Here's One I Made Earlier

Blue Peter wasn’t necessary a staple in the Lee household growing up but it certainly had a strong presence within the era I grew up in. I caught the back-end of the desperate struggle to gain the prestigious Blue Peter badge.

For the non-Brits out there, Blue Peter is a long-running children’s television show. Another synonymous part of Blue Peter was the crafts section. Before the days of compulsory recycling, there was a different way to make use of finished toilet rolls, cereal boxes and ice lolly sticks.

A chirpy BP presenter would cut, fold and stick an amalgamation of crap together and start dousing it in papier mache. It would barely hold together and you'd squint and turn your head from side to side in a fruitless attempt to recognise what the hell they were making.

But fear not, the infamous words – “Here’s one we made earlier” – would emanate from their pearly whites and there you have it. Instead of a sloppy mountain of masking tape and watery paper, you have a perfectly moulded model of some sort.

Naïve children were lead to believe that this presenter spent minutes magically creating a masterpiece. I’m sure many kids tried and failed to make the Thunderbirds model, Tracy Island. This is the famous episode that most people recognise. It was a bit before my time but even I remember that one.

Many times in my travels I’ve wanted to say those words. Here’s a spectacular itinerary I made earlier. Instead, I stumble about blindly not necessarily thinking things through and consistently cut corners to save money. Why would anyone want to fly from Phuket to Kuala Lumpur when you can take a 24 hour bus ride? I’ve saved a tenner, I win!

There have been plenty of moments where I wish I had the gift of hindsight but then that would be boring. If I did catch a train or flight to Kuala Lumpur I would never have met Mel and Steff. They are more like extended family to me. We’ve been through so much together and have witnessed every angle of our personalities and have come through it all smiling and stronger than ever. It’s a flaming miracle and a wonderful one at that.

Fiji wasn't necessarily my Tracy Island but I probably should have thought twice about squeezing a five hour boat ride, ten hour flight and three hour train ride into one day.

*****

Brains of Britain here decided to have a heavy drinking session the night before a cave trip. That’s exactly what my hangover needed!

At least Amy and Amelia were in the same boat as me and felt equally rotten. We could crawl our way through this day together.

Alas, things are never that simple. As my caves trip came in voucher form through the package that I booked, I ended up going through a different company. Ridiculous seen as the resort offered exactly the same trip. Why not pay them instead of this rival company?

 

Amy and Amelia went off with the Coral View crew and me and two others stayed. We hung around for an hour until the boat arrived. My inner monologue ticked over what I could have done with that precious wasted hour. 

We weren’t the only ones left waiting. The boat made three stops to different resorts picking up random travellers. The others would be in and out of the caves by the time we got there!

A bumpy boat ride is not the cure for a hangover but a cause of one sore arse! All our arses collectively slammed into the wooden slats of the boat as we clung to each other for dear life. It’s not like there was anything else to hold on to! I decided that today was hug a stranger day.

Soaking wet and slightly bruised, we arrived at the Sawa-I-Lau cave entrance. The tour leader asked for $5 in exchange for snorkel goggles. I had no idea what I’d want to see underwater in a dark cave but was told it’s a necessity.

In my hangover-induced-wisdom, I brought my cloth handbag. My stuff was soaked but I managed to scrape out enough money to hand to the leader. I didn’t think anybody would want to steal my sorry-looking bag, so left it on the boat.

Teams of tourists packed up the stairs and entered the caves. Herded in like a sheep, I plopped into the water and feebly doggy-paddled (in fear of colliding with the jutting rocks that surrounded me) in the direction of others heading towards the light. It was as eerie as it sounds.

Charming!

Collectively everyone shrugged, “Now what?” as we tread water. Some nutters climbed up the side of the cave and jumped. No thanks.

Little did I know, I had my own daredevil stunt that I had to perform. To venture further into the caves, you had to swim through an underwater tunnel. Holy moly. I seemed to be the only one unnerved by this.

One by one, swimmers bobbed under the water and never came back up again. I’m going to die. I’m going to bash my head on a rock and run out of breath. Water is going to gush through to my lungs and I’m going to suffocate. I couldn’t tell if I was quivering in fear or from the cooling water temperature.

A woman from the resort talked me through it and took my camera so I had both hands free. Everyone said you’re under water for a few seconds. I can handle that. I practised holding my breath and counted to ten. I can do this. I moved forward and joined the queue.

Clinging to the rock face before the tunnel, I psyched myself up. I jumped out of a flipping plane and I’m worried about a bit of water. Man up! I grabbed a rope chained to the wall and pulled myself forward. The guide explained that once I go under, all I need to do is swim towards the light. The snorkel goggles make sense now.

This all sounds simple enough, nothing to worry about. One…two…eee…three…

For some reason I couldn’t sink. You’d think after all the cake and, more recently, waffles I’d eaten I’d sink to the ground like an anchor. Was I running out of breath already? I looked forward and could see a bright light. Am I dying? No wait, the guy said to swim towards the light. This is not heaven, this is a cave. I moved forward through the tunnel with a helpful shove in the side from the guide. This force propelled me forward like a torpedo and I flew forward. I flapped around for a bit. This has been more than a few seconds. Lying bastards.

Still moving forward, where the heck am I? I could feel my breath escaping but knew that panicking would not help. I stretched my arms forward as far as possible and kicked my legs. I felt something lock around my arm and wrench me forward. It was the light. 

God? I didn’t actually mutter those words but I was thankful to whoever is watching over me. It was a guide who grabbed me and pulled me up to the surface. Thanks to the snorkel goggle, I had no water up my nose. I just gasped and flapped for a few seconds like a trout on a fisherman’s deck.

