Wedded bliss in Fiji

It was just how it should have been. It was the perfect day.

Relying on the weather for an outdoor beach side wedding, we knew we were taking our chances. And we had a backup plan, but it didn’t matter. Because the weather couldn’t have been better. The skies were completely clear, the sun was shining white hot and a good breeze kept us cool and was pushing in the tide.

Tara was stunningly beautiful. She didn’t just look like my bride, she looked like my Queen. And I couldn’t have been more proud in my life. In her hair was a crown of tiny flowers of red, white, yellow and orange and her eyes seemed to glow despite the brilliant sunlight. We were both so happy.

It was a private ceremony. Besides Reverend Tuiwai and the four guitarists serenading us there was only Eugene and his wife Tima who were present to witness the marriage and their five year old daughter Mary who was both our flower girl and ring bearer. I said my vows and somewhere in there I remember saying “I do” twice by mistake. I’m sure it was symbolic somehow. And then I watched Tara say her vows and the little oceans in her smiling eyes began to overflow. It was when Reverend Tuiwai had us hold each others right hand and placed his right hand on ours that the moment seemed the most real. Even Eugene commented on it later, the old softy. He got all teary eyed and had to look away. And right there on the prettiest little beach in Vanua Levu Fiji we were pronounced husband and wife and I was told I could finally kiss the bride.

After signing our marriage license and toasting with some rum punch, we got into our vehicles and made our way back to the house. The band came with us up to the house and played for another couple hours as the guests started to arrive. It wasn’t long before all the friends we’ve made during our six month stay here in Savusavu were standing on the deck with a drink in hand and having a great time. The day before the wedding Smokey and Usa decorated the outside of the house by taking coconut tree leaves and braiding them around the eight posts of the house and then dressing the leaves with ginger flowers and vines. On the day of the wedding Smokey and Usa were our barbequers extraordinaire, cooking up the countless lamb chops and fish steaks that Eugene and Tima had marinated and prepared the night before. It was strange, after spending so much time here in the house by ourselves with the odd guest up for a quiet lunch or dinner, to have the house so full of people all laughing and talking and enjoying themselves so much. Tima made our cake and it was beautiful and when it came time to cut it Tara and I said speeches and of course forgot to thank or even mention so many people. Then we each grabbed a handful of cake and shoved it each others face. For sure I got the worse end of that particular event. It took me a few minutes in the bathroom to remove cake from my nostrils.

Despite requesting that nobody bring gifts…we received gifts. A weaved straw mat designed and decorated for chiefs, a traditional wood carved shallow kava bowl with mother-of-pearl inlays and a wood set of coasters. All of which we have to figure out a way to fit into our luggage by the end of the week.

The party was a hit. Everyone had a great time and had such lovely things to say to us about it for a whole week afterwards. None of it would have happened without the help of Eugene and Tima Wong and the rest of their family, so to them we are eternally grateful. We want to thank our family and friends who accepted the fact that we were getting married in such a far away place and we love everyone for their patience and understanding. Thanks to my brother Cory for recording his version of the song Over the Rainbow/It’s a Beautiful World which we must have played forty times over the course of the evening and brought us home a little.

Doing Holidays Right

March is a very special time here in Fiji. They’ve made it so that three weekends in a row they have a holiday weekend. The first two are three day weekends and the third is four days. For each holiday Monday we went to the beach out off the Hibiscus Highway with our Fijian friends. The second holiday Monday we were treated to an Island retreat where there was development started for a high end community but has since been abandoned. The island now sits peacefully again with a lagoon and beaches for locals to enjoy. Our friend Tima Wong knows some families from the village that officially own the island so we were allowed passage across the flat bridge (almost a kilometer long)and enjoyment of the beach. A few women from the village came out to fish and after a few hours they had a few dozen in their baskets. Soon they cleaned and cooked them, then placed them in salty sea water with chopped chili peppers. Incredibly savory and extremely satisfying.

