9:00 O’clock was the agreed upon time to meet up. We wandered downstairs but saw no sign of our agents. I can no longer remember what we did between 9:00 and 11:00 when they finally arrived, but none the less after two hours of waiting we went off to 32 Rewa St. to haggle a price for our future home.
Mr. Singh is the owner of this flat, though we have yet to meet him. So far we’ve only met the younger “SonSingh” as we have come to call him. He is of course the assumed son of his property owning father. His general attitude is laid back. He doesn’t care much for haggling or making executive decisions. It seems that he is told a price, and that’s what he offers.
Dale and I of course came ready to play some hard ball. Along with furnishing we wanted some cutlery too, though we didn’t get it. We needed a washing machine to do laundry, but didn’t get that either. We asked for queen size mattresses but got doubles. We demand the house be properly cleaned and so “the boys” are sent in with nothing more than napkins and elbow grease.
Request after request gets denied. Finally we demand that the electricity be taken care of. It seemed though that every pitch we throw at them they can throw one back even harder. “How about we keep the electricity in our name so you don’t have to register with the electrical company who requires a 500 FJD dollar deposit.” So it seems they can play too.
But no, we refused to let this one go. “That’s a bully tactic” I burst, than Dale backs me up with, “Not to mention that we don’t even own a TV so there’s no way the bill will be very high” We could tell they were getting onto our side of the fence. “Ok fine” I continue, not wanting to lose control of the ball again, “how about this, you will agree to pay the bill up to and no higher than 50 bucks. Anything after that and we’ll take care of it.”
SonSingh still somehow seems disinterested in anything but the original deal, and he even looks a bit perturbed at having to haggle at all. “Ok” he says after some quiet deliberation, “but I’ll have to talk it over with my father”, and so we go our separate ways. Him to talk business with his father; our agents presumably to show flats to other clients… or drink kava; and finally Dale and me to go get some spicy tuna wraps from the local street vendor.
Though we haven’t discovered them yet, the 1 dollar spicy tuna wraps will prove to become a quick favourite of our trip. We refuse the ride offered by our agents and decide instead to take a walk downtown, first to discover the mouth burning tuna wraps, and later to use the internet and take care of some important window shopping.
After having had another event filled day we rest back at the hotel. We get word from our agents within an hour of arriving and are pleased to hear that Mr. Singh has agreed to our terms. To finalize the deal we simply need to get him the first months rent and a security deposit for tomorrow so that he can get the boys working on getting the flat ready for us…
Sounds simple enough, but for security reasons most of Dale’s money is locked away in an inaccessible savings account, while mine is being blockaded by a withdrawal limit. We currently need to hand over 3`000 Fijian dollars, while we only have access to maybe half that. After much pondering and worrying we resolve to call the bank.
Our first idea is to call through the hotel phone, though we were understandably concerned that the call could easily cost us another 3`000 more just to get access to that very amount of money. Our second idea is to use Skype, which has been known to cut out at times and become useless.
Regardless we sign up for another hour of internet and dial out the 1-800 number. Dale is asked to enter his bank card number but soon realizes he’s not using a touch tone phone, but instead a computer. We wait impatiently and with diminishing hope that we might get transferred…
Eventually that does happen and we are filled with glee when the other line asks how they can help us. We answer excitedly “Please don’t hang up were calling from Fiji”. But we neglect to take the phone delay into consideration: the other line has already gone dead. Mierda!
On our second attempt we get the guys attention and proceed with the problem. Already there are notable problems in the connection. Were repeating things twice and we can tell in the guy’s voice that he’s losing patience with us.
Until giving the card number everything was looking doable, at this point however the phone call falls to pieces. “Hello” he repeats over and over again. Though we try our hardest to communicate, skype just won’t let it happen. We plea with him over and over to remain on the line, but finally with an apology the line goes dead. The room falls deaf; we sink in defeat.
We try a third time but with my computer now and all our previous troubles wash away like the low tied washes into the ocean. Dale ups his daily withdrawal limit and connects his savings account to his checking so that it can be accessed instantly.
Than all of a sudden she can no longer hear us. We try desperately but to no avail. We talk louder, and into every part of the keyboard but fail to be heard on the other line. We give up, it’s not possible, it’s just not meant to be, than from the computer we hear the most beautiful words. “Thank you Mr. Carruthers for using TD, I hope you can still hear me. I have changed your withdrawal limit and connected your savings and checking accounts. Have a wonderful stay in Fiji. ” Victory!
We suit up for big business before heading to the bank. It’s now night time, we’re in a foreign country, and were about to have excess of 3’000 Fijian dollars on our persons. I wear a money belt underneath my brown jeans and am practising using the zippers while Dale gets his gear together. Feeling well prepared we get going.
The first danger we perceive happens shortly after leaving the hotel. While walking past a small, dark empty park we both notice a figure creep from behind a tree and begin to follow our path. We quickly pick up the pace without looking back and take refuge in a local McDonalds. While inside we’re amused to find out that they sell chicken drumsticks at the Micky dees in Fiji!
Having averted that danger we cross the street and walk another few blocks to the AZN bank of Australia. We scope out where police are stationed and a nice hidden nook where we plan to stash the money in my pouch. Just as were feeling comfortable some motley looking chara
cters cross the street horizontal like towards the same machines we were planning to use.We quickly divert from the transaction and head around the corner where a couple officers just happen to be arriving. “Bula” they say, and we respond likewise. “Where are you guys from?” We tell them were from Canada and that were doing some writing while staying in Suva. “Oh really, for how long”, we stay here and conversate with them for a few minutes
During the convo I peek around the corner and notice the two dudes just hanging around and talking to a street beggar nearby the cash machines. ‘That’s weird’ I think to myself. After a few minutes the two officers continue their walk, scaring off the two hoodlums in the process.
The machine spits out the first 2’000 dollars and I quickly shovel it into my pouch and zip it up, though I fumble with the zipper a little. After the first transaction I go to make mine. I put my pin in, select current account and type the amount in; 1’200. I look over my shoulders cautiously and than back at the ATM screen; Transaction exceeds daily withdrawal limit. Mierda!
The only option is to go back to the holiday inn, buy another internet session from the thieving hotel, and gain access to the money. Tired and annoyed we get along with it. At the end of the night we place 3’000 Fijian dollars in the safe and turn out the lights.
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