Archive for category travel

Picture of the Month: Fiji Time

Posted by Wilson in ...ofthemonth, pic, travel on July 2, 2009

Fiji Time license plate

This license plate is full of win.

No Comments

Labasa Represent!

Posted by Wilson in pic, travel on June 2, 2009

Via the Forward Fiji blog comes this great ‘holla back’ from California, USA on some fijian@heart’s car. For those not in the know, Babasiga is the greater Labasa area in Vanua Levu. It’s also a great blog written by Wendy and Peceli which showcases life up north.
Vina’a va’a levu mate! (Not too sure if it’s written this way…)

,

1 Comment

My run-in with the Law and how not to catch a taxi

Posted by Wilson in annoying, police, taxi, travel on April 9, 2009

Image source: TVNZ
Ok this didn’t happen recently, but rather a few years ago, back when I was a tad bit more into grog then I am now (yes..yes I was ) and we’d stay up late nights on the weekends playing guitar and drinking grog.
On this particular night, we had just finished a jam session at around 3 in the morning. I was tired, grog doped, and in need of willful unconsciousness. After farewelling my fellow band members, I walked (read: staggered, struggled, nearly crawled) to the road to catch a taxi home.
Now picture this. Its the weekend. Casual weekend. I’ve been at a friends place for awhile, and all i had were the clothes i brought on my back from home. Which, suffice to say, made me look like i was on my way to the community garden. I was wearing a singlet, brown and slightly tattered t-shirt. My pants was a 3 quarters hand-me-downs, also brown, and torn at the bottom. I had draped my towel over my shoulders. My hair, which hadn’t seen the sharp edge of a pair of scissors in months, was long enough to make me look like a member of a hard rock band that worships Satan on mondays, wednesdays and fridays, and attends mass on a sunday.
I was a sight. You can just imagine. Now, imagine me, looking the way i did, staggering along the road, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other (left foot forward!….hold…right foot forward!….hold…), and at the same time trying to stop a taxi. In Fiji there is a general rule when it comes to catching taxis. The later the night, the more scary up you look….the less chances there are of catching a taxi. In my case, it was like winning the lottery by dipping a roach in ink and letting it scratch out the numbers itself.
But catch a taxi I did. In fact, by the time i reached the road, the first vehicle to approach me was a taxi. Tonight was my lucky night  I waved at the taxi, and he stopped. As I got in, I took a glance at my would be chauffeur. I couldn’t have picked a more worse driver.
This guy was young, tiny, and obviously a first timer in this parts. He was dressed up to go clubbing, and not to drive a taxi at 3 in the morning. He was of small stature, and nervously gripped the wheel as I dropped my body in the backseat…directly behind him. Now, there is another well known rule about taxis in fiji. The person who sits directly behind you if you’re the driver, is the person most likely to rob you if said person looked thuggish enough. Period. And I just happened to chose that exact spot.
“Where to boss?” he nervously quipped.
Of course, I wasn’t paying attention to all these trouble signals. Hell I just wanted to go home. So, after slamming the door, i glared at him through the rear view mirror, and muttered “Nakasi”.
Big mistake number one was getting in the taxi behind mr driver. Big mistake two was acting like I was bad boy from the streets, and worse, looking the part. Big mistake number three, which was entirely my fault, was to give him a bad look. As we were driving along, I kept noticing how the driver was nervously glancing my way throught the rear view mirror. This got really annoying, to the point where the next time he looked, I looked back at him and scowled. Real smart as I was about to find out.
We eventually came to a policepoint. Nothing special about police checkpoints, since they have them all over the place. This was mainly to catch drunken drivers and…well…just drunken drivers. I don’t think wanted criminals would be stupid enough to drive through one of those checkpoints.
As we approached the checkpoint, I noticed the driver glance at me one more time. Inwardly, I groaned. This guy was really starting to piss me – wait…we were stopping. Why were we stopping? The police guys didn’t wave us down…oh oh.
A single policeman approached the taxi. This time I sat up, shook the grogginess from my eyes, and blinked.
“Why are we stopping driver?” I asked.
He didn’t look back at me this time. Something was definitely up.
“What happen?” asked the policeman as he came on the left side of the car, shining the torch inside.
“Hey boso”, pleaded the driver, while shooting a nervous look back at me, “Can you sit with me as I take this falla?”
“Why”, the policeman replied, “where you taking him?”
“Nakasi.”
While this was going on, it still didn’t ring in my thick skull that I was being held in criminal regard, and that if I didn’t play it right, I could be sleeping on the floor for the night in some police cell.
At this moment, the policeman swung his torch to the back where I was sitting.
“Oi,” he yelled, the gruffness in his voice definitely not portraying the polite police banter i was so used to seeing in the movies.
The torch was shining directly into my eyes, and the effect was quite intimidating. I raised my hand to block out the light, but it turned out that was the wrong thing to do.
“OI!” he yelled again, this time with more effect, “put your hands down!”
Immediately my hands dropped, and I squinted in the harsh light, feeling very very small indeed.
There was a pause as the policeman scrutinzed me. I felt like I was already on the lineup of suspects, the harsh white light, the lines behind the wall, the card I had to hold up which had my identity on it, the voice tests, the -
“Hey, you that falla who always visit your friend near the police post?”
I have a friend who stays near a police post. Every time I pass by, I wave at the officers who know me by face. Usually they’re are sitting down around a bowl of grog, enjoying the slow evening and yarning away. 
Apparently, this policeman was one of the guys posted at that particular area, and had recognized me as a regular visitor to my friends place.
“Trues up! You that falla who always visit your friend near our post eh?” The policeman pointed the torch down and continued with a big smile, “oooh driver this falla set falla saraga. He no problem boy. Just go just go. Falla set.” With that he waved the driver on and gave me a thumbs up.
I sighed with relief at my close (not my first mind you) brush with the authorities. Then it hit me. The bloody driver thought i was going to rob him!
Me? Gentle soul me? Dear Mister blogger who wouldn’t kill a fly (though I did have a habit of catching them when I was small and burning their wings off…hmmm…), let alone even consider attempted robbery. Good lord! The nerve! I couldn’t even throw a punch to hit a person, let alone knock them out enough to run off with something. I mean, the last time I ever punched someone was way back in class 6, and that was over some argument about skipping in line. I’m a good boy! I swear!
…
I had to check with the driver just to make sure.
I tapped the driver on the shoulder as we settled into the drive.
“Driver, do I look like the kind of person who would rob you?”
And without skipping a beat, he looked me straight in the eye and smiled nervously.
“Yes”.
Dammit.

