Sundries

Bula! The most beloved musicians, by the young people here, is Rhianna (sp) and of course, Bob Marley. The boys crank up Marley while they’re working, and sing along. Rastaman Vibrations. Music is bootlegged. At the small store in Nagara, they sell hundreds of movies and CD’s, all bootlegged. I don’t think the copyright police bother with it here. I can’t even begin to relate the many stories Roberta & John have under their hat. Roberta is an occupational therapist in a past life, so she suggested we meet with the only physical therapist on the island, and all three of us come up with some speech supplies that I could send back for their small clinic. I much obliged. Many people have strokes here. They work and play very hard; but also, there is no blood pressure and cholesterol medications that have helped extend lives like in the west. I was invited to the church in Waigiri with Bevu, (she is in the picture above with her grandson, Joshua); Matei is another son (they have 9 kids...one day her son, Mau said, "you only have 2 children? And Kent said, "yep, my wife is lazy!" That got a huge laugh from everyone. Going to church is quite a cultural experience. This particular church was built in the 1800's, with beautiful stained glass windows. Afterwards, we went to the International Date line and took pictures of us; Bevu is standing in yesterday, and I'm standing in today! Then off to rock slides where only the locals can take you; we all jumped into a raging creek and the men rode down the rocks on their butts. We swam in the cool ponds and headed back up the coast in a downpour.

Under water in Fiji

Lionfish Dive entry. I've enjoyed all my dives; the longer you're here, the better it gets and the more you see. Being that this is the off-season, I've been the only diver on the boat, aside from the divemaster, so it's been one-on-one for the whole trip, which is great. Learning the new camera is a challenge, but we're getting there. Stay tuned; I'll continue to add underwater photos as they're processed. Vinaka!

Child's memorial Somosomo-clothes on line wash day I am out of synch on dates and times...but, another day in the life... It is Tuesday here; we are excited about our new president, but in America, it is Monday, so we have to wait another day. There is a line on the island, at the 180 degree meridian, where you can have one foot in Monday, and one foot in Tuesday! After Kent’s dive this morning, we ventured into town by bus to replenish our groceries. We walked around the village of Somosomo; some of the sights: again, peaceful happy people living a simple life; it may look poor from our frame of reference, but underneath, it is so rich. Colorful clothes hanging on lines to dry in the humid heat, perpetual clattering of birds, laughter of children, men out with machetes gathering food in big sacks, women and children splashing in the river that runs through town (this year, the gov’t will be building a hydro power plant using the velocity of the river), bread fruit drying on corrugated metal racks, horses lazily grazing. At one house, we saw a mound of dirt, surrounded by stones and decorated with flags of colorful cloth. A man approached and introduced himself; Jone, a smiling rotund Fajiian, manager of the school in Somosomo, told us this was a memorial, the place where his 12 year old son was buried one year ago. The boy was playing at school, and was hit in head with a rock; a blood clot formed that could not be operated on (there was no power in the village); he died shortly afterwards. Jone invited us to his front yard to meet his wife, 2 sons and daughter. With big smiles, he said repeatedly, they so missed their son, and showed us a picture of him. In his deep brown eyes, you could see his sorrow. But his family was, at the same time, so filled with joy. Losena talked about the village, her children. They knew about our new president; they quizzed us about Alaska. They were so friendly and engaging. Before we left, they gifted us with a bagful of bananas & invited us to dinner next Tuesday for a meal cooked under stones in the ground (chicken & taro). Wonderful. As we waited in a shaded spot for the bus back to Makaira (on slo-mo time; it is best NOT to wear a watch), we met Simon, a man from Suva, Fiji, who was in the army, and had been to Afghanistan twice. He was looking forward to getting back to his quiet, peaceful island at the end of his duty. Actually, there are frequent coups here, with different leadership arising; it is mostly between the army and the government, arguing back & forth. Simon said it was mostly petty and ridiculous, and had nothing to do with the Fijiian people most of the time. Ah politics. Why don’t we ever learn???? The bus was packed, with Fajiians and Indians, 3 to a seat, and people standing. It was like playing leap frog; we’d stop and let someone off at the back of the bus, but 10 of us had to empty out to let him out; over and over we’re scrambling back and forth until the bus could breathe again and everyone could sit, though quite intimately! The bus has no windows, so we are all saved by ocean breezes. As we raced alongside the sea, a man on a horse was riding furiously on the beach, a woven mat for his saddle, trying to beat the bus…or wear out his horse. It was a beautiful sight, indeed. We have never been anywhere in the world where people lived so simply and were so filled with authentic happiness and respectful modesty. No TV’s or satellite dishes (except at resort up the coast). No people begging on the street like in Asia; far less population density and plenty of food; many living off the land and sea.

