This morning's scheduled activity was a cave tour, but having been on quite a few, I opted out. It was a good decision on a few levels. I was grateful to spend the morning napping in the shade by the water, but it also turns out that the "cave tour" ended up being a trek through hot mud, a ramshackle, spider-ridden raft ride across a hot river in the hot sun, a kava ceremony in a hot hut (kava is a tea that is supposed to induce a valium-type feeling. Megan's description: "he put a rock in cloth, poured water over it, and squeezed it out into a muddy bowl. It was just dirt water"), and a brief walk through a cave. The trip (that started at 9AM) was also supposed to last for 2 hours, so when 4 had passed those of us who had stayed behind started to worry.
Meanwhile, the group wasn't alone; the guides informed them they were accompanied by a variety of spirits. For instance, the women had to state whether they were pregnant before entering the cave, and if they lied, the spirit would not allow them in. Fijian spirits like to take their time, so the guides became increasingly agitated as the group insisted they turn around in order to make it back in time for our bus ride to Suva. Thankfully, the spirits happen to be hard up, so the group was able to buy their patience with $20 US, and get the guides to turn around.
After 5 hours, we were calling and texting our trip leaders with no response. After 6, we got ahold of the tour company who assured us that the group would be back at the hotel in a half an hour. An hour and a half later, they were back, sweaty, tired, and upset that the hotel was insisting everyone be charged for the day since they hadn't checked out by noon. In the absence of greedy spirits, the team leaders were able to use their negotiation skills to avoid the charges.
Everyone took a 1-minute shower, threw their stuff into suitcases, and jumped on the bus to Suva.
Goodbye Singatoka, we love you!!
Suva at night is a frightening place. I've been to a lot of poverty-stricken areas, but they were all rural. Arriving in the evening, Suva seemed like a post-apocalyptic city; desolate streets are lined with empty condominium and government buildings, stained and crumbling from years of abandonment. The department of energy is fenced in by chain-links, and its darkness is stark in contrast to the dusk. Men and women slump over against trees on a make-shift mat of palm leaves. Foreign men laugh loudly as drunk Fijian women with heavy makeup and stiletto heels stumble along next to them, giggling. Matted dogs wander by, sniffing gutters, running away if any person (or other dog) gets too close.
We had dinner at the Floating Tiki, which is just a docked boat that serves two kinds of snapper, tuna, steak, mussels and shrimp. Since we were on a boat, there was no air conditioning. I sat next to Yashreeka, who was so visibly hot and uncomfortable by the end of the stifling dinner that some people from the group took her outside for fear of her getting heat stroke.
Our hotel has a pool, but a stone wall patrolled by security guards 24 hours a day blocks it from the water to protect against opportunistic swimmers.
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