02/

-MOCE-

Critical Thoughts

I have recently had a lot of time to reflect on education in itself, my education, developing vs. developed, preconceived notions, and the ever impending dread of "happiness." It is interesting how every person has a different story, a different essence, a different background--even those who are cut from the same cloth: may it be culture, family, or gender. Everyone brings to the table their own biases, however it is only when we group together that these somehow turn into facts rather than opinions. I believe if there were never another person who shared our view of a stranger, a policy, a nation, an organization--then we would have more time to contemplate rather than react.

As humans we are quick to judge. We only know what we have seen and what we have lived and although we are afraid to admit it we are terrified of the rest of the world. I have recently relearned from fellow classmates and also peers that I am unapproachable at times. Some see this as a positive trait--a trait of confidence and courage and others see it as self-righteous--a trait of arrogance and disregard for what I do not know.

As an Ambassadorial Scholar I have tried to mix with as many people and cultures as possible. I have listened a lot more than I have spoken and I have found myself in many uncomfortable positions. When I am afraid I talk about what I know (because it is safe and familiar), or I don't talk at all. I am one person who reacts two completely opposite ways to any similar situation. Admittedly, moving to a new country is hard on anyone. Moving to Fiji was hard on me. It has taken me months to realize that where I once was uncomfortable is now a place I call home. As I have said in the past Fiji has humbled me. Fiji has excited me. Fiji has blown me away and disappointed me in the course of an hour. Fiji has scared me and saddened me. Fiji has welcomed me as a member. I adore the people I am surrounded by--the eclectic multi-cultural mix found in Suva. But I am aware that it is a transitory place with people who never really become comfortable in this setting because they are always comparing it to another place--even villagers who have 'gone urban.'

In class tonight I was struck by a notion of culture and education. A notion that we often try to perform for others because we are laden with pride. This notion was spoken by my lecturer, a prominent Fijian woman who has been researching Pacific education and policy for almost thirty years. She said she was disappointed that we often marginalize our own because we are too afraid to admit that we do lack certain characteristics and when we are held responsible for that lack we retaliate accusing the other of unfair judgement. However if we stop and think, aren't we the ones who cause ourselves the most damage? On both a national and individual level, aren't we the ones who cover up our inadequacies--clinging on to shreds of familiarity so we aren't embarrassed, or flung into the abyss of uncertainty?

I am usually the first to volunteer, the first to offer an opinion, the first to contend an understood notion. Is this not a way to question the future? I do take sensitivity into account, but I cannot let it intimidate me because if everyone were sensitive all the time there would be no change, or growth. Education is nurture, growth, and the questioning of knowledge: what we believe to be true. As a human race and a global community we need those who are different; those who question what it is to be "politically correct."

There are many words and encounters which I regret, but I have also learned great lessons from them. Life is not something to shy away from. Happiness and discomfort go hand-in-hand. Resolution cannot exist without a conflict. Taking chances is something we must do. I leave you tonight with an apology for all of those who have been offended by my critical views and I look forward to future exchanges. The world is a place in grave need of change and also of maintaining almost forgotten traditions. How we strike that balance has yet to be perfected.

All I know is that I am a lover of the world and tomorrow I push the limits of my comfort by having two wisdom wisdom teeth surgically removed at the public hospital. I am putting trust into a fifth year dental student at an under-funded public hospital in a developing nation. I am having a procedure done that makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. Four months ago I would not have considered getting a cleaning done and now I happily make my way to CWM Hospital confident that I will leave tomorrow morning in much pain, but just a phone call away from some of the best dentists and dental students I have come across. Is this not trust in global education; a step towards something different and unknown? A good feeling that Fiji will deliver me safely through surgery?

Tonight happiness is committing to something that scared me in the past and an acceptance that I will not be eating whole foods for a couple of weeks....

Vinaka

I have seen the end of the rainbow

Bula followers,

I am writing to you refreshed and sun kissed after my seven day stint in the Yasawas and my two days in Lautoka. Both of these places can be found on the Western side of Fiji--where the sun always shines and the litter is kept to a minimum.

Minako, my fellow Ambassadorial Scholar from Japan, and I boarded a loaded bus--five seats per aisle to begin our five hour journey to Lautoka. Luckily I have a keen sense because I chose a three person bench with a well endowed woman and we squeezed in with our carry on bags for a very cozy journey. Twenty minutes into our journey, at the first stop, our neighbor exited the bus and we remained a fearsome twosome, whom no one joined for the rest of the trip!

Upon arrival we noticed that Lautoka, the Sugar City, is ripe with green grass, clean streets, and a familiar lazy bustle. A sugar train runs along the outskirts, collecting bits from every plantation it passes, and over flowing trucks bring ten foot cane sticks to the rum distillery and the sugar refinery.

For my first time ever I got to ride in what must be a 1975, column shifted, two benches in the truck bed pick-up. Willy, our Rotary hostess, is here from Tasmania working on the Rotary village of Koriopita. She drives the project's truck to access the village which is situated off the beaten track in the midst of the sugar cane fields. After giving a presentation to the Lautoka club--which had few more than 10 members present, Minako and I had a lovely talk with Willy and looked forward to visiting Koriopita the next day.

Koriopita, unlike the other villages I went to in my last blog, is funded by NZ and AUS aid, as well as Rotary. It is a manicured village with trash removal, a kindergarten, running water, electricity, and sustainable gardening plots. The families pay $1.00 a day to live there and all have set jobs to keep the village going. Indo-Fijians and Fijians live in harmony and don't have to live in a squatter settlement to be in a close vicinity to town. I found it to be an amazing project, especially since it was headed by such a small club, but I also found it to be too manicured and regulated. I can see that to keep order in a sponsored village you must have rules and safety measures but after living in Nakorakula for a week, it seemed that not being able to plant a mango tree in my front yard, or a coconut tree near a house, for fear of it denting the tin roof, seemed a little too much. Willy agreed that if they use the plant to grow food and maintain a sustainable diet then there should be no restrictions on it.

The villagers greeted us with the same warm hospitality and we got to visit a new mom and her three-day-old baby. After learning her age of 23, I said, "oh wow and now you have a beautiful baby, isn't it amazing." She said, "Yes it is. But this is my third, so I have seen it all before." I was comforted by her good attitude being younger than myself with three children and wished her well.

After the village we were invited to run with the Hash House Harriers--an international running group. We toured suburban Lautoka, running/walking about 8 kms, while the sun was setting over the Pacific. Apparently the most important aspect of Hash is the after-run hazing, beers, and in our case: a delicious curry. It was great to be welcomed instantly into this social running group where everyone was interested in getting to know us. There is also a group in Suva, which I may join. Currently I am running in the mornings in hopes of returning home mentally and physically improved!

The next morning we boarded a small boat to Waya Island to stay in dorm beds at Octopus Resort for the week. It was gorgeous and remote with a 1 km white sand beach and a long reef with snorkeling. We lounged with our 50 favorite friendly world travelers and families. The resort has to be one of the best in Fiji as it offers luxury accommodation and a few dorm beds. We were treated the same as the other guests, paying much more than us, and each night returned to the quiet 14 bed-dorm with our own mosquito netting, a lamp and a fan on our bedside table. We wasted away with the good food and long days of reading. We weaved Fijian baskets out of palm fronds (which I now use to go to the market here in Suva) and made jewelry out of beach shells. We toured the kindergarten in the village that owns the land of the resort and in exchange for the land they are offered jobs, and the resort pumps over $72,000 per year into the schooling and well-being of the villagers.

