April 6th, 2005
7-Legged Spiders
I arrived in Fiji with no plan or idea of what to do. I had a hostel booked,
and a Lonely Planet guidebook in my pack, with my only desire being simply to
find myself a hammock and lie in it with my book while drinking fruity cocktails
with a little umbrella garnish and watching the waves on the beach. With this
in mind, I stepped off the plane into the humid night air only to realize that
I would not be as dry as I had been on the plane for at least three weeks. Whether
you want to call it moist, humid, clammy, damp, muggy, or tropical, Fiji is
all of these. But it is also beautiful, friendly, and so laid back that on occasion
"Fiji-time" can be downright irritating.
In my quest to find the perfect spot in every country I began my island-hopping
adventure on the island of Waya. Adi's (pronounced Andi's) Place. This was not
paradise. Wasps were busy building mud nests inside the dorms next to my bed.
Roosters woke us up at about 4 AM, well before sunrise. We were told not to
drink the water from the taps, but at meals we were served "bottled"
water (bottles which had been filled from the same taps we were told not to
drink from). And over time, the tide had created a smelly lagoon between the
resort and the sea. The tide didn't seem to replenish it with fresh sea-water
any more, so it just sat there and festered, waiting to evaporate. And these
were mere surface comforts. But I am happy to say my experience in Fiji only
got better.
My next stop in the Yasawa Island chain was Korovou Eco Tours Resort on the
island of Naviti. Pobably my favorite out of the 6 resorts I visited. More people
to talk to, but enough space so as not to be crowded. Plenty of Hammocks, a
beach front volleyball court, and nightly entertainment.
On my second night at Korovou, Ace the barman - whom I had met when he carried
my bag to my room - invited me and another American to a Kava circle with some
of the older gentlemen of the resort. As we had shut down the bar and were the
not yet ready to turn in, we egerly agreed. Kava is the traditional ceremonial
drink of Fiji. It is made from a root which is ground up and mixed with water.
That is at least the modern process. The one that tourists are exposed to. I'm
told that traditionally it was the job of the village's teenage boys to chew
on bits of the kava root and spit into the bowl. Eventually they would have
enough for the circle of men to drink that night.
Having joined the circle late, I was not totally sure which method of preperation
had been used on this batch. I decided not to think about it and when the coconut
was passed to me, I clapped once, said "Bula," (softly, as the womenfolk
were sleeping), gulped it down, handed it back and clapped three more times.
Kava, by the way, is non-alcoholic (although it may or may not be classified
as a narcotic), tastes like a mixture of dirt and wood, looks like dirty dishwater,
and has the sensation of drinking novacaine. Your mouth understandably goes
numb for a few minutes. When everyone in the circle has had a bowlful, it is
time to sit back and enjoy the sensation for a few minutes until the next round.
And once the big bowl is empty, they may or may not mix up another batch. Usually,
they may. This can go on for hours depending on how much kava is on hand, and
from what I've seen, the men will drink their kava until there is no more kava
to be made. The effects of kava vary from person to person. It is said to relax
those who consume it, and to make you sleep very soundly. From my own experience,
I would say that this is certainly the case. But that may have more to do with
the fact that it was past 4:30 when I finally turned in.
The following day, around March 17th or so (16th in California), I walked into
my 26-bed dorm room to find a cluster of Western girls all in a tizzy about
something, and two calm Fijian women working at trying to usher something outside
with a broom and someone's flip-flops. "A spider," someone replied
when I ask what all the kerfuffel was about. "7 legs. Very bad luck."
said one of the Fijian women. "Someone might be hurt, or sick, or dying."
With 25 other beds in the room, I didn't think anything of it. Besides, it was
across the room from my own bed.
During my three night stay at Korovou, I kept myself busy lying on the beach,
playing beach volleyball until sunset with the locals, I learned to weave a
basket out of a Palm frond, and I went spear fishing with two Fijians and a
Norweigian. I didn't get a chance to try it myself, but they let me hold the
string of dead fish as they caught them. About a half-hour into it I realized
I was snorkelling around the South Pacific trailing Shark Chum. But as you can
probably gather by the fact that you're reading this now, no sharks came to
eat me. Or if you'd rather, you can believe that a few sharks did in fact show
up, and they threatened me, and I kicked their ASSES!
