Namatakula Village Homestay Travel Diary, Day One

Alex, with new friends Aralai, Sala, Shannon, Bu, and Jacob

We stepped out of the van in the village of Namatakula and there was a group of children from ages 3-14 awaiting our arrival. As a former British colony, everyone learns English in school, although they speak Fijian to each other.  Despite being somewhat embarrassing, it’s pretty nice to have the cultural experience of being around people that speak a different language but still get to be the lazy American who isn’t fluent in any other language.

The children-- cousins, brothers and sisters--all live in the village and are currently on their winter holiday from school before starting a new school year in late January.   Jackson shared some of his Tic-Tacs, and a game of rugby immediately ensued.  They went easy on Jackson (and Alex, who after observing for a while joined in), but were ruthless with each other.  The side yard was slick and muddy, so it was not long before the kids gave up trying to stay neat and were soon blissfully dirty. 

One of the adults was outside digging a trench, and our boys helped a few kids fill a basket of debris and drag it down a very muddy path to dump it.  It started to rain, which made things even muddier.  We all were barefoot, wet, and muddy.

Have I mentioned that it was muddy?

Kenyon and Aralai

They have an outdoor washing area where everyone is very careful to wash their legs and feet before coming inside, so that helped mitigate the mess a bit.

Simon and Judith’s house is not at all like any you’d see in the States.  Built by Judith’s father, it has an open air dining area, a kitchen (a term used loosely) with a gas tank used for cooking, floor tiles that are patched together to make one semi-complete floor, and a toilet and shower that is a luxury for this area but very far from what one might think when you hear the word ‘luxury’.  Let’s put it this way--when I saw it I did a quick calculation to see if I would be able to avoid pooping there, but we’re here for three nights so no such luck.

For lunch, we had rice with curried scrambled eggs, onions, peas and carrots.  Kids eat on the floor in the kitchen; adults traditionally eat on the floor as well but because many of the homestay guests couldn’t sit cross-legged on the floor, Simon and Judith now use a large table. 

After the kids’ trench work was done, the rain was done as well and we went down to the river (except for Kenyon, who had fallen asleep).  The kids continued to play ball games there and took turns jumping in, while I sat in the river and chatted with a couple of women who were cooling themselves on the broken wooden bridge that lies in the water.  

Jackson in the river with friends

From there we headed down the path with cousins Sala and Jacob to the ocean.  Jacob began collecting clumps of seaweed to be cooked for tomorrow’s dinner, and everyone joined in.  They are self-sufficient people, taking most of what they need from the plantations they've planted in the village and the sea, which has an abundance of fish, crabs, seaweed, and octopus.  

Sala and Jacob, seaweed hunters

Alex, the proud seaweed hunter

When Alex scraped his foot on a rock, Sala brought over a long piece of bamboo for him to ride on, and then carried him piggyback. 

Dinner was an assortment of foods: cassava (a thick tasteless root used to make tapioca), fresh, wonderful pineapple, chicken, and rice.  We are bombarded with things that are different from what we're used to on all fronts, but the kids are doing a good job of being polite.  I make sure that, between Sam and I, nothing is left on their plates because these people have nothing and it would seem like a terrible waste.  During dinner, Iso came home from spearfishing with what to me looked an amazing haul.  He said it was average; a good day would bring in 15 large fish.  He’s known as the village’s best fisherman, and other people in the village came right over to buy what Iso wasn’t going to use. 

After dinner we were invited to a kava ceremony with the village chief.  Fijians make a drink out of the kava root that is slightly alcoholic and looks like grey, muddy water.  When it was our turn, we followed tradition and clapped once, accepted the bowl of kava, said the Fijian greeting ‘Bula!’, drank it, handed it back, and clapped three times.  Typically, it is for adults only but each of the boys was adventurous and participated in the ceremony, drinking a small bowl.  When it went into Alex’s mouth I wasn’t sure if he was going to swallow it, but it went down fine.  When asked by the village chief how he liked it, Jackson gave a lengthy explanation about its earthy taste; I love the fact that he had no qualms about giving a foodie review of kava to the village chief.

Sam drawing a world map showing the kids where we live

Alex sharing his Fractiles game with Jacob and Sala

We just got home, and we are all wiped out.  Day One of the homestay has come to a close; it is incredible how much we have done and seen already.

