Keir and I opted out of the meeting to return to the cottage and pack for the flight the next morning. We had planned to meet Jeff and Sue at the Captains Cafe (at the Copra Shed) around 7pm. However, walking on the road (trying to catch a ride in) we meet our "neighbors", Arthur and Shelly drinking rum and water (and some sort of drug mixed in?!?!) from a coke bottle on the side of the road by the water. Being the friendly (inebriated?) Indo-Fijians that they were, they invite us over for a sip of sumpin'sumpin. They ask us some very specific questions. We read this as "how friendly".... until later, when we return to the cottage to find that Keir's water shoes have been stolen and the cottage veranda broken into. Hmmm. More on that later.
Drunk or not, Arthur and Shelly are amusing as they introduce us to the doggie friend that has been visiting us for left over fish snacks. Named after the celebrated Chuck Norris character Texas Ranger, the dog tries to hump my leg. Yup. "Oh," they say, "he's just "playing"". Keir takes a couple of sips of rum to be polite (yeah right!) and we, move on down the road, in search of a taxi.
We meet one heading the opposite direction, flag it down and thinking it is taking a ride out to Cousteau, holler "when you come back we'd love a ride!". The taxi does a quick u-turn and we discover it is filled with an Indo-Fijian family out for a drive along the shore after picking up some kerosene. Of course they would love to drive us into town....and kindly do so. We chat with them and tease their kindergarten aged granddaughter (lovely in her pink polk-a-dot dress). They drop us at the Copra Shed and decline our money. They are so happy to have met us. We are happy to pay, and insist, given they have gone out of their way to assist us. It is another lovely interaction and says so much about the people on this island.
Jeff and Sue pull up in their pickup outside of the cafe. Introductions all around to a few of their rotary club friends. Jeff and Sue are active in the community, always at work to make life better for the locals. We meet Doug and Susan who used to live in Spain (until Doug was almost killed in a random act of crime). They now split their time between Savusavu and a village in France. Jacarita and Michael (he was born in Fiji, she in South Africa... they split their time between New Zealand and Savusavu) and hear impaired Joe, he lives on a boat and, along with his seafaring kitty, braves the seas here, there, and everywhere.
We cluster around the menu board and decide what to eat. "Black and Bleu" tuna all around (it's a specialty). Jeff and Keir zip over to Sally's (the liquor mart) to pick up some wine and beer to have with dinner. We are treating (to thank them for the fabulous last day). Dinner for four here costs a total of $40 Canadian (including the alcohol)... and we're not eating at Subway. In fact, the meal is excellent - wasabi sauce, sesame salad and fresh steamed local veg. on the side.
Dinner conversation centers around the love/hate relationship that all our new friends seem to have with Fiji. That at the "turning point" at which they all realized that they wanted to make a life change and leave their country of origin. Lively. Genuine. Enthusiastic. That's dinner.
All of these folks have left their respective countries to get away from the
frenetic pace of modern life. Yet, in some way, you could sense that they were... dare I say, bored? There was some part of them that seemed to pine for that buzz of activity and busy-ness that they'd left behind. Jarcarita joked about how the biggest thing in her day, now that she was living in Fiji, was making a phone call. Everyone at the table laughed because they understood that what once would take them not a thought and only a few minutes, now consumed their whole morning. It struck me that these people were, in some way bored. And although they had chosen to leave their "lives" behind (not regretting a second of it), they were now faced with a new set of problems. What do I do with my day?
Is this what is in store for us?
This is part of the love/hate relationship with Fiji. Yes there are the delays, the bureaucratic red tape, the slow response to requests, the waterlogged rice, and the rainy season. But really, one must confront the fact that when you ask for your world to slow down and it does, how will you fill your days, and, will you be alright with it? Is sweeping up frangipani blooms from your driveway enough? What even IS "enough"?
I think of a favorite quote of mine... "a day doesn't have to exhaust me to be worth living".
All these expats have bought into the South Pacific "dream", and although it was difficult to doubt that what they were living was everyone's ideal, one couldn't help but sense a hint of sadness that perhaps their dream wasn't everything they hoped it to be.
That is the thing though. Life just IS. No matter where you choose to be.
We hitch a ride home with Doug and the Other Susan (who are renting not 2 doors down from us). We hike up our driveway only to discover that someone/s has tried to break into the cottage. Keir's excellent Keen water shoes which were left outside to dry have been swiped, but the culprits were not able to get into the cottage. Apparently we were getting too comfortable here?!?!
I'm more than nervous (what if they try again when we are here, asleep!?!), so we call Hussein at home to get the scoop (should we be worried or not?). "Oh sheet" says Hussein, "This has happened before...those neighbors...they have LONG ARMS...if you know what I am speaking about". Yes. We do.
Whether it is the neighbors of not, we have a long night despite the fact that Hussein assures us that no one will try to harm us. He wants us to file a police report (we can't - not enough time), but do write out the account for him. Just in case it helps.
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