The last holiday Monday we again headed out to another beach off the Hibiscus Highway. That day I decided to walk out to the surf. The interesting thing about Fiji is that it has its own built in breaker wall that pretty much surrounds both islands. When you walk out into the water from all points of the island you’ll find yourself in shallow water that gets no deeper than your waist. It’s clear and beautiful, but the bottom is of very rough volcanic rock bed and, once you’re out far enough, coral. So either way you need water shoes and you must tread carefully and slowly. It’s easy to lose your footing and fall into the rough volcanic rock and you certainly don’t want to be responsible for stepping on and killing coral that has been struggling to survive for hundreds if not thousands of years. So you move along gradually and patiently. Carefully placing each step and swimming where its deep enough. Out there I saw huge starfish as blue as velvet and massive mounds of coral in royal purple. As you walk out you see that the volcanic rock levels off in platforms. The farther out you go the smoother the rock is from thousands or millions of years of constant and relentless beating from the ocean waves. These platforms are kilometers long and have smooth edges. The water they contain gradually overflows back into the ocean all along the platform wall like a tiny eight inch waterfall with the serenity of a summer stream. I saw a fish of silver and black skip out of the main platform and down the levels to the ocean. It was obvious it was enjoying itself.

Finally you make it out to the surf line. The edge of that natural volcanic breaker wall. When you turn around back to face the beach you realize you’re easily a kilometer out, likely more. Those pounding surf waves that looked remarkably mediocre from the shore, suddenly you realize they’re averaging eight to twelve foot swells. And those swells are a brilliant and translucent turquoise green and ocean blue and they curl over in a frothy rage before they pound the sloping wall. As the wave swell pulls back down the slanted rock and into the ocean, you see the depth drop out like an abyss and it feels like your standing at the edge of the world. Not thirty feet from the surf is a spot that’s raised again, a platform head you can stand on that only remains above water until one of those waves swell up and pass over it and into the lagoon-like platforms. And you prepare yourself because that oncoming rush of water is fast and heavy and shows no discretion. As firm as you plant your feet you can feel the powerful drag attempting its best effort to sweep you away. And it humbles you. So you meekly begin to make your way back after tempting fate and the coming tide for so long.

After making the long walk back to the beach to Tara and Eugene and Tima and their kids we feasted. Tima cooked the lamb chops Eugene had marinated the night before in salt, garlic and soy sauce. She cooked on a flat open iron skillet placed on rocks over an open fire. She threw on some sliced onions and dalo and our mouths watered at the smell of the sizzling meat and the smoke. Finally we ate and drank and relaxed.

On the drive home we watched storm clouds over Savusavu almost blot out the sun. By the time we got home the storm was almost on us, lumbering across the bay like Thor was personally out on a holiday afternoon stroll. It was so thick that the opposite side of the bay wasn’t visible. The cloud and rain were like a slate grey curtain that rumbled thunder so loud it shook the house and lightning strobes replaced the sunlight. Then came the inevitable deluge. But eventually the storm and its clouds passed and the evening came and the sun set like a slow motion explosion.

Just Another Perfect Day In Fiji

It is yet another perfect day here. In fact since Cyclone Gene 41 days ago the weather here has been stellar. A month ago there was one week of rain during the daytime, but its hardly worth remembering really.

We went back out to Malcolm and Filo's place and helped rebuild the pool in the natural spring water creek. It had been washed out by a flash flood and it was a simple matter of collecting back those large stones and rebuilding a wall to damn the creek up a little. Little Victoria and William helped out in their own way too. It was a welcome task on such a hot day playing in that cool clean water. When we were done we enjoyed a lunch of fresh fruits and vegetables, chicken curry and dalo soup. We had brought some roti with tuna curry and the kids squealed and yelled 'Roti!' with excitement and gobbled them down. Filo snipped some lemon grass on the property, cut it down and boiled it for tea. After lunch we enjoyed the fruits of our labour by taking a swim in the little pool we had created.

The Joker Draw was the hottest ticket in town. For weeks a huge crowd gathered at the Planters Club to win that draw. There was a lot of excitement in the air and finally last week the woman who owns the Pearl Farm in Savusavu bought 200 tickets and had the good fortune of turning over the joker card and winning the $6ooo jackpot. There was an explosion of cheers and then the crowd gradually dissolved. All those deflated expectations sobered everyone up. It will be some time before there's a jackpot that big again.

