This is an update from a trip to Fiji & New Zealand a year ago - gathered from emails sent to friends.BULA!
Imagine a world where everyone looks like Shirley from 'What's Happening.' That would be
I thought my hostel was on the beach, but instead has 'beach access'...20 minutes down the road! So I set out on foot to find it with kids passing me by playing football in the road and all the cars yelling BULA out to me. At least the walk was beautiful through the sugar cane fields and under the landing planes. A young guy approached me and asked where I was headed. When I told him my plans to attend the beachfront, he laughed and told me I can't go there alone because it is full of drunk guys. He offered to be my chaperone. He looked harmless so I allowed him to accompany me. I couldn't pronounce his name so I called him 'Joe.'
He showed me the 'sleeping giant' in the mountain and explained how time are hard for the Fijians right now since the political upheaval has scared all the tourists away. Sure enough, when we got to the beach, it was full of drunken Fijians, naked kids and pot dealers. Not the luxury retreat I was hoping for. They were yelling things to us in Fijian, which I know was making Joe uncomfortable.
I needed to find an ATM, so Joe told me where the main town was and again offered to accompany me for getting a Fijian fare on the taxi rather than tourist prices. It was kind of cool having my own private tour guide and all I had to do was buy him cigarettes. He showed me an Indian temple and then took me for a unique experience in a local bar, playing the Fijian drinking game, BULA. Fijian beer bottles are about 1l. Everyone shares a glass and you yell BULA and clap you hands 3 times before drinking your shot of beer. I was the only white person in the bar and got to join in on all the reindeer games. I don’t even think Joe was old enough to drink in the States.
Next we went to a Kava ceremony with Moses where I got to be the Queen, but that only means they wanted me to buy a $300 kava bowl. So I was drunk by 3pm, on a kava high and Joe wanted me to go back to the beach with him to watch the sunset and try some more Fijian traditions. That is where I departed back to the hostel, before I ended up in Fijian jail.
The backpacker's hostel has many international travelers and the bar livened
up in the evening with a live band. I met a group of Australians who I drank with most the night. One guy was a contractor on the island for large resorts and the Australian company was pulling him out and ending all of their projects here based on the current political situation and lack of money in
So I awoke at sunrise to run on the beach and hopefully beat all the drunk guys out of bed. It was a beautiful morning and I only saw one other person until about 8am. When the Fijians started waking up and coming to the beach, the strangest thing happened. Six dogs came out of the palm forest and ran with me. One had rabies and scared me to death because he was foaming at the mouth and attacking the other dogs. These dogs walked and ran with me for about an hour and barked at anyone who came near me.
I had my own security guards and even gave them names that they responded to.
Homey was foaming from the mouth, one puppy had a broken leg and he was 'Peggy' short for peg leg, the albino was 'whitey' just like me, ‘Beagley-Beagley,’ loud mouth (who wouldn't stop barking) and ‘Nipples’ – who must had just had puppies. They accompanied me all the way back to the hostel safely.
So NYE in Nadi was a blast. The hostel had a huge party with fire dancers and live band and we took part with the locals in a traditional feast where they dig an underground BBQ and roast pigs, chicken and anything else on the island you can possibly BBQ. It is sort of similar to a Lua. I brought in the New Year with the bunch of Australians from the night before, Canadians, 4 girls from
The next morning I taxied with the Canadians to the airport. You know the
flight is going to be an experience when they make you step on the luggage
scale to weigh yourself before boarding. It was neat seeing the islands
from the air, but a little bumpy.
Flying into Savu Savu reminded me of the plane coming into
It is a short tarmac on the ocean with a hut. Airport security is a fence.
Then I traveled 36 kilometers on a dirt road though little villages to where
the Tui Tai was anchored. The children all yell BULA as I pass by and want
to slap my hand as I board a raft to the sailing ship. All together there
were about 20 passengers on board and 19 Fijian crew members. Most of us
were 30-something, but there where a few older adventurous couples who
reminded me of Carl's parents and always set off on unusual trips. (In fact
Carl, one couple was named Charles & Susan!-his parents names). There was
an Indian couple on board from LA, a girl from
that afternoon, 5 more Californians boarded- 3 from SF.
We snorkeled in the morning, sea kayaked in the afternoon and that evening,
while eating dinner, dolphins swam along side of the boat. Not a bad way to
start 2007. One day we hiked a volcanic crater to the rim and SCUBA'd in
the afternoon. There were fruit bats and goats living on the crater.