, , ,

4 Comments

Youtube Video of the Month – Cannibals Incorporated

Posted by Wilson in ...ofthemonth, Samoa, annoying, fiji, history, travel on January 7, 2009

Ah Fiji. Home to the king of rugby sevens, smiling locals, white, sandy beaches, and seasonal coups. It’s quick to get washed up in the hype that is living in today’s fast paced society, but one mustn’t forget one’s origins and what humble beginnings they had before Mcdonalds and company rolled in.

Sure you could visit the city library and catch up on your reading, but with today’s more visual-oriented society, who cares about stuffy old books and cramped up libraries when you can watch old videos of the Fiji of the past?
And what better to showcase Fiji’s past then this delightful video courtesy of James A. Fitzpatrick’s Traveltalks: The Voice of the Globe called Fiji and Samoa: The Cannibal Isles. Since this video isn’t time stamped, I’ll take a wild guess and place the making of the video around the 1940s, when stern, near patriotic voice overs where the common practice. Why the time stamp?
If you’ve ever wanted to see and find out what Fiji was like ‘back in the day’, this video has it all layed out for you. See the ‘savages’ in their natural surroundings of houses built from grass and topped with thatched roofs. Witness the spectacle of the natives indulging in what is ‘their only form of amusement, the mekimeki’. Marvel at the ‘bushy haired members of the Fijian Band’ as they play ‘the white man’s music’ on instruments that are ‘no longer strange to them’.
And that’s not all! Samoa is included in this accurate doco, and doesn’t miss much in way of detail. With Samoa’s fales being described as ‘mere cirlces of pillars, roofed by cones of thatch’, Samoa is certainly the picture of simple living, with ‘no gods swift to anger and strong to punish’ to disturb the tempo of life. Cute.
I have to admit, I do miss the old days. Thank God the gods for technology.
PS: Still trying to figure out why only Fiji and Samoa were singled out as the ‘Cannibal Isles’, since other Pacific Islands indulged in the diet of the ‘long pig‘. Perhaps it was something to do with our appetites.