A drive out of Savusavu, the road to Labasa (lam-basa), is inspiring and humbling. The beauty of the mountains and the view from their beckoning mist cloaked tips forces you to sit down, focus and take clarity on life and the world in general. This is an incredible place. We need to behave as if we deserve it. The road to the northern town treks though the mountains and a vast forest of towering evergreen trees that reminded us of home. And along the way there are water falls and spring water creeks that taste every bit as sweet and cool as the bottled Fiji water. We're looking forward to returning to hike the mountains more and standing under those waterfalls to cool off.

We had a chance to go to Suva, the capitol of Fiji. It was interesting to experience the pulse of a surprisingly cosmopolitan city again for the first time since we arrived. Suva is an old colonial city with beautiful parks and incredible markets. It was a treat to walk into a completely modern coffee shop and order two Americanos that were served in what amounted to soup bowl sized mugs. That strange and familiar sensation we were experiencing was what's known as 'air-conditioning'.

Tara and I were invited out by friends Penny and Greg to their yacht. They had sailed out and dropped anchor out by Cousteau Resort at the point of the bay. We brought our snorkeling gear and swam for a few hours around Split Rock, an enormous coral head that stands about 30 feet off the ocean floor, and along the reef line about 1oo meters off the beach front. Its a whole other world down there, all those fish of every colour you can imagine and the coral itself glowing with a soft phosphorous luminescence. The fish seem to be just as curious about us as we were about them. After the snorkeling we enjoyed a late lunch out on the yacht until the sun began to set. We decided to get out to that spot as often as we can before we leave.

Speaking of leaving, each day blends into the next in a blur of sunshine and hospitality and a sense of well-being and now we're only two months away from our departure date. We thought six months was so much time when we got here. It wasn't. And six months more wouldn't be enough either. The friends we've made are already starting to tell us how much they'll miss us when we go and how much they hope we not only return for a house-sit but maybe even buy a piece of land, build a place and join their community.

This is not going to be an easy exodus.

Everyday Life in Fiji

We’ve met so many locals over the past month.

A few weeks ago walking back from the Wongs house we were called up to drink Kava with another family of Indian and Fijian mix. There were so many family members and I was so tired I can’t recall their names at the moment, but I will have to make an effort to at some point because we were told we’d be invited back for Curry Night soon. They had us laughing for the two hours we were there. They are hard working people and a smart bunch. They read anything they can get their hands on, which is usually a range of formulaic spy and romance novels to the odd literary classic. It turns out their one daughter of about 15 or 16 is not only an avid reader but also has a passion for writing. Her mother told us she can tell when her daughter is thinking of her stories because she goes quiet with this far away look in her eyes. The father told us she also stays up writing to the middle of the night writing with pen and paper by candlelight.

Just after New Years we were called by Stephen Wong to go to a place in town called The Planters Club. It’s a place where you have to either have a membership by purchase, be a guest of a member, or as the sign says outside the front gate, be a Bona Fide Visitor to Fiji to gain access to the club. Since we were guests of Stephen and only temporary residents all was well and we entered the old establishment. This is a club that’s been around since the mid 1950’s, established by a group of British settlers including Smiths, Haynes and Simpsons. There’s a deep sense of heritage to this club and on the right half of the building, where there’s a large dance area mostly filled with rowdy rugby viewers, the walls are lined with photographs of the original founders and the progression of the club over the years. Each picture is accompanied by the names of the individuals and always a remark about them ‘enjoying a cold beer’.