Where are the vegies??

Here is something that has really surprised me. I went to the market and realized there are hardly any vegetables here. Most are importetd (that is, when the boat shows up…very unreliable). I bought tomatoes and carrots; but no lettuce, green peppers, all the regulars. A great deal of fruit, however. Bananas, avacados, mangos, bread fruit, papayas, etc. I’m craving veggies! Roberta says it is because the climate is too hot, and the soil is not good for vegetables…gets too warm. Although you can do it, with extra care & attention. But the Fajiian diet consists of fruit, root vegetables (taro, which explains why their teeth are so white; supposedly contains natural fluoride, we are told) and meat (pork-wild pigs, chicken, and my favorite, fish). So we are eating a lot of rice and fish. I go wild at fresh vegetable markets, which will be plentiful when we get to California, Feb. 1. Today Kent dove at Magic Mountain and Shangri-la. Divers like to name their good spots, and he’s diving with a local, who knows where they are. His divemaster's name is Gio, which means "shark" in Fijiian. Who knew? In the afternoon, we hiked an old horse trail, though still sweating hot, the shadows and sun falling behind us, and soft breezes higher up in the mountains helped. Wild horses grazed, framed by gigantic broad leafed foliage, coconut trees and bush. It looks prehistoric. Plenty for horses to eat. Took some pictures of gigantic spiders weaving their webs between the trees. Later, sitting with Roberta (everyone calls her Auntie), watching the family play volleyball while men worked constructing the new bure, we realized that we were staying in a village right here; chickens pecking and birds squawking, children running about, imitating the men; Kent learned to weave split palm to add to the pile that will be placed on the roof tomorrow. That is then covered with a tarp, which is then covered with long grasses…all to keep the rain out (but open on the sides to let breezes slide through). We returned to our bure amidst the clamor of insect sounds and crashing waves. Moce.

Church & Chief

A day in the life…. While Kent was out diving, I made friends with a village chief! My intention was to attend a Catholic mass in Naucelecele. I walked to the village in scorching heat, my clothes dripping as I arrived at the old Catholic church. The mass started at 11, and I arrived at 10. At this point, I was awfully thirsty (stupid…forgot my water bottle), so I walked to a home nearby and asked for a cup of water. Turns out this was the village chief’s home and he invited me in to chat. Introduced me to his wife and daughter; his 3 year old directing me to take her picture over and over again so she could see the playback. The house consists of one large room with no furniture (Fijians sit on the floor), with mats rolled off to the side for sleeping at night. An adjoining room made up the small cooking area. Most people, besides the elders, speak both Fajian and English; most merchants are Indian, a hold over from the days when they were brought to the island for labor.) So, we talked, and soon heard drums beating, which is to alert villagers that church will be starting. I thanked the chief after downing 4 more cups of water, and went on my way. Church was inspiring. I haven’t dipped my fingers in holy water and made the sign of the cross since I was a child. Haunting memories. There are no pews. Everyone sits on the floor cross legged. The priest and 2 elders walk down the middle isle, dressed in long white cotton with blue sashes. Fiji is a modest country. In the villages, women must not show their thighs; most wear sulus, which is like a sari, or wrap-around skirt at the knee or lower. The smell of incense wafted through the heavy air. Suddenly and with resounding volume, the people belted out in song; it was so jarring and beautiful I was near tears. The men’s voices were deep and thick; the harmonies of the women’s voices striking right to the heart….I was instantly moved and lifted, sitting in the middle of this small space, surrounded by powerful, earth shaking voices; and the children’s voices in a higher register, so sweet and happy. There were no prayer books or song books. All by heart. The priest began to speak. The only words I understood were “hallelujah” and “mortal sin”. People sat fanning themselves, the usual, children getting fussy, babies falling asleep, I tried to follow the mass, although in Fijian, I knew when the Act of Contrition was spoken, what the call and response meant throughout. And during Holy Communion, the priest looked at me and nodded, as if inviting me to receive the host, I did not, remembering there are rules here, ones I haven’t followed for many years. Instead I focused on the statue of Jesus, with raised hand, meaning have no fear (the same mudra in yoga), the red & yellow birds of paradise gracing the altar, and a peaceful looking statue of the Virgin Mary; smiled at the children turning around to look at this stranger, sitting in the suffocating air, thankful to be there, privileged to experience this, again reminded that people are more the same than different, everywhere in the world. On my walk home, I stopped by a clear creek, where the chief was washing and brushing his teeth. I heard children’s voices, laughing and playing. He directed me down a road that led to a swimming hole where children were swinging from ropes and plunging into the freshwater; women were swishing their babies around, laughing. I ventured in, with my skirt (as the women did) for a refreshing dip before the hot walk back home.

