Got Coconut?

One would think that I’d have a fuzzy head given the amount of alcohol consumed the previous day. Alas, I felt my usual groggy self upon the morning of departure to Manta Ray Island.

Two nights was enough for me to enjoy South Sea Island. One weak goodbye later and I was aboard the Yasawa Flyer.

Farewell...

My mood was bright and hopeful for the continued quest of rest and relaxation. To reinforce this sentiment further, I had a Cornetto. 

I remembered the little girl who skipped to the tune of the ice cream van as it trundled down the street. Coming to a standstill, the truck’s humming heartbeat could be heard from the living room window. Sweet frozen goodness was within reach and all that stood between the little girl and happiness was a silver coin. Eyes bright and smile wide, the little girl turned to her Mummy and attempted a forced cuteness set to stun and hypnotise. Unfortunately Mummy was immune to such dastardly manoeuvres and, for the most part, the answer no reverberated sharply shooting down the little girl’s dream. But sometimes the answer was yes. The little girl hadn’t even thought that far ahead and indecisiveness took hold – strawberry or chocolate..?

When Granddad visited however, it was a different story. Every day was Cornetto day! It is one of few memories that I have of my Granddad as he passed when I was young. It may surprise you that one cone-shaped confectionery could cause such a swell of happy memories!

Happily reminiscing, I chowed down on a chocolate Cornetto intermittently speaking to a Danish guy from South Sea Island. We poked fun at certain passengers – guy with funny shirt, Asian girl with average looking white guy (that never gets old), smelly guy…The conversation did move forward and we spoke about our travels and how it has affected us.

For the most part, we agreed on certain personality traits that have evolved and benefited from the independent trail we have embarked on. However, Mr Danish also divulged his sexual experimentation. Apparently he’s not gay but used this trip as a trial to see what sleeping with a guy is like. It’s something that he’s always wanted to try. It wasn’t something I could really contribute to. Other than the odd drunken kiss to impress the guys around us or a random dare, I can’t say I’ve ever dabbled in lesbianism. It’s not something on my list of things to do around the world. Not long after that revelatory bombshell, it was time for me to leave.

Another musical Bula welcome embraced me like an old friend and, just like South Sea Island, it didn’t take me long to meet people. I met Helen, a Brit who has been living in Hong Kong running her own practice (psychiatry). I also met Heather and Sacha, two Canadian girls living and working in Australia. I spent my two days in Manta Ray flitting between them but found Helen to be more relatable and easy to get on with. The other two girls were carrying a lot of drama and I didn’t think they saw me as anything more than a way of moving conversation forward.

After a deliciously filling lunch, I made my way to the beach and watched a coconut demonstration. I watched one of the workers retrieve a coconut from the tree with ease and laughed along as others tried (and failed) to do the same. I think we need a bit more practice! I stayed to watch a bit more as the worker explained the many uses of coconut (e.g. jewellery) and observed people peeling open the coconut using a sharp splint of wood sticking out of the ground.

With an expanded knowledge on coconuts, I rested on the beach to catch the last bit of sun.

That evening, Helen, Heather, Sacha and I joined a few others for a sunset tubing trip. We each deposited alcohol in the cooler and set out on a small boat to find the best view of the sunset.

All but one of us plopped into the sea with our rubber rings. Awkwardness ensued at first as I struggled to get comfortable. Soon enough I found the right balance and leant back, beer in hand. Ahhhh…

Sun worshipping

Cheers!

I need to work on my tan lines

Dinner waited for us as we returned. A three course meal filled me up nicely. The evening was finished off with a dancing ceremony.

The resort put a great effort into proceedings and it was great fun to watch. I even got a chance to join in as one of the girls pulled up spectators for a disjointed hokey cokey. We then did a giant conga. I felt like I was at a school disco. I loved it!

With the possibility of swimming with manta rays early the next day, I decided to call it a night.

*****

Sleeping quarters were slightly claustrophobic. I was stationed in the bottom of a low rising set of bunk beds. To fend off attacking insects I was cocooned in a mosquito net.  It must have made an eerie sight to an outsider. I’m just glad I didn’t need the toilet in the night as it’s around 50 metres away from the room down a winding cobbled path.

My alarm rang out and I sprang out of bed. It is the only way to wake myself up sometimes. If I just lie there, I’ll need at least half an hour to motivate myself to get up. I don’t think I’ll ever be a morning person.

I fed some fish…

I got a coconut…

…thanks to a hungry worker!

And his friend...

As well as this, I sunbathed and snorkelled. In doing so, I added to my expanding collection of underwater videos.

For my final night, I ended my stay with a watery cocktail and toasted to another successful island.

