So, do you want to marry him?

Background information to the story that follows: The Indian population in Fiji still practices arranged marriages. Not the kind where before birth you are betrothed because your astrological forecasts are a perfect match. But the kind where a nit-picky, controlling mother insists you marry by the time you are 27 or you will shame the family- kind of an arrangement. So everybody spreads the single status word & starts to find you a mate. What happens next is as a woman, my prospective partner comes over with his parents & siblings & my family tries to schmooze him with tea and food & our parents brag about each of us. Meanwhile, myself & my potential future husband sit in silence, staring at each other in the most awkward hour of our lives. And of course, the final decision is made 99% based on looks…I wish I were joking about that….they even acknowledge that it’s superficial & know that looks don’t last, but that’s just how it’s done. (So let’s cross our fingers you are having a good hair day.) And if either party says no, you have to deal with the unfortunate rejection, your family’s frustration & pressure & the entire awkward experience ALL over again with the next potential match.
Obviously this isn’t quite the way things go down in my American culture (Haaaaaa-llelu-jah!), however, in my effort to realize we are all One, it’s really not too dissimilar to that of a friend setting you up with someone they know.

The story: I am in the market and was buying eggs from a different vendor because my usual guy was out. I am speaking Hindi with her & because this is unusual & makes me like a show at the circus to them she calls over her brother & the lady from the vendor across the aisle. They are asking the usual questions-“Where are you from? Why are you here? Where are you staying? Are you married or single?” I am used to this & am answering accordingly. One of the women says “I have a son. I want you to meet him.” I know what this means & I reply “No thank you.” Of course she is insistent, a popular trait among Indian women :) She is literally pulling my arm to have me meet her son, so I have to get “American” on her and say “Really, I am in Fiji to work, not get married. I don’t want to meet anyone.” She softly acquiesces and lets go of my arm & then makes a quick call on her cell phone that ends with “Jaldi aao.” Which means, come quick. Oh shit, here it comes, I just found myself in the middle of an “arrangement” in the middle of the damn market! The son comes up and the mother says “Talk to her.” The boy pauses, looks at me and then looks at his mom and says “About what?” The mother grits her teeth and elbows her son and says “Speak in Hindi, talk to her!” I am MORTIFIED and am standing in front of this kid nearly 10 years my junior and thinking “run, ruuuun!!” Alas, the tension breaks and the mother angrily tells her son to leave as if he blew it. Then she squarely looks at me and in all seriousness says “So, do you want to marry him?” I can’t hold in my laughter and then adamantly proclaim to her “In my culture this is not how we do it! No, I don’t want to marry your son, I don’t want to marry anyone now!” She follows, veeeery casually and relaxed as if nothing horrific just transpired “Okay, come back around soon and we can speak more Hindi.”

Storms been a brewing

It’s been a while since I’ve written; the reason being-life has been stormy seas, rough waters, low tides. The past 3 months have not been all rainbows and puppies as one’s Face Book pictures may suggest.

It started with the culture shock of coming back to 3rd world living after being in the salsa dancing, yoga doing, amazing food eating hedonistic pleasures of Melbourne. Followed by political/financial issues at work, multiple health issues (maybe a bacteria?, maybe a parasite?), followed by the worst blow of all, my best friend here, Zoe, was heading back to America for good. She gave it her best effort, but in the end she made the very challenging choice to leave, as she realized she was not going to be able to reach her fullest potential in Fiji. Zoe was my soft place to land at the end of a rough day. We spoke almost every night. She is the kind of person you click with immediately; you see life through the same set of glasses, you live by the same philosophies and she didn’t judge. She was a true soul sister.

AND then to top it all off, I have to move…..again…..my 4th time since I came to Lautoka. Sigh….

No one wants to read Peace Corps Fiji turned country song, but it would be a big fat, shit-hitting-the-fan lie if all I wrote about were pina coladas and sculpted Fijian men. So I’m doing my best to cope during the hard times, realizing that with my former coping mechanisms not around (yoga, salsa, family) one must deal with it in other means….I’m still figuring out what those are!

