Uncle Nancy is on vacation someplace in Fiji. She sent an update on her travels (and travails) to the staff. Along for the ride on Nancy’s vacation is none other than that turncoat Evan Grant, baseball scribe for the Morning News. I thought I’d share Nancy’s letter because it made me laugh (I had to dash out some of the swear words):
Well, I lasted almost two days without typing. Greetings from Fiji, where bula means “hi” and vanaka means “thanks!” Also golaka means “wine” and Ambien translates directly as “Ambien,” the miracle cure jet lag and Evan’s snoring. Evan and I traveled packed in a flying tin can for 22 hours, and we are still talking. BUT there have been lots of claw displays. Don’t tell him I said this, but he doesn’t want to sit on a lounge chair on the beach because “the beach is too sandy.” True.
Here is what I have learned about Fiji so far:
Young Australians have lots of little crying babies. Lots. Like, four each. They all like to eat breakfast at the same time that we do.
Australian babies are more obnoxious than American babies. The pitch of their cry is ear-shattering. I now understand why dingoes like to eat them.
Australian men are hot.
Do not exchange money at LAX. We were ripped off worse that I have ever been ripped off in any other country, and that includes Rwanda, where they took all of my money and my passport and made me sit by the side of the road for three hours while they played “F— the Gorilla-Loving Tourist.”
Do not believe flight agents named Rama of South Pacific airlines. She will tell you the flight is sold out, but if you give her $400 each, she can get you a seat upstairs with much more space. She tells you this with a sly smile on her face like she is letting you in on a big secret and doing you a special favor. Rama is a trained liar. I asked the pilot, because if you can’t trust a pilot then you’re f—ed. Especially if you are boarding a 747 he is flying. The nice pilot (with VERY minty breath) told me the plane held 452 people and there were 322 on the flight. Like I said, f— you, Rama at LAX.
Beer in Fiji tastes like cow piss. Do not ask me how I know this.
Which brings me to one of the favorite pastimes of Fijian men. They like to piss in public. They piss whenever they feel like pissing. On this side of the road. On that other side of the road. In front of a hotel. Off the side of their horse (or cow) that is also pissing (s—-ing). Needless to say, in 24 hours we have witnessed a lot of pissing.
Fijians are very friendly. In fact, they are too friendly. Bula, this. Bula that. I don’t trust people who are this friendly. They say it is because they drink kava all of the time. Kava is a drink made from a ground pepper root that calms and relaxes. I’ve yet to drink kava. However, that will change tomorrow when I make my way up the mountainside to sip kava with the locals and perhaps spot some birds. Fijians are not bird watchers. They do not understand why I would want to see birds. “They are everywhere,” said one dude who claimed the title of concierge. “We see them every day.” Hmm. I didn’t argue. Shocker.
As a reforming vacation shopper, I am suffering the temptation of the Uggs factory and outlet store on the island. After moving into a new house in Dallas, I swore I wouldn’t make stupid purchases on this trip. Can I make it another 48 hours with that outlet just 40 minutes away? It is consuming my every other thought. Bargains for nieces. Pray for me, and please don’t tell my mother.
On the other hand, Moneybags Grant has been buying f—ing Fiji Water. Yes, it comes from a faucet in the mountains about 30 minutes south of where we are staying now. He won’t drink the tap water (IT’S THE SAME, YOU DUMBS—). A small bottle of Fiji Water in Fiji is $4.50 in US dollars. It is cheaper at the 7-Eleven on Lovers and Inwood.
On our first night, we went to the bar for happy hour. We struck up a conversation with a lovely young couple next to us. The usual “Where are you from?” led to us learning that the dude worked for the Frisco RoughRiders. They were on their honeymoon. She was thin and gorgeous.
I miss you all as much as the $20 they swindled from me at currency exchange at LAX. Vanaka!