You Booze, You Lose?

Rest and relaxation was my mission which I endeavoured to fulfil throughout my island hopping escapades. My first day certainly ticked all the boxes but something was niggling at me. It had been over a week since I’d touched my blog. I’d not written a thing other than a few concise bullet lists. This was unexpected. I thought my brain would be thankful for the free head-space.

This may sound unusual but there are times when I get a real buzz for writing. The feeling can develop after a new idea pops into my head or it just appears out of nowhere. Like a sudden rush of blood to the head, I get this revitalising feeling and I need to put pen to paper…or in most cases, fingers to a keyboard. I’ve sat for hours typing away with some bursts resulting in a few thousand words of waffle. It’s also a satisfying feeling. Once everything is uploaded and I read over what I’ve produced, a surge of doubt comes over me. Did I really write that? It’s a similar experience I felt whilst writing my dissertation or any essay really.

As cheesy as it sounds, when I write, it’s like a part of me cascades from my fingertips onto the page. Perhaps musicians and song writers feel the same. Not that I’m comparing myself to John Lennon or anything but the mind-set could be similar. I wouldn’t know, I have no musical ability whatsoever unfortunately. It’s this reasoning that substantiates my surprise and consequent doubt as to whether these words are mine. Most of the “stuff” that comes out of my mouth is pure waffle that needs sifting through by a patient ear. The fact that I can form constructive sentences that seemingly make sense is a welcome relief. I’d like to think that I’d come back to my entries at a later point in my life and understand what the heck happened to me. It’s easy to forget the path you went down once the resolution has unfolded.

Ironically, I am waffling on now. To sum up, I missed writing. A lot. Getting back to my movements for the day...

My island hopping package includes activities – yes, I am lazy. I was set to embark on a boat trip to some places I wasn’t too sure of but would end with a stop at the Castaway Island. Yes, THE Castaway Island from the Tom Hanks’ film Castaway. I wanted to find Wilson’s hideout.

My quest was not a solo effort as I took to the ocean with a fellow traveller from South Sea Island, Reto. I’d not really spoken to him before but had faint memories of shamelessly ogling him as he strode out of the ocean onto the beach front. Daniel Craig has got some competition. Hey, there is no harm in looking, sheesh!

Unbeknownst to Reto, I was just some random backpacker to befriend. There was nobody else from the island going so he had no choice, he was stuck with me. I think we were both thankful for that fact as there didn’t seem to be anybody on the boat that was social.

Making fun of the common peace sign gesture. Although mine looks like bunny ears. Fail!

We briefly spoke to a Polish couple who assumed Reto was German (he’s Swiss) so had a dig at him. It was funny seeing their embarrassment when he revealed his nationality. Dicks.

One very big plus point to this trip was that all drinks were included. By all drinks, I mean beer. Not only this, but workers came around with platters of cake. See, sometimes dreams can come true!

Shortly, we reached our main spot at the Castaway Island.

Where is Wilson!?!?!

This is what greeted me behind a rock on the beach. Gross!

Our hunt for Wilson had failed. He’d obviously been kidnapped by an overexcited tourist. Instead, Reto and I took to the ocean for some snorkelling. Pretty standard stuff but I captured videos nonetheless.

We returned to the boat for a lovely barbecue lunch and moved on to another island for a village visit.

Kava ceremony

A wheelchair...Fiji style!

It was funny seeing a tourist's viewpoint. The kava ceremony was traditional of course but the serving was minuscule. The guys weren’t even given low tide. It was more like the dregs at the bottom of the bowl. Maybe they don’t think tourists can handle the stuff.

Villagers called out for volunteers but I was still recovering from the last batch. I thought I best leave it to some people who haven’t experienced it before.

As we left and made our way back to the boat, we walked past a series of stalls. Homemade crafts and jewellery adorned a seemingly endless row of tables. All the money goes back to the village, that I know already, but still, I don’t really have enough room for more trinkets. As I said this, a Miss-Know-It-All from the boat protested and attempted to guilt-trip me. As my good friends in Australia would say, “Pipe down!” Of course I didn’t say that…but I wanted to. Instead, I listened to her drone on about how she’s experienced the “real Fiji” and was surprised that everybody was reluctant to try the kava. Miss-Know-It-All would have tried it herself but she’s had too much already. Eugh.

Cheers! A quick drink before we get back on the boat

Reto and I downed as many beers as we could before we headed back to South Sea Island. We didn’t have a lot time so we took an extra one for the road.

Feeling a little woozy, we transferred across to the main ferry. Reto was going back to the mainland while I had another night back at South Sea Island.