In other news: I have been chipping away at my CD & have almost all of the music lined up to practice & then hopefully record in late June. I recently wrote a song called “Hugs Not Drugs”. I was walking to the bus stand on my way to work & a guy had a shirt on that said that & I thought, “Yes, I will write a catchy tune that children all across Fiji will sing. They will stop sniffing glue & smoking weed & will run around hugging each other instead.” Perhaps that’s a smidge Utopian, but whatever, the song still rocks.

I’ve also decided it would be a good project to re-establish the library at my primary school. It’s a major project!! I love to read & there are resources in the US where I can get free books. Hopefully the teachers are on board & we can make it a success.

I recently wrote 3 chapters for a values based parenting guide. I felt TOTALLY hypocritical writing them because I don’t have kids! But my boss asked me to do it, so I did.

I finally found a great Hindi tutor! I go to their house every week, we chat and have tea, have my lesson & then eat dinner together. It’s awesome. They really love me, they treat me just like family except for wait on me like a regal guest. Its been 6 weeks now & my Hindi is definitely improving, a most challenging yet rewarding endeavor. I totally busted this kid walking past me talking to his friends in Hindi saying I was hot, hahahahah. Of course he didn’t know I understood & when I said thank you in Hindi he got totally embarrassed and was apologizing.

My most recent brain-child is to create a yoga DVD. PCV Fiji Yoga DVD! I enlisted a very talented video camera aficionado volunteer & we are going to record on the beach front outside their house (actually grass hut). It is going to be VERY basic & the point is that it can be used by volunteers themselves, by PC staff & for volunteers to use in their villages for wellness projects or women's groups etc. I also want to include a special feature of some basic things to do for kid’s yoga & some fun partner work as well as a simple 5-10 minute meditation. I hope to start working on it in Dec.

Finally, about a month ago I got a bike. I have never seen a woman riding a bike in my fair town, ever. So as I was blissfully joy-riding my bike down a dangerous pot hole ridden street a Fijian man running toward me, looked at me and said “freeeaaakkkyyyy”. Apparently no one else has ever seen a woman riding a bike in this city either. I am a spectacle! People literally stop what they are doing to watch me ride my bike. It’s hilarious! Maybe I’ll start a trend. Forget about bra burning, its women’s liberation through bicycle!

The Magic of Melbourne

Welcome to the Land of OZ (as the locals call it). It’s a magical place, that reminds me of home. It has hot showers and air conditioning. Salsa dancing and yoga studios. It has educated men that know how to flirt & grocery stores and Kmarts. Yes, my friends you have come with me on my most exciting journey back to a developed country. Welcome to Melbourne Australia. .

I went to Melbourne in mid-January on a much needed holiday. I was traveling alone for the first time & found it to be a most enjoyable experience. There were definitely times when I wished I had someone to share my joy with, but it was really awesome not have to worry about anyone else hunger or sleep schedule.

I Couch Surfed. There is an international website called couch surfing & you sign up, set up a profile & try to find someone in the city you will be staying in that has similar interests to show you the lay of the land, to hang out with & to crash at their place all at no charge. I had a pleasant experience with a most generous host who used his Iphone like an Inspector Gadget tool of omniscience.
My sole purpose on this magical journey was to go salsa dancing & do yoga. I researched the main things I wanted to do before I got there but otherwise had no real plan.

The first place I went to was the Queen Victoria market in North Melbourne. It was stupendous! I spent 4 hours there. I started by sampling 6 different wines from this very innovative spot called Re-Wine. He makes & bottles his own wines & if you bring his bottle back you can re-fill it at a discounted price. He gives you generous pours of anything you want to taste so after about 30 minutes I had a healthy buzz at the ripe hour of 10am. Following that I ate peaches, nectarines, grapes, hummus, marinated mussels and olives. A heavenly assortment of all things I miss while in Fiji.

