Rules of Survival: Chinese Cafe

This is the beginning of a series of blog posts (thanks Wilson) about how to identify, act and escape from these places. 

Everybody knows that in Fiji there is a wide variety of food to be had.  And thus, a wide variety of eating places in which to have these foods.  There is the exclusive, i.e. expensive restaurants that cater to the expats and upwardly mobile.  The market stalls, that have the blue collar workers as their clientele; and a host of other eating places that can accommodate across the different socio economic range.  But in this blogpost, I’m going to write about one particular eating place that I’m sure everybody has been to at least once.  And that is the Chinese café.

I’m sure you’ve seen it.  It’s the one with the cash register in front, a glass counter that has packets of cigarettes fighting for space with chewing gum.  There’s a cheerful Chinese person waiting to take your order, ladies moving around the place clearing the tables.  And if you’re can see into the back, you get to see a gentleman dressed in shorts and a vest moving around from pot to wok, making sure to sweat into each and every dish.  That’s the chef. 

Now, first things first.  When waiting in line, be ready with your order ahead of time.  Speak clearly, loudly and for goodness sake, be specific.  Chances are, English is not the first language of the person taking your order. For example, “Curry chicken, rice, large, eat here.”  Keep in mind, there are only two sizes of meals.  You want medium, go buy some sliced bread. And don’t get cute and ask what EXACTLY goes into what you’re ordering.  One time, there was this American that was ahead of me asked if there was any MSG in the red pork and I could almost swear, the guy serving sprinkled some “special salt” (dandruff) onto the plate.   

   Everything is shared. In the Fiji this goes without saying.  But have you ever shared a table with complete strangers.  Note, I wrote table, not meal.  Go to a Chinese café during lunch hour and you’ll find yourself sharing a table with people you’ve never seen before and probably never see again, sharing sugar, salt, and a plate of chili; but not conversation.  Apart from the usual head nod, there is no talking.  I know I know, no conversation over a meal in the Islands?  Surely I jest.  But trust me, asking how fresh the chicken blackbean is, will get you nothing but a blank stare and an unasked question in to how long its been since you escaped from St. Giles (the local nuthut).  And another thing.  If you think making eye contact in the clubs is risky, try doing that with a person who’s no more than a teaspoon length away from you, and your mouth full of fish and chips.  That’ll bring a whole new level of awkwardness to the situation.

You’ve finished your meal and you want to wash your hands.  You make your way over to the sink (we normally just say “tap”), and what do you find.  A sliver of soap that has molded itself onto the sink and can only be removed if you’ve got the strength of Hercules and a piece of ragged cloth that has seen better days in which to dry your hands.  My recommendation, resist urge to see your meal in reverse a.k.a. throw up, suck it up and wash your hands.  You’ve probably already contracted a host of diseases just by walking into the place, might as well add a few more.  Who knows, maybe they’ll cancel each other out.

I know I sound rather harsh about these eating places, but its all love.   What I really like about it, is that nobody thinks twice about sitting among strangers; a free seat is a free seat, no matter who your fellow meal takers are.  And hey, people gotta eat. You want healthy, go munch on some nuts and berries and wash it down with bottled water.  You want filling, then make your way over to the nearest Chinese café.  Trust me.  You won’t regret it…’til later.

Failed Paradise is a silly little blog, we admit that. We don’t pretend to be all high brow about our deep, sometimes frightening knowledge of Fiji. For all our writings, jokes, spotlights on issues that won’t actually help humanity in any other way then to make you shake your head, we’re actually really ordinary. Straight 9 to 5 slaves to the mighty clock of society, the guy at the party with an average outook on life, who cbf’ed about Philosophy and all its intricate meanings, but would rather just find a good spot besides the keg and have a good time. Heck, even now, there’s only 1 person posting on this blog, so the use of ‘we’ was just a lazy way of sounding like we’re a newsroom and/or impress the ladies in the room. Yes. All 2 of you.

Well, today, we can actually refer to ourselves as ‘we’, without keeping the lie to repeat at the confession booth. Daniel will be joining ‘our’ ranks, a friend who weaseled his way into writing for blog by offering me free jugs for a month and a signed photo of the Vude Queen herself, Laisa Vulakoro. I said yes, mostly out of fear of getting the shit kicked out of me. He can be quite the persuasive guy.

