Grand Final Day

Lib left for Lakes last Wednesday with Gord and I came down yesterday evening. I brought Robbie's old laptop with me and arrived about 7pm. I'm sitting at the dining table facing the ocean which is postcard blue in the bright sunshine and flecked with thousands of whitecaps in the strong wind. Lib's gone for a walk to Bunga before we fire the barbie to cook our steak and sausages, I'm listening to the races at Mornington and Morphetville, there being no city Melbourne meeting probably because the footy grand final is on.

Lib's taking a long time so I'll leave of here to finish later and go and light the fire.

Well, here I am Sunday morning finishing my post. Same table same view, Lib and Gord are yet asleep. Lib came back as I went down to light the barbie yesterday and took over the cooking, she loves cooking on the open fire in the little barbie. Lunch and timing was good, the game starting as we finished.

What a great game and Sydney are deserving winners. I enjoyed the game and result as much as if my team won it I'm sure, but you could argue that I wouldn't know as the last time I experienced that it was 1964 when I was 12 years old.

I'm heading home today, I'm about to slip down the street to see if I can find some bog or putty to repair some rot I found late yesterday before I go. I don't think hardwares are open here on Sunday and I don't think the supermarkets stock that stuff, but I'll try.

Lib and Gord will come home tomorrow.

CHEER CHEER THE RED AND THE WHITE 

School Holidays

It's school holidays at the moment, which is of little significance to me except that there are no young ones walking to school bus in the mornings. I miss them. I like to wave and say "G'day have a good day" to the regulars I cross paths with. I love their youth, their nervousness, their seriousness that breaks into a smile sometimes when they return my offer of greeting. I was once like them. I understand far more than they know I do.

One day not long before we left for Fiji the teachers were on strike for more money, so there were no kids that day. A few days after we got back the teachers were on strike again, no kids again. I love seeing the kids. I really do feel for them. The week after we came back their was a Four Corners' program on youth suicide which is apparently statistically on the increase to alarming levels.

I don't have any answers. I do know kids ask themselves the meaning of life, and have self doubt and fears of failure in this capitalist, competetive, winner and loser society we thrust them into. It sucks. The best things in life are free for most us; fresh air, sunshine, friendship, love, nature. I don't have to own it, and money can't buy it. It's all there every day if I'm open to it. I don't worry about the meaning of life. I don't know what it is. I had this discussion with my son Rob just the other day To me it's a mystery we all share, whatever paths we follow. I don't think the dentist who screws me $80 for a ten minute examination and clean, or the specialst who charges $110 to read my blood tests last year are any happier than me. No wonder then the plumber gets ideas and ups his fee. We've had the cops on strike this year, the ambos, and the fire brigade too. They all want more,more, all the time. It's not the answer. If I could think of an answer, best I could offer, "Open your your eyes and your heart." But I don't want to preach.

I just wish the teachers' union would bugger off and stop setting such a terrible example and let me enjoy seeing the kids go to school.

FIJI Day 7

Thursday of week one was a quiet day, with a kayak session after breakfast followed by snorkel at low tide in front of the resort.

This time we took a single kayak each and paddled for about an hour in front of the resort. I felt we'd reached a bit of confidence with kayaking and the plan was to pick a nice calm day and paddle round to Picnic Beach soon. And to kayak around the island if weather permitted was also a goal berfore we left.

To snorkel at low tide we had to walk out to the little island at the front of the resort and then some more across rocks to reach water but it was worth it. I was by now also reaching a level of confidence with the snorkel and enjoying it far more than at the start, keeping up with Lib and sharing the maagnificent underwater scenery.



The small island in front of the resort. The other large island in the background is Ovalau island on which Levuka is situated.

After our picnic lunch in the bure we had a sleep in the afternoon. We'd selected vegetarian stir fry for dinner, after which we talked to Andrew and Gill Stringer from Sydney who had arrived on the island the previous day. Most of the arrivals and departures were on Saturdays apparently but there were a few during the week. Of the five couples that arrived on the previous Saturday including us three were staying a week and Tracey and Mark from Sydney were staying for two as Lib and I were.

