Fiji - Day One

Last week Dan and I went to Fiji for a much-needed holiday (on his part), and in time-honoured tradition I feel the need to show off all the (200+) photos we took of the first time I've been outside New Zealand in ten years. Dan gave me the holiday as a graduation/birthday present, which was extremely awesome/thoughtful/wonderful/caring/kind of him.

Fiji was... hot. As in, I got off the plane and my clothes started sticking to me as sweat almost immediately started running down my body. Hot. And even more humid than it was hot. I have to admit, I wondered if this holiday was even going to be bearable if this was the average heat/humidity... thankfully, once we got to our resort and changed into t-shirts and miniskirts/shorts, it was fine.

We stayed in our own little "bure" or house, just as the Fijians of yore stayed in — complete with thatched roof and air-conditioning.

I have to say, I wandered in the door (the guide keeping up a constant stream of cheerful chatter), glanced around the room — and my gaze was riveted to the bed.

In case you can't read the words spelled carefully out in little leaves and petals on our bed, it says: "Enjoy your honeymoon".

...we aren't on our honeymoon.

...we aren't even engaged.

...we have different surnames, I don't wear any rings on either ring-finger... how on earth would they think we're on our honeymoon?

"And here's your complimentary champagne, to celebrate your honeymoon," our guide carried on, motioning to a bottle of wine sitting in an ice-bucket next to a fruit platter of pawpaw (I think), watermelon, pineapple and banana.

...I decided maybe it was our honeymoon after all, and nodded and smiled brightly at our guide. As far as I know, Fiji's a relatively Christian country; so later, as Dan and I explored the little foot-shaped man-made island in front of our resort, we decided that any PDA's could be excused because, apparently, it's our honeymoon....

Above is my ham-handed attempt to sew two photos together with MS Paint. Yes, I know the line between the two photos is pretty obvious, but I repeat: MS Paint. At least it gives you some idea of the view from the "heel" of the foot island, though, as we looked back at the resort.

We didn't do much the rest of the day, as it was already dinner-time. Dan ordered seafood in banana leaf, which looked pretty awesome:

...although I wasn't brave enough to sample any of it (I had chicken filo. I know, go to Fiji for a holiday and have something as exotic as... the meal I had in Palmy on Wednesday).

During nearly every meal, this cute little resort kitten would beg for food from the guests. She was way too shy to actually approach a human, so she would just sit a few feet away and flirt with you over her shoulder.

And then we retired to our honeymoon bed, though it cost me a pang to sweep all those carefully-arranged leaves and petals away. But I feel I've bombarded you with enough photos for the time being, so I will stop for now, leaving you with an image of my dessert that night: the elegantly-titled chocolate "mouse" cake.

Success

It's irritating to see people with intelligence and potential wasting it, living dead-end lives in dead-end jobs, not caring.

But, y'know what, that's their choice, and they know what they're doing — not my problem. What I did realise today is that the opposite can also be true, and is possibly even worse: intelligent, outgoing, motivated people who do get going, follow their dreams, and yet feel they're not getting anywhere. People who do have definite goals; who strive towards these, and yet feel they haven't accomplished anything.

I was talking to Kylie today, a friend with the degree she wants; the perfect job for her; who keeps in touch with all her good friends from high school and around the world; and even had the motivation to go to Africa as a volunteer social worker for several months last year. And on Monday she's taking a 7-week holiday from work with her hard-earned savings to go tripping around Asia.

It's great, and yet she feels she's not getting things accomplished. If she feels that way, how much worse am I! How much do I wish I could just take a month off and go tripping around Europe or Asia!

Yet I don't feel I'm doing so badly either. I have my long-term plans, one of which does include living in Europe for a year; I'm nearly at the end of my degree; I have a dream, and a potential dream job that I may be able to get next year.

Who knows what will happen in the end, of course. But I think Kylie deserves a lot more credit than she gives herself — she knows where she wants to be, and she knows how she's going to get there. And, importantly, she's not living her life waiting for her dream; she's taking opportunities now, and living life.

The possibility of London

For several years — almost since our family came back to New Zealand in 1998, in fact — I've been wanting to go overseas.

Initially, of course, I wanted to have a home, to experience a little security in an unsettled life. The longest I had lived in one country at a time was three years; I had spent most of my life overseas.