Far be it for me to defend my Pacific family and our many failings, but I just don’t see what the BIG deal is about our alleged lack of work ethic.  For the record, we’re not lazy, we just don’t place that high a priority on getting things done.  And as for “Island Time”, we‘re simply not slaves to the clock is all.  Not that effort and punctuality is doing everybody else around the world any good (failing economies, strikes, revolutions).  Everyone is just far too stressed.

We do however have something in massive quantities that the world seems to be lacking these days.  And that is common courtesy.  In the Islands, no woman stands in the bus while there is a man sitting, meals/drinks are offered to guests even if all you have to offer is water and a biscuit and if a car is broken down, total strangers come out of nowhere to offer a helping hand. 

That said, there are times when circumstances force you to be abrupt.  Here is such a situation.  You’re in town and you have to get to the supermarket before it closes.  You see a distant cousin across the street.  Now instinct kicks in; you have to cross the street, shake hands and have a looooong meaningful conversation about family, sports and the meaning of life.  But you know that if you do so, the supermarket is going to be closed, and the people at home expecting the groceries are going to take it out on you, one way or another.  So what do you do; do you simply ignore your cousin who’re not really that close to, or do you risk him becoming offended, and become the main topic of conversation and mean looks at the next family get together?

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the H.I.T. Maneuver.  H.I.T. stands for Hand Index Thumb. It is quite simply, a series of hand motions that while satisfying the barest minimum amount of civility without causing offense; it also prevents you from being bogged down with unnecessary/unwanted conversation.  Each step comes with its own translation on what the move is meant to mean.

Directions are as follows:

Step 1

After making eye contact, extend hand (H), with ALL fingers extended, and wave towards person in question. Smiling is optional but recommended.

Translation: Hello there.  I am acknowledging your presence.  Unfortunately, circumstances prohibit me from coming over towards you and engaging in conversation.

Step 2

Indicate with Index(I) finger extended the direction in which you are going.

Translation: I will be proceeding on this route.  It really is too bad that you are going in the opposite direction.  Sincerity (even faked) is recommended.

Step 3

Make a fist and extend Thumb(T) only, in an approving motion.

Translation: Thank you very much for your understanding and I sincerely hope we can meet again in less hurried circumstances.  Have a good day.

Note: Waiting between each step for the other person’s response is considered good form and it doesn’t make you look like you suffer from epilepsy of the hand.

And there you have it, a quick and easy fix to a socially disastrous situation.  We don’t have much, but that just means, we don’t have much to lose.  All in all, for us, courtesy is the height of civilization and we’re okay with that.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past 4 years in Fiji it’s inevitable that you’ve seen the growing excitement that is the upcoming Rugby World Cup which is just around the corner. Fiji TV has been crowing to the masses that they’re the ‘official broadcasters for the IRB Rugby World Cup 2011”. Competitions are spawning left, right and center from entrepreneurs eager to cash in on the rugby hype, and no amount of ‘you’re not associated with IRB’ is going to stop them, with promotions running vague ‘the Rugby event of the year is here!’ taglines. Lines have been drawn, team loyalties have been declared and already there’s been skirmishes abound…

As a local, you’ve no doubt got your favourite team lined up and ready, play times inserted in your otherwise empty schedule book, team members names and battle scared faces memorized, even vakachi lines committed to memory should someone else’s team lose to yours.

If, somehow, you’re sorta new to all of this, have about as much knowledge of Rugby as you do the chemical composition of the soil from Mars, think the oval ball is shaped funny and usually zone out when the guys in the room scream and sob as their team gets hammered, then don’t worry, I’m not here to convince you into it.

However, there will come a time when your attention will be demanded, your voice will be needed, your loyalty and knowledge be called into question and you will be asked to participate in certain rugby fan related activities that, if you are not well prepared for, could result in disaster.

Fear not, for this is where this guide will step in to help you get through these rough and trying 2 months of rugby hell. Here’s a few tips on how to give the illusion that you’ve come to this rugby season ready to rock, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be good enough to fool the significant other into thinking that you really do like Rugby.

1) Pick A Team

“Hold on a minute,” you might think, pen and paper frozen as you squint your eyes, “won’t I need to learn how the game works?”