As I finished my final beer courtesy of the Seaspray, Reto disappeared. It might have been the beer, but I felt really happy at that moment. Despite the failure of not finding Wilson, I’d had a good day. Reto had been great company and we found many of the funnies. There was the odd awkward moment – like when I asked him about his tattoo as I thought it was a symbol but it turned out to be the initials of his name and his ex-girlfriend's name. Whoops!

We swapped stories about our travels and our war wounds. Reto’s scar stories made mine seem feeble. In fact, all of his stories were rather impressive. How can I compete with a guy who has been in the Swiss army AND represented his country in gymnastics? All I’ve done is flounced around the world for a year and before that I did bugger all.

Momentarily, Reto returned with two beers. He handed me one and explained that the minimum charge to a card is $30 (Fijian). I didn’t quite follow until he laughed and said that he bought six beers so he could charge it to his card.

Chatter, chatter, drink, drink, Reto disappears and returns with another beer and repeat.

I can never get sick of sunsets

It is safe to say that I stumbled and giggled back onto South Sea Island after hugging Reto goodbye. I wish Reto returned with me as I didn’t recognise anybody back on the island. A handful of new people had arrived earlier in the day.

No wait…Elvis was still there. No this isn’t the beer talking, there was actually somebody there called Elvis. Everyone else was a mystery.

Introductions were brief as I attempted to bond with people over dinner. It was kind of difficult seen as the fish was so dry. I was chewing on one piece for 10 minutes. My jaw certainly had a workout. It was more of a warm-up as I was on top form drunkenly bending everyone’s ears with my nonsense. Nobody humoured me unfortunately. I grew bored as did they.

A British girl – Emma – seemed amused for a while but I think she was just being polite. I decided to head to my room and leave everyone to it. I missed my friends Mel and Steff so much. They loved the drunken me. Apparently it’s hilarious! I don’t get it of course.

My day of sailing, snorkelling and beer swilling had petered out to an evening of film watching. Rock and roll indeed.

More Than Just A Language Barrier

Gauging whether a social quirk or specific action embodies the culture of a person’s homeland or not has become a fun game I like to play. It’s not something I actively do every day as I think I’ve become a bit numb to any differences now. Where it used to take me a while to get used to a place or the people there, I almost adapt instantaneously. That, and the amount of crazy shit I’ve seen on my travels, means it takes a lot to shock me now!

Checking in to my room definitely gave me food for thought. The first time I stayed at the resort, I had a dorm room to myself which is a welcome rarity. This time I was told I had company but when I entered my room, it was completely vacant. The bedding was untouched and there was no luggage. I naively thought that I heard wrong and set my things down by a bottom bunk.

When you’re not allocated a specific bed, there is an unwritten rule of first come first served. Obvious, I know, but to ensure that everyone knows which beds have been taken, you need to place something on the bed. I previously made the mistake of leaving my luggage next to the bed but because there was nothing on the bed, someone dumped their stuff on it later in the day and I was demoted to a top bunk. Lesson learned.

I sorted out my day pack and scattered a series of random bits on the bed like territorial confetti and went to the lobby to use the internet. A while later I returned to find that two guys had checked into the room. All my stuff had been moved from the bottom bunk to the one above. Oh hell no!

One guy was in the bathroom but his friend was by the one other bottom bunk. I had no qualms in displaying my disdain at the matter in hand. The guy looked rather nervous and slightly scared. I felt like I was twice the guy’s size. He was a pocket-Asian.

In an attempt at a peace offer, the pocket-Asian moved his stuff to the top bunk and let me have his bed. His English wasn’t very good but he tried to make conversation asking me where I was from and so on. My heart melted slightly and I offered to go to reception to get some blankets for our beds. It still gets cold on a night and there wasn’t even a cover sheet.

It didn’t take long for me to fulfil my errand. I opened the room door with a tower of blankets balanced in one hand. I lowered them down to announce my return and froze for about ten seconds whilst my brain registered the sight that was before me.

Pocket-Asian was stood chatting to his tall tattooed friend who had just come out of the shower…naked. We both looked at each other in shock. He quickly turned to the side and cupped himself whilst I turned around and smothered my snigger with the blankets.

Normally, I would have put this down to ill timing but pocket-Asian knew I was going to get blankets and was going to be back within minutes. Surely he’d say to his mate that they have a female roommate and to grab a towel!

Later I found out that they are both Korean which is a first for me. Is this a typical welcome greeting in Korea? I doubt it but I had a funny inner monologue of how that would work.

Thankfully the guys covered up for the night. I set my alarm for stupid-o-clock the next day. I have one week of island hopping. Sun, sea, sand and snorkelling, yes please!