Bus Treks and Uprising

The bus ride to the Uprising Beach Resort was 3 hours long—I knew this, but hadn’t quite filled in Sam or the boys because I wasn’t sure if there would be mutiny to hear there would be 3 hours tacked on to our already massive trip.  It was a local bus, but big and air-conditioned.  I figured it would be packed with other tourists heading to their various resorts along the southern coast, but it was locals and us.  Along the way, as Jackson exclaimed with delight how he couldn’t believe how close the road was to the ocean, the men around us smiled.

Now, a 3-hour bus ride really isn’t so terrible, even after all the travel—but here’s the kicker. 

No food was allowed on the bus.

Have you read In The Heart of the Sea, the survival story of the men on the whaling boat?  One of the men who survived his whaling expeditions but always kept a stocked hanging net of food provisions right above him in his berth.  Sam must be a descendant of this guy; 3 hours without food is absolutely unthinkable.  I ended up breaking up the last of my dark chocolate bar with caramel and sea salt and distributing it among us (Kenyon was sleeping, so shhhh, don’t tell him that he missed out).

I told Sam that the bus ride was ‘like 2 hours or so’, and broke the news gently at about the 1 hour and 45 minute mark.  I’m alive to write this, so luckily it went okay.  

I really loved the bus ride, and my only frustration was that I saw so many things I wanted to photograph but all attempts were recorded as a blur.  Houses are incredibly simple by US standards; made of cinderblock with corrugated tin roofs.  The Hurricane Andrew survivor in me wondered how these structures would hold up in any sort of intense wind.  There was an occasional cow, chicken and horse.  We passed by hilly landscapes incredibly lush with greenery, and wove around the ocean scattered with palm trees and other tropical plants.  Fishing nets were laid out in one front yard, and at one bus stop a man was selling yellow squash-looking fruits under a newspaper.  As we waited, another bus pulled up next to us and we could see the women pointing and smiling at Jackson’s lighter hair, skin, and eyes.

I was absolutely sure that the bus ride would be 3 hours of management of the kids’ exhaustion, excitement, boredom, and punchiness.  I couldn’t have been more wrong, and thus could not be more thankful.  They all looked at the sights, Alex and Kenyon slept, and Jackson made attempts to read until our position in the back of the bus proved too bumpy.

Just at the point that were all starting to feel the hunger set in, the bus dropped us off on the side of the highway; we could see the sign to turn for our resort about 30 yards ahead.  No big deal, right?  Except for the fact that we had 6 large suitcases, 3 backpacks, a booster seat, a laptop bag, and a purse.  Laugh or cry, right?  Hahahahahahahaha.  All but one bag was a roller, so we balanced that one on a roller, all carried a few things, and set off wheeling everything on the gravelly road.  I prayed that when we made the turn into the resort, buildings would be visible immediately.  

We had walked about 20 feet when a pickup truck pulled over to the side of the road just in front of us.  I never got the man’s name, but let’s just call him Our Savior.  Our Savior asked us where we were going and loaded our suitcases in his truck.  We piled in and he drove us into the resort (which was quite a ways down the road)—his son went to school with the resort’s owner, so he was quite familiar with the place and drove us right up to the front.  We tried to thank him with some money, but he declined and said he was happy to do it.  I had read about Fijian hospitality and kindness, and it was evident just then.

At check-in, the beachfront bure that I had reserved back in May and dreamed about ever since was not available, and we were upgraded to a villa.  Although the villas are not directly on the sand like the bures, I can’t complain—this place is absolutely beautiful.  The kids are most impressed by the flat screen tv that swivels in the wall to face either the bedroom or the sitting room.  But for me, the outdoor shower is the best and I’m trying to figure out a way to install one in Denver.

 

As soon as we reenergized with some food, we explored and spent the rest of the day at the pool and beach.

The absolute highlight of the day happened that afternoon, when we walked down the beach and saw an American local taking a couple of kids at a time for rides out on his small catamaran.  We hung out and made a sand castle until he came back, and the older boys asked if they could go.  Kenyon of course didn’t want to miss out, so I went along with the three boys and Todd, the sailor, who turned out to be a retired California fireman who came down here to live; his decision was cemented by the arrival of his half-Fijian daughter, now 7 years old. 

