Sunday Best

Today we got up later than usual (we are adapting to South Pacific time), had some more of those tasty eggs for breakfast and paddled the kayaks across the bay to a point by the town of Urata where we'd been told sea turtles like to hang out amongst the sea grass. The point didn't look too far away to our eyes, but apparently distances here are like those on the flat prairies - what looks like it is a half hour ahead of you is really double that.







It was also steamingly hot out on the water, not a whiff of breeze. We had to stop several times to towel off the sweat from our reddened faces. Jenn never sweats, mind you...







We did make it. Eventually. To a point. Not THE sea turtle point. We dragged the boats up on an empty beach and had a cool off swim, a snack and a walk along the beach investigating for shells and other treasures.







Rain started drifting in from over the mountains and cooled us off. We paddled back to the point where there was an eerie chorus of screeching. We wondered (hoped) we'd found the daytime layer of the fruit bats. Alas, it was only invisible tree frogs. Well, they weren't actually invisible (though that would be a remarkable discovery) - just highly camouflaged and/or elusive.

We were happy to paddle back in the rain while being pushed along by the waves (which had picked up when the rain came in). Traveling back felt like it took half the time it took going over. Along the shore, we could see lots of families down by the water having a Sunday picnic and splashing about in the water. We were greeted with lots of "bula's" (hello's) as we passed. So very friendly are the Fijians!

Later, we rode the bikes into the town to remedy our sugar craving at whatever store we could find open (we were willing to pay!). Chocolate is a choice of two bars - dark or white. Fijians really dig white chocolate for some reason... probably because they can tax it more?!?

Returning to the cottage, we realized that I had accidentally grabbed the wrong set of keys, thus locking us out. Oops! This is the second foolish thing I've done over the past couple of days. When we were at the pearl farm, I dove into the sea to snorkel about and see the oyster lines only to notice when I was climbing out that I was still wearing my money belt! Oops... it took a couple of days to dry those pictures if the Queen out! Melli (the lady who works at the pearl farm), thought it was pretty hysterical.

Anyway, back to the locked cottage. Jenn, the master criminal jimmied her way into the veranda, but the main door was too well secured (good for us to know!). I ended up riding down to Daku resort to beg the lady chopping fish in the kitchen to look up Hussein's number on the the Internet and call him for a rescue. We ate the chocolate on the veranda while we waited (so that it wouldn't melt, of course!). Lucky for us, Hussein thought it was all pretty funny. "Happens with many of the guests before" he says.


Time for a self check-in after just over a week into our adventure:

My mind, I find, is still in my old life and that life is merely in suspension, on hold. My mind thinks it will be back - back at my desk at work, back at our home on Dilworth.

Foolishly, it thinks it's all returning. But, it's not.

And when my mind stops deluding itself and begins to operate with the new reality as a basis, I'll let you know how I really feel.

Relieved? Scared out of my wits?

Probably somewhere in between.

I do know that today, paddling across the bay with dripping sweat stinging my eyeballs - today was the first day I felt the jar on the lid begin to loosen.

Jenn and I sent most of the time just talking - about our day yesterday, the people we met, the funny little moments with Hussein's family and Susan and Jeff, and Collin. Both of us seemed more at ease, as if the shift had settled a notch lower. A new level of comfort. Still some uncertainty, some holding, some doubt.

But, the lid definitely turned a little.

It helped to remind ourselves of just how hard Collin had laughed at Jenn when she expressed the nagging fear of "What if we are NEVER able to find jobs EVER AGAIN?!?"