I knew as I walked over the hill to the village that it was a very rich village because there were over 100 pigs being farmed--pigs are a sign of great wealth. Before the resort was built, the villagers ate smoked fish 7 days a week and rarely took the 90 minute boat ride to the main land. Now the kids attend a boarding school for primary and secondary school and the young ones have a kindergarten and the food varies. The village was beautiful and so were its people. The Methodist church was the largest building and although the village is comparably wealthy to others, I still saw many similarities with Narkorokula. The only difference being that these villagers put on shows for the tourists a few times a week--even if it was just the kids singing in the Kindergarten. They are comfortable around white people--so your visit isn't as special as it is in a place where Palangis are seldom to be found.

After a long week of sunsets, salt-water, reef exploration, happy hour, and hermit crab racing, Minako and I found ourselves in the middle of the South Pacific on a small boat in 10-12 ft swells. It was a beautiful day, but our small ferry boat with seven other passengers had trouble powering through the swells. Our captain Seta was amazing and I felt safe, although my looming anxiety grew whenever I heard the engines cut so we could roll over a wave, or rather have the wave roll over us. We made it back and with the work crew from the island returned to Lautoka--the non-touristy town. We stopped at people's houses to drop them off and at the industrial park to drop off empty dive tanks and the market for veggies before we got to our bus station. Luckily we had arrived 1/2 early because our bus set for Suva (the last one of the day) was already on its way--honking for a passage to drive out of the bus station. I flagged it down, confirmed the Suva destination (as is necessary in Fiji) and while moving the attendant threw my luggage in the hold and we hopped on the bus. This time only paying $14, instead of $17, we hurtled full speed, passing cars and careening around blind corners through the night to Suva.

To my horror I noticed a train of cockroaches under my seat and on the floor. I spent the entire five hours trying to keep the window open for air--since on the bus it was stale, avoiding the cockroach gang and acting as copilot for the driver who had little regard for any one's life. To my dismay every local who boarded the bus would shut my window and a small bartering would ensue for each of us to remain at a comfortable temperature.

Although I thought being back in Suva would be a drag without the sunshine, the clean sidewalks, the safety of unlocked doors, the quiet nights, and the rolling surf, I found that I had actually returned to home. I woke up the next morning and went straight to the market--the busiest, dirtiest place I could find. I was comforted by the ordered chaos that once scared me. I wandered aimlessly buying fresh veggies, knowing that after seeing the other end of the rainbow--where the gold lies and the tourist flies, I was happy with my end. I was happy with my quaint life, my market, my familiar sense of the "real Fiji," and my friends. The same friends who were throwing a Rotary changeover party and requested my presence dressed in an Indian sari.......

TO BE CONTINUED

A life lesson

It is heartening when you are invited into the homes and families of strangers you have never met, strangers who you don't speak their language, and strangers that accept you--unconditionally as you are. 

Last week I went to the Village of Narkorakula in the Nadroga province of Fiji. We stayed there for five days--the women amongst the families in the houses and the men in the hall. Everyone slept comfortably on a floor--covered with a woven mat. There were five of us the first night in a small living room and on subsequent nights that number decreased to three, as some were invited to spread out in a neighboring village home. We stayed up talking to our hosts and sharing tea and food: lots and lots of food.

For the most part the people of the village live in family homes--small houses, usually 3 rooms--possibly split into more sections by curtains and there's an outhouse and outdoor wash bin and a kitchen shack in the back of the house. The houses have very little in them--random trinkets and a few family photographs. What the houses do have is a place in a community. It is true what they say--you need a whole village to work together, complete with the chickens and roosters running around. And, not to worry, but these roosters are like all others and they crow mercilessly at 4 am and 12 am and 10 am and 1 pm, anytime really!

While we were there we ate an amazing bounty of food for every meal. The women would wake up and prepare us breakfast, each section of the village preparing the food for a different day. Sometimes they even baked the night before. Then as soon as breakfast was finished, they would clean up and talk to each other in a lounge-like way, spread out on mats on the floor, and then eat their own breakfast and go into making lunch. We had a full lunch everyday because in Fiji a sandwich is not considered lunch. We had fish and crabs and mussels and clams and octopus and sea cucumber and dalo and cassava and carrots and chicken and curry and roti and eggplant and seaweed and roro and cabbage and pineapple and papaya and bananas. We had curry for breakfast and octopus for lunch. Everything was blessed with the coconut milk which makes the food delicious and very rich. For the first few days I was feeling very full, but equally adventurous and then by Wednesday I was just feeling very full. However the catch with going to a village and seeing the spread of food--which the women stand by and shoo the flies away by gently swinging tea towels back and forth--is that you are a guest and you are expected to eat. Before every meal grace is said in Fijian and the food and the day and the people are blessed. And then if you do not partake in at least two, if not three, heaping plates of food, the women will not accept your plate for washing. It gives them pleasure to share what they have with you. 

The whole reason Mike and I were in the village was to accompany fourth year dental students on their rural training course. With Dr. Bernadette, from my Rotary club, we went along with 12 students to do OEs (oral examinations) and continuing treatment on all the villages in the area. We helped people from Tau, Waica, Lomawai, Bavu, and a few other villages and settlements in the area. Mike and I functioned as receptionists registering people and recruiting those who stood by watching, rather than signing up themselves. The students and their supervisors were amazing to watch as they worked with the supplies we brought in--helping people in a sterile and professional manner in the middle of a rural tropical oasis.

We were greeted with extensive Kava ceremonies which I took place in, even though as a woman I should have little interest in them. As a white woman I think the men of the village enjoyed my company as I preferred to have a "high tide" bowl each time it was passed to me. I like Kava because I like the taste of root crops--like beets and turnips and Kava essentially tastes like dirt water, or as I like to say, earth essence. It seemed to me that the village women had little interest in the drinking of Kava, but the men could be found drinking the mild narcotic at anytime during the day. I find it gives me little effects except for drowsiness, but I did maintain a low blood pressure the whole week--possibly an example of positive side effects.

I drank Kava with the Chief of Narkorakula and with the Regional Chief from Lomowai--although I am sure the latter was not impressed in my joining his circle of male comradery, I was invited to do so by the men of my village, so I accepted and tried not to feel uncomfortable as the Regional Chief glanced sideways, not speaking, but giving off an air of confusion and what I read as distaste. The "sevusevu," or the official Kava ceremony was amazing to witness. There are long prayers and what seem to be oral history poems exchanged between the visitors and the village--it is a presentation of sorts. There is muffled clapping, one before you drink, and three after you drink. There is a shared bowl and a trough of what appears to be dirty water sitting in the middle of the room. There is talanoa--or casual conversation--around the Kava bowl and once you sit down, you are invited to continue your cross-legged journey in the hall and to share life and happiness with the men of the village.

While chatting I picked up a few additional Fijian words during my stay--some of the dialect of that Village. "Cola vina" (though-la veena) which means good health/hello, "Oi lei" (a filler like wee doggie), "Isa" (oh my gosh! My goodness!) and "mai" (come! for children). I made friends with a 3-year old named Suli--who's house I stayed in and who was very interested in what this "papalangi" was doing all week. I made friends with his mother--Ili and his aunt and his grandmother. I made friends with other women as I helped them to grind coconuts for my favorite dish--miti (a coconut gravy with onions and lemon and tomatoes, all finely chopped) I marveled at the innovations that the team of students made to deliver good dental care to these villagers and at the smiles they showed after having observed us in their village. I enjoyed an afternoon at the local primary school where they have lessons on the wall regarding rubbish disposal and there's a black board outside with chores to keep the school going. I enjoyed being a part of a family and seeing how crafty they are at re-using resources. 

