The eve of my Fiji trip is finally upon us. And thank god, because I’ve been stuck in the USA for over three months and the travel itch needs to be scratched. Not to mention this is my last opportunity for reconnaissance before I have to decide what country to move to should Trump be elected president. Who am I kidding, it’ll obviously be Costa Rica. This originally started out as a trip to China so that I could check a few of the obligatory tourist sights off the list (Great Wall, Terracotta Warriors, etc). After my initial research, it came to my attention that I would fucking hate China. Aggressive crowds, a general lack of respect for personal space, squat toilets, no access to gmail, and the acceptance of dog as a form of meat product made me start to second guess my decision immediately. Once I found out that real Chinese food includes none of the Panda Express menu items, it was game over. So I moved China to the Rick Steves retirement tour list and it was back to the drawing board. At this point I was mentally exhausted out from all the mock Asia travel planning and decided a well deserved beach vacation was in order. Enter: Fiji. It was a quick sell to the girls, as I have seldom allowed them a completely laid back beach vacation over our years of travel. What can I say, I’m getting lazy in my old age.
Speaking of the girls, let’s meet the team for this trip. They are blog veterans. That’s right my friends, the mean girls are back in action for the first time in 2016! I’m sure you all remember Katie (aka Jorgie) and Steph from the Sardinia/France and Thailand trips. Not to mention the 13 other countries I have traveled to with one or both of them B.B. (before blog). We are no strangers to threesome beach bumming. We have perfected the art of fitting three plates, three wine glasses, and a few appetizers onto a tiny little table meant for two. We are experts at breaking up the sets of double beach chairs to awkwardly shove three together, while rotating our one umbrella around as needed. I even through together a little slideshow from the archives to prove it…
Since you are already familiar with our little tribe of friendmooners, we’ll skip the introductions this time. Instead, I’ll use this pre-trip blog to share some fun facts about Fiji with you:
- “Fiji Time” is real. And it might be the death of me. This is exactly what it sounds like; an excuse to completely disrespect other people’s time and patience under the guise of a “cultural norm”. I’ve gotta call bullshit. Let’s call this what it really is: a mixture of laziness, apathy, and selfishness. I have estimated that I will be told “relax, you’re on Fiji time!” about 100 times over the course of this trip. Let me outline the flaw in this statement: since when does wanting to get shit done in a timely and efficient manner automatically classify you as an uptight pain in the ass? Frankly, I find the complete disregard for productivity downright negligent and borderline sociopathic. Do I act like a total cunt and then just write it off as “Rory Time”? No! Because while I may be a bitch, I’m not a delusional one. I acknowledge it. I may not apologize for it, but at least I’m calling a spade a fucking spade. Just be real with me. Just say “you know what lady, your snorkel tour is going to start an hour late just because I’m lazy/hungover/just like to fuck with annoying tourists”. I’ll still be pissed, but at least you’ll have a shred my respect. With this all being said, I still have to behave like a good little tourist and respect this “cultural difference”. Luckily I have developed a method for abiding by “Fiji Time” while simultaneously combating “Rory Time”. It’s a little thing I like to call “Xanax time”.
- Fijians = Cannibals. At least until the 1800s. Native Fijian tribes used to actually eat people. And sacrifice them. The last reports of cannibalism were some unlucky missionaries a few hundred years ago. Apparently the gospel has spread since then and eating god’s humble servants is now a no-no. I have to point out here you would never see a Jew getting eaten for the sake of proselytizing our religion. We don’t play that shit. I just want to state for the record that the only thing I am willing to sacrifice on this trip is a day to the international date line. And even then, I want it back on my way home. Should there be some bizarre natural disaster that necessitates a cannibalism revitalization, I am confident that I won’t be the first tourist chosen. But I also won’t be the last. #thighslikewhat
- Kava is their hallucinogen of choice. Here is the scoop on Kava. It’s a communal, plant based drink that symbolizes community and togetherness. In the spirit of calling things like I see it, it’s the Fijians drink of choice to chill with friends or family at the end of a long day and get a little loose. Or, when a case of “Fiji time” strikes, something to pack for your afternoon lunch at work. Word on the street is that is tastes like dirt and is offered to tourists in a ceremony of sorts where a cup is passed around. Since I’m not exactly a stranger to passing things around in a circle of friends, and this drink is supposed to make you more adaptable to good old “Fiji Time”, I’m thinking I might have to give this one a try. Not to worry, I will report back after I have spit it out and gone in search of vodka.
So what can you expect from my Fiji trip? Given the fact that booze is even more expensive than prompt service out on the islands, I would say that my alcoholism will probably be somewhat contained on this trip. That was obviously sarcasm. I’m just going to get drunk expensively. You can expect me to complain about “Fiji Time” at least ten times (once per day should suffice). I just found out there is a New Zealand school holiday while I’m in Fiji, so given the geographic proximity of NZ to Fiji, I would imagine that you can expect a few rants about my utter disdain for other people’s children. I’m no stranger to the Kiwi’s “zero fucks” attitude, so I can only dread how that will manifest itself into a lack of discipline when it comes to their parenting skills.
Oh, you wanted the positives? Well, since my life is essentially one long endeavor to get myself on a boat, interspersed with half-hearted attempts at being a contributing member of society, there will definitely be quite a few nautical adventures. I’ll be aggressively tan. I’ll do some snorkeling. Although my definition of snorkeling is drinking a beer while floating in a clear body of water. You say potato… I will burn through every book on my kindle. I’ll hop through some of the most beautiful islands in the world and lounge on hammocks while watching insanely beautiful sunsets and drinking absurdly expensive cocktails (because I am rich, bitch! ok maybe not – but I’m good at pretending to be). If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times – my friendmoon is gonna kick your honeymoon’s ass. Minus that whole not getting laid thing. You got me there, honeymooners.