Psshh. This is all about appearances. Since the Rugby World Cup is going to start pretty soon, you’re not going to have much time memorizing how the game works. [Or you could just watch this quick 7 minute video to bring you up to speed.] Instead, we’re going with the assumption that you’re at home, enjoying a nice hot cup of tea curled up in your comfortable lounge reading a Sookie Stackhouse novel when BAM! Your boyfriend and his mates/neighbour and their mates/tavales and the rest of the family/workmates burst into your house, scream some garble about a rugby match going on, deposit you on the floor, fire up your brand new 32” LCD flatscreen, and occupy what was a minute ago your personal reading space, all the while asking what are you doing down there and to hurry up and tell them who’s your team.

So, the first step to acceptance is picking a team.

It’s not that hard. Here’s a roster of the teams playing and when they’ll be playing courtesy of Fiji TV.

If you want to play it safe, choose either: New Zealand, South Africa, England or Australia. These four countries have each won the World Cup, so your choice says that you’re a believer in history repeating itself. If you want to be a bit more edgy but risk further discussion into your choice of team, go for: France, Argentina or Samoa. France has reached the finals a few times, with Argentina and Samoa being more of the dark horse entries. Of course, if you’re local, the easiest would be to side with Fiji, since we have a low chance of reaching the semi-finals thanks to our death pool, thus earning you wiggle space when it comes to dropping your enthusiasm for rugby. “We lost” you can simply shrug.

2) Memorize your Team’s National Anthem Chorus Ending Line

Before the rugby match begins, they’ll usually play both team’s national anthems. This is the bit where rugby diehard fans stand up, clench their chest, and try to match their team’s pitch in both song and fervor. If you’re with such people, be sure to stand up, grab your mates, hang an arm around their shoulders, and pretend to sing. You don’t have to sing the whole national anthem, just hang in there (literally) with a grin or a tear in your eye, depending on whether you’re watching a pool match or the finals.

To truly earn the respect of your fellow rugby fan friends, you can (attempt) to sing along, though choose your moment carefully. Usually the end of the chorus of the national anthem is where you’d want to be heard, a vocal cry of support to your country of choice, and a proclamation that yes…this is…your (for these 2 months) team.

3) Wear the Colours

Beat the questions of where your loyalty lies to the punch and wear your team’s colours. Getting a huge flag draped around your shoulders is the easiest way to declare your team without having to colour coordinate your carefully selected evening wear. But if you’re fresh out of flags, then getting a rugby jersey would be the next best thing. That or simply writing ENGLAND across your white shirt. That helps too.

4) Cheer. A lot.

Get your vocal pipes warmed and in tune; you’re going to be cheering. A lot. Nothing says “SCORE OR I’MA BOMB YOUR PLANE WHEN YOU COME BACK!” like a fan screaming their guts out at the TV. Applaud when your team plays a penalty (don’t know when they do? Follow the friends who cheer for your team). Groan when a member of your team gets sent off with the magic red/yellow card. (Yellow card = bad. Red Card = very bad.) And lose it when your team scores a try. Like seriously, lose yourself. Scream, yell, jump up and down, hug (its ok guys, you can do it too), jump on the table (provided there is one, and it’s yours). Anything goes. Except of course burning the house down. Save that for when Fiji loses their matches.

5) Drink. A lot.

To complete the circle, you’re going to be doing a lot of drinking. Whether it be drinking alcohol in the clubs, or grog at the cousin’s place, a certain amount of liquid is going to be most certainly consumed during these two months. Celebrate your win with a few rounds of Fiji Bitter. Or hang your head in silence around the bowl of grog. Whatever the scenario may be, pull in your stomach and gird your taste buds. It’s going to be a long, tongue numbing, speech impeding session that may or may not make the time pass faster.

Sticking to these 5 tips won’t turn you into some Rugby God, but it should help you get through those times when your house isn’t your own, or your night out with your friends gets hijacked when they play a match on the TV. Of course, if you’re watching the rugby match at your uncle’s home and he asks you whether New Zealand’s defense is up to speed or not in comparison to say South Africa, then you’re on your own.