The next 5 days were much the same - SCUBA diving in the mornings,
stretching on the bow, mountain biking the islands in the afternoon through
little towns and even made it to the International Dateline on one ride. I
got to stand in today and yesterday at the same time!
In the evenings we would have dinner on the boat or visit coastal villages
and end the night with the crew playing their guitars and drinking kava,
looking out at the full moon. The children in the villages are great. They
are so full of energy and they love the glow bracelets that Samantha gave me
for xmas! One night I was the town babysitter giving airplane rides and
playing tag with the little ones.
Yesterday, for our final farewell, we had another traditional Fijian BBQ on
a secluded beach and sea kayaked in the bay before returning back to the
boat for a talent show.
Today, I will stay in a village near Savu Savu with a family and return to
Nadi tomorrow afternoon for a day, before leaving for
Having a great time - and no need to worry Mom & Dad - it is very safe here
and the people are wonderful. I have now introduced pig yatzee and pilates
to the islands.
Still in
were in
curry emits into the streets. Linga picked me up there at about 3pm as we
headed to his Aunt's village. Unfortunately one can not call ahead when
bringing visitors and when we arrived, the town was in mourning for a
funeral of a 3 year old girl who died. Not a good time to entertain house
guests. Linga's cousin, Meli had the idea to take me to the jungle to visit
his family's remote house.
Now why would I embark into the jungle with strangers? Linga was one of the
local hospitality reps on the sail boat and became my friend during the
week. He led me on some of the most fantastic mountain biking trails on the
remote islands of
people I've ever met (kind of of a mix between the mom on Good Times and a
flying monkey) - he has a good heart and is gay. I don't have to worry
about him hitting on me. In addition, he has been the personal escort of
Michelle Phiffer, Xena, and the new princess of
hands.
Another 1 1/2 through the rain forest in a torrential downpour, the taxi
gets stuck in the mud and we have to push it out. We stop at a village
along the way to pick up gifts for the family. We drove up a mountain road
to the power station that supplies electricity to the island - Meli's dad
watches the site. We pull up to a long house which Meli says houses 16
people & he informs me that they have never seen a white person before!
8 children came running towards me as I exited the cab. I gave them a big
BULA and they giggled at how different I was from them. I could feel once
little girl trying to jump up behind me to touch my hair, so I took it out
of the braid to feel it and instantly I had 80 dirty little fingers in my
hair.
We went into the living room and sat on a giant mat. I quickly realized
that I had more stuff in my luggage then they had in their whole house. The
children were asking me questions about
They wanted to know if I knew movie stars? Am I married? Where are my
kids? Do you want to bath with us? I was hoping the last was a mix up of
words, which it was - they wanted me to see their pool.
I followed them into the jungle to the power station, then up over 500 steps
(and you thought my house was bad!) to the turbines and a 2 story concrete
reservoir they call their 'pool.' My parents would never let me play at the
electric company - or run with a machete, which the oldest boy led us with
to get us through the forest.
After sunset we returned to the house where I presented them with gifts from
me and other people on the boat - band-aids, children's Tylenol, and kids
books which I read them that night. I got a break from babysitting to have
Kava with the men of the family- the women don't drink because they cook,
Linga says. Later we had a feast sitting on a mat - curry chicken,
vegetables and tarot followed by a fruit salad.
I spent the evening talking with the family and showing them pictures on my
ipod. Then gave the kids the rest of the glow bracelets - which made their
lifetimes. The two oldest girls slept in the room with me for a 'sleep over
party' and the rest of them where sprawled across the living room mat, like
the Tate murder scene. It was good I gave them glow bracelets or I would
have stepped on them when I walked out to the bathroom at night.
The children awoke me early to go back up to the power station - this time I
had to take pictures. We stopped on a platform where I taught them
kick-boxing moves, and then we headed for a river. Breakfast again was on a mat
with crepes and banana jam. After breakfast we returned to the river to
wash up and put our church clothes on.
Church was fun, but I had serious flashbacks to the Jonestown Documentary I
saw recently. No Kool-Aid for me thanks. They sing and dance and on the way
to church, I taught them a song I learned in CCD (Joy, joy, joy, joy...) I
was sad to leave them when my taxi arrived to take me back to the airport.
They followed me out of town to say good-bye!
One day in Nadi again and I leave tomorrow for
eaten alive by mosquitoes - even on my eyelids. I'm off my adventure sail safe and sound, back on solid ground and I am still swaying. Either the room is moving or the morning Kava is kicking in.