Gill and Andrew were from Sth Africa originally. They went to Canada soon after marrying in 1979 with Andrew's work with an accounting firm and because of the political turmoil in Sth Africa were not in a hurry to return home and lived in Canada 8 years. With a young family they migrated to Australia after deciding they wanted to bring up their kids in a warm outdoor climate similar to what they grew up in with the traditional summer sports. Interestingly Gill's background was Spanish but she was raised in Sth Africa. Andrew's grandparents of one side had migrated to Sth Africa from Kyneton Victoria no less in the ealy 1900's. After the Boer war there was depression in Australia and a Kyneton resident returned from that war telling his grandfather he should try Sth Africa for work. It was a British colony. So grandfather and his brother hopped on a ship to Sth Africa and found work and liked it there so they brought out their fiances from Kyneton and married them straight away almost on leaving the ship.


A few of the boys putting a roof on

FIJI Day 6

Wednesday was the day of the tour to Levuka, the old capital on a large island, at a cost of F$80 each or A$50 thereabouts. It was about an hour's boat trip. This was where Fiji was ceded to the British in 1874. There's a large fish cannery there, a hospital, a museum and quite a lot of shops. Several of the resort staff including Frank (skipper), Mila, Weiss, pronounced Wice, Toka, all Naigani villagers, came for the outing and stocking up, and another, the bloke who sang and played guitar in the restaurant each night whose name escapes, also came as his home was there, high up on a steep hill that he pointed out. We later met his wife and kids on the shopping strip.

Our main purpose besides sightseeing was to stock up on tuna cans and sardines etc for our lunches, and of course wine and beer as much as we could comfortably fit in our bag. Food supplies other than potato crisps and Twisties, Pringles were not available on Naigani, obviously they wanted you to eat in the restaurant. We'd taken the two meal package, breakfast and dinner, leaving lunch to be what we had brought which wasn't much, and or what we could knock off at breakfast like a few slices of toast and fruit (concealed in our floppy hats which were in hand not on head). The 2 meal package was F$65 pp so that was F$130 each day or about A$80. If you add a bottle of wine, F$40, the cost was getting up. Those prices aren't bad when you compare them to any restaurant in Aus, but who eats every day at a restaurant?

We enjoyed the trip and lunch on the balcony of a second floor restaurant. Fish chop suey was my fare at about F$8 while Lib went the chicken chop suey which was quite salty I noticed when I finished it for her. Toka sat at our table. He solemly said grace before eating, and asked us if we were of a particular church to which I replied "Not really, you could say Church of England I suppose."
In answer to my question he said his was "All Nations".

I asked him could I get him a drink as I went the bar and he said "Yes thanks, a soft drink." Later, as if to return my gesture, he carried our heavy bag from the supermarket to the boat. We only saw the museum in the last ten minutes before we were due to leave but in our quick look I was fascinated and could have spent hours there I'm sure.

The only downer for the day was a painfull neck that developed and got worse during the day. At the back of the neck, in the muscles at the side, most irritating to turn the head or look up or down. I thought maybe the snorkelling had irritated, I spent much time self massaging which I think annoyed Lib a bit because it distracted me from whatever she was saying or pointing out. Wives don't like that. I had a few jabbing pains in other parts like feet, knees and elbows, but not alarmingly. The neck was sore for a couple days, but not to stop me doing anything.

Three days later Lib's neck got very sore, same place, and she had quite pronounced swelling, and other pains like I'd had, and she also had a fever. We decided it must have been a virus.

Levuka from the jetty

Main street Levuka

Footy Tipping

Final scores in the footy tipping comp, according to my records which have been difficult to locate, were as follows-

Robbie         152
Carey           148
Rickyralph   144
Gord            132
Lib               132

Rickyralph congratulated me on my victory over him by email yesterday. He said I won by 2 which differs from my records but I may be wrong as I was away for the last three rounds and submitted my tips before I left and had a devil's job trying to go back over the results and sort it out so I may well have made mistake. In our little private comp the loser buys the winner lunch (and wife) so there's a bit rides on it but it's a good way to keep connected weekly as a fun thing. Rickyralph won the previous four on the trot, now I have 2 on the board and intend to back up again for a threepeat next year.

Hawthorn vs Sydney Grand Final next week is a first in history between those clubs. Hawthorn will be strong favourites but I'll be hoping that Sydney can get up. I'm older enough to remember clearly when Hawthorn had never won a premiership, before September 1961. The only kid in our neighbourhood who barracked for them was Graeme Strachan, later 'Shirley' of 'Skyhooks'. Now every second person follows them and they have won ten premierships. I dislike them they are as bad as Collingwood almost, powerful and arrogant.

