allyson and bryan

On the Eve of Bryan's 35th, I Cried /

(Written on 2/19)

I know that, when you're traveling -- especially budget traveling -- things will undoubetdly, and incessantly, go wrong. You'll miss a flight, become miserably lost in 95-degree heat, having forgotten your water, or get caught in a torrential downpour wearing a thin white t-shirt and porting your camera in your backpack. You'll come face-to-face with a big furry spider, spend far more money than you planned, eat the wrong thing, wear the wrong shoes (thus getting stuck in jungle mud), and perhaps offer the sacrifice of 29 mosquito snacks in one 15-minute period. You'll share a bathroom with other dirty travelers, stepping on frogs at 2 a.m. on the way to pee, returning later that morning only to be rewarded with a freezing-cold shower.

I know because each of these things has happened to me and Bryan already. And we're just getting started.

And of course I can embrace all of this, all of this experience, along with the best of them. Because in between the mishaps and the mayhem, there are gorgeous sunsets, new friends, big breakfasts, amazing sights, and love. So it makes it all okay. Most of the time.

The day before Bryan's birthday, the 15th of February (still the 14th in the U.S.) was an especially crappy day. We'd showed up at the Nadi airport early for an 11:30 flight, as instructed by the airline employee I spoke with on the phone, ready to buy our $113 tickets to the island of Taveuni. Now if you've ever been to Fiji you probably know what we've quickly learned -- first, assume and expect nothing is as it seems, and second, give yourself an excess of time to do so. When we walked up to the counter we were quickly informed that there was no such $113 rate -- ever -- and our tickets would cost upwards of twice that, depending on how nice we were. While $280 (or $206) Fijian isn't all that much in the real world, we're trying mightily to stick to a budget and round-trip air is a relatively major expense. So we decided to step back and reevaluate. We checked with the one other airline, trudged with our heavy backpacks to a few travel agents, and eventually determined that we were either a) stuck in Nadi (not so desireable) or b) stuck paying at least $206 apiece. Of course, by the time we settled on flying to Taveuni and then taking a (23-hour) ferry ride back, the 11:30 was fully booked.

So we moved on to the afternoon flight -- 2:30 -- and proceed to trek back to the ticket counter for the umpteenth time to make our purchase. The big Fijian laughs as we begin to slide our AMEX across: all credit card machines have been down for the last two days, so we'll have to pay cash. Amazingly the cash machine in (and at the other end of the) airport takes our card, and when we march back up we're rewarded with the sight of the Air Fiji agent reaching down, unlocking a metal cash box with a key literally dangling from a string around his neck, and carefully placing our bills inside.

After spending a good six hours at this little airport, Bryan and I board the tiny plane along with one other solo passenger. There's so many empty seats that Mr. Hunter Jr. gets his own, a window view. Things are looking up.

When we arrive in Taveuni, we're surprised (but not too surprised) to see that the "airport" is no larger than our house in San Francisco. There are villagers milling about, and a bathroom full of flies but devoid toilet paper. Our ride appears and we begin the one-hour off-road drive to our destination: Susie's Plantation Resort. We'd read about Susie's in Lonely Planet, also maybe somewhere else. Our chat with the Australian owner has ensured us a nice, en suite bure for $70 Fijian a night. Well within budget.

When we arrive at Susie's, we're struck by the beautiful grounds and its perch over the ocean. The owner meets us immediately and proceeds on a quick tour, while we try to ignore the sweat dripping down our backs and the dirt under our fingernails. All lovely, all nice, may I please have a shower? Well first there's the little business of price: $120 a night, naturally, for the bure?

(This has happened to us almost everywhere we've gone so far in Fiji -- been quoted one rate before arriving, only to have it multiply mysteriously upon arrival.)

In Susie's defense, they eventually honored the $70 rate upon our departure, which turned out to be a full three days earlier then we'd planned. Blame it on that shower.

Once we let ourselves into our little bure, we immediately looked at one other in dismay. I mean -- we're ready for budget. We're accepting of showering down the hall, and crafting a makeshift contact lens washbin from a cut-in-half-bottle of water. We're okay with some bugs and lizards and a moldy pillow or two. But this was seriously gross. The room was dark, dank, with a plastic sticker floor. Ants ran this way and that, and the mosquito net that hung over the bed was musty and scratchy to the touch. Then there was the bathroom. It too was dark, damp, lacking towels and desperately in need of a good cleaning. But I was determined to keep a positive outlook -- after the mud mishap, the downpour, the mosquitoes, the freezing showers -- how bad could it be? The next day was Bryan's big birthday, and naturally, I wanted it to be special. I'd feel fine about this place after a nice hot shower, I promised myself.

So I stripped down and adjusted the mildewy, wet handle of the nozzle as best I could. Then I stepped inside onto the gray, slimy, uneven floor -- and I fell. I went down hard, grabbing the slippery, disintegrating shower curtain as I plummeted, hitting my arm and my back and getting Bryan to move at the speed of light. And then I cried. I cried because it hurt, but also because of the frustration of things gone awry, of my plans for his birthday, and maybe because I was just a little bit homesick.

[I took a picture of the shower (and of Bryan in the trunk of a stationwagon taxi after the torrential downpour episode, and of Mr. Hunter on the plane) but you'll have to find them yourself, as the pay-by-the-minute Internet precludes proper flickr-linking.]

Needless to say, we spent that first night at Susie's and then quickly checked ourselves out. On Bryan's birthday night we made our way up to Taveuni's Garden Island Resort -- an old redone Travelodge that might as well be the Four Seasons as far as I'm concerned. It costs $157 Fijian a night, and has a hot shower, clean sheets, a pool (with lounge chairs!), air-conditioning, daily maid service, and -- get this -- a hairdryer. We had a great February 16th after all.

As far as the island itself is concerned, we're still a bit behind on exploring. The room rate has forced us to conserve in other areas during the day (e.g. meals, taxi rides, activities, etc.) so we're instead indulging in some lazy poolside days and DVD-filled nights. From what we've seen so far, Taveuni is truly a trip: There is no ATM, a bank that only exchanges cash, and an Indian man who will swipe your credit card in exchange for 5% and a musty roll of Fijian bills he pulls from a wooden drawer beneath his register. Internet is $1 a minute (dial-up) and only available at this splurge hotel we're at right now. Villagers walk along the dusty curb, nearly sideswiped by trucks every few feet, and half of the single road that circles the island is unpaved. It's truly breathtakingly beautiful, and quiet and lush, and by the time we leave we might be in love with it.

We're in Taveuni for a few more days before heading to Fiji's capital of Suva. As I write this endless blog enrty, my Susie's shower bruises are healing and I'm hoping I'll get a chance to get online. I'll likely post this when we arrive in Suva, sometime during the last week of February. I haven't checked my e-mail in five whole days, the longest yet. I guess that's why this story is so long. I can't believe you're still reading.

Love and kisses!

stars, they're just like allyson @ 1:03 PM  

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