“That’s nice, is it yours?”

As the Christmas season is upon us multiple packages of amazingness are coming to my local post office. I have become friendly with the lovely Fijian woman and the chatty Indo-Fijian fellow that work there. They are familiar with Peace Corps volunteers and the joy that the unexpected packages bring.

When I checked my small post office box this afternoon and saw a slip inside I was delighted and ran to the postal counter. I greeted them in Hindi and they give a boisterous reply with pride that someone from America is learning their language. We chat for a bit and ask each other what we will be doing for the upcoming holidays. We go through the simple customs procedures and are laughing all the while. It is summer now & rains nearly every day, so not surprisingly while I was there clouds began to glide in and the wind began to gust. So in Hindi I say “panii awaay”, meaning literally “water is coming”, or actually, rain is coming. And the mid-forties, friendly, Indo-Fijian post man is silent for a moment and says “you need to be careful when you say that.” I was thinking huh? That is a common phrase I hear all of the time, I did not understand what he meant. So the conversation goes something like this:

Postman: “You have to be careful when you say that because sometimes people might think water is coming from another place.”

Me: “Ohhh, you mean it means you have to pee? Well, I didn’t know that. I guess if people know that, oh well, maybe they will be friendly enough to show me where the bathroom is.”

Postman: “No, not that.” (He leans in and gently places a hand on my forearm and says quietly), “It means you are close to climaxing.”

Me: (Fairly horrified, laughing hysterically and three shades of red, hiding my face in my bag.) “Ohhhhh, that’s what you mean. Glad I know that now!”

In the future I will be more cautious when I announce “PANII AWAAY!!!!”

As I leave the post office with my new found cultural knowledge and Christmas package, I see a cute little kitten (which they call “pussies”). There are stray animals all over the place here, so this was not a surprise. I have wanted a cat & was giving this cutie some love, deciding if I wanted to take her home & make her mine. As I was leaning down petting her a man walked by and said “Nice pussy, is it yours?”

When the Rains Came

It rained & consequently the critters that live outside don’t like this. So, they decide to seek refuge in my house.

Last night my house became Noah’s ark. As I was eating dinner I had an itch on my ankle, it turned out a little gecko had decided to take a rest on my foot. Woooow…fling! Get off of me! Later, I was getting out of the shower and because my bathroom is so tiny I have to dry off with the door open. In my nakedness & blindness because I had no glasses on, I saw 2 blurred living creatures scurry across my living room. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shiiiiiit!!! What do I do??!! I through on a sulu & went to my landlord’s house directly attached to the front of mine. I yelled for the young boy to come help me. I told him I saw two rats run across my living room & then into my bedroom & I needed help getting them out. So he, only being 11, is also afraid of rats. Never-the-less, he comes along with his 10 year old sister and their Japanese foreign exchange student, each armed with a yard stick, broom and rake.

We look all over the house & the rats are gone. I suspected they were just in hiding, but we shook boxes and pulled out luggage and there was no sign. My hunters leave and I sit back down and who shows up into Noah’s ark but a frog in my kitchen!! Ahhhhhh! They don’t scare me as much, but they jump and are fast. This one, in my attempt to exterminate, goes into a cabinet & behind my gas cooking cylinder. I yet again call for my SWAT team to come help. I call for the boy & he very seriously says “This time we come in full force!” All three come armed with their weaponry of animalistic destruction & we go to work in my kitchen. Then out of the corner of my peripheral vision….I see a rat run across my bedroom floor and into a small hole in the corner of the room. We all run in & I grab roach poison & spray it in the whole & then shove newspaper in to block it. Then I see the other rat run out & into the kitchen. The Japanese man takes the rake & traps it in the tongs while the boy tries to kill it with the broom. I’m screaming, the boy is swearing and the Japanese man is yelling in broken English, “Oh sheeet, I got the srat!!” The rat does not die, but runs out & the Japanese man hits it like a hockey puck out the open front door. Whew!!

Now back to the medock (frog). He is in the same spot deep within the cabinet. We, I should say the young boy, uses the yard stick to scare it out, opens the back door & out it jumps.

Okay, can I let my adrenaline dissipate now?? Everyone had such a fun time navigating the little creatures. The kids kept saying “This is such an adventure!” as they ran around with a broom and my headlamp on their heads.