Kiwis
So far 
I was picked up by the 'Stray' bus by 8am the next morning, led by Liam, the crocodile hunter's skinny replica. Liam is our bus driver & kiwi tour guide for the week. He either has ADD or a serious case of scatter-brain. He hit his head twice on the TV, drove us in circles around downtown Aukland for an hour, almost hit another bus trying to reverse uphill, then thought the bus had a 6th gear, which it obviously did not have as we slammed forward as the motor surged into 3rd gear. This is where he admits that he has never driven the bus before. He is literally crazy. Made us hug trees and talks of monsters living under bridges and in the mountains.
So I am on a bus with twenty 20-30 yr old European kids -
The next morning, we set off for the Tasman sea to a surfer mecca called Raglean - which looks like a mix between 
Glow
That night, some chefs-turned-surfers made us gormet pizzas before heading off on our sunset hike and glow worm excursion. The glow worms are all over the rocky terrain around the pathways. They look like fiberoptics and use the light they emit to attract bugs before they eat them with their little furry tentacles. The next morning we headed out to
The two of us hopped on the tour bus up a hilly one lane road for 33 km (I felt like I was in the song 'take your retards to the zoo' except a retard was taking me to the zoo.) He was right - there were some fantastic hikes with natural bridges and canyons, then we did a second to a huge waterfall. Turns out, Liam is being the bus tour guide-thing on his summer break from law school. I could not imagine this guy in a courtroom someday.
In the afternoon we drove to Rotorura where it is raining again. My hostel has a climbing wall through the middle of it, but I have no belay partner. So I'm playing on hotmail until our group meets up tonight for Sheapard's Pie and a pint of something to put the
Next we head to
Zorb
Zorbing in Rotorua was the most I have laughed in years. Imagine being sent through a sphincter into an 8 foot diameter double-membrane plastic ball connected by shock absorbers, filling it half way with water and being shot downhill on a zigzag course. This is what it would feel like to be in a washing machine.
As expected,
Even though the Tongariro Crossing is one of the most beautiful tramps, it still claims the lives of some 30-40 people a year due to severe weather changes. The morning we set out was storming, but the information center said the pass would be clear by noon, an hour or two before we would actually be summiting. Most backpackers stayed back in Taupo waiting for the weather to improve, but the short-timers in Kiwiland that had to adhere to a rigorous travel schedule were optimistic that we were going to make it – me, 2 Irish girls, a German girl and a Czech boy.
“How many of you have tramped 17km before?” Liam asked us. I was the only one with my hand raised.
“How many of you have tramped 8 hours straight before?” Again I am the only one with my hand raised and the 2 Irish girls are in flat-soled sneakers.
“Okay, Kelly from
So we set out into a desolate landscape with steam rising above the landscape from the rain hitting the thermo-reactive ground that we are walking on. The first hour warm up was steady, then we hit Hell’s Staircase – straight up using arms and legs to pull ourselves up the volcanic rock. The Irish girls complained the entire time – “F!ck this, Fuc# that, F*ck me pink. Bloody god dang mountain, I’m never doing this bloody tramp again. Hell, never going to walk again after this.”
One would think that Hell had frozen over by the temperature and wind chill going up Hell’s staircase. There were times that I was moving with all my force and not going anywhere. It was sleeting on us and every time we peaked something, there was another peak behind it.
Finally at the summit, as promised, the sun emerged and we were looking straight into Red Crater, or Hell, if you will. All that hard work for the most amazing view over the crater,
Our hostel that night was immaculate in the National Park, looking at the 3 volcanoes and it had a Jacuzzi in the middle of the courtyard to soak our muscles. We didn’t waste any time getting to the local pub for hamburgers bigger than we could fit our mouths around.
The next day I woke up and inquired at the desk on where to hire a mountain bike for the day. “Why don’t you take mine – it will probably fit you.” The guy offered up his bike.
“So where are you headed?” he asked.
“I’m going to ride to the ski area at the base of the volcano.”
His eyes widened, “Do you know how far that is?”
“33 km according to the map.” (that’s about 20 miles.)
“Yeah, uphill.”
“I know.”
He kind of smirked and rolled his eyes, probably thinking ‘what is wrong with this crazy chick? She’ll never make it.’
I had a grandiose thought of riding to the base, taking the chairlift partially up the volcano, and hiking the last 1200m to the top. 4 ½ hours later I made it to the ski area, but only one lift was running, to an uninspiring flat, so I ate lunch looking out at Mt. Doom and rode down (only an hour en retour.)
When I returned, the guy was impressed. “Wow, nobody has ever done that from here before.” I paid for it the next day. I could hardly walk, my bootie was so sore. Good thing I would be sitting on a bus all day.
Got back to
