Fee-jee part 2

"The only downer is, everyone's got the same idea. We all travel thousands of miles just to watch TV and check in to somewhere with all the comforts of home, and you gotta ask yourself, what is the point of that?"

That's a quote from Richard, the main character played by Leo DiCaprio in the 2000 cult classic The Beach. I'm not going to tell you his point rings true 100% with me, but he's right in a way. Next week I'll talk about the positive things that resorts and holidays that take place in them offer. But...as New Zealand's last gasp effort at winter manifests itself into the ongoing downpour outside, I feel like being negative. So here goes.

There's something confining about staying in a resort. We stayed at the Sheraton on Fiji's Denarau Island, which is built upon reclaimed land about 5 km from Nadi. It has a golf course in its interior, while the oceanfront consists of a number of international resort chains.

This feeling of confinement is especially restrictive on Denarau, as everything is a little more pricey than you initially think it will be. Goods and food purchased on the island are subject to an outrageous 25% tax, and it's a $25 taxi ride to get into Nadi. It's understandable:  as I mentioned in the last post, a third of Fiji's GDP is tied up in tourism; they need to squeeze as much out of their visitors as possible.

Additionally, and perhaps this is an obvious statement, staying at a giant resort is not at all indicative of local culture. Sure our resort was staffed entirely of Fijians, and the food and drink were representative of Fijian cuisine (mostly, our last dinner was pizza and fries). But everything is so polished and manicured that it feels like you are in a clean-room version of island life. A 1960s Madison Avenue mockup of what a Pacific lifestyle - the beaches, the fruity tropical drinks, rows and rows of sunbathing retirees - should be. So on our second full day in Fiji, Rhiannon and I decided to take action. We rented a car and escaped the clutches of our lovely and wholly enjoyable island resort. 

As it turned out, this was excellent timing - just 45 minutes after driving away from the resort, the Fiji men's Rugby Sevens team was taking on Great Britain in the Rio Olympics gold medal match. Stopping at a Nadi cafe for breakfast and coffee, Rhiannon and I were immediately immersed in and witness to one of the top 5 most important events in Fiji history. 

Speed and agility and tight shirts.

Local townspeople crammed into the cafe to watch.

Think I'm being hyperbolic? Fiji dominated, winning 43-7. It was their first ever Olympic gold medal (and the first for any Pacific Island nation), and their win shut down the capital of Suva. Towards the end of the match when the outcome was decided, an Australian man came into the small cafe and looked around at the 35 cheering Fijians. He then leaned over our table and said, "This is a religion for them." So, yeah. It was a big deal. 

Driving in Nadi after the gold medal win, during which I got to live out my dream of excessively honking a car horn with no repercussions.

With no aux cable in our rental, the victory meant Rhiannon and I heard this song on local radio once every 15 minutes for the rest of our long day of driving: 

Fiji's Queens Road, which circumscribes the island, is an undulating and pleasant one-lane highway. It's also the only way to get from one side of the island to the other, so that if a transport truck or a tourist bus is lollygagging up a winding incline, so are the 15 cars waiting behind it. As we drove south from Nadi toward the Coral Coast, the highway meandered through village after village full of roadside animals, hitchhikers, children yelling 'Bula!' at us from horseback, and countless stands of mostly unappealing local produce. This was a head-scratcher for most of our trip - where were all of the cheap and delicious tropical fruits (papayas/mangoes/pineapples/etc.)? We would later find out that a storm in March, known as Cyclone Winston ("the most powerful storm to make landfall in the southern hemisphere"), completely ruined Fiji fruit crops and was still being recovered from. Sad. 

Nonetheless, stand after stand sold what little they had to offer, including a village that seemed to be the 'hot corn' capital of Fiji. We naturally stopped and bought a few ears of golden boiled delight:

Road horse!

Drive by shot of solitary man and his hot corn stand. These simmering pots were fueled by burning driftwood. Really living hand to mouth it seems.

Look I'm stimulating the local economy, said the guy who was unwilling to pay 5 FJD ($2.40 USD) for 4 ears of corn.

This particular stand was the first on the way into the village. The guy was wearing a Pittsburgh Pirates shirt, which for some reason stands out in my memory.

The drive also took us by Sigatoka Sand Dunes National Park, which was a good excuse for us to walk off much of our resort-induced guilt. And it gave us a chance to see some stunning views and seemingly rarely visited locations (Richard would be proud):

This picture makes me thirsty. ::Smacks lips. Dry mouth ensues::

Another human! Oh, just Rhiannon finding a faster way to fill her shoes with sand.