Buri building, horses and fish

Weaving palm fronds for bure roof Early to bed and early to rise, following the arc of light at dusk and dawn. Thud…the earthly sound of falling coconuts. One has a higher chance of dying from a coconut bonk on the head than shark attacks. Now there’s perspective for ya. Spent the morning snorkeling with Joli, a native Fajiian from Lambasa. A first for me was seeing velvet purple startfish. We swam around the “acquarium”, where schools of reef fish darted about. Joli is here with 7 other young men from neighboring islands to help re-construct a couple roofs on the property. The men weave together large coconut palm fronds (this is a male job, by the way) into big sheets and haul them to the framework. Their work has begun. In the afternoon, we watched Joli begin training on a new horse Roberta just purchased. The round pen constructed was a bit too small for the job, and the horse and Joli had many standoffs (with the horse turning his rear towards Joli and bucking); I’ve never seen a kid scatter so fast. It was fun to watch. Kent’s diving improve with each day of no storms, increasing visibility. Today: white & blue sponges, elkhorn, fan and brain coral, Nemo fishes! Parrot fish, plus, a 6 foot white tipped reef shark.

KAVA CEREMONY

Hell, I don’t know what the date is. Don’t care, except to be elated when Obama is sworn in as president. Coming soon… The local village’s overriding spirit guide here is the shark; which they sing to in kava ceremonies. Many people also practice Catholicism; there is Methodist, 7th Day Adventist, and we even saw a mosque in Somosomo. Fiji is known for some of the best diving in the world, known for its colorful soft corals. The water is soooo warm. Tonight we had kava with the boys and elder men. Kava is a root that is dug and pounded into a powder. The men sit in a circle. The kava powder is mixed with water in a big bowl; the men clap 3 times before you drink the kava from a coconut cup. This goes on all night, with guitars and singing (language sounds very much like Hawaiian, lots of vowels, very beautiful). The kava tastes bitter and numbs your tongue! I had 3 cups and that was it. Kava is used in ceremony, to thank the spirits for good fishing, or welcoming someone to the group, or making decisions among the elders. For just about anything they designate. Tonight, an elder stood and thanked and honored John (our host) who has hauled building materials to a neighboring island. In return, a group of boys came over to Taveuni, and are helping repair roofs here at Makaira. Moce, and good night!

Settling In

welcoming song

small Fijiian house

view from our bure, or small cottage

kids on the island

1/13 and on… The seas are calm. It will take a while to have it settle enough for good diving visability. Our morning revolves around listening to the birds, cooking breakfast, watching the sea. No TV or radio distractions. Below our bure is the Infinity Deck, good for stargazing (the Southern Cross…remember that beautiful song by CSNY?), and a hammock bure for practicing the great art of hammocking. I’m reading a book I found here in the bure: Tribe Wanted. It is the story of 2 twenty-somethings from the UK who started an island project on Vorovoro (a northern island in the chain). Together, with the chief and people of the island, these guys built an eco-community as well as a business. Anyone could join, from anywhere in the world, & everyone would take part on the internet by voting & joining debates on how the island would be run. A global village, where each culture would be learning about eachother. A large number of people, co-creating in 2 different worlds…cyberspace & Vorovoro. Of course, only a limited number of people can work on the island at one time, but people come from all over and share their skills, engineering, sanitation, computer skills, etc. They in turn, learn to fish, build bures, cook local food, share their cultures. It’s amazing. I can’t put this book down!. TribeWanted.com The author encourages “gap” years, where students do something different before starting jobs in the real world; their worldview being not just the bottom line, but how can we make a difference in other people’s lives…how can we build a better world. I am so encouraged by young people. It is they who will one day tolerate war no more; and as communication continues to increase between cultures, maybe this will be possible (not in our lifetime, but still…); a thoughtful continuation of the 60’s, but in a different form, using technology in a good way. We walked to Caucelecele and up to the school on the hill; we met the Primary teacher, and set up a time to read my books to the kids; show them pictures of snow and ice, and what life is like in Alaska. Fun.

