Why Travel on--Looking Back to Suva, Fiji 2010

                                               

November 28, 2012 

Why travel on; Looking back to Suva, 2010; Bay of Islands (Fiji); Royal Suva Yacht Club; The fishing boats; The townspeople and architecture; The market place; The Hibiscus parade; Albert Park celebrations;
Leaving Fiji. 

Why travel on

 “The best of travel seems to exist outside of time, as though the years of travel are not deducted from your life. Travel also holds the magical possibility of reinvention: that you might find a place you love, to begin a new life and never go home. In a distant place no one knows you—nearly always a plus. And you can pretend, in travel, to be different from the person you are, unattached, enigmatic, younger, richer or poorer, anyone you choose to be, the rebirth that many travelers experience if they go far enough. But there is curiosity. Even the most timid fantasists need the satisfaction of now and then enacting their fantasies. And sometimes you just have to clear out. Trespassing is a pleasure for some of us. As for idleness, ‘An aimless joy is a pure joy.’ 

And there are dreams: one, the dream of a foreign land that I enjoy at home, staring east into space at imagined temples, crowded bazaars and what V.S. Pritchett called ‘human architecture’, lovely women in gauzy clothes, old trains clattering on mountainsides, the mirage of happiness; two, the dream state of travel itself. Often on a trip, I seem to be alive in a hallucinatory vision of difference, the highly coloured unreality of foreignness, where I am vividly aware (as in most dreams) that I don’t belong; yet I am floating, an idle anonymous visitor among busy people, an utter stranger. When you’re stranger, as the song goes, no one remembers your name.” 

From the first chapter of Paul Theroux’ Ghost Train to the Eastern Star. 

Those words say it all for me……..and so I travel on. Discovering new shores imagined with wind in my sails. Retracing faraway places I’ve been before. Touching the familiar, the difference, the stillness of being apart, the loneliness of being unknown—of being isolated, the stimulation of different culture: the colour, the energy, the vivacity, the emotion, the belief, the food, the smiles, the song, the tears and laughter. 

All just a glossy coat. But as Theroux says: “Without change their can be no nostalgia.” 

Looking back to Suva, 2010 

Sailing in through the pass is easier with electronic charts and better markers and guidebooks. Whereas, 30 years ago our entrance through those same reefs bore evidence of finality: strewn wrecks, broken frameworks of dreams once whole, finality of journeys brought to end. Saltwater graveyards. 

 In we sail now effortlessly though with some temerity, into the small sheltered area of the Bay of Islands (as in Suva’s, not New Zealand’s Bay of Islands). We drop the hook in mirrored waters, still with broken hand*. 

There are stories the threads of which are lost. Gilt without the luster. The presence of which is gone. The fragments of knowing, forgotten. I will not retrace or fill in these with words, but bring back nostalgia through the shutter of my camera—colourful enough and saved to step back inside. 

Bay of Islands (Fiji) 

As we come into the Bay of Islands, we see a ‘replica’ of a traditional outrigger heading in to anchor in safe, calm waters. However, it is an amalgam of old and new. Its shape epitomizes balance and the design is modern and aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Its sailing capacity leaves one to wonder how efficient? It leaves the question. It cuts the water with grace and style. And soon the hook stops its motion and the waters around it lie still. 

This is a very small bay off the old Trade Winds hotel and looking out between the heads we feel guarded from the gray, from the old salt graveyards. We anchor in a new sailing era alongside a replica of long ago—with a modern touch.

 
Replica of an old outrigger sailing vessel, however an amalgam of modern and new design. It cuts the water with grace and style. The hook stops its motion and waters around it lie still. 

 
Looking out between the heads of the Bay of Islands, Suva we feel guarded from the gray, from the old salt graveyards. 

Royal Suva Yacht Club 

A gray day with storm clouds billowing at the Royal Suva Yacht Club shows boat lines tugging tenaciously at a long, slender wormlike walkway. It feels as if charm has taken a back seat. 

There is an emptiness about the place. Like the Colonials walked away and left their boats behind. 

 
A gray day with storm clouds billowing at the Royal Suva Yacht Club. 

The fishing boats 

Walking along the Suva water front I see the long liners out at anchor in the gray, waiting their turn to come in to unload their fish, or waiting to head back out to catch more. Ever more. And ever more. 



I see the long liners out at anchor in the gray, waiting their turn to come in to unload their fish, or waiting to head back out to catch more. 

They’re Asian rust buckets with harsh long lines for one purpose, and that is to bring the fish in for profit and to feed the market place. A long liner’s balance tips to the port side as the large frozen fish—caught in a brief unsuspecting moment of life and now frozen in time-- are unloaded into freezer trucks. See the man on the right holding up the large frozen tuna soon to be served up as a gourmet meal at homes and restaurants worldwide. 



A long liner’s balance tips to the port side as the large frozen fish—caught in a brief unsuspecting moment of life and now frozen in time-- are unloaded into freezer trucks. 


I saw a documentary on fish distribution here in Suva. It was most interesting. An Asian fish specialist guru takes samples of the fish as they came down the conveyor belt. His eye is keen and, in taking small samples, he is able to read colour and texture and determine where in the world it should be destined for: Japan, Auckland, or Los Angeles--Different expectations, different standards, and different price tags. By the following morning, the fish are cleaned, filleted, packed and on the planes heading for respective destination. 


Small fish sold on the side walk for a panned fried or BBQ’d family dinner. Or perhaps just boiled and served with Cassava. Fijians eat simply. 