I look contemplative here, but in fact I had just found the windiest (coolest) part of the dune.

After an hour or so of walking, we still hadn't seen another person, which is a little unsettling in a national park. Were we lost? Alas, strange evidence of human activity was soon discovered:

Ten or so of these, each well over two meters in height, and completely empty.

And in the lowland forest, these strange 'woman in love with tree' shapes. About 15 of them.

The real goal of the drive along the Coral Coast, as you may have guessed, was to find a good beach from which to do some snorkeling. Finally, farther along the highway, we found a perfect public park and dock. While I like to cater to my blog reading audience, I did not desperately try to take any photos of the thousands of fish we swam among. But here's the free and easily accessible snorkeling spot we plunged in from:

Mighty fine.

So we got to experience some of the 'real' Fiji, which made me feel more assured that I'd made the most of my Pacific island time. However, after a day of driving wholly absent of sitting by an infinity pool and sipping cocktails, I felt ready to return to the captivity of the resort. 

Cheers!

Fee-Jee part 1

Bula!

It's been a month since I last posted anything. Did you miss me? Did you notice? Does anyone read this?

Good news - I travelled. This past weekend, Rhiannon and I took a 4 day trip to Fiji. Yes, Fiji, the Pacific Island nation closest to New Zealand, obviously best known as the location Jim Carrey's Truman from The Truman Show spent so much effort trying to get to. I figured it would be a shame and a wasted opportunity if while on the other side of the world I didn't visit at least one of the many tropical island nations relatively closeby. 

Here are a few facts about Fiji to get us going, and for future pub trivia purposes:

• It's only a 3 hour flight from Auckland. 
• Population of about 900,000, half of which are native Fijian and the other half Fijian Indian.
• UK Commonwealth country, gained independence in 1970.
• Tourism is really important. In 2014, 33.4% of jobs in Fiji were supported by tourism, which garnered 35.1% of total investment.
• Here's their flag:

Commonwealth, but gotta love that tropical blue.

• Everyone says 'Bula!' to you, which is Fijian for 'hello.'

On that last point - I really want to emphasize that everyone on the island says 'Bula'. Rhiannon's sleuthing uncovered that locals only say it to those who are unquestionably not from Fiji (e.g. the white Kiwi and American). It also is a way to establish dominance or something. We speculated that this was a concerted push by the periodically tenuous Fijian government to increase the perception of local friendliness and bolster tourism, since the small island nation has very few other industries.

The holiday was short, too short, but as an escape from New Zealand winter and an unreservedly unique place to visit, I'll probably take a few stabs at writing about it. Here I'll discuss the native fauna we encountered.

Tropical birds:

Caw!

Don't eat all the frogs, please.

(mohawked) Chirp!

"Hey dude, whatcha up to? Just some early morning reading on your hotel room's balcony?
Nice, brah." -bird probably

The Fijian parrotfinch, which as the name suggests is a mix between a parrot and a finch, is adorable. I lamentably did not get a picture of it, probably because I was too preoccupied melting every time I saw one. At one point a giant Fijian walked by with a baby one of these on his shoulder. It then hopped majestically onto the crown of his head. From there he walked another 30 meters before setting it down among a small grazing flock. What juxtaposition! Might be the best thing we saw on the trip.

Beep. 
No idea how the photographer got one of these to stay still long enough for a photo.

And some creepy-crawlers:

Doesn't matter where you go, they're everywhere.

"Hey is that Jim Beam and ginger beer? Can I come in and have some?" -lizard probably

But the decided winner of most observed and hunted animal on our trip was the simple frog. Sometimes in a pond, often pasturing near the resort tree roots, we spent our inebriated evenings chasing and catching them:

The target.

Pure and unbridled sunburnt drunken joy. Frog is unimpressed. 

Apologies for the blurriness, but I get a lot of amusement from Rhiannon's face in this picture.

Of course we saw other wildlife:  giant fruit bats swooping over the spa pool at dusk, all sorts of roadside animals (horses, cows, dogs, cats, chickens) with no apparent owners, and a multitude of burrowing beach crabs. But nope, I didn't take any pictures of those; you'll have to take my word for it!

Cheers!

Next week:  our daring protagonists rent a car and escape the resort.

