Feel's like Home

The loveliest weekend to date began with me departing Suva at 7 am with a backpack full of snacks, and a bouquet of tropical flowers all aimed at making the weeklong stay of my favorite person in the world the best possible. The bus ride included me reading a page out of a book and gluing my face to the window and then my Fiji map to see my location on Viti Levu and how much longer until Nadi International Airport. After 4 hours of lovely overheated bus seat I was well prepared to welcome Caitlin to her Island adventure, in two hours from my arrival. I meandered around the arrival area and looked at all the fantastic touring options available to me, my favorite one being the $600,000 villas on Denarau with a slogan like cutting the Fiji out of Fiji Islands as best it can, how can you resist.
Well in my two hours wait I created a name sign in order for her to recognize me in my new and Fijianized form, I was wearing a sulu of course, and the formal one so that might throw her off. There was something lingering on my mind that she brought up, and I couldn’t decide if I would participate also or not. She said something about crying, and I decided at one time in order for her not to feel odd I would join her in an emotional reunion after a 4 month separation. I knew the time was coming near when everyone bunched around the arrival door. I was attempting to look good by leaning against something and almost knocked over a pay as you go internet console. Finally someone walks around the corner and she made some sort of goofy gesture I think signaling recognition and finally I notice Ohh! It’s Caitlin. I was looking for my beloved big poof of hair maybe sparkles and fireworks in slow motion, but nope sort of anticlimactic until the emotions set in, and bam things got sloppy. Well I was a bit choked up and excited, to the point I didn’t even hold my name sign up, which was intended to be upside down and funny. I really didn’t say anything to her for the first 5 minutes or so, and of course the whole magical cliché explosion of excitement in tears was a little off, because the thing is that is a 2 person party and when Caitlin just gives me a little smirk and saying happy to see me? I just sort of cried more in defeat. All in all, besides me completely losing my composure, the reunion was very proper, and loving, but next time as always a little more outward joy from Caitlin would really help my self esteem. Also questions like “what happened to this side ab you were so proudly proclaiming the existence of?” really hurts the body image, which arose later in our escapades.
Many things also came as complete failures. The beautiful flowers I purchased and wanted to blow her mind with the rich florescent colors of Viti Levu, but it turns out that the flowers happen to reside in Venezuela. While driving by a village turns out they resemble a Venezuelan village, and after awhile my random, not very exciting, facts about Fiji began to become a pain, literally, I was asked not to talk too much because her neck got sore from looking to the right. I was very compliant and was quiet, for about 2 minutes. But I guess her request was reasonable being on an airplane for 18 hours, but thankfully she was very reasonable with tolerating my excessive chatter.
Rest and relaxation pretty much sums up the week with Caitlin mixed with the best entertainment, and luckily food, Fiji has to offer. The best food obviously came from the kitchen of Danny Dunn, described by my guest as “almost curry.” From then we moved to the mixed reviews of barfi and the magical world of Suva’s vegetable market. Overall all of my preparations were completely wasted, I bought way too much delicious meats, cow heart yummy, and fruit avocado, which nobody likes, but that doesn’t matter, what matters is that personally I ate way too much and felt good doing it and Caitlin didn’t kill me from poor quality of food or lack of.
I did attempt at one time to kill the joy of the Fiji trip by not explaining the ruggedness of a jungle hike up to the peak of Mt. Korobaba. Did she enjoy herself? That’s probably debatable. I think how it went was one of those things that one hates until looking back on all the magnificent scenery, and of course super special bonding time with a significant other one may find in moments covered in spider webs, mud and running from giant millipedes. I don’t want to brag but I did hike it barefoot again, not a big deal, but just thought you may enjoy that factoid.