I wish I had taken a picture of all three of them with their artillery in my teeny kitchen trying to look for the rats. It was awesome and hilarious!

That same night as I lay in bed there was a bujan or Indian prayer celebration at a neighbor’s house. They play drums and percussion and chant the name of whichever Lord they are devoting their time. After, they have prasad, a small plate of blessed food, mostly fruit and sweets. I’ve been to several of these events and actually enjoy them. You can hear bujans going on almost every night. So tonight there is lively bujan going on a few houses away and at my landlord’s house…… he is playing the guitar and singing We are the World into a microphone with his family. Occasionally, he would miss or a chord or sing off key & they would stop & start over. What the hell is happening??!! Where am I? Is this the Twilight Zone?? I texted a friend this scenario and her reply……...Yes. Yes it is. Welcome.

So tonight, again it rained. As I was cooking dinner (eggplant & roasted tomatoes with garlic and chilies over rice pasta), I saw a little rat run across the kitchen drawers & heard that little F-er in my silverware drawer. I screamed & jumped when I saw it & my body produced probably the last little bit of adrenaline it has left from my already over-exhausted adrenals. I kicked a few cabinets & made some noise hoping it would be scared back outside and I never saw it again.

Then, while I was eating dinner, a HUGE flying cockroach went from ground to wall!! Ahhhhhh!! I truly don’t know which are worse, rats or cockroaches. Those winding little antennae just gross me out, eeeeeeuuuhhhhh. I got up from dinner & grabbed my tennis shoe, chased it around my living room & eventually was victorious in the crunching of carapace.

I sat back down in front of my meal, thoroughly repulsed, but starving, so once again the word “de-tach” becomes my mantra and living life prevails.

When the new becomes familiar

We had 2 arduous weeks of mandatory Peace Corps training, part of which involved a self designed workshop. Myself and 6 other volunteers had 2.5 days to put together a 2 hour presentation on stigma and discrimination against AIDS/HIV and mental health patients in the work place. We presented to a group of 45 young nursing students. We put together a power point, did roles plays and several group activities. The students were so eager and engaged and it was very fulfilling for us to know that we were making a difference in these young impressionable minds.

I stayed in Suva with another volunteer that had an oven……Haaaaa-lle-lu-jah!! I made roasted chicken with ratatouille the first night and the second night, I made a variation of my grandma's sweet potatoes and apples. They don’t have sweet potatoes here they have kumala-a little starchier and not quite as sweet, but still mimics well. You slice the sweet potatoes and apples into thin discs and then alternately layer them. Between each layer you sprinkle a bit of sugar, cinnamon and a few dabs of butter. Add a bit of water, cover and bake for 1 hour on 350ish until everything has melted into each other and you lose your mind in comfort food bliss. Not having an oven bums me out, but there are worse things in life not to have....let’s say a limb for example.....I've got all those so there’s nothing to really complain about.

After training I headed home to Lautoka. This was the first time I had taken this winding hilly trip back at night & I had my head hanging out the window like a dog, smelling the thick damp air, so salty and fresh. The silhouetted palms acted like pillars along the road and I watched the stars move as the cab traveled at galactic speeds while listening to the perfect randomly selected playlist as my ipod shuffled.

Back at home mission #1 was move to my new place!! It’s been a long time in the works and took 2.5 months (were on Fiji time folks) to finally get everything together. It’s a small self-contained flat attached to a house at the front. My landlord, his wife and 2 kids, 12 and 13 live there. They are a very friendly Indian family and I can tell *LOVE* having an American living in their rental. It is a 20 minute walk into town or a 15 minute bus ride and is a 15 minute walk to the nearest volunteer. The compound is safe and has a gate all the way around with barbed wire on top of that, as most houses do in the cities here. I think the best way to describe my house would be 1970’s Los Angeles ghetto, accompanied by hundreds of tiny little ants and complete with cockroaches. I was sitting at the table and a stealth bomber sized cockroach scurried across the floor; I squished it straight away with my flip flop & proceeded to freak out at the horrific nature of it all.

My house itself is very small. One bedroom, a moderate size living room that has been broken into 2 rooms by a useless partition wall, a very tiny kitchen and a small bathroom with a toilet, sink and broom closet sized shower. I have running water most of the day, but only cold and have electricity all of the time. I have no refrigerator which really sucks, because it means more trips to the market and cooking every meal from scratch. I hope to acquire a mini-fridge in the next few weeks. However, I do have a 2 burner gas stove top (think glorified camping stove) which rrrrrocks! Previously all I had was 1 electric skillet. Now I can whip up all kinds of deliciousness.