Signs Vol. 2

I haven't been travelling that much recently. As I've now mentioned a few times, the holiday-less, sunless winter in New Zealand is a time when people (pretend to) work hard. But remember back when I was travelling and had a ton of pictures to show for it?

I have a slight aversion to taking photos on a hike or when in a unique/novel location; it's not a phobia of screen addiction, more so that it adds a staged affect to whatever event or view is being captured. For some reason when it comes to signs, I do not feel this way. Maybe it's because the sign is already stationary and staged in such a way that feels less wrong to take a photo of. Maybe I'm just crazy.

Back by popular demand (or is it by my demand to be popular?), here is the second installment of interesting/confusing/funny signs from my various travels around New Zealand, Sydney and Singapore.

New Zealand signs can be pretty descriptive, 

Basically, Piha is a death trap where anything (rocks, cliffs, holes, and water) can kill you.
And there is no shelter or heat allowed.

Good gory detail. "How can we best show non-English speakers this will kill all that is beautiful and good in the world?"

Rabbit murder field ahead.

though often cryptic.

All the best car thieves go through the windshield to get your valuables? 

Going straight from P to R?

And sometimes they just ask too much.

No, you wash car today.

In Sydney:

Sydney - where street crossing requires a more formal dress code.

I'm not mad at the tree, I'm just disappointed.

In Singapore, the signs are noticeably different. While signs in America or NZ can be specific or nonsensical, in Singapore it seems to be ramped up a bit. I can't be certain of the direct cause of this, but I would guess it's related to Singapore's almost but not quite police state (Did you know that Singapore still uses corporal caning as a punishment for offences as minor as vandalism?). 

In any case, the signs in Singapore are woefully overdone, much in the same way that the architecture, shopping malls, public transportation, and (I guess) corporal punishment are overdone...

Public toilets are only for the fanciest people, though I truthfully have no idea how she will do her business with that dress.

In cities/countries not named Singapore, most of these would be guidelines.
Here they are cartoon imperatives.

This one is even better. I particularly like the dog with the giant head and the idea that people would be carrying and releasing tiny turtles. 

Yeah this is the same picture as above, that's how much I like it.
"Don't do anything!"

Ever wondered if Singapore has a celebrity-obsessed culture like the rest of the world?
Well wonder no more!

So it seems all places have strange ways of communicating their very strange laws, rules, and warnings. 

Cheers!

Bonus:

Street art in Auckland often provokes double-takes.

Know your memes, people. 

Interactive signs can be fun too.

Madison Zoo, day 15 - The locals still do not know of our intrusion.

Scott's Place

As an American, with all my biases and background, I've written in the past about differences between the USA and NZ - differences in language, food, language about food, and signage, for example. Another one that I have briefly mentioned is public holidays. In the USA (government workers not included), there are 8 days in the whole year considered to be universally public holidays. On the other hand, New Zealand has a lot of summer loaded holidays:  mandatory breaks around Christmas (Eve, Day, and Boxing Day), New Year's (Eve, Day, Day after New Year's Day), Auckland Anniversary Day (other cities in NZ have their own day), Waitangi Day, Easter (Friday and Monday), and ANZAC Day. That's 11 public holidays in the span of 88 working days, meaning once every 8 weekdays is free over the New Zealand summer.

I could imagine a person coming to work in New Zealand for that roughly 6 month period, leaving, and thinking that it is the easiest place in the world to work. However, with all these front-loaded public holidays comes a price - between early June and late October, there are no publicly-sanctioned days off. Incidentally, this is when New Zealand days are shortest, darkest, dampest, and coldest. It's as if the huddled masses are accepting their fates:  putting their noses back to the proverbial grindstone, stocking up on stocks for soup, plugging their electric blankets back in, and dreaming of the next time they can fly to one of the (relatively) nearby Pacific islands for a little sun.

The last holiday before the full dreariness-mode is activated is the first Monday of June, known as Queen's Birthday. This is a celebration by Commonwealth countries of the monarch's birthday. It is archaic and mostly pointless, but it give Kiwis one last chance to get out of the city for the weekend before winter truly arrives.

Rhiannon and I chose Raglan, which dubs itself the 'jewel of the Waikato,' as our destination. It's known as a mecca for surfers in New Zealand, and is only about 2 hours drive south and west of Auckland, so getting there is relatively simple. We packed up Rhiannon's delightfully small silver Honda Civic hatchback, and cruised down on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Our intended accommodation for the weekend we found on AirBnb, simply titled "Scott's Place."