Todd had Alex stand up on the horizontal part of the mast that holds the bottom of the sail; Alex leaned back against the sail and rode with the waves at a quick chop.  We sailed far out, where Todd knew of a reef that we could see, and the boys and I watched as coral passed underneath us and then dropped off like a wall.

When we reached shore, Sam was chatting with a British expat friend of Todd’s named Phil.  Phil was carving the skin off a plant with his pocketknife and handed it to us to try.  Sugarcane.  Delicious.

Phil also gave the boys a couple of wild bush cucumbers, which they argued over and devoured with some salt while playing in the pool with Todd’s daughter and her cousin.  We thanked the men with a drink and spent the next hour or so chatting on beanbags on the grass, hearing how they came to be here and what life was like as the sky grew darker and rumbled overhead.   It could not have been a more enjoyable day, in my book.

For dinner, Sam and I took Todd's advice and ordered the kokoda, a raw fish salad that is the Fijian take on ceviche.  Made with lemon juice and coconut cream, it was absolutely delicious.  Kenyon fell asleep with his head on Sam's lap right there at the table, and we all headed to bed early after a fantastic first day.

Sadly, we leave in the morning, but we're looking forward to what awaits us at our village stay in Namatakula.

The Flight

2.5 hour drive out of the redwoods+3 hours in SFO+1 hour flight +5.5 hours in LAX+endless gate changing/shuttling/boarding= ohmygosharewedoneyet?  (coming from Sam and I, not the kids—they were great).  They passed the waiting hours with classic games such as Toss the Travel Pillow, Roll The Quarter Down the Ramps and Halls, and Put Things On Your Head.

 Kenyon managed to eat half a hamburger, fries, salami, cheese, crackers and two apples, so I’m thinking that the vomiting upon arrival at SFO was a fluke.  Whew.  

There’s no WiFi in the international terminal at LAX, so I made a $9 collect call (who knew they even existed nowadays?) to speak with my family for 10 minutes to wish them a Merry Christmas.  

us, just after boarding

If you’ve ever been on a long international flight that departs in the evening, you know that passengers immediately settle in with the requisite travel pillows, blankets, and eye covers and go right to sleep.  Stewardesses create the restful ambience by dimming the lights and keeping announcements to a minimum.  Well, note to passengers a few rows up from me—this is not the best time to begin a 5-hour long game where you imitate the sound of your toddlers squeals and screeches.  It is only because I’m excited about this whole journey and seeing other cultures that I’m going to assume that in your culture this is some important rite of passage for your child and not simply extreme disregard for sleepy passengers. 

The first 7 hours have been fitful sleep; as I write this, we have 3.5 hours left; I believe breakfast will be served in a half hour.  If it’s anything like the dinner (some sort of chicken chunks in sauce with overcooked carrots, a mini iceberg salad with shrimp, a roll and a Twix), it will be edible but not enjoyable.  

When Jackson unwrapped his foil-enclosed breakfast, he delightedly announced, "Score!"  A egg and bacon croissant awaited him, and he polished off his and most of Alex's.  He later stated that he couldn't believe how nice this flight was, that we got free food!  I didn't have the heart to tell him that this mediocre meal used to be standard on all flights.

Before long, we could see a glimpse of this, poorly captured out of the plane window...

We were all elated to get off the plane; now our adventure was REALLY beginning!

Kenyon looks a little dazed, but we're otherwise not too shabby upon landing in Fiji

And......We're Off!

What a relief to leave our home and be done with the massive preparations!  You'd think something massive would have fallen through the cracks during all the craziness--the only pre-trip stupidity I've realized so far is this: I ran some last-minute neighborhood errands the morning of our departure, delivering holiday cards, returning library books...I headed to the grocery store to use one of those Coinstar machines to trade in a baggie full of coins.  I dutifully watched as the coins trickled down through the metal slots, the machine counting each quarter, dime, nickel, and penny.  Then..............feeling very proud of myself for all I had accomplished before 7am, my errand was complete and I walked away, leaving the slip of paper in the machine that I should have brought to the cashier to get my money!  Ahh, well, it undoubtedly brightened someone's day.