The left half of the club is were the bar is, and at the back of the bar area is a large open window to serve drinks to anyone playing on the snooker tables in the back section of the club. From the side and stretched around the front of the building on the bar half is an open air, covered balcony. On a Friday or Saturday the Planters Club is hopping with music, and a group of people knocking back a few and eager to chat until your jaw hurts and your ears burn. We were pleased at the eclectic group of individuals we’ve met so far at The Planters Club. So far we’ve met a Czech who’s an engineer and can fix pretty much anything that you could possibly bring him. He also is very sure that his opinion is correct about everything even if he is wrong. But damn is he funny and has a gift to keep a conversation going that sometimes borders on exhaustion. We’ve met two Americans, one a Conspiracy Theorist who once lived next to Area 51 and can fill your head with so many ideas and confusing and conflicting theories your eyes start to cross…and no it’s not just the Fiji Bitter. The second American is a friendly guy who has a shifty and shady background mainly because that is what he’d have you believe, especially if you’re a woman he’s trying to impress. We’ve met a Chinese man named Sing Lee, who is a mechanic for all size engines. He’s a good friend of Stephen Wong and one Saturday evening after an afternoon at the club we were invited up to his house for Kava and beer and great conversation. Most visits to anyone’s home in Fiji consists of endlessly entertaining the ever present curious children of the house and it was no difference at Sing Lee’s. And although it’s exhausting, nothing could be more fun and fulfilling. At the Planter’s Club we’ve also met a British man named Malcolm who, after several hours of conversation, invited us up to his home in the bush a few miles outside Savusavu, but we’ll talk about that later. Regardless, everyone we meet there is a character from one classic novel or another and certainly among the most memorable of people a person could ever meet.

The Planter’s Club is a great place to go to be social and meet the locals, but there’s another attraction. They have what they call the Joker Draw every Saturday at the club. How it works is every week you buy as many tickets at 2 bucks a piece that you want and if your name is drawn you go to a cork bulletin board under lock and key. Behind the glass is an entire deck of playing cards pinned to the board face down. If your name gets called from your ticket it grants you the privilege to turn one card. If you turn the Joker, you get the jackpot. If you turn anything else, you win a sigh of relief from the crowd thinly veiled as a disappointed groan, and afterwards some pats on the back and kind words of sympathy and often some free rounds. The catch is, for every week there’s a loser there’s one less card to choose from and the larger the jackpot grows. Right now it sits at an impressive $4800 and only 4 cards…We are sooooo going to be there next Saturday afternoon.

The weather’s been all over the place. A week of sun and then a week of rain. A week ago Monday we woke at 5:30am to winds just screaming through the trees and around the house. Blowing our laundry off the line. A tropical depression was heating up directly overhead and by the time it left Savusavu Bay and shifted westward it was given a new status and a name. Cyclone Gene. It caused some wind damage and flooding here in Venua Levu but was far less forgiving on the main island Viti Levu. Flooding and wind damage was widespread and merciless and 6 people died as a direct result of the storm. As well, because of the stormy weather, the fishermen can’t fish and the ferries have been postponed, one is reefed indefinitely. So needless to say the cost of living in Savusavu has been skyrocketing and will likely remain that way for a few weeks.

Tara’s former workmate from New York, Anna, was able to come visit us. She’s been living and working for the past 2 years in Sydney Australia (lucky her). So being such a short distance away and on her vacation time it was only natural she come. We were worried that, although Cyclone Gene had done its damage and moved on westward beyond the islands, her flight would be delayed or even canceled. So it was a great relief when we checked in on the flights that morning and found Anna’s flight was only delayed by a half hour. Anna arrived last Saturday morning at the tiny little Savusavu Airport and were we picked her up and took her directly to Aunty Lilly’s Café for breakfast of egg, sausage and taro. From Aunty Lilly’s we came up to the house and relaxed and chatted during the day before going to the Planter’s Club for the Joker Draw. Poor Anna. It was a bit of a baptism of fire on her first day as all these elderly gents we’ve come to know as harmless old inebriated flirts converged on her as the fresh single blood in town. That was last Saturday, the day I met the Brit named Malcolm.

The thing about Malcolm is, Tara had already met him a few weeks before while having coffee at the Copra Shed one afternoon while I was here at the house writing. But, that Saturday at the Planter’s Club, Malcolm had no recollection of meeting her when Tara reminded him.

He asked her, ‘Was I drunk?’

Tara said, ‘No.’

Malcolm goes, ‘Uh oh!’

I’m guessing he probably was.