The first night I went dancing I had a lovely dance with a man named Marco. He was from Mexico, grew up in L.A. & was now living in Melbourne. I told him I was from the US, he said “Which place?” I replied, “Ohio.” He said, “Oh really, my wife is from Cleveland.” I couldn’t believe!! Where is she!? He brought her over, we had a great chat & became fast friends. The next night I went dancing and was asked to dance by an Indian fellow. I asked him where he was from & he said Fiji. In Hindi, I said “Really? Which place?” He said, “Lautoka.” What?! “I live in Lautoka!” There was another friend of his there as well, also from Lautoka. SO here I am in Melbourne with a new friend from Cleveland, and 2 other friends from my new home town of Lautoka. Really incredible.

You know what else was incredible? The dancing. I love salsa dancing more than words can express. It simply makes me feel alive. I almost wept on the dance floor I was so overjoyed & elated while being spun to loud shoulder-shimmying conga rhythms. I was in bliss. It had been 9 months since I stepped on the dance floor & I was concerned I had lost my mambo mojo, alas, it was if I had never stopped. I could be myself again! Rocking out my fishnet stockings & stilettos. I was so graciously accepted into their dancing community & now have a whole new group of friends that I can visit any time.

I went back to the North Melbourne on a Wed. night for what is called Night Market. They clear out the veggies & bring in isles and isles of local crafted good, art, jewelry, cheap junk and tons of FOOD! There is food from all over the world. Spanish, Mexican, Middle Eastern, French…..including sangria, gelato, fudge, cupcakes and of course it wouldn’t be Melbourne without the coffee. I had a generous serving of paella with clams, mussels and shrimp. I ate my lemon meringue cupcake with frosting so light it could have dissolved in mid-air, before my dinner :) There were 2 stages with live music & hundreds of people eating, drinking and jamming to the cool grooves. I had so much fun that night! I stumbled upon an amazing musician named Grace Barbe performing. She called her music Afro-Creol as she is from the Seychelles Islands off the coast of Madagascar. I call it sexy, spiritual, soulful reggae bliss. I was so in love with her music I coughed up $20 and bought the CD. Since then I have turned on at least 5 people to her sensual grooves. I would strongly encourage you to check her out.

Melbourne itself is a bustling cosmopolitan city. There are small cafes and boutiques around every corner, a real haven for entrepreneurialism. This was a very refreshing contrast to the suffocating Starbucks and McDonalds chains of my homeland. There are museums and an obvious support for the arts. The public transport was so easy to use, trains and trams running regularly all over the city & suburbs. I easily became a pro within a few days. Melbourne is also unofficially known as Australia’s foodie town. I traveled into the city or surrounding suburbs everyday and generously ate my way through. In Lygon St. I filled myself with a fresh salad nicoise, studded with marinated olives and chilled potatoes followed by a silkend scoop of honeycomb gelato. In St Kilda I snacked on fresh cherries and pistachios while I rode my bike down the sea shore. In S. Melbourne, I indulged in the national fair of fish and chips with a liberal splash of vinegar, a throw back to my love of french fries drowning in vinegar from the carnival days of my youth. Downtown, I had a lamb burger on a gluten free bun with arugula and a mint pesto mayo-genius! I made a friend on the bus & she invited me out with her friends to a 6 course all vegetarian Thai meal, even the tofu was from scratch-blooming tea anyone? My last day there I devoured a buttery and crisp gluten free polenta crust pizza with peppers, tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella. I washed it down with what else-a cup of joe and an Oz favorite, the vanilla yo-yo cookie. A brilliant concoction of 2 buttery shortbread cookies with vanilla butter cream frosting in the center.

I love Melbourne. I hope to go back someday to re-connect with my new friends and enjoy the mystical wonders of ethnic food, hot running water and down pillows……..

Sitting in the Quagmire of Consciousness

I recently decided to do a vipassana meditation course. It is a 10 day course where you learn a style of meditation known as vipassana. It is an ancient technique that has its roots in Buddhism but is non-secular. This is taught at vipassana schools and rented venues all over the world with over 60,000 people per year attending.