Not that I could give a stuff really, the AFL is an insidious money grabbing, contriving monster, and my reluctant interest was ingrained into me from early childhood. I have not been able to purge myself.

FIJI Day 5

It was a clear still morning so we went for a kayak trial followed by a snorkel before breakfast. After a read and a rest we packed a picnic again and flippers and snorkels etc and headed off to find the track entrance I had found on day 3. It did continue and rose up the ridge and across the top of the island and then descended to the other side at Picnic Beach as we suspected. Along the top of the island there were cassova and banana plantations in obvious farm type situation in the bush. We kept moving in the direction we thought Picnic Beach would be, following what looked to be a track. The descent to the beach was very steep.

The snorkelling was fantastic in clear water amongst the multicoloured coral forest with millions of tropical fish in brilliant colour. I had never snorkelled before this holiday and struggled a bit with water getting in the pipe but  I improved as we went and Lib just loved it. She's a good swimmer and snorkelled as a kid.

Again we had the beach to ourselves. Finding the track back was difficult to start off but once going up the steep rise there was no problem discerning the route. It was a difficult climb and it was easy to lose footing and slip. It was only an hour or so each way but due to the steepness down to the beach and the climb back up it was not something you'd do every day, at least not at our stage of life.




Lib on track across island

Lib on Picnic Beach





 

FIJI Day 4

Picnic Beach

Lib was booked in for a full body massage at 11.00 am. I forgot to mention in my day 3 post that I had a massage on that day, full body one hour at special weekend price of F$40, or about $25 Aus. Magic it was. 'Mila' the masseur, sister of Frank the spearfisherman, was booked out for that day and couldn't fit Lib in but said she'd do her on the Monday at the special price.

After Lib's massage we packed a picnic and took off on a walk around the north end of the island as the tide was receding, with Picnic Beach our destination on the other side of the island. The NZ couple had given us a description of the shoreline right around. Picnic Beach, just around the north end, on the west side of the island was great for snorkelling and fishing they had said. The next bay around was Sacred Bay which was special to the villagers and they didn't want anyone fishing or mooring there. Further around there was 'Cannibal Caves' and then as you rounded the south of the island back to the east side there was the village, and then on around a jutting steep outcrop you were back at the resort.

There were organized boat trips every couple of days around to Picnic Beach for snorkelling, at F$20 per person, but we preferred to do our own thing. Walking on the slippery rocks turned out quite difficult especially for Lib but it was worth the hour plus a bit effort as Picnic Beach was an idyllic tropical island scene which we had all to ourselves. Lunch was sardines on bread and bananas and pineapple and water. After an hour or two we looked for a track heading inland that might take us back overland to avoid the slippery rocks but the likely looking course all petered out into thick vegetation, so we had to go back via the shore line. We made it back comfortably enough before the tide came in which could leave you stranded if you left it too late.

The week before we arrived, the Kiwi's had told us, a group of Chinese were staying at the resort. Apparently none of them wanted to do the organized activities like skuba diving, fishing and snorkelling boat trips or round the island boat trip, sunset cruise or anything else. Two of them did choose to walk around the island, which is possible if you leave when the tide starts to go out and you don't dilly dally and get stranded. There's one place between Picnic Beach and Sacred Bay where you can't walk even at low tide and have to swim about 100 metres. At that point there's a large rock which is out of the water at high tide but is surrounded by water as the tide comes in.The ywo Chinese did not return for dinner and the alarm was raised. The villagers put a boat out at night and with an educated guess found them on the rock at about midnight. Apparently they could not swim.

On our walk back we saw a number of sea snakes in the rocky pools, these abour 1-2 ft long but harmless we'd been told. By now we were aware that the weather conditions changed quickly. The wind was still about but eased and strengthened , clouds came and went, it was by no means perfect but hey, it was always warm.

Cheer, Cheer, The Red and and The White

I woke up with this lovely feeling. I had to share it. Words are inadequate. Try song.

