so we’ve been off the grid, quite literally, for about 9 days now. sporadic electricity, rainwater for washing, and no internet access. i’ve not seen or heard what’s happening in the world… and i havent really cared. amazing how that happens.

but that also means i have a lot of back-posting to do, so catch up with the stuff below. still lots of photos waiting to go up – i’ll let you know when i manage that.

tomorrow is our last day in fiji – and though it’s been wonderful, i am very excited for new zealand. sadly enough, i’m actually looking forward to cooking our own meals! you wouldn’t think a body could get tired of eating out all the time, but you do.

anyway, nice to be back, and hope everything is still in one peace…

jen

update: the fiji photos are here, the australia roadtrip photos are here

i love beach bonfires. love love love. love sitting with feet buried in cool sand while a crackling fire heats my face. love the smell of wood smoke curls that tangle themselves in your hair and linger in your clothes. love staring at red embers and blue flames, watching sparks throw themselves into the sky to disappear against the stars, wrapped up warm and cozy while drinking a cold beer.

nothing beats it.

we head up the hill in the dark to the plateau far above the sea and lights. at the top, we lie down side by side and wonder up at the inky blue-black heavens. i’d forgotten just how many stars you can see in the southern hemisphere. a profusion of dancing, glittering pinpricks piercing the vaccum, defining the infinite. an emabarrassment of riches carelessly strewn across the evening velvet. no moon to overshadow their quiet constant presence. stars streaking, falling so thickly i cannot keep up with wishes. the southern cross. orion. the dog star. the ethereal swathe of milky way streaked through the middle. touchstones scattered to the edge of the horizon in every direction, the deeper layers revealing themselves the longer we gaze into the ever deepening night. until finally, chilled, dizzy, star-struck we cautiously make our way back down into the light.

our fiji island schedule looks something like this:

9:00 – wake
9:30 – breakfast
10:00 – hike to secluded beach
1:30 – back for lunch
2:00 – daily yahtzee session
3:00 – read/nap
4:00 – hammocks
5:00 – read/rest/shower
6:00 – happy hour! daily chess session
7:30 – dinner
8:30 – resort evening entertainment
9:30 – word games/walks on beach/ reading
11:00 – bed

rough, eh?

fijians are reknowned for their traditional firewalking – it was customarily part of a religious ritual which required extensive preparation, cleansing, and meditation. in order to undertake this passage, their bodies and minds should first be in the proper state – if they have rigourously achieved this, they will feel no pain. the underlying belief is that firewalking is like life – it requires discipline, balance, clarity, optimism.

and i am reminded of my own firewalking experience. i didn’t fast or pray or carry out any sort of symbollic preparation. yet it required the same leap of faith – a trust in something greater than my own fears, a belief in the existence of something outside the boundaries of my limited knowledge of the world and its workings. is it untapped mental power? protection by the divine? complex physics?

i don’t know – and i’m not sure it matters. or that they’re not all one and the same.

what i know is this: when every ounce of experiential learning and self-preservation instinct is screaming up and down your nerve endings as your foot is poised over red hot coals… you will never take that step unless you believe in something.

and that’s where i think firewalking is like life – because it’s what we face every day when we get up in the morning. it’s that belief in something - one’s self, one’s religion, one’s environment, one’s family that keeps us waking and walking and every so often putting our fate in the hands of forces we can’t see or fully understand. maybe it’s a god. maybe it’s love. maybe it’s human instinct.

maybe it’s the physics of fire.

maybe it’s life.

“bula” – it’s a fijian word you hear everywhere you go. it’s chanted during kava drinking sessions, said in passing on the street, offered as a warm welcome to guests. it’s a greeting, a blessing, a wish, and the literal translation is “life”.

and i feel it working on me – the tension easing. i didn’t realise just how much i needed to relax until i started letting go – we’ve not spent more than 4 nights in any one place since we started this trip. we’ve been on a tear, and every second has been wonderful – but it has taken a toll. and so this is what we’re doing these two weeks – melting into the sand, staring into a blue so gloriously vivid it hurts your eyes. we could spend time seeking out the village culture, or visiting historical sights, or oging on nature hikes. there is so much more to fiji – but all i need right now, all i want is some sun in my hair and sand in my toes. i am meditating on the calm. pondering the innumerable grains of sand. gazing at endless horizons. watching sunsets. contemplating the meaning. emptying my heart and mind so the can be filled up.

just being.

sometimes, that’s all that’s required.

bula.

(the internet connection is both extremely expensive and unreliable, so updates and photos may be spotty)

ahhh… the warm breezes and sun will put anyone’s heart and soul at ease.

we’re on “fiji time” now, as they say, and nothing much else seems important. even the fact that we foolishly (it turns out) arrived here during the peak of high season. and since fiji is more of a “holiday” destination than a traveller-friendly hangout, this is going to hurt the wallet a bit, it would seem.

no matter – we head for one of the offshore islands tomorrow, determined to capture our slice of the white sands and turquoise waters… even if we have to eat pb&j sarnies the whole two weeks.

(since the internet connections are not fabulous, the pics will have to wait for uploading… but soon, my pretties, soon…)

stars above, black sands below, and the dark fijian ocean lapping softly at your feet.

magic.