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