 
Small fish sold on the side walk for a panned fried or BBQ’d family dinner. 

The town’s people and architecture 

These are street scenes as I meander down toward the parade. Jostling Saturday morning shoppers; an imposing man with a ‘green’ T-shirt message: stop pollution; a shoe shine; sweet little children on their haunches, waiting; Indian sweets; a Dandy of all dandies bus conductor; old Colonial architecture. 









The building with the gable is where—I believe—I went to get my eyes checked: so efficiently and so inexpensive.


The market place 

A burst of sensory delight: fresh fruit and vegetables in vibrant colours, arranged so creatively, for so little money, and that affords such good nourishment. Suva market is a yachtsperson’s food haven not to mention the local’s access. 

Enjoy a walk through the market as I did—somewhat mesmerized and not know whether to take photographs or make purchases. 















Suva market place, a burst of sensory delight: fresh fruit and vegetables in vibrant colours, arranged so creatively, for so little money, and that affords such good nourishment.

The Hibiscus parade 

The onlookers, the motor cycle police, the marching band, the parade; beauty queens; the important issues voiced: literacy, libraries, solution to poverty reduction, investing in early childhood counts, stop abuse; value Fiji’s biodiversity, it’s our life; Ministry of fisheries and forests—protect our reefs, our ocean is our future; Para Olympic representatives; Fiji prison’s yellow ribbon project: building bridges of hope—generosity, honesty, patience, mercy, a second chance; grow more and more food, it is for Fiji’s own good, always be healthy and wealthy; working together for a clean and healthy lifestyle—we are all one family; Hare Krishna floats; the happiest island people I have yet met—Fijians! 

People stood, they watched, they listened, they laughed and smiled, they felt honoured to have their photograph taken, as they celebrated. 

 

Hibiscus festival: People stood, they watched, they listened, they laughed and smiled, they felt honoured to have their photograph taken, as they absorbed the issues and celebrated. 

Albert Park celebrations 

The most rudimentary fun rides started into action. Osama Bin Laden had a car named after him; the little boy riding it was most probably oblivious to the ominous namesake; simple card games with 10c bets, fast food, popcorn, painted faces, the Ferris wheel and the gas-lit Hibiscus flame. 

There was entertainment: Hibiscus Queen Beauty competition, many exotic he-she’s dressed to the nines, and music. Russ went into trance mode and I into fun and amusement mode. 

Tired after a long day we walked to the main road and got a taxi back to Zulu, in the quiet waters of Suva’s bay of islands. 

Filled and satisfied having experienced the Fijian day of fun, I lay down and closed my eyes till the morning sun shed light on a new day. 










Rudimentary rides, fast food, popcorn, painted faces, the Ferris wheel and the gas-lit Hibiscus flame--a full night of celebration in Albert Park, Suva. 

Leaving Fiji 

We left Fiji October 6, 2010 for the open sea—jerry cans filled with extra fuel, the sun setting on Malo Lailai island on the horizon, bringing closure to our sensory filled stay. 

We sailed on to yonder shores…………..New Caledonia, Norfolk Island, and Ateoroa--the Land of the Long White Cloud, New Zealand. 

With jerry cans filled with extra fuel, the sun setting on Malo Lailai island on the horizon, we sailed on to yonder shores: New Caledonia, Norfolk Island, and Ateoroa—the Land of the Long White Cloud, New Zealand. 

 *Note on end result of my broken hand: I broke my hand on Yadua Island climbing a bluff. Russ was ahead of me and dislodged a boulder the size of a football, which hit my hand.

The tall Fijian orthopedic doctor at Suva Private Hospital reviewed the x-rays of my badly broken hand and said there were two options with which to proceed: to let it heal on its own, or to do surgery on it.

He recommended that I let it heal on its own, as he said too many surgeons jump to the knife for resolve unnecessarily . He said both options would lead to same end result: Total healing.

I went back in two days for him to make further assessment as my hand was swollen beyond and throbbing badly. I was in excruciating pain. He said, alright that we could schedule surgery for next day. I got a quote for the operation: approx US$1,500.

Russ recommended that I use that money to fly back to US where I had full Boeing Medical Insurance. How thankful I was for doing that. Dr. Stickney from Evergreen Orthopedic Surgery and his very capable Physical Therapist, Karen Orloff, gave me back my hand—fully healed.

Dr. Stickney said that if I would have left it to “heal” on its own, that the sharp broken bone would have cut through the tendon and I would have lost the use of my little finger! Fun in the sun!! Here’s to Yankee surgeons. Thank you Dr. Stickney!

Other Fijian doctor recommendations for a:
Fractured shin bone of a Fijian from a car accident—keep the leg warm at night and take pain pills.
Badly inflamed eye of a Fijian boatyard employee—keep it out of the sun.
Bad headache and irritated eye of an Irish sailor—rub some sun cream on the face. (2nd opinion diagnosed it as a sinus infection and treated it with antibiotics which resolved all).
Bad cataract on eye of Fijian cleaning lady—sorry nothing can be done about it. Between Russ, I, and his friend Bob Goddess (Chairperson of International Programs for Taveuni Island Rotary Club) we got her listed for next year’s surgeries done at Taveuni Hospital by volunteer Christian doctors from US and NZ. The operation would be free as is travel to and from other islands and accommodation while there. They did 300 plus surgeries in 2012 and already 87 are listed for next year. Cataracts are major cause of blindness in Fiji.