In the past I have been known to say, "that's enough food to feed a village," and once you see the spread of food they put on, you see that that statement is true. When we left we left behind gifts of laundry soap and materials for the traditional Fijian style of dress. (Yes I had a Chamba made--head to toe 'bula' material, not the plainest fabric, but flattering if it is cut right. Unfortunately my Chamba made me look similar to a green whale with white leaves and breadfruit all over my body! But no one seemed to notice, they all thought I looked great.) 

The lesson I took away from the village, besides an appreciation for my bed, hot water, and alone time--was that you don't need to have things to be happy. These wonderful and generous people barely had any possessions. They grew most of their own food and fished out of the river and the ocean and some worked as sugar cane farmers and plantation farmers and some had jobs as security guards, or construction workers--but most of them coexisted to keep the village in working order. Wealth is measured in family and friends; in health and life--not in money, or material goods. The village was a good lesson on what it means to share all that you have with a guest--to observe a week of smiles and laughter and casual chats anywhere a mat was laid was the most important thing I will take away from my time here in Fiji.

Spotted: Lialia Kavalange yalewa in the bushes--foraging for the Uci plant.  When asked what she was doing she said, 'me dua na ka baleta na au vuvu tiko kei au tauvi matetaka!' (A crazy, yet pretty, white woman spotted picking leaves on campus because she needs them for her cough and cold! 

Yes, when I went to class the other day, my very nice--parental aged colleagues--were concerned that I was hacking all over their clean air space and had already been doing so for three weeks, so they told me to go find some Uci plant. I was to boil the leaves and add honey and fresh ground ginger and cracked black pepper and drink it to cure my chest-issues. 

I was shown to the plant, accompanied by two of my classmates--searching Fijian style: looking around casually with a perplexed look and maybe even a scratch of the head. The dialogue goes something like this:

"How do you spell this oothie thingy, plant?"

"It is U-C-I."

"Oh, okay. Makes perfect sense. U-C-I!"

"What does this plant look like?"

"Oh, um, it has yellow flowers."

"Oh, okay. How about the leaves. Are they round, or long, or pointy?"

"Um, not round. Kind of medium. It gives off a smell"

"Are the flowers large, or small? Is the tree tall, or like a bush? What is this smell similar to?"

"It is smallish. The flowers are kind of small and yellow, or white and we use it to give smell to the ceremonial garlands during Hibiscus festival."

"Ahhh, I see. Okay. Set. Guess we will keep looking." (At this point, I am thinking we are never going to find this obscure flowery-bush-smelly thing and I will die of a common cold!

Then by the grace of God an older Fijian woman comes up and Tomasi--the guy 'helping' me look for this plant asks here where we might find one. She does a head scratch, a ponder, points at me--they all nod and then after one minute she finds one--right under our noses and right in the middle of campus.

FYI--It is a medium sized bush--with long pointy leaves, it gives off a smell like black licorice and has small clusters of teeny-tiny off white-yellow flowers. I pick some, take it home, boil it, drink it (it's not that bad) and am up all night with coughing fits--alas my mixture has not helped.

The next day I go to the doctor on campus. He tells me there is nothing he can do for me. Do I have allergies? Asthma? I say, "Yes, sadly I am allergic to every living thing and have been known to have allergy induced asthma." Ah, I see, he says. "Well then, you are suffering from hypersensitivity. You probably had the flu three weeks ago when this started and due to your allergies, you are at risk for the irritation to fester and remain in your body. I have seen people with this cough for 2-3 months. You have no fluid in your chest, so I can give you an inhaler and some OTC cough medicine and wish you luck. That is all, until you get a fever, or fluid in your chest."

"Thanks. I am trying to drink the Uci tea too. I am used to this hypersensitivity ailment, it's always my problem..damn allergies. Cough medicine hasn't worked yet, but I'll try the one you prescribe anyway."

"Uci tea?"

"Yes, my classmates said to boil it in hot water, add honey and drink it."

"Oh, okay--you've been drinking it, really??? (he is smiling and nodding his head slowly.) Well it does work, my grandmother swears by it and us Fijians use it all of the time for respiratory ailments, but we usually create a steam bath with it. You breathe in the vapors for 10-15 minutes with a towel over your head. We usually don't drink it, but I suppose you could try it, how does it taste?"

"Hmm... I see now. It didn't work last night--but the taste isn't bad. I will do a steam bath later tonight and let you know. Thanks for the advice."

I left the doctor and found myself another patch of Uci--traipsed into the bushes to pick me some leaves and that's where you found this "lialia kavalange yalewa" at the beginning of the note. Needless to say: I am a little weird and you don't even have to know me, or be in my culture to sense that vibe. (I was also invited to an Indian wedding during my 5 minute taxi ride the other day, but it's on Saturday and I have plans already..darn!)

Fiji is still wonderful. The temperature has dropped to 70/75 degrees. Here I was thinking I was used to climate, but apparently it is just "freezing here" according to the locals. They are all walking around in hooded sweatshirts and knee-high boots. I am sleeping better, when I am not coughing, and getting attacked by mosquitoes just most of the time now, instead of all of the time. It is raining a lot--last week I thought I would hop on the ark, after it left Martha's Vineyard--it was simultaneously raining all week there too. This is why I am still sick: Fiji winter--which really means "change in the weather," not like winter Stateside. I have been advised to put Vicks on my feet (and my head) and wear warm socks and shoes and jackets and shawls--but it is still bloody hot here!! So I compromise and sweat to death in my warmish clothes with Vicks on my chest and feet--but only at night.

Meanwhile I am stretching myself thin. I am at The Learning Center (TLC Primary School) Mondays and Fridays to do my service project with the kids--the international cultural exchange. The first graders are doing a mural, or pictures of their favorite things in Fiji. The second graders are writing a poem, which will be turned into a song tomorrow when Mike comes in with me and plays his guitar. (He has been a camp counselor for umpteen years and can make a bouncy-kid-tune to go with any lyrics instantly! I love it!) And the third graders are working in groups to write a creation/culture story about Fiji. Whenever I come to the school they all see me--the classrooms are open to the outside--and run at me and hug me and call my name. (I am still learning their names, so I just say, "Hey You!" And I hug them back. It makes me feel loved and important..aren't children amazing?

I am no longer a child, that's for sure. I celebrate my 24th birthday this Saturday. I miss my friends and family, but at least there will be a Rotary celebration (for our club's 10th birthday) coincidentally on my actual birthday. We are having a swanky masquerade ball at the snazziest club in town--Traps. I will have to rival my club for B-day attention, but I will have the people who have known me the longest in Fiji with me on my birthday!

So until next time...

Signing off for another day, waiting to embark on another year...... 

The Dog Ate my Homework!

Bula, Bula.

It has been a while, but I will keep it as succinct as possible since I know many of you are busy and should not be reading this while at work..lol.

