Day Three: Soccer Anyone?

Here’s what makes today so exciting; after two days of constant pillaging and poor service we pack our bags and leave the holiday inn for good. The total bill comes to a whopping seven hundred, forty four dollars and eighty cents. Consider now that this very amount of money is just around half a months rent for only two days lodging. The only thing that we will miss is the morning complimentary breakfast. Wait. Were those two breakfasts really complimentary?

So we’ve eaten now, we’ve packed, and we’ve checked out, and are now waiting downstairs for our agent Ohannah who promised to come and bring us to the new place. She said she had to squeeze us into her schedule as she had a few appointments that morning. But already running 45 minutes late we were getting pretty worried. After five more minutes we can’t take it anymore and resolve to call David, a local driver we came to know during our house hunting.

With only a number written down on a piece of paper we had to petition help from hotel, but I guess after taking so much from us the Holiday Inn decided it was time to give back. “You want to make a phone call to a cell phone?” the young lady at the front counter asks. I assure her this is the case. “Well those phone calls aren’t free you know”. At this point I can only imagine.


She swings the phone over to me and when I pick up the receiver she presses nine; I return her a disgruntled smile. Our guy answers, but just as this is happening Ohannah pulls up, and Basil it seems as well. “You know what, if we still need the lift I’ll ring you back. Ciao buddy.” I hand over a 20, the smallest bill I have, expecting to pay a buck or two. She returns a ten and a five and smiles smugly. At this point we can only shake our heads and leave defeated.

At the new house Mr. Singh hasn’t yet arrived so we take our luggage up into the house where it gets locked away in the third storage bedroom. After this we wait outside with our agents. Our flat is attached to others. The design is square, but the architecture unique.

At the front apartment the entrance goes into a narrow shaft heading upward. This is a support beam as he has a 2nd floor apartment, but mostly there is no 1st floor below. Under the pad is where people hang their clothes to dry, and where some excess furniture, like some chairs and a table, are kept.

Following past his house leads to our second level flat. The other two are situated underneath us. These two units are more or less two opposing rectangles, the length end of one heads into the far end of the width side of the other > _|. And finally below there is a basement apartment of a neighbour we have yet to meet.

The concrete walls are all painted white giving it a light and upbeat appearance. The broken down cars in the neighbour’s backyard, along with the rummaging street dogs constantly running amuck, contrast with the more modern look of where we live.

When Singh arrives we hand him the two envelopes, which he hands off to our agents to be counted. In each envelope are 30 fifty dollar bills, counted and recounted again and again. He has his money, so he’s happy, and we have a place to live away from that damn hotel, so we are as well. Now all we have to do is waste some time while the place gets furnished, which won’t be hard since there is a beach nearby; looks like see ya city, and hello sun!

The beach ends up being a lot closer than we thought. The bus driver stops and yells for us to get off, Dale speeds ahead, leaving me with a flimsy Styrofoam container leaking grease from the sides and spilling chicken bone and cassava over our seat. He looks back and has a laugh, only to bash his head on the bus ceiling a moment later. Everyone just stares with looks of obvious confusion.

With a hurting head and slightly damaged egos we make it to the beach only three days into the trip; having overcame every hurdle thus far made us feel invincible, and ready for some good old downtime. With sunglasses, sun screen and plenty of sunbeams we round the corner and walk down to the beach front; it was time to find out why Fiji is considered one of the most beautiful paradises in the world.

As a gentle breeze brushes over top burrowing waves, weaving salty sand into the air, our eyes freeze open in wonderment. Halfway across the earths surface, hidden away on a remote tropical island, under a fresh ripe sun we’d somehow found a beach that makes Port Stanley look like a five star resort. Our sinking hearts plunge into our stomachs extinguishing our hunger

The waves spill onto a sandless beach, washing away our hopeful hearts deep into the cold waters of the pacific. With a deep breath in and a slow release out we accept the situation. Disregarding the horrid conditions we walk across the far stretching sand bars and soak up the sun, which is the only tropical thing existent on this dismal beach front.

We look over and laugh at a stove slowly melting into the ocean, and begin to wonder, in technical terms, what it is exactly that makes a beach a beach. After a short time we easily walk away, determined to win back the day before nightfall.

Over at the flat Singh and the boys are hustling to get our palace ready. Floors are being cleaned, beds already being delivered. Curtains hung, and lights fastened to the walls. Upon returning things begin to shift in favour of a promising finish. The plan tonight; find a game of pick up soccer.

Back at the flat the order got fucked up, and another curve ball is thrown our way. “Maybe you guys get to share a bed tonight,” Sonsingh jokes with us. “look, were out of here, just make it happen,” we tell him, and sporting matching old south soccer jerseys we head to the pitch by the holiday inn, as if still searching for a single good thing to come from that place.

While making our way to the field we see many games being played at every pitch we pass. Either soccer or rugby games seem to be constantly going on, and especially in the late afternoons under the coolness of the fading sun. Winding down the road we guess which way to go and eventually make it to our destination, in front of us, instead of a broken down abandoned beach, we behold a field of grass covered in sweat, beaten down by foot prints.

Heading for the best looking game were greeted warmly. I do a few minutes of stretching while Dale kneels down and says a prayer for his last lingering ligament. We have a good run, and although were over match worse than we’ve ever experienced we earn merit through hustle and hard work. We also probably played that game harder than usual in an attempt to make up for the fact we both fell on our asses within only the first five minutes of play.

We play pass sunlight until we can barely see the ball anymore. Drenched in sweat we run the field chasing a fleeting white fuzz flying through the air, until finally someone puts their hands together and claps. The game is done. On Thursdays, as we will later come to learn, everyone sticks around a little longer for a cool down stretch and, with all our hands covering the game ball, a prayer. Today I am elected to lead the prayer. Amen.

It really gets dark in Fiji, and it does so astonishingly fast. We only know the downtown core and find ourselves guessing which ill lit side street leads home. With a random twist here and turn there we find ourselves lost, and even worse, the night begins to play tricks with us. At one intersection we stand in horror while viewing the monstrous creatures the country produces.

I jump back as I yell, “it’s a giant frog!” We circle around cautiously until our throats tighten as it slowly moves. Because were both too scared to approach the ghastly beast it takes us a good minute to realise it’s just a plastic bag. Further down that same road we find ourselves being driven back by a dog idling just outside the gate to its house.

Shrouded in fear and doubt we guess one more turn and are greeted by a familiar site! Still fumbling with navigation we begin to get a solid concept of where we are, and soon enough are en route home. The darkness seems less consuming now, and the street lights just that much brighter. By the time we get onto Rewa were feeling pretty damn good. Spotted from a distance, at what must be close to nine at night, we see a truly magical site; from out of a big yellow rup`s truck the boys are unloading the second bed into our flat. Sorry Dale, but looks like you’ll have to do without my company tonight.