Wednesday we departed for Mango Bay, and this resort, which is quintessential Fiji, we were definitely not Danny styling anything. Initially I intended on constant activity with no time between snorkeling and kayaking or maybe even coconut bowling, which mango bay is known for. After the first bit of disappointment of not moving I found myself sleeping under a palm tree on the beach, and believe it or not enjoying it very much. Caitlin should probably enjoy this blessing because on any normal occasion she would have gotten earful of childish Danny “Lets go Play!!!” but for some reason the mixture of Fiji time and Caitlin time engulfed my whole and I let it happen. Realizing and accepting the fact Fiji has finally taken over my body and way of life was terrible but yet very nice at the same time, so thank you Caitlin for possessing me with fear of angering you to realize the sheer ecstasy one may enjoy when indulging in Fiji time, I would like to add this should be enjoyed in moderation. We did get a whole ton of time snorkeling, and a little beach wandering, which on Danny time would have killed us both. Evenings included some sort of delicious fish meal, and then to top it all off we had the ever so manly Mudslide alcoholic beverage which seemed to me just a good ole’ chocolate milkshake with a kick.
Evenings were difficult with our fellow Mango Bayers romping around drunk all evening. Caitlin was so lucky to overhear one Aussie accompany his mate to the Bure only leading him to a very unacceptable place to puke only response to be “BLOODY MURDER NOOOOO!” ha serves him right for keeping innocent sleepers awake.
After spending many hours observing the magnificently blue star fish it was time to depart to our next vacation destination. Of course we were able to enjoy a 3 hour bus ride beforehand which sets up the mood for adventure, but we did go shopping upon arrival. During check in at the hotel we were told a number of horror stories by the manager of the Sunvies Motel and Hostel of people being drugged at the local bar and pretty much said just stay inside, and with a room including air conditioning we weren’t going to argue. Also I loved the unusually cleanliness of the hotel, the only problem was the world’s fastest and largest spider attacking Caitlin in the bathroom. Luckily all that is man, Danny Dunn, has a solid sole on his sandal and an iron will to protect the innocent. After 5 misses with the heel of doom and 3 girly shrieks as it scurried a full lap around the bathroom I left victoriously leaving only a guts, death, and justice behind.
The next day we were up at 7 heading to the Mercure resort to catch a ride to the magnificent South Sea Cruises. Luckily the hotel was about 2 blocks away. The first thing notable upon arrival was actually diverse group of people who were partaking in the epic adventure. The Asian man with a Miller High life muscle shirt was quite a treat to see, because no matter how far you are there’s Wisconsin still right with you. The Catamaran, which is a ship with two hulls if you were curious, zipped us past all of the resort islands where there is a sand beach all the way around, a interior of a few palm trees, and a resort. Not something I was ever too interested in because they are all loaded with English gap year tourists doing the same trip around the world Australia, Thialand, Fiji, and America, and after awhile they really aren’t that fun, but more to come about them later. Arriving at Mana Island we were transferred to our beautiful boat called the Seaspray, which rocks the ocean with its massive sails. Suddenly a low deep rumble from under the boat began and we were moving. This created a little suspicion in the whole necessity of the sails, after about 5 minutes they hoisted sails, and I noticed that the sails were perfectly parallel with the entire boat, and I’m guessing in that position it really wouldn’t catch the most wind, so we were on the most novelty sailboat in the world with sails completely incapable of propelling us anywhere but a slight rock from a good gust.


Our first stop was at the ever so popular Madriki Island, which is famous for the Tom Hanks film Cast Away. Unfortunately we were not able to meet Wilson, but we got by with a little snorkeling. Unfortunately I can’t say snorkeling was much of a bonding moment, because I think beautiful fish and coral give Caitlin a little ADD, no offence. I would try and experience this with her, but as we were going I would see something, point, and look back only to see she had veered off and was gazing at a parrot fish or something. I would attempt to wait it off but the trance of the colorful stripes must have taken Caitlin to a place untouchable by the attempts by me to share these special moments with each other, so I moved on…alone . Well worse things have happened, because it was some really sweet coral, and I did see a black as pitch beche de mer, sea cucumbers to the layperson, with black spikes jutting out all over its body. Best of all it pooped, and after a glance back I learned the entirety of its life consists of pooping, because it the 2 feet it moved all day the entire thing was littered with little gray poop.