It was so dark that nobody could see my pathetic prancing. The woman from Coral View was there already with my camera and I breezily covered my trembling with confident utterances. I was fine, it was fine. Deep down I gulped uneasily as I knew that the same journey awaited me.

A handful of us were guided around and told a couple of legends about the caves. I couldn’t hear a thing. I had a quick look around followed by a few “oos” and “ahs” then it was time to head back. Already!? I zoned out and imagined myself living in the caves. I don't have to go back. My thought train was interrupted as I started playing out my evolutionary progression in adopting gills. Alright, alright, I’m coming. I left my daydream and my fear back in the cave as I dived under and back through to the other side. I knew there was a guy waiting to pull me through so I wasn’t scared.

To prevent any collisions, we took a different route back to the caves. This tunnel was a lot narrower but my arse just about squeezed through. Ok, I’m ready to leave now. The caves were interesting enough but paddling around in murky water dodging tourists wasn’t my idea of fun. My waterproof watch told me that I’d be cutting it fine in getting back to the resort and departing on my boat back to Nadi.

Villagers greeted us as we exited and ushered us over to their market stalls. It was all the same crafts and jewellery that I’d seen countless times. I’d already bought a cannibal fork and a coconut hair clip from my Fijian family in Namatakula so I was sorted. As much as I wanted to help the villagers, I didn’t want to be carrying around too many nik-naks.

Normally the journey back is quicker but this boat ride was taking forever. I needed a shower, have some food, check out properly and say goodbye to everyone. By the time we got back to the resort, I had 45 minutes. Mustering up my inner Usain Bolt, I sprinted to reception and rented a towel. I ignored the rule of using the reception toilets and showers and dashed back to my room and used the nicer ones there. I threw on the things I hastily grabbed from my suitcase in reception.

Lunch was ready and waiting. I piled my plate up and sat down. Everyone had already finished. I devoured my meal like a prisoner after hunger strike. This spicy sweet pumpkin dish was so delicious I had to go up for seconds. I can eat and say goodbye surely?

As I started up on round two, a worker came across and asked me if I was going to check out. Like a pupil being told off by their Headmaster, I uncomfortably stirred in my seat. Food will have to wait. I got up and handed my bank card to settle the bill and went back to my plate. This is Fiji, there is no chip and pin here. It takes a good few minutes to process a payment. 

Moments later, the worker came back over and told me my card had been declined. Ha…what? This did not look good. I was checking out late and I seemed more interested in pumpkin than paying. I’m not surprised the worker thought I was trying to pull a fast one. I explained that I did not have any other cards. The worker suggested trying it again as there is the slight chance that they got the card number wrong.

Within the melee, Emma and a couple of others came over all smiles, ready to embrace and say goodbye. My eyes welled up and their smiles faded. After asking what was wrong I went on a massive tirade about the awkward caves trip which meant that I didn’t have enough to do everything that I wanted to. I had less than ten minutes and I’d not seen anyone to say goodbye to. I hate being rushed. What’s more, my card has been declined so I might not even get to leave the island!

Emma calmed me down and said everything will be ok. I knew it would be but I was still worked up. I have no idea why. I’ve spent the past two weeks (maybe even longer) drifting past life’s stressors and enjoying my trip. For some reason, today I flipped. I had no pristine Tracy Island model to present whilst sweeping the gloopy mess of my first attempt to one side.

Suddenly the worker cropped up again all blushes and smiles saying my card went through. Hooray! I spooned the last remnants of pumpkin into my mouth, gathered my things and hugged everyone goodbye. I had time to swap details with those I cared about and waited outside for the boat. The lovely workers at Coral View placed a floral necklace around each of our necks and sang us the goodbye song. Even though everything had been lovely at Coral View, I was ready to leave. Two weeks had definitely been enough Fiji for me. I craved the chaos and craziness of America.

 Amelia, me and Amy

 Me and Emma

Angela, Amy, Amelia and I left for our very long boat ride. I was the only one going back to the mainland. I had five hours to burn. Nature programmes and a documentary on Captain Cook averted my boredom.

When I arrived at the last stop, I needed to find my free airport transfer. Before I could do that though, I needed to buy and write postcards as well as find a post office to send them. Yes, I left everything to the last minute. There was a postal service on South Sea Island but nothing for the rest of the way. I hurriedly found some pretty and funny postcards to send to my intended recipients and wrote down some rushed words that I hoped made sense. Luckily the post office was open and I sent them off without too much hassle.

My luggage was left unclaimed. When I went back to the docking bay, I found my suitcase resting in the middle of a pathway prime for the taking. A thief could try and take it but I doubt they’d want 23 kilos of crap. I literally have nothing of worth in my suitcase. In fact, they’d be doing me a favour. I’d claim on the insurance and buy a new wardrobe!

Instead, I lugged the Beast’s elder sister to the car park where I found my coach transfer to the airport. 

Checking in was a breeze and I had time to kill. I ate a grotty burger and undercooked chips whilst watching Fast and Furious on my notebook. I didn’t have time to finish the film unfortunately.

Whilst boarding the plane my mood shifted up a notch as I saw that the chairs had television screens in the back of them. This was short-lived as the picture quality was terrible and the films weren’t optional. I missed the beginning of The Vow as I channel hopped checking out what other films were playing. I was that bored, I even tried to sleep, something that’s impossible for me on public transport. 

Finally I arrived in America. Let the fun times begin!