I had to buy everything for my house as all that was in it was a bed, table and 1 lone chair. Pots, silverware, dishes, buckets, cleaning agents (more on that later), etc. This place has been vacant for at least 3 months & I don’t know how long the previous tenant lived here but oh my lord it is filthy. Buckets and buckets of filth. I went through an entire bottle of disinfecting cleaning soap in 1 day. I’m talking the kind of filth where you need to wash walls, grimy light switches and the underneath side of shelves. I think most people would say that joining the Peace Corps takes courage and I know that going through a divorce took a lot of courage but really, cleaning my new bathroom took even more. Layers and layers of someone else’s funk.....I literally had to mentally prepare myself for this task. I was on hands and knees like Cinderella scrubbing walls, floors, every square inch I could reach. After getting stoned on bleach fumes and working up a sweat for nearly two hours, I finished. I contemplated burning the clothes I wore while cleaning that room.

For the first time in my life I am living alone, something I have wanted to experience for a long time. I have inexhaustible lists of things I would like to do to this place including setting up a yoga room and planting a garden....I’ve got 2 years why not. I’m getting used to all of the new sounds of my new environment; the cacophony of birds in the mango tree next to my bedroom window, the cat meowing outside and as I sit and write this there is a group of Indians a few houses away banging on drums, shaking tambourines and chanting loudly in honor of this week’s special puja (prayer).

I went for a walk the other day in the early evening sun. There were only a few people taking walks just before dinner and the street traffic was quiet. Even though I had never walked down that stretch of street in my new neighborhood, there was a comforting familiarity. The trees, bushes and the cement or corrugated tin houses look the same all over Fiji. I realized, I finally experienced the comfort of the familiar in Fiji. Everything didn’t look and feel so new. For the first time, it felt like home and not just an extended stay.

My First “Holiday”, The Yasawa Adventure

I took my first “holiday” as they call it here, to the Yasawa Islands. You take a 4.5 hr ferry ride from Port Denerau passing several minuscule islands that have been capitalized on by building resorts to cater to both backpackers and those toasting to champagne wishes and caviar dreams.

I stayed with my friend Zoe in her Fijian village called Nacua (pronounced Nathua). These islands are exactly what you picture when you think of Fiji. Oceans 3 shades of turquoise, with 30 feet visibility, watching schools of fish swim around you while the palms sway in the constant salty breeze. True Paradise. Until you decide to actual live like a Fijian. Zoe lives in a traditional bure. A small thatched roof hut, with no running water, no electricity but 2 hours in the evening, more ants than you’ve ever seen in your life and a plethora of the ever entertaining rats.

I got to one of the most important things on my agenda as soon as I arrived-snorkeling, at a near-by resort. There was a reef that went out to sea about 2 kilometers and I swam all along that, joining the tiny electric blue fish, parrot fish, schools of small grouper, a lion fish with its poisonous striped fins fanned out, 2 giant clams, and a sapphire blue star fish 12 inches across. This ocean water is so salty that it seems as though your body defies gravity. When you try to dive down, the water, against your will, ascends you back up to the surface and makes you bob like a cork in a sea of fizzy prosecco.

When Zoe and I reached her village it was raining, this is wonderful because there has been a drought that has lasted for months. However, riding on a boat getting stung in the face by little pellets of painful raindrops, not so fun. Thankfully, a lovely local named Joe, helped me carry my bags and fetch us some of the most disgusting water I have ever seen. The water comes from a bore hole, but because the water table is so low, the water is salty and also filled with shit…literally. Poop etc, gets flushed and sits in septic tanks that leak and whala....poopy water. Another reason to be grateful for the rain, as rainwater en-catchments were placed under broken gutters and by the next day they were filled to the top. Fresh rainwater for drinking, this is a reason to celebrate. This water, by the way, needs to be carried in buckets by hand from the en-catchment back to Zoe’s hut about 50 yards away.

