This is why I slept so well the first night here at the cottage - it rained all night long forcing the postponement of the nightly activities. The past two nights there has been no rain and I find myself alternating between being irritated and amused by the noisy roosters and dogs.
There is also a mysterious thumping noise that occurs randomly on the cottage roof which we continue to put off investigating, assuming it is papayas dropping or clumsy fruit bats hitting the roof. If it's something worse or bigger than that, we really don't want to know.
Another mystery is the whereabouts of the tailless cottage gecko which Jenn spotted when we first arrived, but has eluded us ever since, except for darting shadows in dark corners. He likes to cackle at us in the evening from his hidden perch up high and leaves us not so tiny gecko poop presents to find in the morning. How kind of him... I have designated him as the official cottage mascot and charged him with watching things from the inside - our new dog buddy can handle the outside patrol.
Today, the rain waits until 8:00 a.m. before it falls. Rainy season or not, even the locals are fed up with the amount and frequency of rain. At the market yesterday, we bought local eggs and they are our breakfast treat. The yolks are a sunset orange and the whites fluffy and full of flavor. We also have fresh papaya doused with kaffir lime juice. The lime is so good we decide to cut slices to add to our water bottles.
Hussein is coming today to drive us to the town of Labasa, with other stops on the island and in the rainforest. It's about a two hour drive and he's promised to pull over at some good photo op sites along the way. However, when he arrives promptly at 9:30, he inquires if we still wish to go in all the rain. It is teeming by this point.
"I think it will rain all day and the views will be bad," he says. "We can go in another day. Most taxi drivers will take you in the rain because they want to make money, but if I take you today and you are not happy, that is not good business for me."
We decide to go tomorrow. If the rain stops.
So, we have an open day to read and do emails. Around noon, we can see the mountains across the bay emerging from the mist which is a good sign. Half an hour later, the sun comes out.
We decide to go for our first kayak and head along the shore towards Split Rock and the Jean Michel Costeau resort - Jacques son's place - which when we biked past it the other day, looked pretty swank. The sun is very hot. I start sweating like mad and have my doubts that 30 sunblock is any match for this kind of intense heat. We wave at the children playing, swinging out from tree branches over the water and find lots of coral to investigate from our boats.
At Split rock we notice a boat from the Cousteau resort dropping off some snorkeling Brits. We meander about in our kayaks and watch for the prime spot where they go and when the boat pulls away, we zip on over to the coral reef to check it out. It is a good site, worthy of the Cousteau name. Plenty of bright parrot and clown fish and fresh coral of all shapes and size. I tie up my kayak and snorkel about while Jenn guides me to the best views from above. The water is warm enough to be a bath.
After a swim at a beach, we head back and put the kayaks away. A quick shower and we're on the bikes again, back into town to Surf and Turf, one of the better known restaurants. Along the way, we run into a convoy of police and army personnel. They swarm from everywhere. The Fijian Prime Minister is on the streets of Savusavu, shaking hands with the peeps. The armed security guards in fatigues are questioning everybody, keeping the PM's route clear.
We ride straight through it all. No one stops us.
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