In comparison to all the excitement that Korovou had to offer, David's Place
farther up the Yasawas on the island of Tavewa had only a few things worth mentioning
after three days. Firstly, Fiji won the Rugby 7's World Cup while I was there.
About 20 or 30 people gathered around a small fuzzy tv placed outside to watch
the 20 minute final. Fiji's win prompted a National Holiday on the Thursday
before Easter Friday (which was also a holiday). Saturday was business as usual,
but Monday was also a holiday, as it followed Easter Sunday. These are deeply
religious people, these Fijians.
The second item worth mentioning at David's Place is the cave trip. A 45 minute
exposed boat ride through rain and wind to an island across the bay. A small
tunnel led to a massive open cave filled with water too deep for me to dive
to the bottom. A small opening, only as tall as my head above the water led
off to the side. Inside was a vast black cave, bigger than the one we had just
come from. I think. I couldn't actually see my hands in front of my face, let
alone the outer perimiter of the cave. We followed our guide across the black
water and back again, stopping on the way out to climb up a small wall and jump
out into the blackness. Our guide assured us that we would land safely in the
water, which we did. After a 2 meter drop through black nothing.
Third and fourth on the 'worth mentioning' list from David's Place were the
really cool sunset photos I took, and the fact that I climbed a palm tree, picked
a coconut, and then busted into it ala Tom Hanks in Castaway.
The island of Nanuya Lailai and the Sunrise resort is where I finally was able
to stop relaxing and start having fun in Fiji. There is only so much Hammock
Time one can endure before one begins to go stir-crazy. It was at the Sunrise
resort that I met three Aussies and a Canadian who seemed to have enough energy
and positive attitudes to spread around to anyone who hung out with them. Which
I did.
Burnsy, Jimmy, and Dave were on a one week stop-over on their way to play for
a Canadian Rugby club in Edmonton for the next year, and from the looks of things
they were on their way to having a very fun time over the next twelve months.
"Hollywood" Tyler was a self-declared actor/skateboarder on his way
to work in Perth, on the same week long layover on his way to his year-long
commitment in Australia. I was just a stray bouncing around on my own who happened
to be sitting in the right place at the right time after dinner.
It was at Sunrise Resort that another seven-legged spider showed up in my dorm
room. This time there were only 10 beds, and the first time I saw it, it was
on the window shutter between my bed and the next. Over the next few days there
were reports of it being spotted at various points around the room. Again, I
thought nothing of it and went about the business of planning my days around
Hammock Time (anytime we weren't eating). With this being the most stressful
activity of the day, I still wasn't worried about being targetted by the spider.
Although I did get a good look at him, and he must have had seven of the longest
legs I've ever seen on such a large spider. I'm sorry I was so non-chalant about
it that I didn't take a photo. His body seemed to be relatively small compared
with his reach. That made it all the more creepy. Little hairy body with long
hairy legs. When I found myself thinking about it, it was a bit unsettling.
So I didn't think about it.
I took the oportunity to go on a SCUBA dive with the local dive center. It was
raining in the morning as we went out to the dive site, so the visibility wasn't
the best. And there was more coral than fish. But the coral was fantastic. Colors
near the edge of the visual spectrum. Soft corals and hard ones. Little fish
that live in the the coral, and a few bigger fish that eat those little fish
when they get a chance. Bright blue starfish. Tiny families of Clown Fish.
We dropped off the boat and sank right down to 25 meters. Deeper than I had
ever been, but I followed the guide, and did exactly what he did, and what I
was told. We started at the deepest point and slowly ascended to the surface
over the next 40 minutes. At the start, I watched my bubbles float up and couldn't
quite make out where they hit the surface. We were that deep. At one point,
I felt something on my calf (we were wearing short-leg wetsuits) and looked
back to see a cleaner fish - the kind that attach themselves to sharks - working
away on my leg. It would have been harmless, but it tickled too much for me
to let it alone, so I shooed it away a few times and it got discouraged and
went to pick on someone else. All in all, it was a nice dive. Not enough fish,
and not spectacular visibility, but a nice dive none the less. I have been spoiled
by the Great Barrier Reef.