But we all had a good laugh over that and continued chatting. We talked for some extent about literature and writing, which we share a passion for, as well as global politics and philosophy. He informed me that a few years back he and two other yachtie ‘blokes’ formed and founded the Fiji Philosopher’s Club. They met once a week with hand-written notes of whatever ideas and thoughts and theories that came to them throughout the week and discussed them in the livingroom of Malcolm’s home over wine. He chuckled a little when he explained that the club dissolved when the two yachties ended up doing what yachties do when they eventually set sail and left Fiji. Before we parted ways Malcolm invited us up to his home. We told him we’d love to come up and visit him and his Fijian wife Filo (fee – low) and Malcolm suggested we make plans right there on the spot for a day and time or it might never happen. So we decided on Wednesday at 11:00am. We met him and his wife at the Copra Shed, bought some supplies, and headed off to their home. It was interesting and heartwarming to drive through a few villages and have children and adults alike smile and wave to you through windows and from doorways as they watched with curiosity when we passed through. The rough and muddy roads reminded us how fortunate we were that Toby extended us the use of his Toyota 4x4. But it was great fun.

It’s strange, but anything you’ve never experienced before and is new and exciting and adventurous in some far away place, it always feels like a scene from a movie you’re acting in but just don’t realize it. It’s like in that one moment you’re the audience and the actor.

Once you drive up to Malcolm and Filo’s and park there is a large stream you walk over on a small cement overpass bridge. Then up a slight hill and over another stream. This one you cross by walking across a 2x8 plank. Then its up a grass path and walkway walled by various hedges and egg plants and orchids and gardens as far as you can see on either side growing every vegetable and fruit imaginable. Finally you reach the modest and simple home. Around the back of the house is a short path that leads to a shaded creek with a large clean pool for bathing or swimming. We met Filo’s mother and her two nieces they have been taking care of while Filo’s sister is off getting her education in Suva. After a light lunch we took a walk further up the mountains and into the bush. We were shown several crystal clear streams and creeks that all connect and run together down the mountain to the Savusavu Water Reserve. On the way up the view was stunning as the sun burnt away the fog and mist and slowly exposed the layers and layers of surrounding jungle covered mountains. We reached the goal of our walk which was a natural water reservoir in the flowing creek, deep enough to swim in and exposed enough to also get some sun on the large black volcanic boulders surrounding the creek. The little 3 year-old girl Victoria stripped down to her undies and dove in…she was the bravest and the smartest of all of us in that moment and we were all envious of her.

We were invited back anytime to go swimming in that fresh water creek and you can bet you’ll be reading about it here sooner than later.

It also turns out that Malcolm plays the banjo and has a friend that plays mandolin and ukulele. So now I’m dying to get my hands on a standard acoustic with steel strings and go rip up the airwaves over Savusavu with some good old fashion hillbilly blue grass and delta blues.

Tara’s photography has been stunning. To me they look like the kind of photo’s you’d see in National Geographic. Be sure to take your time and look at each one carefully. There’s a little story behind each one…

Fijian Blues

Well…Charlie’s gone.

On my Fijian birthday we decided to go out to our beach again. It was a gorgeous day, perfect for a drive and a swim in the ocean, and of course we brought along Charlie. On our way through town we noticed Steve and Iretta’s truck at the Copra Shed and Tara suggested we stop in for a moment. Not sure if we could bring in Charlie, Tara held him and waited outside and I went in and found them. They asked where Tara was and I explained she was outside with Charlie. Iretta’s eyes lit up and she introduced me to a man next to them named Geoff and said he was interested in meeting Charlie. In fact no more than two minutes before we arrived she was explaining to Geoff about Charlie and how we were looking for a home for him. Iretta was sympathetic to our cause and had been acting as a promotional agent for us to anyone they knew fit to take care of Charlie.

Geoff said to bring him in (Geoff has a little pull at the Copra Shed) so I went out and got Tara and she handed Charlie to Geoff. They hit it off immediately. Charlie was at his best performance, standing proudly, licking not biting, not peeing at anyone’s feet and happily running about the Copra Shed greeting everyone as if he owned the place. He was the perfect puppy and Geoff fell for him immediately.