I had the hardest time trying to figure out an introduction to this article. Trying to describe what exactly is a taki without taking into consideration its scope and influence on the people of Fiji is risky, least of all un-patriotic. I tried all sorts of introductions, most of which failed straight away such as “Taki is as Fijian as the mosquitoes on your leg and the kani on your arms.” ; “You will always find things in Fiji – Smiles, coconut trees and a taki.” Rather then expose my substantially under developed ability to pad out introductions, I will instead start off simple.

The good old taki.

Taki, a phrase uttered many a time in Fiji, is Fijian for “serve the drink!”, and is usually associated with drinking grog. It can however be applied to any other drinking situation where the drink is being shared in a group, just like grog. Besides grog, the taki principle is applied to drinking alcohol in a group, either at home around a carton or two, or at the clubs, with a jug. While beer is the more common form of drink to be used in a taki situation, it’s not uncommon to taki other drinks as well such as coke and rum etc. As long as the drink is alcoholic in nature, the taki method serves its purpose well.

If you are a local, chances are you are already familiar with doing the taki, either through grog, or beer, or usually both, and so this article would be old news. However, if you are new to the drinking scene, or were a goody two shoes till you got coerced into drinking by sneaky friends, then fear not, the taki system isn’t all that difficult to get into.

The Stuff

To initiate a taki session, you’ll need:

Taki Master: Mind you, there may be other words used to describe such a position, but for all intents and purposes, ‘taki master’ or in its shortened form for this article, ‘TM’ is the person who is responsible for the taki.

Alcohol: Of course. Beer, Rum/cola mix, homebrew. However you call it, if it has enough of a kick to make you bring on the good times, then by all means taki it. Alcohol could either be served straight from the bottle, or from a jug as commonly seen in the nightclubs.

Taki glass: A typical taki glass should not be too big that filling it 3/4 up with beer would result in a half empty bottle, and not too small that you can fit 3 of it in a shot glass. Glass is preferred, as plastic cheapens the thrill. Of course personal preference could say otherwise, but glass is usually the norm.

Washback cup: It happens. You serve a glass, when it comes back, there’s a tiny bit left over that you’re not likely to share with anyone else (unless you hate everyone else. More on that later…). A washback cup is used after every taki where you pour the reminder into, then continue with the round. Sure you could simply empty it onto the floor (which I do now and then) but a washback cup is so much more…classy.

The Taki

The Taki Master (TM) is appointed either by a self vote (‘Mai I taki’) or a group vote (‘Vacava you taki?’). After the alcohol has been acquired, it is now a simple task of serving it out to your group of friends. To taki, pour about half a glass of beer and hand it out. When the glass comes back, empty the washback into the washback cup, fill the glass again and pass it out. Rise and repeat until the whole group has had their fill.

The order in which you circulate the drinks is entirely up to you. However, to ensure that nobody has been missed (though more often then not you’d be notified by a cry of ‘Oi! You missed me!’) a circular order is recommended, starting off with the person next to you, and ending with you.

After the round has been finished, there’s a waiting time, usually to let the served alcohol do its thing. The initiation of the next round depends on who calls for it, either by a thirsty member of the party, or the TM themselves. Starting the next serve is done by simply saying ‘TAKI’.

Bear in mind:

• When you are doing the taki, note that you decide the speed to which the group as a whole gets drunk. While various other factors may somewhat skew the end result (an alcoholic in the group for example), the general idea in taki is for everyone to get with the drinks together. Therefore the two speeds of taki are: a ‘slow’ taki is when there is a long waiting time in between rounds, and a ‘fast’ taki being the exact opposite, with little or sometimes no breaks in between takis, a tactic adopted either at the beginning of the session, or whenever you just want everyone to get fucked as soon as possible.
• As the TM, respect is in order for your fellow drinking buddies. If someone asks to be excused from the  taki rounds by either not drinking or simply preferring to drink their own drink, let them be. The same goes for requests for either a lesser amount of drink or missing the current round. Common sense yes, but a tact which is easily forgotten during the more drunken stages of taki.
• Full glass takis are usually frowned upon, and are generally reserved for the person who came late to the party or for that special someone who loses at whatever drinking game you were playing.
• The bigger the group, the faster the taki needs to be. Because it takes awhile for everyone to get their taki, in a big group, the waiting time for each person’s taki is increased exponentially, so a smaller break between each taki round ensures speedier delivery.