CHEER CHEER THE RED AND THE WHITE

Wangaratta Weekend

Molly's house finally sold and the three good sisters and spouses had to remove all furniture prior to settlement which was today, so last weekend we, Lib, Gord and me, tripped north with trailer in tow behind the carryvan, and the old Subaru. The trip up was eventful. A highway patrol car passed me near Bonnie Doon going the other way and promptly did a U turn and pulled me up, issuing an infringement notice to cost me $141 for not having the trailer registration sticker attached to the trailer.

Dinner at 'Rinaldo's' on Friday night wasn't bad, fortunately the tab was picked up by the estate. Saturday morning saw me tracking down Gerard O'Brien to borrow paint and brush to touch up trailer number plate, the obscure condition of which had been the attractant for the brave defender of justice and law and order who pursued me the previous day.

Saturday arvo, a typical warm sunny north east spring day where you could get sunburned if you didn't have a Fiji tan, saw us at the O+K grand final at the Rover's ground between Whorouly and Nth Wang. After a nervous and scrappy first half they settled down and played some good footy after half time, Whorouly coming from 4 goals down to level the scores at 3/4 time. Nth Wang ran away with it in the final term. Greta FC was doing the catering and I bumped into a few I knew- Squeak Dinning, Johnny McCarthy, and Franny O'Brien. Franny was well recovered from a recent stroke and was on duty in the bar. I was amazed at the amount of cans consumed on our half time walk round the ground. Wangaratta is a boozy town. Someone said Greta would have pulled $50K profit on the catering. They borrowed one of Bushy Dinning's refrigerated dairy trucks and had it chock full of pallets of cans out the back and sold nearly all of it.

Sadly I learned of the passing of Andrew (Max) George, CHF in our 1980 premiership team, claimed by bowel cancer. I met Max in 2010 at a reunion for the first time in 30 years after he left for WA where he became a successful businessman. He was then in remission.

Saturday night saw us at Dianne Murray's 70th birthday party, a gala event where we renewed aquaintance with many old friends. Catering was by the chef at Rinaldo's who came in with his equipment and cooked on site a succession of superb apperatifs or entrees continuing through the evening.

Trip home fully laden on Sunday with furniture and Molly memorabillia was uneventful. Little Suzy van handled the big load over the mountains easily and there was no repeat copper heroism.

The end of an era. Lib has been melancholy since, finding place for Molly stuff, including paintings posters, crockery and nic nacs. It's all very sad really.

Day 3 Fiji

Sunday was our first full day on Naigani. There was a wind coming from the east which the NZ lady yesterday had described a trade wind. "Pity about the east trade wind coming up today, it'll be here for 8 to 15 days, feshing will be no good while it's here."

I wasn't worried about the feshing, or the wind. It was warm. The morning brought overcast skies and drizzly rain. The tide was out. We walked south along the rocky shoreline, stopping to shelter from rain under rocks on the steep bank up from the high water mark a few times. I slipped on a rock, instinctively throwing out my left hand to break my fall. In so doing the plastic bag I was carrying in my left hand swung down crashing onto a rock. Thinking the binoculars may have broken I was relieved when quick inspection showed they were fine. I then removed camera from case to find the screen broken and inoperable. Lib's camera, 50th birthday present from me, six years ago. We both had become attached to it. The next hour was tense with few words spoken and a mood of disappointment and frustration, simmering anger, and guilt, regret, plain bloody sorrow. I should have had a shoulder bag or a backpack.

The camera still turned on and the lens popped out. It still clicked and flashed when you pressed down on the button, but we had no way of knowing if the shot was actually being taken and stored on the memory. Screen was shattered.

That afternoon we took a walk to "the summit". It was a climb up of about 20 minutes from where you got a good view of the overall lay of the island. The track was the only one marked at the resort, or talked about. The NZ couple had told us of another track that went to the native village where tourists couldn't go past a gate through a wire fence unless invited in. Up till then we knew nothing of a village on our island, and said so. "It's only five hundred bloody metres away along the track at the back of the resort." There's another track further north across to the other side of the island too, but the villagers blocked it off with branches and things, because of a dispute with the resort about unpaid lease money or something."

You could clearly see the village from the summit, a number of iron rooves nestled amongst coconut palms in the distance just in from a nice sandy beach. It looked very clean and tidy, but we could see no people, except for one man wading out from the shallows to an out board motorboat which he boarded and began to do some manual work like checking or repairing fishing gear. I had a good sight of the man and the boat through the binos.