He told us he’d take Charlie on the spot. It came as a shock and we had no reply and our faces must have sunk for sure because he paused and then offered that he could wait to take Charlie in until we had to leave Fiji. But we apprehensively said that he should take him right away and he was more than happy to do so.

Then Geoff’s daughter came in and you could practically see the moment her heart melted when she saw Charlie. She whisked him up in her arms and we never saw her put him down. Charlie already had a new home for about 15 minutes and Tara was still talking him up.

Steve laughed and said, 'You don’t have to sell him anymore Tara, they’re taking him.'

So now Charlie is living with a Aussie/Fijian family in a beautiful home on a large property out on the Hibiscus Highway. And, besides the adoring family that adopted him, he now lives with the company of two other dogs, whom we’re sure he is overjoyed at harassing all day long.

Our time at the beach was cut short the day we let Charlie go. After about two hours a huge rainstorm rolled in and it was time for us to return. Getting home we immediately had to start cleaning up Charlie’s favourite chew toys (my socks) and clean and put away his food and water bowls. The whole time Tara and I are talking about how much we missed him and how things wouldn’t be the same, choking back tears. The one thing we couldn’t do was put away the basket and towel he used as a bed. Just a couple of pathetic mopers, on my birthday no less.

Anyhow, despite being such a bitter/sweet pill to swallow, we know it’s all for the best.

The next day, New years Eve here, Eugene’s father Stephen pulled in the drive and invited me out fishing with him and some friends. I quickly changed and jumped in the car and we were off. I met his friends Teddy and Rowland, two Fijian men who were not only two of the nicest people I’ve met so far, but also two of the funniest. Once we were out in the boat there was a great deal of Guy Humour being bantered about that kept me in stitches. Stephen deemed me the Navigator and put me in charge of the depth-finder. For the first few minutes I was having no more luck that Stephen had with the contraption. I was beginning to relate to why it made him ‘cranky’. In the middle of Savusavu Bay where it’s easily 300 feet deep we were getting readings of 5 feet. And then something occurred to me and Teddy at the same time.

I asked Stephen, ‘Where is the sonar bolted to the boat?’

Stephen said at the back. Teddy leaned over and found it…discovering that instead of pointing down into the depths of the ocean it was pointing directly out behind the boat. We all had a good laugh over that one…

In Fiji the men fish like men. No need for rods or reels. Just a large spool of thick fishing line, a hook with a healthy chunk of bait on it weighed down with a piece of rusting steel rod. Extremely old school. We had lunch out on the water, curried rice and bread that we ate with our hands. No matter the size of fish you catch, you’re hauling it in hand over hand, pulling on that line. Not that we had to worry about that, we didn’t catch a single fish that day, despite being on the water for over six hours. The depth-finder was registering loads of fish beneath us but nothing would feed. It just wasn’t our day. But we did get the depth-finder figured out and I schooled Stephen on it and he was happy about that.

When we got back Lilly picked us up at the marina and invited Tara and I to New Years Eve barbeque at their home. When Tara and I arrived Eugene was cooking…again. It seems that Eugene is always cooking. He had an old school barbeque fired up. It was a large cast iron skillet with open wood embers burning below it set on a metal stand. He was cooking about a zillion slim lamb steaks, salted to perfection, along with sausages. There was salad and cooked okra, taro and rice and then finally a peach cobbler dessert.

We rolled home and brought in the New Year, yelling it out over Savusavu Bay. There were no fireworks but Mother Nature entertained us with a brilliant lightning display for about twenty minutes after midnight, as if on queue. Once the sky cleared again we admired the stars, brilliant against the black sky, like tiny holes in heaven’s floor.

Tara and I want to wish you a Happy New Year and we feel Neil Gaiman says it best:

‘May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful. And don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.’