Ten years later, I'm done with security. I've lived in Palmy for eight years, and I'm sick of it. But I have to live here until I've finished my degree, and until we've got Dan's house ready to rent or sell.

Then an idea occurred. Working holidays! We could get visas to work in England or Scotland for a year, we could visit Italy, France, Germany. We'd be in the hub of Europe, surrounded by other countries, other cultures. I enjoyed living in Glasgow, back in the day, and I loved staying on the outskirts of London once, in this big old-fashioned mansion with its own library and park and ruined fortress. And the shopping! Oh, I remember the shopping. It would be a dream come true to live with Europe at my fingertips, if only for a year.

It's still all hypothetical, but if only it could happen! I'll work next year, save up; Dan has a cousin over there who could probably get Dan a job before we even go, and then (from what I've heard) I could get a bar job quickly; explore London during the day. Maybe/hopefully I could even get a job which utilises my degree, especially if I can get a job in 2009 which gives me good experience.

I've been wanting to talk about this for weeks, but it's still all so hypothetical and unlikely and beautiful that I hardly want to write it down, in case nothing happens. And we have friends who've taken off overseas; they've spent all their money and come home broke.

It's so exciting and improbable. But if it happens... a dream come true.

Slightly disgruntled

Well, my Russian teacher told me tonight that I won't complete the Russian course because I missed one lesson too many. One lesson! Now I'm wondering if I should bother going back at all. It's completely useless; I'm not learning anything; she's a terrible teacher.

Angela's dropped out; and the rest of the class consists of one nice guy and one jackass. And the nice one hasn't been for the last two lessons. If it's just me and the jackass for the rest of the course; if I'm not learning anything; and if I'm not even getting a "Certificate of Attendance", is there really any point in continuing to go? I would get back two hours a week of my life, which would be nice.

I might ring up QEC tomorrow and see if they're still offering Russian for travellers in August (and that it's not the same teacher), in which case Dan's offered to do it with me. Alternatively, I might decide to take a French course instead, and learn a little bit of basic French. Dan and I would like to visit France sometime, and it does seem essential that we know some basic French before we go there!

If I don't complete a Russian course, I'll fail task #16; but I might change that task. If I'm not going to get any good out of the course, I honestly don't see the point of keeping that goal; and I still have task 17 and 18 — completing my Russian textbook and reading a book of Russian stories — so it's not like I'm foregoing all Russian learning.

I don't know, yet. I haven't decided.

Oman

My dad's probably in Oman now, barring any problems with the plane etc. I haven't heard from him yet, which worries me a little, but who knows what kind of internet access he'll have over there? Does Oman have internet cafes? I've heard they're a rich country, but my mind persists in showing me a picture of Bishkek, with people sleeping in the streets, drunk on cheap toxic vodka, poverty everywhere you look. Apparently his income isn't taxed there, though, which is good.

My dad's career has been varied over the past year. He was offered jobs in both South Korea and Kuwait, but ended up taking a job in Queenstown. Then, at the end of December, he was offered a job in Oman, and flew there on Monday. He'll be there till maybe August.

I know it's probably quite safe, and less dangerous than it was in Kyrgyzstan, but I don't like the thought of him there on his own, without his family. And it's hard on Mum. At least she's still got Sasha there - he'll be "the man of the house", as Dad jokingly said.

Oh — for Christmas Dan and I flew down to spend it with his family in Christchurch, and then rented a car to drive down and see my family. We flew down on Christmas Day, and back on New Year's Day, so there wasn't much time. I bid goodbye pretty casually to Dad, and half an hour later realised it could be the last time I saw him, or at least the last time for seven months. That made me feel pretty awful.

I don't care about not seeing Dad till August, since it's unlikely I'll see any of my family before then anyway. But I don't like the thought of him off in a strange country on his own. He doesn't even speak Arabic!

Hopefully he'll be fine. I imagine it's just taking a while for him to travel to the town he's working in. And I guess it's entirely possible, if it's a small town, that they don't even have the internet.

I told Dad to email us when he got there, though. I hope he's OK. I'm (almost) sure he's fine, but it's nice to actually be sure.

The lifestyle of writing

I'm a writer.

I don't write for a living or even as frequently as I should; I've never published a book and only one short story; I'm in no way a professional writer. But I feel like, intrinsically, that's what I am, that's what I'll always be — even if I never write another word again.

It's like a lifestyle. Writing affects everything I do. And I mean apart from my crazy grammar-Nazi thing.