The Village from the Summit

After returning to our bure we walked north along the shore. I was always looking for what looked like it might be track to the other side of the island. After a couple of explores that were dead ends after a promising start only to be short diversions into the bush where piles of coconut husks and crab traps showed they were just foraging entrances, I found one that looked promising still a hundred metres or so in, going back then to tell Lib and making a mental note of where it was. The tropical vegetation was quite thick and the entrance to a track not easily seen.

On the way back we had to pass the NZ couple's bure. The lady came out to talk. We told her about the camera. She offered to put the memory card in her lap top and see if the camera was working. It was. At least we could continue taking photos even if we had to just point it and hope.

We told the KIWIs we'd been to the summit and saw the village and a man boarding a boat who we saw later go past in the boat and wave to us warmly not a half hour ago. "That's 'Toka'. He's the boat fesherman. Frank, the driver of the boat that took you to the island from Natovi Jetty, the only other one with a skipper's licence, is the main spearfisherman. They sent him out earlier to get more fesh for the restaurant because Toka didn't catch enough. Toka's father used to eat human flesh, they still practised cannablism here into the 1930's. Toka knows more about the history than anyone else. He'll talk if you go feshing with him."

Happy hour was from 6 to 7 when stubbies were cheaper at the bar so we bade good evening and headed for the pool garden. As we enjoyed our Fiji bitter the NZ lady came over and sat down and gave us more info on the subtleties of Naigani.

I'd insert some photos now but I can't find the camera and as Lib is asleep I don't want to go rummaging in the bedroom. Hopefully I'll find time later.

Fiji Day 2

Hotel buffet breakfast was good. I took the cooked option as well, the lady cooking in the outdoor kitchen was the Indian lady, hotel staff, who had walked down the hill with us the previous day on her way home, telling us about Nadi and where to walk. She was so friendly and did me the most superb omlette.

Our driver for our transfer to Natovi jetty on the other side of Viti Levi arrived 20 minutes early but we were ready in the hotel reception. He was Indian Fijian, named Vinnit, and drove a 2000 Subaru Forester which had done 450,000 km, as he told me in answer to my enquiry. Nice sort of a fella really, but his mobile phone kept ringing during the 5 hour trip and he talked in Fijian or maybe it was Indian which got on my goat in the end. He did know a fair bit about the history and flora. he told me Fiji was 50% native, 40% Indian whose ancestors came out to work for the Poms on the sugar plantations which the natives would not do.

The boat was waitng for us at the jetty. Last on, others on the boat particularly one couple, joked about our 2X6 boxes of wine. From that early point we had the reputation as pisspots amongst the others. There were five other couples on the boat and the talk before finally heading off was about how we had all got to the jetty and from where and how much it had cost. There was a couple from Florida, another from Toronto Canada, two couples from Los Angeles and another from Sydney, near Cronulla in fact.

Boat trip was thirty or forty minutes in quite rough sea. After disembarking we gathered in the foyer of the restaurant and were given details of the island and alloted our bures by manager Heppy, a large native Fijian with a soft feminine voice. He called out names and gave each a bure. Ours was bure 8, about 100 metres walk from the restaurant and office and fronting the sea. It was big for just two of us, two bedrooms with double beds and two more beds in the large family room.

Lib in front of Bure

Inside

 Front Garden

We took a walk before dinner along the shore, it was low tide. We met the couple from Cronulla, Tracy and Mark and talked with a Kiwi couple who had been staying in the bure at the end for three months. They had their own boat and were leaving day after tomorrow, heading back to NZ now that the worst of winter was over. They told us much about the island, none of which meant much then but as the fortnight unfolded it all had helpful relevance.



The Kiwis

Dinner was seafood buffet. We talked with the other couples before retiring early. No TV. Electricity went of late in the evening when they turned off the generators. Pitch dark when you woke up for a pee. There was supposed to a bedside torch but there wasn't, I didn't mind, I felt my way along the walls and peed in the warm night air. Coconuts dropped from palms in the night, thump! Waves slapped at the shore at high tide. I dreamed extravagantly. Did for the whole sojourn on Naigani. Travel dreams, erotica, people I hadn't seen for years. It was great. It was so warm. I loved the night.

Bushy Joe

 I did this for Sgnpost before we left and I liked it so I post it. 

