Bula everybody!
I literally heard that expression 237 times in the three days I was in Nadi, Fiji.
It means: Hello, Goodbye, and it's what you subsitute for "Cheers!" when you drink.
I had a great time in Fiji.
But.
There was one night that didn't go very smoothly. Of course, it's pretty funny now.
So I thought I'd start with that story.
The second day I was there I really wanted to go to a beach because I did a hike the day before, so I signed up for a day cruise out to Robinson Crusoe Island.
A taxi picked me and one other guy from the hotel up, and took us to the bus in town.
The bus ride was about 30 minutes, and it took us to a boat that was another 30 minute ride.
Right now I am going to take the time to describe the guy that was from my same hotel.
The girls I had dinner with the night before were telling me that he was bragging to them that he was a producer from New York and he was going to Auckland for work.
Ooh and he was friends with the producer of Lord of the Rings!
He was basically just one of those people that had no interest in the person he was talking to; he just wanted to brag about himself and his life.
On the way to the island I found out he was filming a commercial for Stouffer's lasagna. Go you, dude. I mean, I think it would be an awesome job to work in TV like that, but I also like humble people.
Later that day, I found out he was gay, which is whatever, but the guy had zero muscle, which plays into the story later. Oh, he told this joke to me:
"I don't know the difference between a sarong and a saree, and for that I am so wrong and so sorry!"
That was followed by hysteric laughter, by him.
Going on, the cruise was supposed to go from 11am-930pm, but fijians do not- I repeat- do not believe in or care about time.
"It's Fiji Time!"
That is another expression I heard over and over. If I asked anyone what time it was they would reply with, "it's Fiji Time!" and laugh, and if I was lucky, they would follow with the real time.
Well with this "Fiji Time" concept in mind, they finally got us back on the boat to go home at about 1130. I was so so tired. The night before I left was not a good night of sleep for me, between being so excited/nervous to leave,and the next night was the same as I attempted to sleep on the 12 hour plane ride. So I had went to bed 8pm the night before and got up at 630 the next morning. What I'm getting at is that it had been a loooong day, and I had never been more ready for bed.
I attempted to sleep on the 30 minute boat and bus rides, and only partly suceeded. When the bus pulled up to town we had to wait for the taxis to come get us and distribute us to our different hotels.
You can imagine the relief I felt when the guy called out, "Club Fiji, and Nadi Bay!"
We were first! Only 15 more minutes and I would be asleep in a bed!
The producer mentioned earlier, and I got into the taxi van with a couple and we headed off.
We dropped the couple off first. They were staying at a place right on the beach, and we had to take dirt roads to get there. After we dropped them off we headed off to Nadi Bay, on more dirt roads.
Lucky for me, I had driven this road yesterday to pick up a family at that same hotel or else I would have been absolutely freaking out wondering where on this earth I was.
With the rain the day before there were lots of puddles on this dirt road and I was just praying that we would not get stuck. I wanted to be asleep more than anything.
The taxi driver went through one and I was so glad when we made it to the other side, until I saw what was on the other side. Pretty much a lake.
I almost yelled out to him to stop, but it was too late. He gunned it and, of course, got stuck right in the middle.
So Mr. Taxi, and Mr. Big Apple get out and push while I attempt to drive a manual van on the wrong side of the car out of the puddle.
Ya, it wasn't happening. The bumper was completely underwater and it was steadily soaking the carpet in the back.
We finally convinced Mr. Taxi that he needed a tow truck, not just his two friends that were on their way.
Since I had been this way the day before we decided to walk. I was pretty sure it was about a half mile away and 90% sure I could get us there.
Mr. Taxi said goodbye with this advice, "turn left at the fork, do not go right".
So picture this: There I am walking down a pitch black road halfway across the world from my home with an idea of where I was going but not 100%, and I'm with a guy that has never lifted a weight in his life. I'm telling you, I could beat him up with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. So the protection I should have felt being in the presence of a member of the male sex was absent.
When we get to the fork in the road we took the native's advice and turned left. About a half mile later we run into some people who inform us we are going in the wrong direction and we should have turned right.
What did Mr. Taxi have against us? I have no idea.
So luckily there was one hotel on that road so we went there to call another taxi to take us to the hotel.
You can imagine my relief when we got there and I headed up to my room that I was sharing with four other girls.
I open the door and immediately realize that something is wrong. The full and messy room I left behind that day was clean and almost empty.
I look over to my bed, which was made. Next to it were my suitcases stacked up and my other possessions in little stacks on the bed next to mine. It was clear I was not supposed to be in here anymore. My eyes keep scanning to the far corner of the room where I see Mr. underpants. It was a guy laying in bed in his underpants.
Next thing my senses pick up is a girl's giggle, but I couldn't see the girl! I'm sure you can guess where she was. Yes, in the bed with him.
Besides this being an awkward situation, I am pissed that I can not slide right into bed and dreamland.
So I gather my things which include: one huge suitcase, one smaller suitcase, my camelback, and random clothes and things that were outside my luggage. Trying to leave as soon as possible, I attempt to gather everything in my arms and jet, but that quickly turns out to be a bad idea. I had to take a couple mintues and tuck everything somewhere and then I continued to walk down the stairs dragging all my luggage to reception.
I am not comfortable with being harsh or rude to people, but this situation had me close to tears. I explained the situation to the receptionist and she was as confused as I was about my stuff being stacked up like that. I demanded my own room, arguing that if I went into a dorm with other people that late at night they would get many complaints, but she wouldn't allow it, not wanting to get into trouble. My only option, she said, was to room with a chinese lady that didn't speak english. Tired of complaining, arguing, and just tired in general, I accepted the room.
Bill, the bag man, helped me with my bags to the room where the chinese lady came to the door after a minute of Bill trying to find the right key.
Upon entering the room it became strikingly obvious that Ms. China did not pay for an air conditioned room, which I had. And the fan wasn't even on!
Bill walked over to the fan and asked her if he could turn it on and she said no.
Once he left and my things were settled I walked over to the fan and turned it on full blast. She strode over and in half english, half chinese, and full charades we discovered that she did not want the fan on and I did. Again, I was not in the mood to be messed with so I won that battle.
I now need to mention that the room stunk like bad rice, and I was wide awake by this time.
So thank you, mom for the motrin pm you sent with me. It saved me that night.