Upon arriving in a village one must do what is called a savusavu. It is a traditional offering of yanqona, also known as grog or kava. It is basically a gift of thanks for letting me stay in the village. One has to present this to the chief or someone of status. Thankfully, Joe also helped us with this as there are all kinds of things you should not do, so he helped me not make an ass of myself and offend a group of Fijians. We entered the community hall, it was lit by a single lantern that shown on 12 Fijian elders sitting around drinking kava. I was soaking wet and slightly intimidated by the suffocating amount of masculine energy. Joe did what he had to do, they spoke for a few minutes in Fijian, acknowledging, clapping, blessing etc. and asked me to get up and shake everyone’s hand…awkward..but here I go.

The island is so dry and the soil is so sandy that almost nothing grows, so if you want to eat produce you have to bring it from the mainland, but because there is no refrigeration and the constant competition of rats and ants, nothing lasts long. So Zoe and I got to work on making tomato chutney for dinner. We were tired and wet and finally went to bed, swearing, laughing and kind of scared at the sound of rats having a disco in her kitchen and also because we both had such horrible heartburn we couldn’t sleep. We found a single piece of gum to share & that solved that issue. I think two of the most soothing things to sleep to are the sound of rain and the sound of waves, and much to my delight, that night, I had both.

Wednesday night Zoe & I were invited to a gunu sede (pronounced newnew senday). It is a community grog session where you buy other people bilos (coconut shells you drink the kava from) of grog to raise money, this one was to raise money for a young man to go to high school. It was fun, culturally rich and slightly awkward because they had us sit in front so everyone could watch every move we make & you have to be careful who you buy for or else they may think you also have other intentions in mind like marriage…….better to stick to just buying for women……

I was invited to lunch the next day at a local’s house. On the menu-Land Crabs steamed in a curry broth, Boiled Cassava, and lolo (coconut milk) with lemon. These land crabs are somewhat small & hard to manage, so I had a young village woman sit next to me & act as my personal crab cracker. The meat is tender and sweet and tastes amazing soaked in the rich lolo, salted and dressed with lemon juice. The cassava sops up the broth & afterward you are ready for a nap. I failed to take a picture of this eating event, but honestly I don’t think a photo would have been able to capture the culinary anthropological intensity of the moment. There were 4 men, sitting separate from us women, eating their meals. While the hosts sat with us (myself, my volunteer friend Megan and 2 people she works with), the hosts did not eat. They simply enjoyed watching us devour their offerings and listening to our praise and thanks.

Later that day myself, Zoe and Megan hiked through rugged volcanic rocks and jungle to arrive at our very own private beach in front of Malakati village. A long horseshoe shaped stretch of soft white sandy beach all to ourselves. We took a quick dip in the crystal waters accompanied by a dusk sky and then headed back.

I spent 2 nights at a backpacker lodge/resort called Oarsman’s Bay. It’s a 45 minute rugged hike through trail and beach, and Zoe did all of this with my suitcase balanced on her head like an African tribal woman carry a monstrous bag of rice. Zoe is a warrior. Her living situation is basically like rough’n it camping…try that for 2 years. We arrived at the resort just in time for a game of volley ball with the men from her village that work at the resort, followed by a quick sea dip and then got ready for an amazing show of dancing, a traditional lovo dinner and hermit crab racing.

We met a group of very interesting tourists from a grad school in Melbourne, Australia. They were studying the effects of tourism in developing countries. One of the men, Juan from Chile, danced salsa; so I lucked out, grabbed my ipod, got a few dances in and to show off a little. It was great sweaty fun. Another gentleman, that I got to spend far too little time with, was named Marko. The kind you roll the R, Marrrrko, (pause for intensity)from Montenegro ( I didn’t know where it was either…..Middle East Mediterranean, along the Adriatic Sea). Yes, he’s tall, dark and devilishly good looking with the accent to match. The kind of guy trashy novels are written about, women brag about meeting and hope to meet again. One thing I love about traveling like this is the exotic people you meet and hearing their stories and how it eventually leads to them having the very conversation you are sharing. Now that I have a dozen new friends in Melbourne it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where my next holiday will be.

All good things must come to an end and alas so did my holiday. I went kayaking for 90 minutes with Zoe outside of the sparkling waters of the resort and literally watched my skin turn 3 shades darker even with sunscreen on.

Zoe was a great host, the hotel was more than generous, the tourist group was exciting and I hiked, ate, swam, snorkeled, played volleyball, danced, kayaked, laid in hammocks star gazing and rejuvenated my spirit.

