Why I am in a Fijian Health Clinic, Part 2

Continued from Part 1

Oh, first we had to get our sack of potatoes loaded on the taxi boat. Did I mention the potatoes? A huge burlap sack of potatoes and a quiet Chinese girl. That's what I was bringing to the island base.

And a phone recharge. The guy from the island base asked me to buy him a phone recharge on the flyer, because the island is remote and the village there is tiny, and he needed minutes on his phone. You rely on strangers like family in these islands.

Anyway, he picked us up from the boat, us and a pack of teenagers who are from the island who were coming home from boarding school maybe? I wasn't exactly sure why they were on the main island. Holiday? It was unclear. One of them in particular though was so helpful in getting us to our destination safely, with our bag of potatoes.

So, the boat taxied us to shore. And as we pulled up and waded through the clear island water to the shore of the island base, it was instant peace and simplicity and friendliness and no schedule and no worries. There were a number of people there (students and leaders) who I already knew, and several I'd never met but knew of, several who knew of me, the Eco Lodge Base Manager from Viti Levu... And a woman brought me a plate full of eggs and bread and lettuce, and I can't rave enough about how satisfying that meal was. (I don't generally like eggs. Didn't matter.)

After eating, I learned we were walking to a nearby village because a regional rugby tournament there had halted all hope of any other activities occurring, so they were adopting an "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mindset. I kept asking when the flyer would be passing back the other direction to pick me up, and how would I know it was coming. At this point, the whole thing really felt like a dream. I was tired and probably more sick than I realized, I had just pulled up on a surreal tropical paradise shore and had people come up and all know who I was, and now I was being swept away to a village, and I kept asking "how will I catch my boat home" and no one seemed to have an answer (one person said "yeahhh, you're probably staying here tonight") and now I was being taken away from the perfect shore-side utopia to go to a huge sporting event. And I ate eggs and liked them. Seriously, retelling it now, it's hard to believe the whole thing wasn't invented by my unconscious.

Long story slightly less long: while at the rugby game, someone eventually suddenly said "ok, Robyn, time to go" and I had to walk through the village to the beach, wade into the water and climb into a boat, and be driven out into the water where we waited... and waited... and waited... until finally we saw the flyer and buzzed out to meet it and I climbed on the flyer, said my moces and vinakas, nearly left my water bottle behind, and settled on the flyer for a quiet ride home.

Which was spectacular.

The views. The islands. The sunset. Unfathomable.

Meanwhile, the amount of salty sea spray I was breathing into my congested head made me feel sicker and sicker over the course of the evening. I certainly could have gone to the indoor lower deck, but I was enjoying the views too much. I talked with some French Canadian guys who were touring the southern hemisphere on holiday, I wrote in my journal and listened to music, and I tried to ignore the increasing pain in my throat and pay attention only to the bliss. As dark came, it was getting colder and I was soaked with spray and exhaustion was setting in.

By the time I pulled into the port at 9:45 that evening, I was spent. I got picked up and begged for a quick hot shower at the apartment before heading back to the base, and I basically collapsed on the bed.

. . .

Next morning, I felt horrendous. Saturdays are crazy days, coordinating groups going out on various activities. I was completely unavailable for it. I called Bryan in tears from my bed, and while I was on the phone, two people came in and asked me for things I couldn't give them, and one of them got quite snippy about it, I think because the perception was that I had just had a day off and now I was sleeping in.

Continued in next post...