Since you last heard from me I have been in a magazine photo shoot--Mai Life, a locally published magazine, which is well-read and distributed around the South Pacific. I was in a contest to be "the Queen of Clubs" for Vodka Cruisers (a malted, fruity drink) but since then I have pulled out because I lean more towards feminism then towards objectifying women in heels, make-up and revealing clothes to sell alcoholic beverages. However, it was an excellent experience that I would not have gotten in the US (b/c I am not the skinny-model type). I met a lot of very nice girls and although I was uncomfortable with the pictures in the magazine at first--all of them make me look a little--how can I say--the opposite of Virgin Mary, I am now fine with them. I know that the three shots they published of me do not reflect my values, or character, or goals--but are rather good acting and a bit of wanton fun. In addition, the other girls have been done the same injustice, so at least I will always be able to say when I was 23 I was in a magazine in Fiji looking like a foxy lady. yes, I do have a few copies to bring home with me. Live and learn, right? And now I can be that much stronger and knowledgeable in my distaste for modeling and advertisers using women as objects to sell products.

Our semi-adopted, outside-feral dog, named Alice, managed to surprise us last week by quickly learning how to sit and come when called. However we got to comfortable with her and she with us, so when we came home Friday night--Alice had snuck in through the burglar bars and ate my crocs, more of the rug, a pair of my sneakers, a pair of Mike's sneakers and--this one hurts--my computer charging cord. Which, by the way, I was in the middle of typing a paper and since I could no longer turn on my computer for the weekend, today I had to email my paper to my teacher and tell her that honestly the dog ate my computer--preventing me from turning in my paper on time. How ironic! She was banished for a few days and is now back. We will always close the glass doors now and I went to the vet to look into de-worming pills, a license, shots and flea medicine. She will be a truly real dog now--no more of this kind-of dog. We owe her that, and she owes me about $500 fjd for eating all of things, but what can you do?

Mike and I finally found paradise on Vanua Levu, the other main island. It is a 24 hour return boat ride and on the way back, we were upgraded to first class, sleeping in bunks, when we woke up at 3am to the boat soaring through the sky--riding the HUGE storm we were in the middle of. Babies crying, boat creaking, items escaping their rightful places on shelves and two scared Americans. We made it safely home to Suva at 6 am, only to have the storm follow us and put a damper on retuning home to the city of barking dogs.

Savusavu was gorgeous. It was quiet, peaceful, safe and all around perfect. I was able to walk alone anywhere. We went snorkeling 'right down the road' from our accommodation aka 8 kms/ one hour walk...but once we got there, besides the thunderstorm in the middle of our snorkeling fun, it was magnificent, pristine wonderment. Even Nemo and Dori showed up to say hello. I got to meet up with Fletcher, my friend from Telluride, CO, who had been out there for a couple of months and made lots of contacts and sweet friends--in hopes that I can spend my last month in Fiji there, before I return home to the states. Mike got to sing with this band called 1-2-8 on Saturday night--this amazing harmony group made up of really talented island musicians. He met them because I happened to stand by them on the boat ride over, watching out for the full moon, islands appearing out of the musky night and happy dolphins swimming in the wake of our boat. I grabbed him and said these guys are playing guitar and singing--Mike joined in and drank Kava with them for the next 10 hours. I, being a woman, did not invite myself onto the Kava mat, but after a few hours of standing I sat down next to Mike and was invited onto the mat and drank Kava for a few hours with them, before taking a nap and arriving in Savusavu at sunrise. The moon set on the port side of the ship, stars fell from the sky, aligning on the horizon before going to bed and the sun peaked his head up over the volcanic mountains--giving us beautiful weather and a lovely Easter holiday.

Lastly, I have been corrected by the President of my Rotary Club--Barbara Malimali that there are in fact lawnmowers in Fiji--she sent me pictures to prove it. But since then, I have thanked her for the photos and said I have figured out why nobody uses them. It is because you can hire a laborer for $10fjd/day and because they can carry a weed whacker on their shoulder--they come along with their own equipment and can make money for the day, while those of us fortunate enough to have the means of hiring these laborers save money on not purchasing lawn-mowers. 

And there you have it, another conclusion to my Fiji blog. It is now raining and I am off to an Art exhibition tonight. My service project at The Learning Center (TLC) a primary school here is starting and I am honored to be here in Fiji--being involved in Rotary and helping children to embrace holistic learning and promoting cultural exchange, not only for adults, but also for my young students.  

More pics are coming to the photo stream, so keep your eyes peeled.  The URL is:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/35025666@N02/

Ciao for now......

Why the lawnmower hasn't made it to Fiji et al

Bula Vinaka friends and family. It has been a long time since I have written; I am still alive--just worn and hearty. Read on, should you choose, and if not, I will never know. Enjoy!

Rotary is going very well and thanks to some of my sponsors from the states, I completed and 8.4 km walk-a-thon last Saturday morning, at 6 am, to raise money to put a new roof on a primary school, here in Suva. I am volunteering, not regularly yet, but I do have a meeting with the headmaster of a small, multi-national school next week. He is "honored" that I am interested in joining their school community. I am also networking a great deal and have many local friends who are teaching me how to be street smart here in Suva--which is more difficult than you may think. For instance--carry two purses and make it obvious that you take your money out of one to pay taxis etc, and keep it nearly empty--that way, when you get mugged, they will go for the empty purse and you will lose only a purse, a few dollars, and still have your dignity and your items! Michael and I have also thrown two dinner parties this week (only because I tracked down some used furniture.) I made delicious American fare for friends from the nations of: Rotuma, Tonga, Fiji, Samoa, England, Cook Islands, and Wisconsin (I know this isn't a nation--but Josh has a funny accent and was a pleasure to hang out with!)

Graduate school seems to be kicking my butt, however I do love being immersed in reading, writing and intellectual discourse. Between the political, economic, and multi-cultural make-up of Fiji, the education here is very disadvantaged and lacking. Just an example: Educated pre-school teachers get paid $3,000.00 fjd per year (that is only $1,500 usd). Those are the ones with four year degrees, never mind the certificate trained ones who are the majority of the work force--they get paid much less :( 

Whatever doesn't kill me here makes me stronger and each day I grow more passionate about helping the world and supporting the children and the teachers and the 'other' and the farmer and 'Joe the Plumber' ;) and the women and the voices that aren't heard. Fiji makes me stronger and this is why:

The art of domesticity in Fiji is not elegant, or ever obvious--it is, shall we say--cutthroat and inventive! I have been working on perfecting 'how to function on a daily basis' since I recovered from my trip to the medical center. Which, by the way, I did not have bug bites, but some strange skin infection/rash which many are suffering from in Fiji. Even Auntie Blue, Lisa's 89 yr-old aunt had to check into the private hospital shang-gri-la for a 3-day stint. I'm happy to report she is healthy as a horse now.

Every morning after my initial 4-5 hours of hand washing my laundry, I wake up and play a game of charades. Have you ever pretended you are a washing machine? If you haven't, please stop and ask youself, "if I were a washing machine, what cycle would I be performing now?" My least favorite cycle is the 'spin cycle'--for obvious reasons and even then, your clothes never dry because the dense, tropical air prevents them form doing so. The next cycle that is less than enjoyable is the rinse and/or 'extra rinse cycle'. At home, in a machine, I always turn the 'extra rinse' off, but here, sadly, when you wash by hand the detergent clings to your clothes and makes a home--nestled deep within the fabric weaves, until you iron the clothes (to get them dry and unwrinkled) and then the detergent makes it's debut appearance--showing up in funny, swirly white patterns, just begging you to do the extra rinse next time.