Next holiday….hmmmmm…..I’m feeling Melbourne. Dancing, yoga, shopping, eating…my favorite things to do all over the world.

What have I been up to you ask?

I’ve been getting that question a lot lately & decided to respond. I am working for the Sathya Sai Institute, a sector of a Sai Baba organization in Lautoka, Fiji. Sai Baba is a spiritual figure that governs a set of his own beliefs that is respected & practiced globally beginning in 1947. The main project the Institute needs me for is to produce a music cd that teaches what they call Universal Human Values including Love, Peace, Right Action, Truth & Non-violence, so basically yogic principles. This is totally bitch’n, b/c the spiritual principles are what I believe, however on the flip side of this I am FAR from a singer- song writer. My job is to write & produce music etc. and thankfully, I have already enlisted other PC volunteers to help in this musical endeavor so that I don’t make a complete & utter ass of myself.

The Institute that governs the school is very unique because it urges other schools to teach these Human Values in their schools & incorporate them into their curriculum. Traditional learning focuses mostly on left brain learning & this instigates the right brain….feelings, emotions, spirituality etc. to be developed and balanced. Right on. I have been tirelessly working on a resource book for secondary school teachers that incorporates adding these human values into their established curriculum.

Creating one smart little loving Buddha at a time.

The resource book has quotes, stories, activities and visualization exercises that focus on a specific value, for example compassion. I edit stories, compose the activities, include questions and write the visualizations as well. This is a massive endeavor for the Institute & I am happy to help. They appreciate my “American” view point & thanks to having an English teacher as a mom my English skills are pretty good.

I also got together a composting area. The school that the institute governs is extraordinary & is a pilot for many others. They teach composting in their curriculum & because of that it was very easy to work on getting that done. So with myself, 5 students, 2 teachers & the grounds keeper we built a 3 sectioned compost with corrugated tin, sawed up logs, nails, a cane knife and a hammer….oh yes & sweat. In an hour and a half it was done and there are all kinds of delightful things rotting in it already! The school has a working garden that a garden club is in charge of & they take home veges to their families when it is time to harvest. So our compost goodies will now act as fertilizer for the garden.

There are 30 min yoga classes once per week that are for the older kids. I have taught a couple of times when the other teacher was out of town. I’ve never loved teaching kids yoga and this group is so big, around 35, that I find myself disciplining more than teaching and its just flat out exhausting. But it is nice to still be teaching.

The director of the institute was interested in making virgin coconut oil & another volunteer has been working on that as her main project, so I got the instructions from her & we will start making VCO as soon as the resource book is finished. I’m really excited about that because coconut oil is wonderful for you and is kind of expensive…..cheap compared to US prices but expensive for my PC budget. The process is done using very basic-mostly recycled materials-and we hope to provide a workshop to the teachers and parents of the students to educate them on how to make it , use it and possibly start a little coconut oil business of their own as it is becoming increasingly popular.

The head master of the school was interested in recycling paper instead of burning it & I found instructions on how to make paper from paper. Like the thick grainy kind that sometimes has flowers pressed in it for like $5 a sheet in the states…now all of you know what you are getting for Christmas :) The technology is simple and cheap & all ages of kids can participate so this will also be a fun and rewarding project.

Finally, I met Milt Nelms, Int’l swim coach and husband to 5 time medalist Australian Olympian Shane Gould. We met at a local pool where he was conducting a swim lesson to teach gym teachers in training how to swim themselves & also how to teach swimming. The S. Pacific has a huge drowning rate & Milt is implementing a maverick style swim training to help educate & prevent. So I went to the pool & observed & met him & Shane & had dinner & talked about future projects I could assist with around the island.

There is a ton of work potential here & I am lucky to have so many opportunities and such great people to work with. My work environment is laid back, we get to work at 8:30am, have tea at 10:30am, lunch at 1pm & leave at 3pm.

Unfortunately none of these projects involve snorkeling or the beach, but that will come later as I am going to visit my BFFF-best friend forever Fiji….(I know its totally juvenile, but I was really tired when I came up with it) in the Yasawas, the islands where the movie Blue lagoon was filmed….circa 1980…think 15 yr old Brooke Shields be-bopping around naked..yes that one. It’s totally gorgeous and I am welcoming the brake from the city, buses, exhaust etc.

I'm missing the comforts and familiarity of home, and friends and family so much.

xoxox