 BUSHY JOE FROM GEMBROOK

Joe Hilder lived with his maternal grandparents in Launching Place Road in Gembrook for four formative years in his early childhood. He’s unsure of the circumstances leading to this, but it was during the Great Depression, and he was the oldest of eleven children born by his mother Gertrude.

Joe speaks fondly of his grandfather, ‘Ganna’, whose real name was Karl August Rissinich, a kind old man of German origin, a sailor who jumped ship, an illegal immigrant. WW1 was difficult, ‘Ganna’ having to leave various towns, and he was locked up more than once as an alien. He came to Gembrook in 1917 where he was tolerated and did odd jobs like scything grass, fencing and cutting maize.  

Joe was not happy when moved to Fairfield in Melbourne in1934 to attend school for the first time. His mother was devoutly Catholic and wouldn’t let him go to the Gembrook Primary School.

“I was nearly eight years old and was put in what they called the “Bubs” with the very young kids because I’d had no schooling. I was like an elephant in a dog kennel. I’d never seen a nun before; they frightened the daylights out of me.  The other kids called me ‘Bushy Joe’. They didn’t hurt me, but they did pranks like locking me in the dunny.”

Joe came back to Gembrook at eleven years old and attended St. John’s Catholic school in Ferntree Gully. His future wife, Peg Kermond, whom Joe had known since they were very young, also attended St. John’s. Joe recalls, “The bus, 'Old Emma', had no windows. It was a freezing trip in winter.”

Leaving school Joe moved back to Fairfield, hating it. His first job was delivering groceries on a pushbike for thirteen shillings and nine pence a week. He worked hard and one day his dad saw him and pulled his truck over, telling Joe to get in. “What about the groceries,” Joe protested.

“Never mind about that, just get in,” his dad said.

Later dad took Joe to the boss and gave him the groceries back saying, “If anyone’s going to kill this kid with overwork it’ll be me not you.”

Joe got a job with another grocer and this time had a horse and spring cart for deliveries. After a while he was sacked for galloping the horse, which you weren’t supposed to do.

Another job was with a firm that made wooden throat swabs for hospitals amongst other things. Small blocks of wood were boiled in a copper, removed by a worker with tongs, and put in a guillotine. Joe picked up all the slivers of wood after they fell.

“We had a Christmas party and although young I had a glass of beer. Mum smelt it on my breath when I got home and that was the end of that job.”

The family moved to Greensborough into a house more a big hut. It had no windows, only flyscreens. At that time Joe,14, worked on a chook farm and constantly smelled of chooks which he didn't like.

“A letter came from Auntie Ag in Gembrook saying the store wanted a boy. I rode my bike to Gembrook and started work at Ingram’s. Dad had taught me how to drive and I did deliveries in the Bedford ute. A woman complained to the policeman that I didn’t have a license so he came and said if I gave him two shillings and sixpence he’d give me a license.”

When old enough Joe joined the air force in WW11. They asked anyone with a license to step forward, Joe did and they gave him an airforce license and he drove trucks in Brisbane helping the Americans load their equipment on to ships. He returned to Melbourne, was discharged, and went back to Gembrook, resuming at the store which had sold to a man named ‘Head’. Peg now worked there. They married in 1947. Joe built a house himself, learning as he went and asking advice from builders. His neighbor Jack Birtherwell had the bus run to Pakenham and offered Joe work driving the bus. He went to Melbourne to get a bus license. They gave him one without a test as he had a semi license. Joe never sat for a license test. 

Sixty years ago Joe started the sawmill JW+PJ Hilder in the main street opposite the school, where he also had a hardware business. He and Peg also ran the Blue Hills cafe and ice cream store in the 1950's for a time.

The mill was relocated it to its present site on the Pack Track /Launching Place Rd. corner thirty years ago. It’s now operated by his son Wayne.

Joe and Peg have raised eight boys and two girls. Joe built ten houses in Gembrook. He once drove the whole family to Cairns for a holiday towing a caravan he built himself. As a hobby he built model ships and you can see his model saw mill and steam engine at the Gembrook station. He's had poetry collections published and was a member of a bush band that performed for age care facilities all over Victoria, playing accordion. Not bad for ‘Bushy Joe’.