Alas, I wake up most mornings before 7, or 8 and get jiggy with a game of charades. (I can also do the dishwasher, vacuum cleaner, and the all-around house wife--from the 30's, on the Western frontier. I wash, rinse, spin, extra-rinse, and hang dry my few items from the day before and I wait for them to get to that stage of never-going-to-be-fully-dry and then I iron them. The spray starch I have to use because my whole wardrobe is a convenient, light weight, embroidered, breathable linen--which I purchased from the Indian Festival for $5.00/piece, makes me smell like 'old man.' You know that familiar musky, old-Spice od-our. (No offense to any man in my life that wears that cologne, or starch, it's just not lady-like.) After this I hang and fold my very clean, very cared for items of clothing, but somehow, in the confines of my closet, even with the starch, they will inevitably wrinkle again before I leave the house and I will inevitably have to iron them one more time and begin my day anew. 

The most fantastic domestic tool here is the 'Ni-sasa.' It is like a broom, but its bristles are two feet long and made out of coarse strands of coconut bark. With a couple of whisks from the left wrist, a whole carpeted room, or tile floor will be swept with precision, or an outdoor verandah, covered in feral dog pee, will be washed, scrubbed and drained--and the final purpose is as a lovely corner piece. A Ni-sasa decorates one's flat with a natural and organic flare. Luckily the Tongans decided to add a 15 inch handle to the end of the Ni-sasa, so that the laborer didn't have to bend down to sweep the floor--the Fijians gladly accepted this improvement and now sell them along the side of the road, or at the market for $4 fjd, or $2 fjd (no handle). I splurged and got the handle!

On thing that has not made it to Fiji is the lawnmower. Entire Rugby fields are cut with  a weed whacker and then raked by hand after--by a team of rakers. And then the bushy-bits, instead of being zapped by a weed whacker, are sliced by a machete and, again, hand-raked. See if you can imagine what it takes to maintain the golf course here.... I have tried and can't quite conceptualize it yet. We had our yard done this last week--it looks like arduous work, especially when doing it barefoot and dressed head-to-toe in a Dickies-type-one-piece, dark blue in color, under the blazing hot sun. But it now smells like fresh-cut grass and I can work on my garden!

The weather report everyday here is as follows: Scorchio with a 20%-80% chance of tropical monsoon downpour (and flooding) and possibly a Tsunami warning. I have started covering my self in baby power, reverting back to my beginnings because functioning here when wet and sweaty and rained on all the time, especially under the nervosa of escaping form a pending Tsunami, is unbearable and a bit stinky. And I'm not so sure deodorant made it into the local culture here and if it did, you can rest assured that anti-perspirant is ineffectual. 

My cheaply acquired furniture experience was kind of like an episode of "While You Were Out" because Michael went away for the weekend and came home to a mostly furnished apartment. The owner, being an 80 year-old English bloke, who has spent his whole life in Fiji and was previously a diplomat and Ambassador, now spends his time going around to yard sales, collecting junk, or 'nice antiques' and sells them to white people like me. I got a good deal off of him though because he liked my mature taste in furniture, noting that most pieces I FOUND were his favorites but everyone else just passes right over them. Fortunately for me mahogany dinning sets were out of my price-range, even second-hand, so with my training in antiques--which was absorbed into my being from living  in my parent's house for almost 20 years, under the watchful eyes of Margie's (my great-grandmother) furniture, I have become accustom to seeing the beauty in simple furniture items. As we speak I am sitting at my beautiful desk, which I bought for $30 usd and looking at Laucala bay. I also had this man fashion me two tables--a low dining table to go with the four pagoda-like stools I discovered and a large, square coffee table for our "zen-den," aka Nina's meditation room.

However because it figures and because we live in Fiji, Mike and I woke up form a nap yesterday and he came to get me and say, "ah, Nina. The tables have arrived because they seem to be out on the verandah, but I think something has gone terribly wrong with one of them!" So I look and of course my 22" coffee table is taller than my dining table. So I must rectify this problem, but until then, we have a monster fort-knox coffee table that most children would love to play under. Anybody have a spare child they want to ship to Fiji?

When I go grocery shopping here I can't just go to MH, the 'supermarket' here. I have to go to both MHs, the big one downtown and the one near my house. I have to go to the Chinese butcher (who has the freshest, cheapest and most reliable meat in Suva), I have to go to the vegetable stand, and then I go across the street to the Yee-Wah store. A dirty, dirty, little caged in store to buy the freshest-baked bread and farm-free-range eggs, all for a few fijian dollars. I then make my way to Cost-U-Less (cost-me-more), the American bulk warehouse store and the chances are good, on any given day, that all, or some of these places will be out of EVERYTHING I am looking for and so I will come home form shopping all over half the city with next-to nothing from my list. However, now this is okay because our fridge is on 'roids and freezes everything, so our landlord is getting us a new one, hopefully today, since it has been three weeks of frozen food :)

I miss cow milk--real milk, not the kind that lives in a cabinet, but the one that needs to be refrigerated. When I am driving down the road and I see a heifer with utters, I think wouldn't it be nice to own that cow? I wonder is the cow has a name? I wonder if the cow is happy at this farm? Would she produce good milk? I miss recycling. I missed screened in houses that keep out the bugs, birds, frogs, and feral dogs. (all except Alice, the doge we adopted--she is cool, but still flea ridden and thinks it's okay to invite her entire extended family over for dinner. But she is learning, we are training her and she is already starting to protect our house.) I miss walking down the street, or my driveway without the great possibility of being mugged, or profiled. I miss not having to hide all of my electronics and personal items when I leave the house--preparing me for a regular Easter-egg hunt when I return and need to find the 'special place' I put my atm card, or my computer AC adapter. I miss businesses being open after 4-pm. I miss a lot of things. I miss the ease of domestic-simplicity--although once I get the hang of it here, life will be a lot easier and fuller and obviously, without machines, simple in essence. It is a sustainable life here, but coming from the first world to this mix of first--through third world, with a hint of sustainability is just overwhelming. I often think with a little bit of forethought, this would have been great!

Everything and everyone here is very very nice, just inefficient, which is painful to watch and be on the receiving end of. And of course there are exceptions to every rule, but most of the time I struggle to understand. Even the cashiers often disappear from their registers for 5-15 minutes at a time, with a full lane of people, just waiting in the EXPRESS lane. I'm thinking maybe they had a bathroom emergency? Or maybe they are doing their own price check? Or maybe the credit card machine is located in the next building over (yes this is a reality here)--I just can't be sure.

God bless the dairy cow. Donate your used lawnmower to the south Pacific and coo at your washing machine the next time it does a whole load for you, followed by that pleasant buzzing sound.

Hugs & kisses.

Nina

Beach villas and medical centers

I am writing to you, my friends after a long journey into the unknown this weekend....

There is no abstract this time, only the story because it is too good to not read. I found paradise, I got very ill and I managed to squeeze 6 more days onto my existence..read on, kind sirs:

Last week, on a regular Wednesday night shopping trip to the grocery store, more specifically "Cost-You-Less," which happens to be a bulk food item warehouse (like Costco) which exclusively carries REALLY, REALLY expensive American brands, but also quality products--Mike, my roomie, and I got offered a ride home by a very nice Australian Woman.