Arrived

1/9-1/12: Arrived, with grateful finality, on the island of Taveuni, under partly cloudy sweat pouring, humid skies. Sheets of rain lashed down for 3 days & nights (plus a week before we came).We are sorry to note that the tropical cyclone caused mudslides and flooding in Nadi, delaying school for a week, shutting down businesses and causing several deaths. During a break in the weather, we flew in on an Otter, a small, sturdy plane like we fly in Alaska to the villages, onto a slightly “hilly” airstrip. No nav aids on aircraft, so they don’t fly in particularly bad weather…we made it! Settled into our “bure” at Makaira by the Sea, which is a small cottage with thatched roof, and a large covered deck with kitchenette (it’s wonderful cooking in the open air); it sits atop a rise overlooking the sea, and many other islands (there are hundreds of Fiji islands, but many uninhabited) amidst coconut, mangosteen and flame trees. The 4 acres we are on has 2 bures, and room for only 4 guests. We rode into town with Roberta (co-owner of Makaira ) to fetch some groceries. Eight miles of twisty roads through a couple villages where women are washing clothes on rocks and children splash and play nearby. I’ve never been anywhere where people are so genuinely happy, with big smiles, pearly white teeth (many live off the land, fruit trees, root vegetables, fish and chicken), a friendly “Bula!” wherever you go. Our hosts (Roberta & John, from Hawaii) are infamous storytellers. Baba (from India, whose mother, Amma, makes authentic Indian cuisine for guests), and an entire Fijian family have become instant friends; they all live on the property. Lots of children, chickens, a horse, dogs, a couple cats & delightful people inhabit this magical place. A good deal of rain over the next few days; we watch the weather from our lanai, and marvel at the changes in the earth and sky. To think that indigenous people here are so deeply woven into the land and seascape. We begin to operate on Fiji time, which is not chronological, but SLOW-MO; no running or rushing. Happy, with big smiles. I observe this must be what it’s like to desire nothing, to just be, gardening & cooking & fishing & building; fixing things when broke, enjoying what is. The family stood on the grass in front of our bure and welcomed us with a Fijian song, so sweet, so un-self-conscious, guitars and ukeleles and soaring voices.. Lovely. We spent the evening with our Canadian friends who hosted a wonderful Fajian style dinner.

Stuck In Nadi

Bula! Rain Rain Rain...so much rain that it's hard not to step on mating frogs! We hope to get to Taveuni tomorrow; we've been hanging out with a Canadian couple who are headed to the same place. The town of Nadi is fludded, bridge washed out....but draining fast, considering the buckets that poured down. More later...

Devine Travels 2009

Time to get outa Dodge; it is, after all, 20 below zero here, and we've been in a cold snap for about a week. First to LA, then Fiji... Tally ho!

Homeward bound....but first...

Salem, Oregon....to Timmy's house on the farm! Connected up with our great friend, Tim Greer who boards horses and practices law in Salem. He's the one with the bald head!

Portland, Oregon. What a lush city, with so many bridges snaking over the Columbia River. We explored downtown, specifically seeking Powell Books, one of the most comprehensive bookstores on the west coast, maybe even the country. We never made it to the 4 story main branch because we got side tracked at Powell’s Technical store, only a few blocks away. Spent hours there perusing countless isles of material sciences, mathematics, cosmology, cooking science, geology, engineering, ceramics, glass making…and on and on and on. Incredibly interesting stuff. The next day we got a grand tour of the glass making process at Bullseye Glass where we watched chemists work on tweaking various colors & textures of glass, to the process of pouring and forming hot liquid glass into colorful sheets. Kent will be back for glass classes that are offered in several concentrated weeks of study later this year; I’m tagging along to further explore the city, and Powell’s!

Onward into British Columbia, Canada. Yikes…snow again! After several days of driving, we arrived at Laird Hot Springs where we soaked our weary bodies in the natural springs for a couple of hours under lightly falling snow. Yakked with Canadians about their health care system (we’ve been polling people and so far, no one is unsatisfied).

California was wonderful and warm, but B.C. is grandiose (like Alaska)! The next night, we stayed at Takini Hot Springs, west of Whitehorse and soaked the night away again. This time we got a good education from a very talkative Swiss woman re: Canadian politics which was pretty enlightening.