After an adequate amount of time snorkeling, we decided to search the island and unfortunately it was time to leave. I really didn’t think we had enough time on the island, but lunch was waiting on the boat, and I wasn’t going to be late for that, and since it was part of our cruise I figured I should probably attempt to eat everything, at least without feeling sick.



At the next island it was a little disappointing, but for some reason the guys who perform the sevusevu every day at the same time for this tour weren’t there, go figure, Fiji timed again. This was sort of disappointing, but in order to get them back I decided to eat about 4 muffins and some raisin bread before we got off, also I notice there was a lot of beer and pop left, so in order not to let it go to waste I decided to throw a few in my bag, just doing my duty of not being wasteful, no need to write words of praise about my good deeds I already know.
Another night back to Martintar, and we decided to eat at a Thai restaurant where I bought an Indian dish like a moron, but that is ok. What angered me the most was they wouldn’t give me free water. They required me to buy a bottle of Fiji water, which is outrageous, so I enjoyed a nice fruity mango yogurt drink that came in a manly martini glass and I know Caitlin could almost not believe the rugged man who she once thought she knew, oh what I have became is just something special, I could tell she saw me in a new light as I lifted the delicate glass up to my lips, and rifled the pinky out before sipping, always keeping it classy.
I thought I keep it light that evening so I ordered a small vegetarian meal, and after consumption we discussed the contents, and being Cheese, yogurt, and oil, I know good luck pooping right, really didn’t make it all that light after all, but at least it was delicious. And again my mind was blown as we walked back after dinner when I learned something of the tourist town night life. Hookers! I think there were six three on two different corners, I just thought it was really interesting, and how much they stood out was a little shocking.
The next day was unfortunately the last day for Caitlin to be blessing me with her presence, which, might I add this trip was probably the most meaningful things she has ever done for me not to mention the most enjoyable weeks in my stay in Fiji. There were just so many reasons that made the visit great, but getting sappy isn’t for my audience of three, but maybe between Caitlin and me.



The day consisted of a long sweaty walk, and a long breakfast with the ladies at the hostel finishing off with a Fijian goodbye song accompanied with one of the ladies jamming the ukulele. At the airport it was unfortunately sad, but the insignificant month before another reunion really made things easier. After a good hug she walked through the security. Of course I wanted to drag exposure on as long as possible so I glued my face to the window with cm gaps that were transparent at watched her begin checking in. I attempted more contact, but it isn’t Caitlin’s nature to really be looking back or in any direction I might be, so no surprises when she didn’t see me.
Now I was so lucky to be able to ride a bus 4 hours back to Suva. After a ½ hour wait I hopped up into a mini bus and on the trip I felt a belonging and a sense of accomplishment. In this big van there was me and 10 other Fijians ranging from 6 to 70 years old, and for some reason sweating and living everyday life similar to these people at that moment sometime as I taught myself to count to ten in Fijian I realized the unique experience I was having and how far I have gone since my first encounters. I guess it is just one of those moments where I just felt comfortable in probably a very uncomfortable situation for many people who would be placed in the situation. Being relatively a stranger in an odd land with different people, and the fact I tolerated the discomfort of sitting for 4 hours in a 100 degree bus swapping arm sweat with my neighbor shows how Fijian I actually have become.