I spent the next three days with the boys, working our way back down south through
the Yasawas and back to Nadi on the mainland. During this time Burnsy dominated
the Volleyball courts even with one broken hand, Jimmy was left scarred for
life when he was bitten just above the ankle during a fearsome fish feeding
session, Dave remained the strong quiet type but still managed to make us laugh
with everything he said, and Hollywood nearly married a local. We also got invited
to Church on Easter Sunday where we saw two Fijian babies baptized by their
proud parents.
There were no real phones on the islands. Only CB radios to call from one resort
to another. And certainly no internet. So after over two weeks of no contact
with anyone who knew where I was, I decided it was time to check my email and
write home now that we were back in the city. That's when I learned why the
seven-legged spiders kept showing up in my room. Around the time that the first
one was being shooed out of the 26-bed dorm in Kuata, my Grandmother was saying
her last words. After being married to my Grandfather for 65 years, living without
him proved to be too much, and she passed away a few months after him. The obits
and medical reports willl surely give some official cause. But those who knew
her, those who knew them, know that the overwhelming factor was a broken heart.
I read the 70+ email messages that I had recieved while being out of touch,
and put the peices together. The second seven-legged spider showed up the day
she was burried. I didn't think anything of the spider at the time, but I'll
never doubt the significance if I see one again.
Even though I was able to email home, the international phone rates were still
far too expensive. $22 for 6 minutes! I could have easily moved on back to New
Zealand at that point. I had had enough hammock time, and the few clothes that
I wore never seemed to completely dry out due to the humidity and salt water
in the air. But my flight didn't leave for another week. I had saved about $120
by staying 3 weeks instead of two, not taking into account how much it would
cost to stay an extra week in Fiji.
But I gathered myself together and made my way up to the island of Nananu-i-ra,
just off the northern coast of the mainland. After three days of wandering the
beaches and reading my book, and writing in my journal, I learned firsthand
that once in a while life teaches us a lesson and it's our choice whether we
pay attention or not. My friend Richard and I had been sitting in the flat sea
talking to a few girls before they left. Rich and I left for a few minutes to
inquire about snorkelling gear, and when we returned I had a great idea. I ran
down the sand full steam. Straight at the girls lying in the water. I planted
my foot just inches from one of them and launched into the air as they shreiked.
Everything was going according to plan so far as I sailed over the two girls
and stretched out to finish with a flat dive that would have me skim across
the top of the water like a stone. I must have over compensated the height I
needed to clear the girls, because when I hit the water, I didn't just splash
harmlessly on the surface like the skipping stone I had imagined myself to be.
I went down. Head first. Not at a right angle straight down into the sand, but
not shallow enough either. When the right side of my forehead plowed into the
sand, I felt and heard my entire neck and spine crack as my jaw was slammed
shut when it hit my chest. I slowly sat up in the water and immediately realized
that I was lucky to be able to still wiggle my toes, let alone use my legs.
Just to be sure I wiggled my toes again on both feet. Lessoned learned. Thanks
Life.
My back and neck were stiff for the next few days, but I was still walking around
and I'm fine now. Two days later, I decided I was well enough to walk around
the island to Turtle Bay. When we got there, we couldn't tell why it was called
Turtle Bay, as there were no turtles in the sea to be seen. We did some snorkelling,
and then went back to the beach and dried off. I decided to take one of those
photos where you write the location in the sand in front of you. And as I finished
writing FIJI 05, I noticed something crawling across my lettering. A baby turtle!
Then another one! An before I knew it, hundreds of baby turtles were streaming
out of the bush at the edge of the beach, and scurrying across the sand into
the sea. We grabbed our cameras and took photos and videos of the best thing
I saw in Fiji. What are the chances that we just happened to be at that beach,
in the right spot, when a nest full of turtles hatched and made the mad dash
to the sea? I'll show you the videos when I get home. The photos will be up
on the site eventually.
And that was Fiji. For all the time I spent doing nothing but lying in a hammock,
an awful lot happened that was worth mentioning.
"Travel is ninety per cent anticipation and ten per cent recollection."
--Edward Streeter
Props to my Peeps, and Peace on the Mothership
Chris