Expect The Unexpected

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, or so they say. As a backpacker, breakfast is the worst meal of the day for me. It’s the part of my daily routine which tames the morning monster that arises in the morning and kick-starts what should be a wonderful day of travel.

At home I have my routine cereal which my body is used to and always does the trick. If not, then the cycle to work definitely wakes me up and provides a lovely little adrenalin rush. Since travelling, my ways have changed from active to sluggish.

If there’s a free breakfast going at a hostel, I stock up on all the bad stuff. Bread is top of the list as it fills me up or anything with high doses of sugar (duh!).

Moving from place to place has meant that my morning routine is shattered. I don’t have a regular cereal as food is inconvenient to carry and store. Exercise is a long-distant memory. It’s not time that’s the issue for me, it’s the practical side of things which I didn’t anticipate. Carrying around sweaty clothes until my next wash isn’t nice at all and even simple things like the weather can alternate my plans. Rain seems to follow me everywhere and the last thing I need is wet clothes to deal with.

It does sound like the ramblings of someone looking for an excuse not to exercise, but I love to run. I miss my five mile route at home. It’s something I will become all too familiar with when I get home. I do believe that America will provide the final push in my inadvertent quest to clog an artery!

My first morning at Sake and Tupou’s included paw paw. Alongside this I had bubbacao, a light fluffy donut. I doused them with jam and fulfilled my hapless breakfast quota in the sugar stakes.

Still unsure on what to do that day, I tagged along with Sake and Tupou to the local market.

On the way out through the village, I met more new faces and names and was littered with bula callings. It’s an uplifting feeling being welcomed in such a manner. I think it’s actually impossible to say bula downheartedly as it’s such a sing-song word.

Due to having a little lie-in this morning, it was going to be a while until a bus to the market came. Sake and Tupou informed me that when this happens, sometimes it is possible to hitchhike and pay the driver the equivalent to the bus fare. This custom became one of many that reflected the friendly and giving nature of the villagers and Fijians in general.

It wasn’t long until Sake had flagged down a passing mini-van that was travelling to the markets.

As we arrived, the swarms of Fijians and tourists bustling through the streets were a stark contrast to the laid back atmosphere of the village. I followed Tupou and Sake through the streets as they fulfilled their errands.

Fiji is partial to Tim Tams too. I didn’t buy any though as I doubt I’ll ever be hungrier enough to eat them! I did buy some beer though as Sake recommended drinking it after kava

Fiji markets selling fruit, vegetables and trinkets

Along the way, I asked where would be the best place to buy a sarong or sulu as Fijians call it. The ones at the airport were quite expensive so I was hoping to bag a bargain. Tupou showed me a few shops and said that sulus should be $5.

The sulu that I ended up buying cost $15. Tupou did enquire about the $5 sulus but the staff mumbled an excuse. It could be that tourists pay one price and locals pay less. This was an everyday occurrence in Thailand as people know that tourists can afford to pay more and what is expensive to locals is still pretty cheap to tourists. I didn’t argue as I really wanted the sulu. It was really nice and I definitely needed something light to wear for covering up my legs in the village.

Walking through the markets and on to where we stopped for lunch, Tupou pointed out that we were drawing quite a few stares. A white girl with two Fijians old enough to be my parents is an unusual sight for tourists so it seems. We joked that I’m their new adoptee.

With everything checked off the to-do list, we headed back to the village. Namatakula is situated next to a school and I had the opportunity to drop by for a visit. You may well laugh as my fear of children has cropped up quite a few times on my travels. But just like the cute and polite kids in Japan, Fiji too has their fair share of adorable happy kids that I don’t shudder at the sight of. Perhaps this could become another fear that is conquered or at least lessened in severity.

The first time I’ve ever seen a sponsored school

Tupou led me through to the main building, passing smiling curious children on the way. Every now and again, Tupou would hand out loose change which was a sweet gesture.

Apprehensively, I entered a classroom full of young children. The teacher turned out to be the Head of the school as well as the administrator – a very busy lady indeed. The Head explained the curriculum and what the children are learning at the moment.

My visit wasn’t entirely over just yet. Before I left, the children sang and danced for me. As each song progressed, the children got louder and closer to me. The children addressed me as Miss Danielle. They had no problem in pronouncing my name. It’s funny as many adults, even from England (!), struggle with my name.

Before I left, I gave the Head a monetary donation along with two bouncy-balls and a pack of playing cards for the children. I’d been holding on to them since Australia as I knew they’d be worthy gifts to hand over.

Netball is a rough game

There was still much of the day left but I chose to rest before dinner. I was rather tired the night before so conversation was quite thin on the ground. Tonight was different and we all asked each other questions and told stories.

Just as the night before, we ate and went out for kava. I decided to bring some bubbacao with me as kava does give you the munchies.

Tupou smiled and said that I’m already thinking like a Fijian. This came hours after saying that I looked Fijian with my new sulu. I felt like part of the family.

As we entered the house, Tupou told me it was somebody’s birthday.

With every birthday comes cake

There are three drinking levels to kava – low tide, high tide and tsunami. Yesterday, I started on low tide. I had a few cups at that level. Tonight I had been elevated to high tide. Wowser. I was gone after two cups. They used bigger cups as well! I think they were testing me as I bet most people just have one cup, smile and then never drink it again. I also found that it was mainly men who drink kava. There were a couple of women drinking on the first night but they didn’t have much. Tonight, it was definitely a man’s world.

Scobee was trying to get me to stay longer and drink more but I couldn’t fit anything else in. He’d been winding me up all night with little jokes and jibes. It was all in good jest of course. Scobee told me that Fijians have a cheeky sense of humour. I decided to test my audience and see if I could win more favour by joking back. I let the birthday boy (well...man) know that if he feels that he has any problems finishing the cake, I am free all week to help out. Everyone laughed, including the birthday boy, so I’m hoping I passed!

Full of cake and kava, I took one of my beers I bought earlier and went back to my room to mellow out completely. I melted into bed for another peaceful night’s sleep.