Kartiking

Thursday this last week caught me by surprise when the USP decided to host a little competition called the poetry slam. Being the little poet I am my attendance was necessary. The little I know about poems is that there is some kind of formation that I don’t understand, because nothing ever usually rhymes, I’ve tried to count the syllables and that doesn’t seem to work, so really what I have noticed is it happens to be pretty much just writing. Well Fiji style I feel means can you curse and can you throw in a little potty humor, you have a winner. The winners were definitely a little, different, in terms of writing a meaningful poem. In second place we had a little thug Indo Fijian with dark curly hair down to the end of his back who talked like a hip little street thug. But once he started rapping, because he refused to conform to the rest of the styles, his lyrics weren’t really all that good. I remember him talking about how large his member is when its limp, apparently 8 feet long, and then, the best rhyme of the night, “taste my paste!” That got them, the people couldn’t handle themselves. When you speak like this mixed with about 10 F***per minute to a crowd who can’t even take their shirts off when swimming its too much to handle. People roared in their very high pitched laughter and pretty much fell off their seats. The victor of the competition really blew their mind when it came to thoughts many may have never heard verbalized before. First he began by saying this poem isn’t for any of his students, and being the wiz I am at critical thinking I concluded he was a professor. Well the title was “Eating Mangos” but after hearing what he had to say about supple things and squeezing what have you so delicately between his thumb and forefinger I don’t think he was eating a mango anymore. This was critical thinking gone wrong, so so so many bad images, but somebody thought it was pretty creative. The only thing I think the innuendo’s needed to be a teensy bit more subtle to even try and make it a metaphor. More like a how to poem, and not quiet what I was looking for in my poetry competition.
So for a synopsis of an Indo Fijian weekend will be difficult because I could talk about the food and issues that come along with it forever. My friend Kartik invited me out to his house at a place called Cuvu. I must say the family was really awesome. Grandpa Gagarj, which means mighty elephant, pretty much just moves from the porch during the day to his mat on the floor of the living room. The other two who live there cook curry all freaking day, and while they do that they constantly offer this little piggy samples of it, which usually is about eating a plateful. His younger sister happens to be going to beauty school, so I offered her some practice and she filed my nails and painted them with protective layer of stuff so they were really shiny and pretty. To make the rest of me look good they offered to play Danny dress up with an Indian formal outfit called a Sharwini, and some really slick shoes called Mogiri. One problem with the whole outfit though. They were pretty much the skinniest skinny ankle pants ever, because if they got any smaller they couldn’t go on, and I even broke off a scab after putting it on, ooww. Hopefully I didn’t get any blood on them.


Oddest part of the weekend came when Kartik wanted to show me the Fijian Hotel which is located about 2 km down the road from his house. Great news to me! The water pressure at his house was very weak and many times unable to make the toilet flush, so I found that it would have been a bit awkward to drop one and leave it sitting in their toilet. Well since the Fijian hotel is a 5 star resort the toilets have to flush, and therefore it was an ample opportunity to relieve myself. I entered the facilities on a mission nothing was going to throw me off. When I plopped myself on the seat I heard footsteps follow me into the bathroom. ‘No way did he just follow me in here?’ So I listened. The footsteps sort of just were waiting next to the sink near the far end of my stall. I think he must have felt a little awkward because he first washed his hands waited for awhile, and then went to the bathroom. Because of this odd order of bathroom functions I concluded it was indeed Kartik. Well, since you don’t just follow someone into the bathroom and wait for them to do their business I decided to mess with him by seeing how long he would wait for me. My business was done and I just sat there snickering to myself about my evil intent waiting for the results of my test. Another person walked in and yet he and I were in a stalemate. Finally I got really board and began to unseat myself from the wasting position, and he asks “Danny are you ok in there?” catching me totally off guard. “Well I’m asking because you haven’t been making any noises for awhile.” Completely blown away by the awkwardness I needed to regain footing by attempting to make him realize he was just listening to me in a bathroom and how odd that was. During this time an Australian tourist was using the urinal as I explained no one follows people into the bathroom and listens to them poop, but he felt well justified because there was a group of white people showing up to the resort and thought it would be weird. Something I think I couldn’t really argue, so he justified following me into the bathroom, and I couldn’t argue it.


Time has proven I feel that girls get much more attention wherever they may go, and I have just broken that. Walking down the main street of Nadi and someone bumped my arm. I glanced back and didn’t recognize the person who was looking at me so I ignored them. As I walked away I heard a call “Hey Baby!” ‘what was that?’ I thought and again I heard again “Hey Baby!” oh boy! Stick it to the world, because no more just cat calls but now buck bleats, hot stuff. Suddenly Kartik whispers over to me, that was a prostitute. Aww man ruins everything! I wasn’t getting just a legitimate call, but it was for personal monetary gain, lame. Just another minor blow to the self esteem.