, , , , ,

1 Comment

The Art of Street Selling

Posted by Wilson in rant, suva, travel on September 14, 2008


Picture this:
It’s a perfectly good day to be out and about in the city. Your watch has just registered a little after 1pm, and the pavements are packed with office people out of their work zones and heading towards the nearest lunch restaurant. With your mind focused on your destination, you make your way through the hustle and bustle of the crowd, perhaps oblivious to everything but what’s infront of you, only taking note to worm your way around the incoming tide of bodies when - 
“Brother, buy a laptop.”
If you heard that sentence, nearly whispered, never shouted, and managed to both process and understand the implications of what was said in a split second, then congratulations, you’re a robot. For the rest of us non-logical thinkers, the oft casually intoned sentence offers up a business opportunity that is, at first appearences, simple, but carries with it significantly darker overtones.
It gets me everytime. The sentence is said, nay, murmured, my mind slowly registers someone speaking to me, yet my feet are still carrying me forward, oblivious to the offer. It’s usually after a few steps then does it occur to me that hey, I think that guy that I passed back there was trying to sell me a laptop. A few more steps, I slow down, and turn my head to look at mr laptop seller.
These guys are street smart, you have to hand it to them.
For one thing, they dress unremarkably. Not too flashy, not too scruffy, nothing that gives them away as a salesman of ‘opportunity’. You can find them always with a friend, and casual talk is exchanged between the two, often with a joke slipped in for good effect. To the unknowing eye, they could be just waiting for a friend before heading off for a tasty meal at the suva market. What betrays them however is their occassional focus of attention on certain types of people who regularly pass them. Young teenagers who dress well, businessmen hurrying to an appointment, casually dressed uni students who may have an interest in portable music players, these are the type of people who hold the seller’s interest most intimately.
When they’ve marked a potential buyer, they make sure they line themselves up when their target is heading towards them. Always on the side of the crowd, they never present themselves as a street hawker, and it is this pretence that keeps them (sometimes) invisible from the appropriate authorities. When said target walks pass them, their sales bid is casually spoken, as if they were yarning with an old acquintence.
“Hey brother, want to buy a phone?”
Why all this effort into looking as inconspicuous as possible? Most probably, it’s because the product on offer didn’t reach the street seller’s hands via a registered distributor ;)
Stolen goods have two markets. The thief’s personal interest, and other people’s personal interest. Since said product is on the market, it’s obvious that other people’s interest takes precedence over the thief’s own, and hopefully will fetch a handy dollar, if they can make a sale as quickly and as drama-less as possible. Technically, while any product can be made ‘available’ to the public, the smaller and easily concealed ones are on display. Watches, iPods/mp3 players and mobile phones remain the most popular, with laptops a close third.
There was a story a few years ago that I can’t seem to find the link online, but it involved a street seller conning some poor victim out of his money by selling a laptop case filled with soap (or stones, can’t recall which one). The conman had convinced his target that the laptop case did indeed contain a laptop inside. How the case was never opened before the transaction was completed, we shall never know…
I haven’t quite had the chance to purchase anything from these so called street sellers, since (a) I have a fine mobile phone and wrist watch thank you very much and (b) whenever I turned around to check out what exactly was on offer, the results usually were a tad bit disappointing. Of course, buying stolen goods is a big no no, but it can’t hurt to check it out. I’ve yet to meet the infamous conman who is selling the laptop ‘soap’ case, (I’m guessing he’s probably in the Bahamas somewhere, enjoying the good life by now) but I remain optimistic.
Who knows? I might just strike another luck…

, ,

3 Comments

Dealing with Countries 1st Line of Defense a.k.a. Embassies

Posted by Wilson in Education, Tourists, annoying, tipsntricks, travel on July 8, 2008

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 :D

, , , ,

2 Comments

A {heart} in Fiji

Posted by Sharky in fiji, nature, travel on February 29, 2008

Well whaddya know…we have a <3 heart shaped island!