5 days in the redwoods has been just what the doctor ordered.  We visited a neighbor's unbelievable oceanfront property to watch a herding dog in action, rounding up the sheep and responding to certain whistles that alert him to go in a clockwise or counterclockwise direction.  It was, in a word, incredible, from the dog's skills, to the waves crashing into the cove right off their front yard, to the milk cow grazing lazily right by the front door, even down to the flock of white pigeons that flies around overhead.  We played games with family, took walks in the redwoods, kayaked and canoed in the lake, and reveled in the fact that all our work was done.

I felt so much anxiety the day the Australians were to arrive--we had left our house a dusty mess with a cleaning lady scheduled for the next day, but clearly the control freak in me wanted concrete proof that our house was in appropriate order for our guests.  Luckily, all went well and they arrived only a couple of hours late due to a snowstorm that brought 9 or so inches for their arrival.

We are now at the San Francisco airport--Kenyon vomited as soon as we got out of the car.  Cross your fingers that it was due to the drive and not a stomach bug, or I have a feeling that Fiji will be memorable in ways that I'd rather not think about.  We've got plenty of fun traveling toys to keep us busy, thanks to the boys' grandparents (have you heard of Nanoblocks?  They're awesome!).  Just a short hop to Los Angeles, and then we're off for the big haul.  I've taken some pictures, but of course I'm not quite organized to have the USB cord for the camera with me.

While you're crossing your fingers, put some good thoughts out there for a smooth, uneventful flight.  I'm not keen on being over water for 10 hours and 45 minutes.  At all.

We'll be in the air for the holiday, so Merry Christmas!

Sleepless

At the wee hour of 4:38am, my eyes popped open and the to-do list began playing in my head like one of those unmanned pianos that you see in old-timey western saloons. It was much too early to be up puttering around the house, and I'm going to have to pace myself if I'm going to get through these agonizing last two days of preparation. I 'rested', tossing and turning for a while, but finally decided to use my time wisely (ha!) and write this blog entry.

Yesterday was massively productive, despite the emotional weight that came with the kids' last day of school. I wore sunglasses at the afternoon pickup, which did a poor job of masking my tears. Jackson's teacher had given him a book as a parting gift; to be honest, I haven't been able to bring myself to look at it yet. Both the older boys have received journals from their friends; so sweet.

Jackson is old enough that he feels the pang in his heart and was a little teary-eyed at bedtime. I did my best to honor his feelings and at the same time reassure him that Skype was a great way to see his friends' faces, and that along with writing real letters, he could also dictate an email that I could send off to a parent to pass along whenever he'd like. I also told him that I'm sure he'll make good friends while we're down there, to which he replied, "But then I'll just have to leave them, too!". Right, son...there are definitely benefits and drawbacks to having an open heart; I know them well and struggle with it daily.

This weekend is forecasted to be sunny with highs of 53, which in the Colorado altitude makes for glorious weather. Oh, did I tell you that our area of New South Wales has had an unseasonably cold and rainy summer so far? It's predicted to stay that way; here's hoping that Australian meteorologists are about as accurate as American ones, because as coastal transplants, Sam and I have quite a bit of beach time to soak up to make up for all the these inland years in Colorado.

Salty sea air, here I come (if I can make it through this to-list). It's now 6:08am; time to get going. Next post will likely be quick, as we wait to board our plane to San Francisco on Monday.

For Mom and Dad

One mere week from today, we will close the door to our home and we won't be back for a year. 

I don't think any Move Across the World For a Year Preparation would be possible without help from parents.  We were fortunate enough to have my parents come in for a last visit over the weekend--we had just seen them a couple of weeks ago for Thanksgiving, but my mom wanted to complete her mission of brainwashing of my children into getting on Skype every day squeeze in some more quality time with her grandsons.

In between reading stories and playing games with the kids, my parents were workhorses--Dad tightened the loose cabinet in the kitchen, fixed the shoddily-installed dishwasher so it doesn't fall forward each time you open it, replaced the faulty circuit in the electrical box, installed a circuit cover, and copied all the information from the desktop computer onto a thumb drive.  Whew.

We have a cleaning lady scheduled for the day after our departure, but Mom took care of some cleaning that she figured the cleaning lady wouldn't get to--she took down and washed each of the glass globes in the light fixtures, dusted wood blinds and tops of door trim, and completely readied the downstairs guest bedroom and bathroom.  She has a penchant for breaking things during cleaning frenzies, but I'm happy to report that I only heard the tinkling of shattering glass once all weekend.  I have no idea what broke, but it likely wasn't important anyway and I'm just so thankful for everything they did.

