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.