In Fiji we have many fine and fun traditions, some centered around a practice long lost to the passage of time, and others for no apparent reason than for fun.

Every new year, it is customary for locals in Fiji to wet each other into the new year; whether it be by tossing buckets of water or taking it to the extreme and grabbing the unfortunate victim and tossing them into a large body of water.

To be honest, there may be a proper reason as to the tradition of wetting people, but this article isn’t about history, but rather a quick and simple guide on how to wet someone the proper way in Fiji. While you could always just throw a bucket of water and be done with it, the other, more time honoured tradition dictates are more finesse approach with a better payoff.

Bear in mind though that this guide is specifically for wetting a single person, and not just wetting as many people as possible and having a good go at it.

Step 1: Target sighted

When it comes to wetting people on New Years Day, it bears reminding that you are doing this not to terrify or destroy your enemies with a deluge of hate/water, but rather to reaffirm your friendship and family ties with whoever is on the receiving end of the bucket. To that end, choose people who would share the lighter side of the moment, such as your good neighbour, your cousin who came in from overseas or your aunty who hasn’t seen you for 5 years. There’s also the chance that you can act this out on a potential ‘fix’, someone you want to impress, which works just as fine. Avoid wetting figures of authority, such as the police or the LTA. Unless of course if they’re your relatives of some sort. Or if you want to see the inside of a police station for the first time.

Step 2: A change of Heart. And clothes.

Goodness me, you weren’t expecting to wet the person and leave them all soaked and shivering for the rest of the day now were you? O_o Show them that you can be as caring and good as the next mother teresa by having a sulu ready to cover them (of course the sulu will be theirs, no need for any scrooge inhibitions now). If it’s a guy you’re wetting, get them a T-Shirt. Or if you want, a sulu with their village name screen printed multiple times on the bottom. Just have something ready to give them once the deed has been done.

Step 3: It takes two (or more) to tango.

Throwing water on someone is no easy task, unless you regularly lift buckets of water everyday a.l.a. kung fu movie training scenes. Because this whole operation is based on two crucial points, surprise and getting totally wet, the speed and quantity of which the water is delivered is of upmost importance. To this end, it is normal to request the help of an additional person, as two buckets is wetter than one. It is preferable that your partner in crime also knows the target, so that you can all share the joke in the end. Also, you’re not necessarily restricted to 1 evil helper, the more the merrier. However, more then 3 and it starts to resemble a surprise birthday party event. And we don’t want to give the wrong impression now do we.

Step 4: The Con

Ideally you want to place the target outside, standing still in a spot of your choosing, and preferably not running away from you. Running targets make it oh so difficult to wet, as water as we all know, does not home in on a target. To ensure an stationary target, cook up a story that makes the target wait in a designated spot. It could be anything from ‘hey, you have a phone call from Aunty in NZ, wait here while I get the phone’, to ‘lets play kick ball. I go get the ball.’ Due to the fact that you’ll be playing your prank on New Years Day (or a day or two after that, it’s ok), your target will be VERY suspicious about your story, and you’ll need all your cunning and shrewdness to sell the con. A serious face and a strong denial of anything to do with water should help you, but if the target is skitterish, there’s always Plan B.

Step 5: Execution

With the victim waiting outside (who may be a tad bit nervous), it’s time to bring the whole show to its fitting conclusion. Get your bucket of water, and with proper timing with your cohort, rush out and splash the person as quickly as possible. Appearing from around the corner helps, as surprise is everything. If you know for a fact that your target is going to split at the first sign of anything even remotely related to H2O, Plan B would be the second option i.e. offer to wait with the target while someone else goes and retrieves whatever object that is relevant to your con. This is where your second partner comes in handy. They will rush the person with water and the target will run. That’s where you come in. Immediately grab hold of the target and swing them in the direction of the oncoming bucket of water. Yes you may get wet, but it should be a sacrifice worth making. Of course, ensure that you are physically capable of grabbing said target first, let alone holding them still, as the plan would be up if said target can easily get away due to the fact that he is Mr Fiji.

Step 6: Cleaning Up

After the target is (hopefully) thoroughly wet, laugh with them and wish him/her a Happy New Year. Bring out your sulu/shirt/whatever you planned to give and hand it over, or simply cover them with it, giving them a kiss on the cheek, or a manly hug and a clap on the back, depending on whether it’s to bond with a relative or friend, or impressing said ‘fix’. Once you’re done, choose someone else later on. Rinse and repeat.