*****

Checking out and transferring to the marina was a piece of cake. I was expecting a delay or un-coordination of some kind but everything ran smoothly. I handed over my reservation slip and received a book of accommodation and activities vouchers along with a sulu (sarong) and a photo book. The voucher read Mr Lee Danielle. I sighed but it does make a change from Daniel at least.

There were two boats heading out to my first destination, South Sea Island. I took the first one out. The boats are really efficient and clear on what’s going on. Constant announcements meant that only an absolute simpleton would not get off at the right place.

When my stop was called I realised I was the only visitor. I was surrounded by staff members. This meant that I didn’t get a welcome song or bula welcome. They saved the good welcome for the next boat out. Oh well!

My room wasn’t ready yet so I left my stuff in the reception area and got straight down to some sunbathing. New Zealand’s icy winter has drained my tan. I want to get my glow back.

As the island is only 30 minutes from the mainland, a tonne of tourists come through for day trips. The staff were so friendly and accommodating and somehow manage to remember everyone’s names. The busy outset did dash my visions of secluded paradise as did the woman puffing smoke in my direction. Gross. I only stay on each island for two nights so I think the further up I go, the better.

Time passed by swiftly despite my descent into nothingness. A wonderful barbecue buffet lunch was served. I certainly filled my boots.

As all I’d done was lie down and catch some rays, I’d not really spoken to anybody and wasn’t really sure who to sit with. I placed myself on a bench in the shade. Moments later a girl sat beside me and two others followed. That was easy!

They were all Brits. Two were travelling and the other came out to visit them for a holiday. John and Beth had been to Australia and hated it more than I did! It was so refreshing talking to people who don’t bum Australia. They too preferred New Zealand and we swapped many stories.

Once my lunch had settled I sunbathed for a while and went snorkelling. I chuckled to myself as I awkwardly stomped into the ocean with flippers on. I took out my camera in the hope of getting some good footage but unfortunately the reef was dead and there wasn’t that many fish around. I thought I saw a reef shark before I went in but I didn’t see anything whilst out in the water. I’m still on the hunt for a snorkelling spot that rivals my experience in Ko Tao, (Thailand).

When I returned, one of the workers laughed at my pathetic nature and was surprised that I didn’t see any reef sharks. He offered to take me out to some of the best spots. Alarm bells rang instantly as I knew what Fijian guys are like but I wanted to see some reef sharks.

Instead, we actually went out sailing instead.

What do I hold on to exactly?

It was good fun but I kept forgetting his name. I still don’t remember it! I’m terrible. The worker offered to take me out snorkelling after dark. I’d never done a night dive before. I’ve heard great things from those that have done a night time scuba dive. Even though it might look like a sign that I’m interested in him, I took him up on his offer.

There was still the rest of the day to enjoy. I walked the circumference of the tiny island, which took around three minutes, and watched the sun set.

Afterwards I went to find the worker and got involved in a few games of beach volleyball. I’d not played since primary school. Like all sports I took part in at school, I was pretty good. I obviously haven’t aged well as there are a variety of sports now that I can’t handle. I didn’t do too badly.

Worn out by the activities of the day, I went for a lie down. Just before dinner was served, the heavens opened and a massive downpour engulfed the island. It ruined any plans of games or what-not for the evening ahead. I wondered whether this affected my night-snorkelling trip too.

The small group of us left over after the day trippers departed stuck around for a bit but conversation soon ran dry. One person suggested moving out to a sheltered bench on the beach. As everyone moved off, I quickly slipped away. I grabbed my things and headed out to the meeting place we arranged.

Our night snorkel was still on. Armed with giant torches we headed into the ocean to see what is lurks in the sea at night. The worker was armed with a hunting spear. I grabbed his arm for support and to ensure he doesn’t swim off and leave me!

As we swam out, we saw the odd fish but nothing dramatic. The worker speared a fish and kept it with us to attract the sharks. I started to get a bit worried. I just want to see small harmless reef sharks.

Although we didn’t see any sharks in the end, we saw a ray, plenty of star fish and I held a sea cucumber (again).

Somehow, the worker managed to spot an octopus. He speared it and brought it across for me to stroke. It felt like jelly. The worker proffered a tentacle for me to stroke. Before I knew it, I had an octopus climbing up my arm. The puckers sunk into my skin and the worker had to rip it off violently like a two day old plaster. It only pinched slightly.

We returned to the beach and my attempt at sneaking into the room failed.  A few people were already in bed.  I didn’t even bother lying although my story about the octopus made me sound like a loon. After so many months travelling, have I really become that crazy person everyone avoids in a dorm?