Unlike most man-made buildings/landmasses/etc etc, this piece of wonder is au naturel.

Said freak of nature is called Tavarua, otherwise well-known amongst surfers as “Cloudbreak” for its perfect wave form. And, unfortunately, due to its luxurious nature, is inaccessible by your average income earner.

But we CAN eat our hearts out on the images.

Or take up surfing.

1 Comment

Car Jacking 101

Posted by Wilson in crime, travel on February 20, 2008

Dramatization of carjacking. Miniguns, flamethrowers and black americans not included in actual story.

The first thing I noticed when I got into the mini-van was how dark the interior was. Don’t get me wrong, usually mini-vans were dark by default, but usually they had a few LCD lights sparkling and hanging from the ceiling, lending a quasi-festive mood to the ride. Apparently, this particular ride was sorely lacking anything remotely festive. Even the driver, who got in just as I sat in the van, seemed sully and quiet.

After telling him the destination, he looked at me for a second, as if he made an attempt to commit my face to memory or something, then started up the engine and we were on our way. The driver was a young indian guy, probably mid-twenties, and was lacking flip-flops, which is most common amongst van drivers. Now and then he would slowly rub his chin, as if to muse on something.

A half a minute of silent driving, and I slowly realised something else. There wasn’t any music. Most van drivers strive to ‘pimp’ their ride, opting to go with either ear-shattering loud music via someone’s borrowed sound system or by placing a huge amount of LCD lights to brighten up the interior until it resembles more Traps then anything. If they’re extremely money-happy, the lucky ones go both ways one go, and you end up with spots in your eyes and a high-pitched whine in your ears by the time you’ve reached your destination.

This guy had neither music nor lights. Interesting, but not unusual.

“Long day today?”

I usually don’t start conversations, since by the time I get off the mini-bus, the last ride home drains me of anything verbal. But this guy looked like he’d just been given the short end of a deal with life.

“Areh man, yesterday was a bad day for me man. I got robbed.”

“Sa! Really? Shit man, you ok?”

Again, he rubbed his chin slowly.

“Yeah, I’m alive eh? Can’t complain that much.”

“Crap that sucks. What happened?”

The driver motioned towards the area where the car stereo system usually sits, which now was a huge gaping hole.

“I had one set stereo system there. Thing gone.” He pointed up at the ceiling. “The CD Player, thing hang up there, gone. They took everything.”

There was a moment of awkward silence that followed, usually after a stranger has just said something that may or may not elicit a sympathetic response, depending on whether said stranger had AIDS or a broken leg.

“When was this again?”

“Yesterday ga. I been pick two gang, one man and I think his girlfriend from the main road. The gang been say they want to *Forgot the name of the damn place* -”

“What time was this?”

“Boy thing early in the night. Maybe 8 o’clock 9 o’clock? Plenty jobs was going, people just coming back from church eh? So these gang got on, they been say where they want to go, I took them.”

“You remember their faces?”

He waved his hand in frustration. “Areh man, I take hundreds of people everyday, you think I remember their faces too? Thing dark, I never look in the mirror, I just drive. Mind my own business eh?”

“True true.”

“So I just driving till we reach the house. Thing was far inside, far from the main road, plenty grass and little houses. No streetlight too, thing just dark when I was driving in. The falla tell me ‘here, turn here’ so I turn into this house. When I stop, they get out, and then I see some more gang come out from the house. The falla I drop off, he been come around the van and stand next to my window to pay. But he was talking to his friends, the ones who came from the house. The gang talk talk talk, then the falla who stand next to me reached into the van and switched off the engine. He been pull out the key, then boo, those gang whack me up.”