Holidays in Fiji

We’re back on the air. The internet wasn’t working for a week or so. Apparently the hamster down at the service provider’s office in town suffered a fractured hip when he tumbled off his wheel, effectively shutting down internet service until a replacement came. Hamsters are rare here in the Fijian islands…

But seriously folks…

After the threat of Daman passed Fiji it didn’t rain for about a week and a half. Nine days into the sunny weather we had to take the truck in to get the radiator fixed…it started raining the next day. We were without a vehicle and for two days we were tackling the trek up and down the mountain road by foot. This is an arduous trek, just under 1.5 kilometers at a ridiculously steep angle and by the time you’re done your legs are screaming at you and you’re out of breath. It does get easier the more you do it…but not much. It takes about a half hour to get down and an hour to get back up. We took the advice of the locals and took regular rests to catch our breath and we walked barefoot to keep cool and get a better grip. The last day we took on the hill it rained the hardest. We were soaked to the bone by the time we got home but we were enjoying it very much. You can’t come to Fiji and not expect to get caught out in the pouring rain at least once. When you resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to be very wet for a very long while it actually becomes quite enjoyable. Besides, its much easier doing the climb in the rain than it is under the merciless sun.

When we got home that late afternoon, our clothing drenched and backpack sopping, our running shoes making squishy sounds with every step, we were shocked to discover we had a guest excitedly waiting for us, literally peeing himself when he saw us. No it wasn’t one of the umpteen people who promised they’d come visit us, it was a little puppy no more than six weeks old. He was starving and cold and obviously abandoned so he was a little nervous of us at first, but once he realized he was being treated like a little prince he warmed up quickly.

We named him Charlie.

Two days after he arrived we carried him down the road to some of the neighbours to see if he belonged to them. No such luck. We asked Steve and Iretta if they could put the word out for us and so far there are a few interested persons in taking the little guy off our hands. But, until further notice, he’s in our care. We love having him around but puppies often make mistakes…mistakes that are wet or stinky and require cleaning up. And since this isn’t our home we can’t really have that happening. Although, he’s very smart and pretty much house trained and…there I go rationalizing again. We’re getting way to close to this pup.

Christmas Eve we were called by Steve and Iretta to join them for dinner and drinks. What a great evening we had. The moment our glasses were empty Steve was topping them up and Iretta made an amazing chili that would have blown our socks off if we were wearing any. We chatted for almost six hours before we left and made our way home.

On Christmas Day it looked as though it was going to rain all day, but by two in the afternoon it stopped, so we packed the truck, including Charlie, and made our way out along the Hibiscus Highway to one of our favourite beaches. After a few hours of playing on the beach and teaching Charlie how to swim we made our way back home. Driving up the road to the house we passed the Wong’s house and they were all out on their porch waving as we drove by. We had barely got out of the shower when we heard someone calling for us outside the door and, sure enough, Eugene Wong was there inviting us to come down and join their family for drinks and dinner.

Eugene is a great cook. He owns a small restaurant in Savusavu called Auntie Lilly’s and it’s extremely popular with the locals. Eugene’s parents, Steven and Lilly, started the restaurant twenty years ago and past it on to Eugene. There is a mix of Fijian and Indian cuisine and also Chinese because Eugene’s father is Chinese and his mother is Fijian. They were forced to relocate since a fire burnt down their original place last year. Many years ago Steven and Lilly were the first to purchase land on Naveria Hieghts and thirty acres was an amazing and brilliant investment.

Needless to say the banquet of food they provided that night was filling and delicious. Eugene cooked everything in a Lovo, which is a traditional way of cooking. A Lovo is when they dig a hole in the ground, place in stones and create a fire pit. Spinach and onion are sprinkled with coconut milk and wrapped in taro leaves then placed in the pit and then covered to cook. The meats go on top, chicken and pork and mutton, and everything is cooked to perfection. It comes out delicious, the meat is savory and moist and the leaf wraps compliment it perfectly.

Eugene’s whole family showed up and I spent some time with his father Steven explaining the depth-finder he bought three months ago but still hadn’t managed to figure out…he said he tried to work it out on the boat while fishing but it only made him “cranky”. They are an amazing family with beautiful children and Tara found it impossible to not take photo’s of everyone all night. They made a traditional social drink known as Kava which consists of a pepper root ground down to powder and mixed with water. It makes the lips and tongue go numb, but it’s a natural muscle relaxant and an anti-depressant. It definitely tasted peppery and a little like wood, but it was easy on the palate. They were overjoyed when I drank it down in one go and clapped and laughed approvingly. The whole evening family members kept trickling in and the house was full of extremely friendly and curious people, full of questions and conversation. They love to joke and tease so it made it very difficult to leave at the end of the night…well, that and the Kava.