I would like to just throw a thank you out to my mother for being so great and providing me with some great support while I’ve been in Fiji by supplying me with a constant supply of sweets and yummy American goodness, and some homemade baked goods. I am also glad that there is such a business in Fiji that through rain or sun or tsunami and cyclone my parcel will cost me $2.40 and be beaten to a pulp until they know there is no meat within the package. There were pieces of my bocks falling off, and I had to go through the process of opening it and seeing the bag of chips exploded throughout the box and then the guy points to the Little Debbie asking “what is this?” “that is oatmeal” he glares at me to the cream pie and nearly shouts as his face begins to turn red, and holding back a shout says “MEAT?” finding this a little amusing I decided to be a little smart. “No its an oatmeal cream pie” he didn’t quite get it I could tell. “It’s made by Little Debbie” I lean in for a whisper “they’re my favorite.” I then was allowed to package it back up. Luckily his subordinate was much more reasonable and saw what happened to my bag of chips and offered to close it back up for me. I held it up and bam three staples across the top of the bag, good as new. The Fiji Post willing to go that extra mile to make life good for everyone.
Well a week behind and one more to catch up, so look forward to it and hopefully my crappy writing won’t deter anyone from reading. Unfortunately I am a week behind on the life events, but right now I have reached the one month left period of my adventures and am really looking forward to enjoying an action packed end to this whole ordeal. It saddens but excites me to be nearing the end. All I want is to leave with no regrets and feel that I made the most out of my time. Right now I think things should be pretty good upon return where things are complete but we shall see as events unfold.

Who knew being covered in Guano could be so fulfilling

After a week long adventure scouring the island of Taviuni for adventure a fair amount of time was needed to recover injuries that I have incurred, or maybe I was all adventured out? Either way life has been slightly less action packed unless if you count literary adventures in the USP library as an exhilarating exhibitions into the unknown world of infinite knowledge in a library. Unfortunately I found a great time to actually enjoy reading and learning things, because seriously why would I read Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles in 3 days when I’m in Fiji? I guess it’s just one of those things.
I had a test one day and it turns out Fiji time is allowable for that also. One of my classmates happens to be a middle age Tongan woman named Angie who feels the strange need to be the class clown. Every day, even 15 minutes into the test, she comes waddling in huffing and puffing and exclaims how she has to rush everyday to class, and then the punch line comes in her nasally voice I cannot understand “WAH WAH WAAAA” and the entire class bursts into a hysterical laughter. Not wanting to stand out I usually chuckle right along and throw in a few stomach pain motions in there and look around to close classmates whom I totally sell I’m laughing too. This time though I just was dumbfounded by the indifference to being late to a class, and the professor doesn’t say anything. I would also like to commemorate Monday to being the first class my real professor has taught a class. Before, for whatever reason, he seemed to be stuck on the Solomon islands for two whole months.
Another life event has occurred this past week. I have become renowned throughout the American students in Fiji as one who can really pack away a solid amount of food, so being the competitive group of individuals we are things turned competitive. I was put to the challenge. 6 people 6 large Pizza Hut pizzas and one hungry afternoon brings about a very slow moving evening. Well turns out this Pizza hut was incapable in baking more than one pizza simultaneously, so each person began at their own time. Fortunately I was the last one to receive my pizza only a fantastic way to establish my dominance. 20 minutes late to begin, and the first to finish I think was winning in style. The only problem I found was that sure I finished, but so did a 5’2’’ 100 lbs Annalise, sure she slipped into a Pizza coma for 24 hours, but I think that pretty much gives me defeat, because wow I think she almost died, and that much heart and dedication should be commended anywhere. Sure I walked around and munched off other people’s pizza’s but I just never imagined eating slice to slice with one smaller than I.
