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
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