She had to laugh at us because we were just trying to find a can opener, in a very logical place, and "cost-U-less" was out of them, go-figure. She told us where we could find one, in Fiji, since logical items are few and far between and offered us a ride home. With our mops, and case of Fiji water and jumbo sized Heinz-ketchup and Yellow-mustard and Hellman's--in packs of 3. By the time we reached our apartment, we had made friends and she said you know, "if you have a licence, I am going away for the weekend and I could meet you back in Suva tomorrow, loan you my car and you can stay at my house on the beach for the weekend. It sounds like you need a break. besides, I own a modest back-packers place, so it really wouldn't be that much trouble, and you can stay in my house for free." We, of course, took her up on her offer.

I had spent a few days last week feeling under the weather..nauseous and crampy and tired etc, your basic mosquito-borne virus that goes around here and couldn't wait to get to the beach. We met her (name remains anonymous for now) on Thursday afternoon and drove an hour and a half down the West Coast--coral coast of Fiji. We ended up at the "Beachouse"...her backpacker's place. We were shown to her house, like royalty because everyone knew our names and knew we were coming and we showed into this magnificent eclectic bungalow. This place used to be a reality TV show in Britain, so her and her husband re-did the "camera-run" and turned it into a mecca of art and Buddha and collected antiques and wicker and beautiful plants and beach-rock floors and four-paned-sliding mahogany--french doors and an outdoor shower and a french-bath nook and it was only 10 feet from the pacific, at high tide. This house is the place I go to in my wildest dreams. It is where I am a writer and a lover of nature and the beach tells stories to the mountains and the thunderstorms roll across the sublime country--leaving their mark before the ocean current whisks them away to a foreign shore. It is Heaven on Earth.

Mike and I lounged all weekend, in the pool, taking walks, swinging into sunsets. We talked to other visitors and we had dinner with this fabulous woman--Alex, who happened to be my study abroad coordinator in New Zealand (small world!) We talked about starting a study-abroad program in Fiji and the difficulties that would face students in comparison to Auckland, NZ and places like London and Grenada--where Mike had studied. We ate and laughed--so hard that I found myself crying a lot, with my stomach in pain--and he played guitar and we sang and took pictures and we wrote and we read books and lounged in wicker-egg chairs and I took naps on the chaise-lounge. I feel asleep every night to the sleep of crashing breakers out beyond the reef and the rustling palm trees. It was an amazingly spiritual place for an individual to learn about the love of life that we all have. Mike and I grew in our friendship and thought it too bad we didn't live on the beach, instead of in hot-hustle-bustle-dogs-barking-doors sticking-hand-wash-laundry-Suva.

The only down fall was that of course I got sick. Really sick. Allergic sick. Venomous bug-bites sick. It all started Sunday, at the Holiday Inn in Suva--you know the five-star resort with a pool nestled on the harbour in Suva. I got about 20 mosquito bites that night, Mike got none. All week I felt off, especially in the morning and late at night. Then Wednesday night--right before heading to the beach, I received about 20 more bites on my hands and arms--in between my toes and fingers. These bites were the little ones though--more like spider bites. They were incredibly itchy, so I scratched them--as sparingly as possible all day Thursday. I was very happy I had brought my Benadryl and hydrocortizone cream and anti-itch stick and Neosporin and more bug spray with me to the "beachouse." Even though Mike was like: "Dude, why do you need to bring all of that stuff with you!" I just knew, I'm always prepared for Armageddon.

This time, however I didn't sleep the first night at the "beachouse" b/c I was so itchy and feeling delirious and had weird dreams. I woke up to find out I was covered in dark colored splotches, huge and swollen--where my little bites had been the day before. I was so miserable and couldn't think straight and my whole inside and outside of my body was feeling itchy, so I asked a few of the staff members what would help me and they all looked at me with a concerned face and said I should go to the doctor in Sigatoka.

Sigatoka was 50 minutes up the coast, further than where we were. Mike put me in the passenger seat and we set off. Me drinking water and staring off into lala land, trying not to itch, or feel the intense discomfort I was in. When we finally got to this large, modern village--where flooding had taken place only several weeks ago, we kept our eyes peeled for a Doctor's sign, or a chemist's sign. We found Doctor first and when I went into the open office, she told me that the doctor actually wouldn't be in for four more hours..would I like to come back? I just looked at her and, nearly crying asked if there was anywhere else to go. She told me to go down the street a couple of blocks and I would see a health center. And I saw it alright...overflowing with sick adults and screaming babies. Very sick people limping and lying on the sidewalk and each had not one family member, but every family member in tow. It was a thousand degrees in the shade and as I deteriorated at the thought of waiting in line, the receptionist asked me my name, wrote down my DOB and my address on a tiny piece of scrap paper and told me to sit outside, they would be with me in about a half an hour and, "Did I want the make doctor, or female doctor?" I just told her I wanted the fastest doctor.

I was sitting outside when it started to rain, only I was under a tree and didn't notice, so Mike, calling my name, came up to me and notified me that usually people go inside, or under a covering when it rains. But I was so hot and so itchy that I didn't really notice and i didn't want to go. About 40 minutes later I was called in. But by this time, I had my head leaning against the outside door of the dank, small waiting room--not caring anymore that I could catch a disease far worse than what I already had just by being near that room. Tears were streaming down my face and my whole body just shuddered from abandonment of control. 

I was shown into the back room, where a small Chinese doctor attended to me. The language barrier was definitely present, but I managed to communicate with showing her my bites and my tears and talking as slowly as possible. She looked very concerned and said, in so many words, "It looks like you are having a sever allergic reaction. Half of these bites have also turned into infectious boils and all of the toxins are freely flowing in your blood stream." She then decided to give me a fast-acting steroid shot and Prednizone and an antibiotic to help with the boils. She advised that I take Panadol and rest and WEAR BUG SPRAY...HA! Like I haven't been covering myself in bug spray since my first day here..and still I get eaten ALIVE. So The nice doctor gave me a shot in my bum..which really hurt, asked me to sit down, which I kindly declined to do, and wrote out three prescriptions for me on more tiny little pieces of scrap paper. She told me it would be thirty dollars and although my bum no hurt, and this was normal, I could feel the allergic reaction subsiding and was happy to be on my way.

Going to that medical center and being on the brink of desperation was very humbling and scary. It was dirty and dank and small and there were really very, very sick people there. I'm talking goiters and gashes and tropical diseases and puss and pain. It was heart wrenching-and frightening, but I was so sick I couldn't care. I could only be careful and make sure the Dr. used a disposable needle, afterwards deposited into a sharps container and that her diploma looked to be real on the wall.

Going to the chemist was a far better experience because they had a small air conditioner and four people swooned in to help me. To fill my Rxs with very little info, to walk me around and grab whatever products I needed for my exhaustion, diarrhea, bug bites, swelling, imminent   sunburn (caused by Doxycycline my new antibiotic), headache etc. They did not have acidophilous (also needed to take with my new antibiotic) to my very sad surprise, so next on my list of things to do was to find yogurt--in mass quantity, not an easy thing to do in Fiji! My three prescriptions cost $13 Fijian and my OTC items were another $110, added to the $30 doctor's visit--not a bad trip to the ER.

Bread and yogurt--nearly impossible to find in one place, like-I don't know, the grocery store! So I searched for a while, found only yogurt and some liquids and got back in my chariot, poor Mike waiting for me and being awesome this whole time and we drove back up the coast to the beach resort. After of course, I had to buy a new dress and this scantily-clad one-piece black bathing suit with 3 circles of fake diamonds on it. (It actually doesn't look bad on me, but it is so funky that it is more like high fashion and I'm not sure I'll ever wear it, but because I was so sick and was a good girl at the Dr, I bought it for myself anyway.