What better time to throw a birthday party for your child than 9 days before you move out of the country for a year?  We managed to pull off a simple pool party at the rec center with Alex's favorite friends; it was a great way to get together with friends outside of school and let him know that we think he's pretty awesome and want to celebrate his existence in the world.  On his actual birthday this Thursday, I'll make sure to prepare the yummiest stack of pancakes exactly how he has requested for his birthday dinner--with chopped kiwi, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and homemade whipped cream.  And of course, a candle on top so he can wish for something amazing.

With all the work my parents did, I was kind of in relax mode, and it wasn't until they left Sunday afternoon that I kicked into gear.  The playroom is now organized and inviting, the toys anxiously awaiting to be scattered by the two kiddos who will be living in the house.  Sam and I have made strides in preparing the closets and moving clothes that won't be taken down to the basement storeroom.

I sold Kenyon's toddler bed (thank you, trusty Craigslist).  He slept on the mattress on the floor last night, an experience he declared 'awesome'.  Just wait until we are camping amongst kangaroos, buddy...

It's really happening.  And even as an official, card-carrying, fully-grown adult with kids of my own, it's still awfully comforting to have to have the love and support of parents.  Thanks for everything, Mom and Dad--I can't wait to meet you at the Sydney airport and have you experience some of this adventure with us.

Running the Gauntlet

At T minus 14 days and counting, we're looking pretty good.  The dining room chair with the wobbly leg that has sat in the corner for nearly a year has now happily joined the rest of his tribe at the table.  The guest bathroom shower handle has been tightened; its threats of breaking toes by hurling itself to the floor now silenced.

I straightened the kids' myriad bookshelves, organizing by genre, author, and reading level.  This means either the boys will not be allowed to read anything for the next 14 days, or I am going to be the Crazy Mom Book Police, hovering over their every selection to make sure it is put back properly.  But really, who am I kidding?  They don't reshelve books on their own anyway; the floor/coffee table/car/kitchen counter is their bookshelf, so I should be able to manage the organization from here on out just fine.

I weeded out the stray toys from the playroom and, because Kenyon will be nearing 5 years old when we return, sold the babyish ones at a garage sale.  The boys need to decide what items are keepers on their personal shelves, and those will be boxed up until our return (i.e., I don't think the Aussie kids want to be greeted by the random animal bones found on hikes that currently grace Jackson's shelf.  Or the tanned squirrel hide.).  I think I'll make an executive decision and sneak that delightful little keepsake into the garbage.

You might be thinking that these minute details mean we are all prepared, but there are some big things still looming over us.  I liken the remaining tasks of the next couple of weeks to running the gauntlet, after which we will hopefully emerge victorious, boarding the plane to begin our adventure.

entering the gauntlet...

Where to park our minivan for a year?  No easy task.  The Aussies will pay utilities here, so I need to make sure certain bills are switched to online billing and switch utilities back to paper billing (which means countless phone calls, which means running the gauntlet otherwise known as Automated Customer Service).  I have never before yearned so steadily for a personal assistant who I could pass this off to with a wave of a manicured hand while languidly sipping my cappuccino.

Since I didn't have anything better to do, I decided at nearly the last minute to refinance our mortgage at a lower interest rate and take out a little cash so we have some money to do a couple of really memorable things during our trip.  Our mortgage is through our credit union, so I figured it would be straight-forward and relatively pain-free.

Ha!

When the bank guy analyzed my credit report and started asking me about my second and third mortgage and my credit line with QVC, I knew something was terribly wrong.  An address listed in the residential history shows a PO Box in the mountain town of Gypsum, Colorado--I have never lived there.  And there, under my aliases, was the name of someone whose name closely resembled my maiden name.

Somehow, my credit report has been intertwined with this other woman, and I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to disentangle myself from this mess.

The good news is that she is paying her bills regularly, but this error is still negatively affecting my credit because of the sheer amount of credit she carries.

In other words, lady, lighten up on the 'quality diamonique' QVC bracelets.

My bank guy understands the situation and is working to at least clear up the credit report internally so the refinance can proceed in the most favorable manner.  We'll see if it all happens and we can eke out a closing by late next week...cross your fingers.