We’re truly settling in to Fiji now. Tara has so much to photograph and I’ve been making really good progess on my latest novel. Everyone is saying we’ll likely never leave and if we do we’ll likely manage our way back again for good. We’ve become very well aquainted with all of the neighbours and very good friends with some. We go for a walk every night and enjoy the sunset on evenings when it’s not raining, which we can happily say is most nights.

Cyclone Daman

A few days ago Steve called, the neighbour from down the hill. There was a cyclone being tracked, threatening to hit Fiji. In two days it whipped itself up into a quite a frenzy. Reports of a category four or five were going around. They named it Cyclone Daman. Otherwise known as a hurricane in North America. Early Friday morning Steve called again and told me it looked as if Daman was going to hit the western tip of Vanua Levu and pass between the two main islands.

An hour later Daman shifted again and was threatening to cut a path straight through the middle of Vanua Levu from Labasa to Savusavu.

By noon we were boarding up the house, screwing the shutters to the windows and doors. On some sound advice we packed our valuables, along with candles, flashlight, the machete from the house, and what clothing we figured we’d need. We threw the some supplies in the truck and booked a room at the Hot Springs Hotel. Room 110. After securing our room we drove through town a bit and Tara took pictures. The young men that worked at the gas station seemed giddy about the coming storm. It was hard to tell if it was nerves or excitement. Probably both.

It was strange being at the grocery store getting more supplies with loads of locals preparing for a cyclone, the whole time Christmas music playing in the background. It was surreal. The entire experience was surreal really. It took some time for the reality of it all to sink in and mentally prepare for the event. Back at the hotel Tara and I had a few drinks on the hotel patio that overlooks the picturesque Savusavu Bay. Still beautiful despite the skies darkening ominously and we talked about how everyone seemed in good enough spirits, but definitely nervous as hell. This was a big storm that could inflict unimagineable devestation on the islands people. We talked about how we can go home to Canada when all was said and done. But these people, they live here. The homes they live in are far from hurricane proof and many would likely have to rebuild. At the bar they played the local radio station, reminding people of the importance of community and helping each other in times such as this.

Back in our room we watched the skies grow darker, not before Tara snapped some shots of the distant south-western skies. They were a breath-taking purple and mauve. Its astounding how something so devastating can be so beautiful…We made tea, having to do something with our own nervous energy. There was a knock on the door and we were told we had a call at the main desk (we’d been given a 'Budget Room', no television, no telephone). It was Tara’s brother Matt calling to ensure we had done all we could to secure ourselves.

By 7:00pm the sky was a dead black and we were waiting for Daman to come. As the night wore on it was apparent the storm was shifting. I checked at the front desk for updates. We managed to rest a little and finally sleep came…as fitfull as it was. Tara and I both woke up every few hours. Finally morning arrived. The latest report telling us that Daman had shifted once more, taking mercy on the mainland and following an eastward path, around the top of Venua Levu and was curving around the east end of the island. A few of the small islands in that area were hit, there are small villages on those islands and we were still awaiting reports from them. We worry about those people, they’re of little means and dwell in incredibley simple homes. As of 9:00am we still hadn’t heard any word from the people on those islands. Finally word got to us that one island of a 100 homes was wiped from the map.

I was informed that Cyclone Daman had a barometric reading of 925, the lowest in the recorded history in the South Pacific. A record breaking storm that would have devestated these islands if it hit dead on. We were told that we would have returned to the house with the roof gone and that the boards we had screwed to the windows and doors would have been blown away like tissue paper. You can sense the collective sigh of relief this morning. Everyone grateful that we dodged a bullet.

We can't take the shutters down and kick back with G and T's just yet. Daman could take an eratic turn and come straight back into the islands. But for now it seems the threat has passed Fiji.

We thank everyone for their concern.