I slowly recuperated and stayed out of the sun as much as possible, so as not to get a chemical burn from my antibiotic--which was cruel and unusual punishment since I finally was at an exotic beach in Fiji. However, I still managed to have the time of my life and there were plenty of shady trees and hammocks for me--sun hats, and long-flowing outfits. Luckily, in case nothing had changed, I still managed to get more bug bites--one the size of a silver dollar. I got a thorn in my foot (the little tiny ones that you can't see, but hurt like all hell) and have some sort of cut from the coral, maybe, on my toe--on the same foot foot with the thorn. 

We just arrived home in Suva this evening, we were gone Thursday evening to Monday evening and we both had head colds, in the summer, in tropical Fiji. My Prednizone makes me hungry and irritable and my antibiotic makes me sick, but I am happy and have grown milestones over the weekend. I have been able to reflect and heal and explore the depths of my mind. I am slowly becoming more aware that my new roommate is phenomenal and we are very lucky to have found each other. 

We are now home and we still need a gas tank and furniture. It is hot and not breezy in Suva. There are bugs in my room b/c I don't have screens. The back door only opens from one side--which ever side-you-happen-to-not-be-on-at-any-given-time and I locked it after we got home, not because I needed too, since it is enclosed within a burglar cage, but because I was angry that the dogs were all barking--in unison--dozens of them around the neighborhood and the baby next door was inconsolable and the air was hot. Mike had to come get me a little later and ask me why I had locked the door b/c he needed some clothes from the laundry area--which happens to be in that burglar cage and of course the door was stuck. What ever possessed me, he had to ask b/c we don't NEED to lock the door and it only gets stuck when we do. I fell to the floor laughing at the absurdity of the situation--Mike ready to kill me, or break down the door. It had been a long restful-stressful weekend. He ended up unlocking the padlocks in the front and going outside and around the building and up the back stairs to unlock that padlock and then open the stuck door from the other side. We agreed we should not lock the door again...ever, especially me since I obviously didn't understand the consequences of a catch-22 door. We just laughed it off and continued living in this place.

We decided this weekend that for every amazing, beautiful thing that Fiji is and holds and possesses..there is an equally weighted binary. I have now experienced picturesque Fiji and nothing is more exotic and powerful and I have also experienced the core of third-world Fiji and nothing is more uncomfortable and scary. Even just driving down the road, where people randomly sell one Sasa (a funny looking broom made out of tree branches) and a bowl of 6-15 key limes, which they call lemons here, and one very Charlie-Brown-esque-potted plant. There are speed humps, in which they warn you to go 40kph over, when actually if you don't go slower than 20 kph, you will blow a tire. There are signs that advertise: "24 hour Tyre repair and Kava lounge." (Kava is a mild, narcotic drink--used in traditional ceremonies, offers of friendship and also to pass time, mildly under the influence of hazy-acceptance." I haven't tried this kava yet, but will if I am ever invited to a village.

Essentially, we are in Dante's purgatory. There is a fine line here between Heaven and Hell, Beauty and horror, tranquility and turbulence, sickness and health, clean and dirty, available and inaccessible. 

I see now that each week, each day will be an amazing journey. My goals for this week are to start my service project with the school, work on the apartment and feel better. My immune system is ready to become and iron mule!

Since my Internet is ridiculous..please browse pictures at the following site, they are on my flickr account--it should be easy to browse, but things are not always what they seem!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/35025666@N02/

Adios Amigos

Grind and Grime

Bula vinaka

For those of you who are hurried, I will include an abstract first and then go into some detail for my more diligent followers. The learning curve is slow for me here. I have thus far been on a roller coaster ride in 90 degree heat fluctuating between love for this place, the culture and my new friends, and utter frustration and awe over societal differences. Plus I have spent the last two weeks being slightly--to very nauseous all of the time. A combination of heat, aggravation, and getting used to the water--in addition to my 25 mozzie bites (mosquitoes) and the slight sunburn I received one my one and only lounge day--Sunday Fun Day! My new flat mate Mike, who is also an Ambassadorial Scholar, from Iowa, is my domestic soul mate and my rock here. He has pictures, which I will post next time. I'm lucky to have found him--we are very similar in mentality/preference and style--but also uniquely different.

Abstract: Rotary Club of Suva Peninsula sunset: Rocks! Lisa Apted, who put me up in her house, for not one night, as I had planned on prior to my arrival in Fiji, but two weeks, is an Angel. Timetables/schedules don't exist here. Everywhere here is dangerous--but mostly safe in the day. Our neighbors have barbed wire, while we have 40 keys to all of the doors and pad locks that go to the burglar gates that enclose our impenetrable fortress, I mean flat! I have lived my the ocean my whole life, but only now do I have a top floor veranda and a 270 degree ocean view. There is a squatter settlement at the bottom of my hill. Dogs Pow-wow in the street and move in packs, while barking 24/7 at--you guessed it--not a damn thing! They team up and go out on the prowl--I'm thinking maybe to score some chicks, or see the latest movie???? I just can't be sure. 

There is no recycling here, which pains me--I won't even tell you about the litter that is everywhere. Apparently sea foam green and Salmon pink are desirable colors b/c my flat exclusively sports these fab tones--along with many other buildings in Suva. Quality and follow through are disregarded for fast and cheap. Every office, or errand involves taking a number ticket like the DMV and waiting until your hair turns gray before you get to the front of the "cue," so that the friendly employee can tell you to come back another day, or go stand in another line and take a new ticket before you come back to their line. Air conditioning is not a necessity here, but a very rare and blessed occurrence. Buses are actually moving night clubs, with a .50 cent door charge. I am a minority and thus I am treated as one, especially when purchasing expensive items like beds, or trying to apply for a saver card at the grocery store. Taxis are plentiful and cheaper than walking, since you sweat so much, laundry is counted as a monthly bill here. Broccoli is $25 dollars per 1/2 head, but all local veggies and fruits--if you can locate them are $2 per bushel. I'm actually wondering if I moved to Fiji, or Little India...leaning towards the latter since my flat smells of curry every morning. I have been here over two weeks and haven't gone to the beach, but found the Holiday Inn pool side ($5/day), of all places, to be refreshing and gorgeous--really, five star resort. I am addicted to books/reading/pens and my upcoming research on the ineffectual policy of "No Child Left behind." I miss home, but find myself laughing a lot here b/c the people are great and living in a third world city is an art in itself. It rains here when the sky is blue--and rainbows appear randomly. I am either greeted warmly because I am a Kaitani ("Ky-langi"-white foreigner), or I am taken advantage of--but always receive nothing less than a smile and some sweet talk. I love life and living abroad. I miss you all and I do think of everyone all of the time because this place is so magnificent and different and wonderful and scary and new. If I didn't have my home network, I would have no thoughts and memories to ground me in what I accept to be true as a member of the global community.

Story:

Everyday I wake up and chuckle at my life. I laugh because if I were to get angry with Fiji time, I would get no where. Life here moves at a very slow and laid back pace. It is definitely third world, but deceiving b/c of technology and the global community. Toyota's numbers are still doing well here in Fiji. It is weird because there are seemingly regular first world amenities everywhere you look, but they are inconsistent and may disappear at any moment. Items may, or may not get re-ordered at grocery stores. A store may, or may not expect you to pay the price on the price tag and will swindle you because of your skin color--it is all about who you know.

