More about Fiji before we leave.
We’re coming to the end of our time in Fiji now and I’m going to miss the place quite a lot. Since day 1 everybody has been friendly and kind (except the staff on Beachcomber island, but considering they have to put up with about 200 18-30s wannabes all day and night on an island it takes ten minutes to walk round where you couldn’t even hide on your lunch break, I don’t blame them). One strange Fijian phenomenon we have noted is when you get in taxis:
Taxi Driver: ‘Bula! Where you want to go?’
You: ‘Hotel please’
Taxi Driver: ‘Where you from?’
Taxi Driver: How long you got left?’
You: ‘About a week’
Taxi Driver: ‘You wanna buy some weeds? You like smoke?’
About 3/4 of the taxis we have got in we’ve had exactly the same questions. It seems that the Taxi Drivers Union of Fiji is also the Drug Dealers Union of Fiji. Bit strange. You wouldn’t expect to see it in Ipswich.
Get on a green bus, ‘single to town please mate.’
‘That’ll be one pewnd twenny bouey. Dya waarnt any crack?’
Anyway, went for a wander round Nadi town yesterday, and ended up getting accosted by a man named Moses, who followed us up and down the street telling us to come to his shop. According to him, Indigenous (I don’t think he used that word) Fijian shops they let you chill (‘Fiji time, man’) whereas in the Fijian shops owned by people of Indian heritage they chase you round the shop and hassle you to buy something.
So, we walked down the road with him telling us all this and found ourselves in Moses The Indigenous Fijians shop. He then proceeded to completely contadict himself by chasing us round hassling us to buy something, offering us Cava and ‘weeds’ (‘I’m a farmer, I grow it myself!’) to try to keep us in the shop. I ended up for some reason buying a shark tooth on a necklace. At home I would never wear a necklace. Against my better judgement I’m falling into all the travelling cliches. All I need now is a pair of thai firshermans trousers and a boomerang.
For those of you reading this who may be greenpeace activists or the sort that blow up animal testing laboratories, please try to relax in the knowledge that no shark was hurt in the making of this necklace, and if it was, it was probably quite a small, crappy and pointless one anyway, so theres no need to hunt me down and kill me or throw paint over me or anything. In fact, Moses probably made it out of plastic when he was high on weeds anyway, so there.