Writing affects my fashion — I'm incapable of not buying any and all clothing related to books/reading or writing.

Writing affects what books I buy. I have to buy things like the Six Pack and Huia Short Stories because it's supporting New Zealanders like me — who love writing and want to do it, and do it well — I'd be betraying my own cause not to buy them, and encourage others to buy them. Support NZ writers! Buy NZ made! Go the patriotism.

Writing affects other books I buy, too — I'm interested in writing about Regency England, so I buy books based in Regency England — relatively historically accurate ones, e.g. Georgette Heyer rather than Ken Follett (at least she researched the era properly).

Similarly, I feel like I have to complete events like good ol' NaNoWriMo, and even be ML for it until someone else is able to take over my region or until I (please dear God, please!) move away. It's good practice, it's good experience, and it's getting things done. When I discovered Kiwi Writers, initiated by the fantastic Kerryn (NaNoWriMo ML for Wellington) and some other WriMos, I had to first join, and then sign up for any and all writing challenges I could find.

Writing affects the way you talk and think and observe other people, writing makes you note down funny comments and spy on interesting strangers in coffee shops and make mental memos of what different people say and wear and do and act around you.

I feel like I could never write another word, and still be a writer.

Although honestly, I don't think that would happen since I'd get out of that way of thinking. But writing...it is, to me at least, as much of a lifestyle as an activity; it affects everything I do (albeit very subtly).

If I'm trying to work out an issue in my life, I sometimes write little fictional stories about characters in similar situations, and helping them work it out helps me work it out.

With Massey, all my papers are geared towards writing — writing and journalism papers, literature and history and classics paper — a good literary writer needs at least a basic knowledge of those areas.

I feel the need to travel, to experience more life outside NZ, understand different persons and peoples and cultures — I can't just keep living in small-town New Zealand and experiencing nothing for the rest of my life. What kinda writing am I going to be able to do about that? I need experiences, ones I can't get in New Zealand or from just visiting other places — I'm so glad I grew up overseas, even if I never get to live overseas again. But I hope I do.

I've been thinking lately about how important it is to me, how central to my life — past, present and future — and dreams for the future.

This entry may not sound finished; that's because I'm not.

Travel writing

So I just had my first Travel Writing lecture for the semester. And am I excited? Well, to be honest I'm not quite sure yet. I'm not sure whether the lectures will be dull, thought-provoking, or theoretical to the point of inanity. But I am looking forward to the course content more than I was initially — the content being three more or less creative exercises, two of which are stories; and two analytical book discussions, which are dull but more or less enjoyable.

And, the danger of inanity aside, I think this paper will bring me back from the cliff of insanity which I've been hovering over for the past week or so.

Doing nothing is so dull.

So very, very, extremely boring.

I've been looking forward very much to this semester, just for the enjoyment of doing something again, and of having interaction with people other than Joy and Dan, and the occasional catch-up with Ang and Kylie. My life is so sad right now — purely because of how few people there are in it. Everyone keeps moving to Wellington, and now even Kylie and Angela are starting to consider it!

Anyhow, the disappointment of this semester is that the way my papers fall, I only have one internal paper. This means I'll need to exercise considerable self-control, which is challenging at all times — but far worse, it means I only have two days of the week where I actually have class; only four hours of seeing people outside my regular sphere.

The positive aspect is that, in these four hours, I found out today that a chick who was in one of my classes last semester, whom I got on pretty well with, is in Travel Writing as well. That's positive, at any rate; and most of the other people in the class look like cool people, whom I'd like to (hopefully) get to know a little. It seems a pretty small, informal class, so hopefully that will happen.

I was thinking unhappily about how I haven't been out of the country for eight years, and haven't done any travel at all in the last few years, apart from Dan's and my excursion round the North Island last year. Then I was thinking about going to Dunedin on Wednesday, and it occurred to me — that's technically travelling as well. Technically, I travel at least every month or so, whether it's to visit Dan's grandmother or mother and sister; or go to Wellington or the Naki, or even (as now) to Dunedin. They aren't interesting or unusual trips, but they are technically travelling.

Go me.

In fact, if you get really technical about it, I travel to Massey twice a week now, and I travel to town to go to the supermarket or to do some shopping. I even travel to see Dan.

I wonder if I could base my story around travels within town? Journey to the Supermarket — the new travel thriller by Ruth.

I wonder if I could get away with that....