Next memorable expedition was to Wailotou Snake God Cave. After a 2 hour bus ride down a lovely 3 years in the making gravel road, soon to be paved at the end of 2010, we arrived in the village. As we walked around, as in the Roaches, Edgar and I, we suddenly heard some yelling from one of the shacks and out came a teenager clad only in a tiny towel barely wrapping around him, and might I add it looked as if he just climbed out of the shower. Odd enough, but he added to it when he constantly held his crotch when he talked to us. Well, showing the Fijian hospitality I have grown so accustomed to we were invited into their humble abode, which for a village house it was rather very nice; Large living room with three separate bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom all inside. Well, also in true Fijian fashion, we were asked to wait awhile. 45 minutes later after just plopped down on the floor waiting for our young guide to return with kerosene for the lantern. In the meantime we hung out with his dad who actually changed his clothes by taking the shirt right off of his sons back, which I found quite fun.
We made our way down the road to the chiefs house. En route we discussed proper protocol, which was pretty much just saying Dua OH before we approach him. Funny thing is later we found the name for bat poop / guano sounded very similar to Dua so I’m not exactly sure what we said that was so respectful, but after receiving the 25 dollar entry fee he allowed our entry. It was nice because I always imagined the Chiefs to be big power hungry brutish men, and very strict with their rules, but that is very far from the truth. Turns out the chief is just a gentle old man who seemed very nice, and humble. In the beginning of the cave it is just a low ceilinged crack in the mountain. After about 20ft in the guide said going barefoot would be beneficial due to the slick rocks ahead. Well everything was fine and dandy with our single shadow cast lantern and a homemade torch, which just reminded me of a molitove cocktail, being just some kind of cap on a glass bottle filled with kerosene. Fortunately I was so blessed to be the one who got to carry it, sounds fun except I think the whole blinding effect of a fire in your perifs really hinders vision in a cave. Needless to say my walking skills were lacking on the slimy floor, and whenever rocks would show up somehow I would end up stabbing myself directly in the healing infected foot I am so luckily still healing from. Needless to say I was getting a bit frustrated tagging along in the dark hurting my poor foot constantly.
Well finally the ground began to get really really soft, and the cavern became huge. If you looked really hard with the lantern light you could see thousands of enormous fruit bats circling the cave. Very exciting until you find out you aren’t walking on the greatest dirt ever, but instead we happened to be standing ankle deep in Guano. Later up the cave the terrain became rough so I needed to use my hands and plop goes my hand in a enormous pile of dung. Well after a while and a number of mishaps my entire body was completely covered in guano from head to toe poop everywhere. The worst part was my infected foot made a nice little circle of dead skin which was popped open on the hike. My nice little pocket foot didn’t waste any time in being useful because it instantly began to scoop up poop and squish inside yummy. I don’t know exactly what sort of odd diseases you can get from dealing with other things poop, but bring it on ringworm!! Since everything was just pissing me off I went back to the basics and began to sing. My only defense against a blood rage of murder was sticking to my guns and hummed out a few church hymns, and topped it off with a good ol’ Davy Crocket song.
Well once out of the cave which I with the lack of contemporary lighting devices I didn’t feel I saw too much a top largest caves in the world. But having poop smeared all over my body made things very easy to cheer up. Afterward the Fijian family who took us on the trip fed us a superb lunch, and I finished off by falling asleep on their floor setting me up for one heck of a bus ride home.
New story. Well due to the attempts by USP to bring the campus together as one and forget about the ethnic differences that have always sort of separated the campus they decided to have 3 nights of socials in a row. Thursday we had the ever so popular indigenous Fijian social, Friday the USP social where everyone is invited, and then Saturday there was an Indian Fijian social. Well I can’t imagine why all three would be straight together.