Joe and Peg have 28 grand children and nine great grand children.  Joe’s eyesight has failed but he retains a sense of humour and love for family, life and Gembrook.                                                                                                                                                             

Arrival in Fiji

View from Hotel

Our flight to Fiji a few weeks back was unpleasant. We'd had dinner at Westlakes restaurant in Chinatown on the way to the airport with Rob and Gord which was wonderful, celebrating Lib's 56th birthday which was to occur while we were away, and heightened by the excitement of impending holiday. We had a four man banquet with a couple of bottles of red wine, mostly enjoyed by Lib and I as the boys, unlike their parents, are light drinkers if at all. After arriving at airport and doing the check in thing Lib and I indulged in more wine in the departure lounge to escape the boredom of waiting for boarding in what seemed a huge throng of every size and colour people and crying children.

After a big feed at the Chinaman, always a bit on the salty side, and all the wine we were thirsty as soon as we were in our seats on the plane which seemed to take forever to hit the throttle and scream down the runway. We didn't sleep despite the 11.30pm take off. I watched the movie, recall enjoying it, but can't remember plot or title. Lib couldn't get comfortable and shifted and sighed and complained to the plane waitresses that she was thirsty to no avail, they didn't return with water till the scheduled trolley run. At one point late in the trip I went to the loo and managed to get Lib a glass of water from the kitchenette on the way back, but it hardly touched the sides and seemed to waken a more ferocious thirst. Lib was quite dehydrated, a dangerous thing really.

The plane descended into Nadi airport about 6.20 am on Friday morning as dawn had just broken. Transit through the airport was thankfully fairly speedy. We bought a dozen bottles of duty free Australian wine on the way and the first thing we did when through customs was buy a cool drink each with our Fiji dollars and skull it down. We sat waiting at the airport entrance for 10 minutes or so as groups of people departed in a variety of ways until the Novatel Hotel shuttle bus turned up and a driver helped us load our bags and boxes of wine from the trolley to the little box trailer. We were the only ones on the minibus and the driver was friendly and informative and in the ten minute ride to the Hotel, which included a five minute wait at a level crossing to let a sugar cane train crawl its way toward the sugar mill, he gave as good a precis of Fiji history, politics and industry as you could hope for.

The hotel reception did not have our room available (before 8.00am) when we arrived so we left our luggage at reception and made our way to the swimming pool stretching out on those recliner pool lounge chairs in the welcome shade of a huge "rain tree", as the man cleaning the pool told me it was in answer to my enquiry. Lib fell asleep promptly and I may have nodded off briefly but for the most part I watched in the tree and shrubbery looking for birds. There was no one around except for the man cleaning the pool, and few birds either, most of those I saw were Indian minas just like those prolific around Gembrook. It was warm to hot, nearing 30C I reckon, a test for two southern state Australians only hours out of a frigid winter.

After about an hour a man came and told me they had a room ready so l left Lib asleep and went to room 510 with a porter helping with the luggage. I changed clothes- into shorts and sandals and went back for Lib who was still fast asleep. The room had a big glass sliding door at the back which opened up onto a little porch with a table and chairs and magnificent view across a big grass area with two big strong trees, and a valley to large hills in the distance. After showering Lib slept till about midday. I admired the view and started Michener's "The Carribbean". I have never found sleep in the day time easy but probably a few hours of shut eye was what I needed.

After midday we walked down the hill that the hotel was located on, into the outskirts of Nadi and a little supermarket where we could buy picnic lunch (fresh fruit and banana cake and Fiji water ) and we found a little park where we could picnic on the grass. Not far away were two groups of Fijian native teenage school kids, about ten in each group, one boys one girls. They were calling out to each other and skylarking and joking. There was a friendliness with warm open smiles from the locals where we walked and we felt comfortable. On the way back I found a little boozer and bought some stubbies of Fiji Bitter (made by Foster's Group) to try later, with some bickies and cheese, back on our little porch with the ripper view.

Dinner in the hotel restauraunt was disappointing but did not dampen our good spirits. We watched Geelong playing St Kilda on the TV but were too tired and turned it off at half time and we slept like like a couple of tired old dogs.   

Phone Line Back

After six days with no phone line connection to our house following last week's storm, the Telstra technician reconnected us this morning. This after a couple of weeks away in Fiji away from internet access. I don't have time to post properly but will do so as soon as I can find time after clearing a multitude of commitments.