Most importantly, have fun, and have a happy new year.

Ironically, a google search of the term "barrel night" revealed two sets of pictures, semi-drunk locals facing the camera, and guns. Lots of guns. The gun picture was posted here, because guns don't kill people. Badly organised barrel nights kill people.

When it comes to fundraising in Fiji, there are a few relative options, almost all of them involving grog and/or alcohol. While you could always have a bazaar with the friends and family, the lack of anything party-ish makes it reserved for larger organizations with manpower under its belt. For smaller groups, or enterprising individuals, there’s always the mainstay of fundraising, the venerable Barrel Night.

Basically, a Barrel Night involves you, a (usually) plastic cup, and a near endless supply of beer refills at the clubs. Sounds simple enough no? Sit infront of the bar and take in the free beer? WRONG. So so very wrong. Silly assumptions sink ships. Or something to that accord.

What you need is a Barrel Night Survival Guide, courtesy of veteran Awesome Cake.

Having spent many a dark night stumbling and fighting his way through the masses to get to the much deserved alcohol, he has formulated a water-tight formula that if followed to the letter, should guarantee you at the very least, your hard earned money’s worth.

So read up and take it to heart. Then spread the good word.

source: NSFW: Hot Girls on Demand lololol

Who wants to go overseas when you have everything you could ever need right here? Who needs fine wine when we can make the most serious head tripping home brew that’ll guarantee your not safety? Who wants to travel in limousine style when we’ve got private cars that’ll spring up to serve your every need whenever a bus strike happens?

However, in the far-fetched scenario that you do indeed need to leave said paradise shores, then getting your passport and countless papers are in order. And the place to go should you want access to your destination country are the Embassies.

Long heralded by 1st world countries as the best deterrent to mass migration, embassies are, as the title says, the first line of defense against anyone and everyone interested in crossing their hallowed entry points. Government bureaucracy, inept staffing, long queues and snobby nosed secretaries all conspired to make the stamp on your passport worth its weight in blood. Now, thanks in part to 9/11, border control has taken on a whole new meaning.

Of course, when all else fails, there’s always the internet yes?

Mayvelous May has taken the arduous, near herculean task of reviewing a few of the major embassies here in Suva, including the British, American, Australian and even French embassies.

At the beginning of each embassy review she gives the name of the embassy, as well as a summary of what to expect once you step in through the doors (French Embassy – Very quiet). A few paragraphs of policies, procedures and at times, frustration should give you a fair idea of how everything goes down in said embassy.

At the end of the embassy review, she’s placed the contact details, as well as how easy it is to get in contact with them, a very handy feature indeed (Phone Support: The number mentioned on the website is useless, once called, tells you to call another number. Extremely RUDE and snappy response).

After reading the whole article, the first prize to the most difficult, hard to get to, hard to go through embassy comes as no surprise whatsoever. Of course, you may have had a different experience with said reviewed embassies. Who knows. So, if you’d like a head start through enemy terrain, then look no further then May’s “Embassies: Knowing how anal your local one is”.

Ok. That was a bad title. So sue me.

PS: May, use review stars! Everyone loves review stars

After having a little emo time to myself (I found a new corner!), I browsed the list I wrote last week to see if there was anything I wanted to get up to, and realized I had missed the most obvious choice when it comes to figuring out what to do during black out weekend.

1) Run away to the West. Duh.

I can’t believe I didn’t see this when I was first writing my ‘idle hands idle weekend’ post. For us suva people, the west holds everything ‘escape for the weekend’ dear to our hearts. Town not populated with faces we’ve seen everyday? Check. Abundance of beaches to flip out on? Check. Relatives you haven’t seen in awhile? Check. Party atmosphere with fresh meat a.k.a. tourists waiting for the kill? Check. Check. And Check. Who cares about Earth Hour when you’ve got 3 boxes of booze to go through? Who wants to sit at home with no power and twiddle their thumbs when they could be swimming with the fishes? (happy and alive thank you very much, and not the infamous italian reference)

Yes, as I said before, I can’t believe I missed that. So sue me.