First the Fijian social. I find out that they have a mandatory dress code apparently which consists of a dress sulu and a bula shirt, also known as a touristy flowery shirt which have turned into a dressy shirt here. Obviously because I can’t say I’m much of a fan I didn’t have a bula shirt, so I was in desperate need. All the shops were already closed, so options were limited. Luckily some of the more outgoing locals in class arranged for me to meet them at the Copper Chimney where they would lend me one. Turns out Edgar didn’t have one either I find out when I was leaving, and what luck they brought two. Perfect, well party starts at 7 and it happened to already be there. Figuring it would be rude to borrow a shirt and bolt we decided sitting and watching the six Fijian girls finish their pitcher of Bounty and coke. When they reached the end another appeared, and so on and so forth 8:30 and they were on their 5th pitcher or so, while I watched them take a picture of 5 people swap the camera snap a photo switch the camera with an alternative person, and take another. Either way every person was in a picture with every combo of people possible making which seriously seemed like an endless amount of possibilities. Either way I wasn’t too thrilled. Luckily Edgar had an ace up his sleeve. With some quite 100 texts and an hour too late Arti and Natalie show up and take gave us a reason to head to the social.
It was great to get out of there, but the unfortunately the line was probably 40 minutes long Fiji time hour and a half. What didn’t help was our respect for order and control as the line moves forward. I believe we were #56 in the line, but somehow 278 people entered before us because there is just such a huge disregard for the integrity of a line. My favorite was watching them seriously walk right to the front of a nice organized line and get an arm between the wall and the poor individual attempting to guard their position. Slowly through the use of force, and a little face squishing against the wall and a shoulder they would pop through. The goofy thing was I was the only one who was upset. Everyone else accepted their inability to do anything about it and gave up. Being super hungry I got angry at my inability to control something so simple as my place in line. To demonstrate the desire for segregation at this “Fijian” social they had a list of all Fijians on campus, and would check everyone’s name off as they went through. Being white they sort of just push me ahead and don’t care. Edgar had his name looked up until he specified that he was American, because they can’t tell the difference.
After entrance was permitted there was an equally long and slow line moving towards the table of nearly infinite food. I didn’t want to wait so I ate the scraps of the American’s who were already there luckily some of them didn’t like the sweet and sour chicken. The meals were enormous, and really soupy, especially to be used with two thin paper plates to hold it. This was all sorts of lovo food cooked in lolo (coconut milk) and it sort of either spills or seeps through the paper. When the line thinned out, and I was the last one in line I moved slowly to the mountain of cassavay goodness, and as I meandered in a starving haze the floor sort of left out from under me. Luckily my dance moves were capable at keeping the feet up, but only after a 10 second improvisational dance. Well I got to the food and slop splash I was ready to go. Since there was no good reason to keep things clean, I dumped her on the walk back to the table. Also did I mention that this is a classy event? Well after everyone was done eating the free beer began, yes free beer at a school sponsored event. 36 kegs to be exact, so not only is it sponsoring drinking, but also binge drinking too, because there is no way that many kegs were going to disappear without a little over doing it.
The next night was the USP social and pretty much the same except more people and not free beer. There also was live entertainment from different student groups. Each group represented a different island nation, and they would perform a traditional dance, which none of them really look too terrible difficult. Except one took a lot of courage because the extra burly beefy Samoan men decided to dress in drag which included some tight spandex and a sports bra, and give a little scandalous dance for the people. Lovely. The next night I went and got food and left, go me for taking advantage of socials!
Well that was my social weekend. Though it didn’t sound like I was very social I did give the whole “How’s it?” “Good, U” “Good” awkward silence “Well I’ll catch you later” a good run plenty of times. I also really hurt a guys feeling though. I was talking to some guy in the food line at the Fijian social and then someone I thought was just his friend came up and stuck his hand out for a good shake. Not recognizing him I said “Danny” he responds “I know you met me a long time ago with Pesa” and a sad face came over his face. “OH yeah” oooooh ouch sorry Tom, but I really didn’t think we hit it off that well anyways. I’m sure he understands.
Well I think I covered most everything that has occurred in the last who knows how long, but I know I missed stuff, for example I went to an island out off Suva point, and we hung out on Sunday nothing spectacular, except I did my first double climb of a coconut tree in one day and daily picking was up to 7. Huge numbers accumulated. Unfortunately the ones we opened with a rock was completely barren of any moisture or meat. How lame. So now you know everything Moce!