“Sa! How many gang?”

“Boy dunno saraga. I just put my hands up to cover my face, they pull me out of the van and smack me up. Punch me here, punch me in the side -” He lifted his shirt to reveal a nasty set of bruises on his ribs, “…and they kick me in the face. Boy, I nearly knock out saraga. They throw me in the back of the van, and then they all got in and drive around. The gang at the back they been tie me up and put one shirt in my mouth.”

“Where’d they take you?”

“They drive drive for awhile, then stop at another house in the bush. I thought they gonna kill me. But they just get out of the van, and start to take all the stuff out. My radio, my speakers, even the lights, they took it all out. The gang just take their time, and they laugh and joke when they take out all the things. When they finish, they drive the van again, and this time they been go to the service station.”

“This the service station ga at the main road?”

“Io that one. They were very brave to do that. They just go and park the van at the pump, and when the bowser falla ask to open the side, the driver been look at me and ask me where the switch was. All the gang been laugh. I try to make noise but the gang at the back been punch me up again.”

“…shit…”

“Yeah. After that they drive around again for sometime, then they stop off in the bush again, and then they been leave me there. They just turn the engine off, got out, and disappear. I wait like 2 minutes, then I try to get out of the rope they been tie me with.”

He rubbed his wrists slowly, wincing slightly.

“As soon as I got out of the ropes, I ran saraga. Ran and ran. I thought maybe those gang were waiting outside to beat me up for fun. Can’t really tell with these criminal gang eh?”

“Went straight to the police station?”

“Areh man they been drop me in the middle of nowhere. I been walk for a long time before I been catch one taxi. I went straight home. Told my family, then I been call the police.”

“Got any of your stuff back?”

“No man. Not yet. The police, they been say they still investigating. But I don’t believe them. How they gonna find the robbers when I don’t even know their faces? No hope bro.”

“Man thats slack. I hope the police find those gang.”

“Same,” he said, unconsciously touching his apparently still sore jaw, “same.”

We sat in silence for the rest of the trip home.

9 Comments

Of 4 hour bus rides and Cheap Chinese Lollies

Posted by Wilson in bloggers, fiji, lifestyle, travel on December 17, 2007

When you’ve basically lived in Fiji all your life, it’s easy to take for granted things that happen around you that would make other people do a double take. I mean, we’ve got guys casually hopping on white hot lovo stones, smiles and jokes aplenty from each of the participants, yet because that occurs on almost a daily basis (for the benefit of the tourist dollar I must add), us locals simply nod our heads and move on. Even something as mundane as a bus ride from Nadi to Suva can be somewhat of an adventure for the inexperienced (or unprepared, either way same thing).

Sometimes, an outside view on the life in Fiji makes for a welcome read, since most things brought to the attention of the reader are often things that many of us won’t give a second thought to. Blogger cieart (with a small ‘c’ mind you) of Broken Coconut can attest to that. Although being locally born and bred, she’s spent the last two years living (read: adjusting hehe ) in Australia, and has only just recently made the mecca back to her homeland.

And while the usual sights and sounds made themselves known to her, bringing back pangs of nostalgia (“…that so called 10 minute wait at Sigatoka bus stand which turns into 30 minutes because goodness knows where the bus driver or the checker went…ah, it was good to be back!”), eventually, she started to notice the little things that made her stop and say WTF!

A few pointers from the list include:

  • The price of groceries – I was visiting some family friends and i decided to make trifle which cost me almost $30 to make! I could not believe that for 1l of cream it cost me $12 and can of fruites were around $4 each.
  • At the age of 29 I got asked for ID @ O’Reillys!
  • Customer service or lack of.

Of course, home is always home, lolo kai with rice and all, so there was another list that was drawn up of things that will be sorely missed on the return trip back to Australia, my favourite lol’ed entry being Comsol.

Read the full post here and find yourself nodding your head in agreement, then shaking your head in amazement.

Never a dull moment in Fiji ain’t it.

Was there a moment you experienced with a shrug, but your not-local friend found amazing/awesome/disturbing?

5 Comments