It is not an easy place to navigate and finding a flat was very hard due to safety and the standard of living here. Places were either too cheap here (with 10+ roommates), or way too expensive. Plus since I am not of Indian decent, I got hung up on a lot when I called to inquire about certain rentals. 

My first two weeks here were both exciting and depressing. Luckily I was staying with Lisa Apted and her beautiful family. She has two young boys--Connor (6) and Toby (3) and a wonderful husband (Brad) and three wonderful house girls: Ana, Salina, and Venina. I have struck up lasting relationships with them and was exposed to rural, village Fijian culture and food, and also to the dangers of a third world country and luckily was housed in a first-world house--which helped to ease me into my flat. 

My new top floor flat (a necessity to ward off an infestation of creepy-crawling-critters and low-light)  has a beautiful view of Laucala Bay, in addition to a front yard, a garden, wild green beans (which are a foot long), a relatively safe neighborhood (none are safe here, even the upper class ones due to obvious reasons); a neighborhood overflowing with the laughter of children and barking of dogs and the squealing of tropical birds and a rooster crowing and curry-cooking and baked-goods baking. My flat also has burglar bars on every window, a key chain with 30+ keys--going to every door and the assorted, rusty padlocks on all of the gates. Our carpet was so dirty from the last tenants, it turned our feet black when we walked on it. The shower is beautifully tiled and the size of a walk in closet--but was covered with black mold (not the dangerous kind, just the musty kind). The toilet room was the same way, along with the walls, which I have washed the dirt off of. The hot water didn't work--and hot water was one of the selling points of the apartment (most places don't have that here). I was almost asking too much when I asked Champak, my awesome landlord and fellow Rotarian, for a refrigerator to complete the kitchen. (Unlike at home, people move with their refrigerators here.) We spent hours wiping out all of the cabinets--freeing them of dead cockroach bodies and grime, so we could spray them with cockroach spray, that will lure and kill about 10 different kinds of bugs for up to 6 months...with the occasional one that gets away. And we are hoping to paint over the sea foam green trim and doors, and the salmon pink walls to bring out the simplicity and beauty of our flat. P.S. the other day, while some workers were bringing in our fridge (which sounds and alarm every couple of hours telling you that the freezer temperature is off) a feral dog ran into the apartment, growled at me as I tried to shew it out the other door, peed in my hallway, growled a few more times and then left my flat..I proceeded to clean the rug.

Taxis cost between 1.50 Fijian and 3.50 Fijian--divide that by two and you have a girl who will be taking taxis everywhere b/c it is dangerous for her to walk anywhere alone--definitely at night, sometimes in the day and the buses are a little bit of awesomeness. People, including myself--who seems to be suffering from mild heat stroke every afternoon--just have sweat seeping out off all pores, at all times of the day and this is normal and accepted. (Thank goodness.) There are hardly any Americans here in Fiji and when you hear an accent, you get excited and have made a life-long friend. In fact there are hardly any white people either and being of a liberal mind, and someone who fights segregation/racism and believes in post-colonial concepts of "the other," I find myself discriminated against at least a few times a day because of my skin color. It is something I am getting used to and have now figured out that if I go somewhere with a local, I am more apt to be treated fairly. It is not that people are mean to me, they just don't notice me, purposefully make me wait, hang up on me, or charge me a considerable higher price for goods and services. So I need to "go native...."

I am learning Fijian in my spare time from a quirky older English professor. Most Fijians in Suva say he is more Fijian than they, themselves. He is funny and I am already finding it easier to learn this second language since I am surrounded by it all the time. People speak English here, but they only do it when they need to. And Fijian English is just a tad different and faster than American English. So the communication barrier is up a lot of the time. In addition, we should throw in Hindi and all of the other Pacific island languages...it's like one big Charlie Foxtrot of language and culture. But instead of forming a hybrid culture, like America's melting pot, all of these cultures and people remain segregated. Not in a violent way--just in a we will maintain our own culture, separate than yours. 

The food is plentiful and people want to feed me all of the time--even walking up stairwells, strangers will offer you snacks. At first I was eating a lot and tried everything that came my way. A lot of Chinese food and curry and Fijian leafy greens, root veggies and fish--lots of fish. Fish soup, fish head, fish bones, fish broth for cooking the veggies etc. But recently, the last week, I really haven't been feeling 100%, so I am not eating as much and am trying to stick with plain and familiar food. Everyone says that in a month I will be used to the water and climate here--I hope so. In addition Mike and I went to the Rawaqua (Rye-wanga) health center the other day and got 10 pills each to ward off the possibility of Elephantitis--and mosquito-borne illness. Luckily the pills are taken all in one go, after dinner and make you sick with all of their side effects--the usual like vomiting, nausea, aches, restlessness, diarrhea etc..and if you already have parasites in your body--these side effects will be much worse, but they only last for about eight hours and then I am protected against parasites for a while! We are looking forward to taking those on Wednesday night, since we have nothing to do on Thursday. Also, since our carpets are being cleaned, we will be having a sleep over in the living room because it is so humid here, our bedrooms will be out of commission for a few days.

So I guess what I am trying to say is Fiji is humbling me and although I want to be the independent go getter I always have been, I must have patience. I must embrace this culture and soak it in, while being aware of the differences and dangers. I evolve as a person.

Cheers mates...coming attractions on my blog: Fijian phrases and pictures--also since I now have Internet and a place to live, posts will be more frequent and shorter in length!

Welcome!

Bula! (Fijian term for hello, but more specifically means health.)

Greetings to all those who are reading this blog. I leave for Fiji in T-12 days and will arrive in T-14 days (Yes, that is 2 days of travel, or 1+ an international dateline.) Now that your short math lesson is over, I will just give you some facts about who I am, where I am going and what I am doing.

I am 23 and heading to Suva, the capital city of the Fiji Islands. It is located on the main island, Viti Levu. This island is 2/3 rds of the distance between southern California and New Zealand. (The middle of nowhere). For the next 11 months I will be pursuing year one of a graduate program in Education, at the University of the South Pacific and volunteering in a local school system. 

As many of you know I am traveling to Fiji as an Ambassadorial Scholar of Good Will for Rotary International. Rotary is a phenomenal non-profit, humanitarian organization who's motto is: "Service above self." I have finally been given an opportunity to make a difference in this world and Fiji is the place I am going to start. My primary role as an A.S. will be to form a bridge between my American culture and my host district's Fijian culture. 

Time in Fiji is very relaxed, so as far as I'm concerned--with my new hybrid American-Fijian-mindset--I am set to go. I have my tickets for 2/14/09, I have most things packed, I have a study permit to live in the country through next December, I have amazing Rotary contacts who answer all of my neurotic questions, and I have bug spray--lots of bug spray. (If you followed my New Zealand blog, you'll be familiar with my past run-in with tropical bugs.) I also have, just in case I am feeling super paranoid, a bug net to envelop my bed while I sleep. (I don't want any creepy-crawlers in my sheets, or on my face!)

I am very excited to begin my journey and a wee bit nervous. I know this next year is going to not only change my life, but the lives of many other people. At this point I can only look toward the future. I can smile, take a deep breath, and look toward my Yogi tea for all of life's answers. :)

Today's quote: "I am beautiful. I am bountiful. I am blissful." (I am definitely aware of the bountiful bit, so Yogi could be steering me in the right direction.)

Vinaka Vakalevu (Thank you very much) I appreciate your interest in my studies and travels!

Nina