I’ve known about this practice for years because it is popular among the yoga scene, but thought, “No way, I could never do this.” Why? Because the entire course is in silence. No speaking for 10 days, in fact it’s so holistically introspective you don’t even make eye contact with the other participants. No speaking, reading, writing, radios, t.v., telephones…….just you and your thoughts.

We take a vow of “noble silence” and off we go to sit on our arsses to practice this ancient technique 10 hours a day. Why would one put themselves through this you ask? Because the purpose of the technique is to release old habit patterns, maintain equanimous awareness (to be less reactionary) and to view the world in reality-the way it is-not the way you wished it to be. So you can see how making those shifts could be profound and life altering. It is not meant to be a holy smack to the forehead & suddenly “YOU ARE HEALED”. It’s a practice that must continuously be maintained to receive the positive changes and benefits.

Our daily schedule looked like this:

4am (yes, ungodly early) Wake-up gong

4:30-6:30am Meditate in the hall or your own room

6:30-7:30am Breakfast (oatmeal everyday..was yummy from day 1-4 then 5-10 I never wanted it again!)

7:30-8:30am break

8:30-9:30am Mandatory group meditation in the hall

9:30-11am Meditate in the hall or your own room (come on-we all know if you go back to your room you’re not meditating…yes, you could hear ppl snoring)

11-12pm Lunch (the food was awesome! Clean and delicious, all vegetarian, I ate close to vegan for 10 days straight)

12-1pm Break

1-2:30pm Meditate in your room or hall

2:30-3:30pm Mandatory group meditation in the hall

3:30-5pm Meditate in your room or hall

5pm Tea (that’s right NO dinner…booooooo…Only tea and fruit-papaya everyday, I still cant eat it)

6-7pm Mandatory group meditation in the hall

7-8:30pm Video discourse by the teacher (S.N. Goenka, giving depth to the lineage & teachings, they were funny, encouraging and very helpful)

8:30-9pm Meditation

9-9:30pm Shower

9:30-10pm Lights out

The course is ALL donation based…..whatever you can give. Of course they ask you for a donation AFTER the course is over and you’re all blessed out & in love with love & feel like giving everything you have away :)

There were about 15 women and 7 men. Ranging in age from early 20’s –early 60’s. Australian, Indian, Fijian, Burmese, American, Canadian…….everyone wants bliss apparently.

Meditating is tough, we know this. Try it in the sweltering cauldron that is Fiji in the summer-for 3 hours at a time. Good luck not moving through the stinging, prickling of sweat as your body heat rises…..and mosquitoes. Everybody’s experience is unique because our own baggage is unique, so for me

Day 1 was the longest most boring day of my life.

Day 2 I was in so much pain from sitting I almost started crying. I remember the teacher saying take a 5 minute break & come back for further instructions. I was thinking, what does that mean....please let her say something like "Now, you may go play volleyball or take a swim".........when we came back & she said "you may meditate in the hall or in your own room", that's when I realized "you wont be doing ANYTHING but meditating"..ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Day 3 went against the wall, relief! No speaking not a problem, mind is slowing down and I can concentrate and not move for a longer period of time. However, my blood sugar was so low from no dinner I almost had a blood sugar induced meditation…it’s called passing out.

Day 4 Had a deep trippy healing meditation, walked out of the hall in a zone barefoot into the grass. (there is no possible way to describe how you feel when you go through this)

By day 7 I’m ready to blow the joint. If I have to sit on my arss for 1 more day it will be callused like a baboon bum.……..Day 8, 9, 10, the trip continues…

I did it with my closest friend in Fiji, another volunteer named Zoe. On the day we could finally speak I ran out into the grassy field & did a running leaping splits in the air and then ran to her and gave her a huge hug as we giggled like crazy people and tears of joy, bliss and relief rolled down my cheeks.

Really glad I did it & I would strongly recommend it to anyone, however can’t say I will be doing it again…not the full 10 days anyway, for old students there is a 4 day course I think I could handle.

My toosh has since healed.

“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.