Next day, miles and miles of frost heaves on the roadway (like rolling on an angry ocean) from Kluane Lake (where dozens of Dall sheep were grazing on the rocky slopes) to White River, Yukon Territory. Almost to the Alaskan border. We are really “smelling the barn” now. Holy smokes!!! Three lynx crossed in front of us (how exciting…30 years here & I’ve never seen them in the wild). We were thoroughly jazzed by that. Then, a few hours later, a herd of caribou trotted across the road…omg, we turned into a ball of frenzy…get the cameras…*#@*! *@!*! Lens caps flying…hurry up...*#@*! …too late. Darn. So off down the road we go and Kent says, “now maybe we’ll see a wolf” (yeah right…nobody has that kind of luck)…when, about 5 seconds later, the biggest fattest black wolf I’ve ever seen crosses the roadway. Oh gee, maybe he’s after the caribou herd. Again, we were too flustered to get a shot; we just looked at eachother and busted out laughing.

We stopped at our cabin on the Copper River before heading all the way home. The river has a few open leads, but is still a few weeks away from break-up. We'll be staying there most of April finishing the building process and readying for June fishcamp. River break-up is fascinating if you're there when it happens. The power of moving ice is pretty cool. Click your heels together 3 times Dorothy...and say, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home." Voila! The End...for this adventure, anyways.

Going coastal ... again!

Drove back to the coast and camped at Wright Beach, one of the most dangerous beaches in California…sleeper waves, strong backwash and rip tides! Great beach for collecting colored stones and jade pebbles. We’re headed for Redwood National Park in northern California. Ultimately, for the short term, bound for Coos Bay, Oregon to meet Arnold & Lucille (Alaskan friends-Athabascan) for a pow wow. Not just a rendezvous, but a real Indian pow wow…dancing, drumming, and music. At the pow-wow, we won a free night's stay at The Mill Casino, so we stayed another night. Played a few slots, watched movies, then headed back up the coast the next morning. Stopped in Salem, Oregon and visited my old college friend Tim Greer; he lives on a beautiful farm. We had a good dinner and great conversations about long lost friends...to the Big Bang theory...to Oregon politics...to the health benefits of cursing....ha!!! Loved it. Next stop, Portland.

Point and Shoot

Monterey, oh Monterey! Pacific Grove, oh Pacific Grove! Lilies growing bigger than your fist, birds of paradise blooming…and it’s winter! We hooked up with Jay Ireland (ImagingFoundation.org), a professional wildlife photographer that Kent befriended on various dive trips. They did a couple dives in Monterey Bay, and checked out kelp forests, abalone, neudebrancs (sp?), sea pins, sea bass, link cod, and various crustaceans. Kent made a few purchases at Backscatter, updating his underwater camera gear. Jay took us out in his Zodiac in the Elkhorn slough, which is a wildlife refuge. Here you can view scores of sea otters, California brown seals, and hundreds of birds just hanging out…a photographer’s dream! On the morning we left, we had some trouble with the truck (I won’t go into the embarrassing details) and ended up stranded in Prunedale. Actually, the guys who owned the auto shop were pretty interesting characters, and we had a hearty discussion about the movie, “What the Bleep Do We Know….” (check this movie out if you haven’t seen it; portrays the power of thought to assist in shaping one’s reality). We spent the night in the auto shop parking lot and the next day, Jay drove down, picked us up, and off we went again for a full day of scanning the slough. Click, click, click. We ended the day at another fine Mexican restaurant for seafood tacos and libations in the marguerita family. Onward, ho! Drove a few hours inland to visit Jill Duthie. We worked together in rehab. in Anchorage many years ago and she now lives in Stockton, where she is professor of speech pathology at University of the Pacific (whom, by the way, UCSB just kicked their butts in basketball). Go Gauchos! The first time Kent & I (being Midwesterners) had artichokes was dinner at Jill’s house in Anchorage (she’s a California girl), and here we were, eating artichokes together again, talking about old times, our kids growing up, and “shop talk” about caseloads, therapist friends, language theories…until almost 2 am. Jill made our wedding cake (carrot, with Alaskan wild flowers on top), and we always said it was the best carrot cake we ever had (she pulled the 28 year old recipe from her recipe box and made us a copy). Just a wonderful time seeing her again after so many years.

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