Scott's Place, located in the Waitetuna Valley 15 minutes east of Raglan, is strange. Before diving into the photo evidence, here's a brief bullet-pointed list of just a few of the strange things we encountered:

• When we first arrived, we were greeted by some guy named Dave from Hamilton. He was also staying at Scott's Place while Scott was away and had the task of showing us around a place he didn't really know.
• He proceeded to tell us that he and Scott had gone down to the (presumably frigid) stream to do some breathing exercises earlier in the day, during which Scott repeatedly submerged Dave for some reason.
• After dinner and drinks in Raglan and returning back to Scott's Place for the night, Rhiannon came upon two massive dogs, a child, and a man dressed in a too-tight frog onesie. Guess which one was Scott.
• Also staying at Scott's Place were several German WWOOFers (read:  Rammstein loving surfer hippies), who were...
• by chance hosting a Viking-themed party that night. We were invited. 
• Viking party here means one or two guys wearing eyeliner.
• There was a female in the kitchen baking three cakes simultaneously. Her name was Forest.
• The party continued after we went to sleep in our cabin. The next morning Dave peeled out of the drive without even saying 'Good morning' or 'Hello'. Something very strange must have happened to him in the night. Poor Dave.

Now some photo-documentation.

"HEY THIS IS THE REFRIGERATOR GOT ANY HONEY???!!!"

Rhiannon and Shy Life-sized Panda share one of the many leather chairs.

Guitar and drum circle. Trying so hard to fit in.

I think I'm really fitting in now.

Overly friendly and overly massive pig outside our door in the morning. Kind of terrifying.

Not terrible. Just weird. Ultimately Rhiannon and I decided not to stay there for a second night. The real kicker was how cold the cabins were. I'm guessing the overnight temperature outside was about 4 or 5 degrees C. This meant that our cabin (4 pieces of aluminum, some laminated flooring, and a single sliding glass door) was also 4 or 5 degrees. Not comfortable. Not romantic. If you feel like reading my my AirBnb review of Scott's Place, please scroll to the bottom**. It's a little harsh.

But before we headed back to Auckland, tail between our legs, we decided to actually spend some time in the Raglan area. As per usual, I coerced both Rhiannon and myself into doing a pretty optimistic hike, this time to summit of an ancient coastal volcano known as Karioi. The 4 hour up and back track was steep, slippery, muddy, and often a little disorienting, but it made for truly spectacular views of Raglan, the coast, and the surrounding valleys.

Exceptionally calm and sunny day for the beginning of winter.

Raglan and its coastal estuary off in the distance. Mountain peak destination to the right.

The rolling farmland of the many valleys between Raglan and Hamilton.

The summit - that moment during a hike when everyone briefly wishes for a zipline directly back to their car.

That horse in the distance did not move once during the final 45 minute descent. My best guess is that it's still there to this day. What an existential crisis it must be going through.

Survived both Scott's Place and the hike! Not pictured - wobbly, tired knees.

Goodbye sun. See you in October...

Cheers!


Bonus:  A (mostly American) sugary cereal and pajama party I hosted a few weekends ago:

The future generation of diabetic American children don't know how nice they have it.
Most of these cereals had to be purchased at an American import store.

There were also balloons. Here I suffer from sugar-induced coma.

**My harshest ever AirBnb review:

My partner and I stayed at Scott's Place over Queen's Birthday weekend. We arrived and were greeted by Dave, a Hamiltonian also staying at Scott's Place for the weekend. It was not until late that night that I actually met Scott, and he did not inquire about the state of the cabin we were staying in or really host us in any way.

The cabin itself was small and cozy, but not in a warm sense. There is absolutely no insulation inside the cabins, so they experience the exact same temperature as the pig that will be snuffing and snorting outside your door in the morning experiences.

Scott's Place, itself, has the many amenities promised on his page, and is quite a unique place to hang out. We were sharing the space with a large group of strangers who were hosting a viking themed party, which sounds amazing and fun until you realize that you can't escape the party unless you want to freeze to death in your cabin.

We did not stay a second night as we had originally intended, and I'm pretty sure Scott had no idea...

It's essentially a hippie abode, which is fine if you are traveling with 6 other hippies (like his other guests seemed to be). But nothing on Scott's page fully hinted at this. I would also add that his 'cabins' are too cold in New Zealand winter and should not be hosting anyone unless he increases the insulation in them.

note - To Scott's credit, on his AirBnb page he has responded to my critique by adding heaters to the cabins...