I also was accosted by Auntie Fili again, this time from a taxi, which may or may not have been a coincidence. So I told her politely that I knew where she lived and if I had a bit of fucking interest in booking with her, I would. Back at the hostel I made and attempted to execute about 500 travel plans and learned what Fiji Time means, and how compared to it, Vanuatu's 'island time' is like living in Manhattan. The first thing the woman who sat down to 'help' me said, after making me wait 20 minutes, was, I shit you not, "I hate doing this." Good start, right? I had her call some companies and inquire about different tours and packages, and her first question to all of them, right in front of me, was "how much commission do I get for this, and how does that work?" She then proceeded to argue with one company because the tour I wanted cost $119 but she would only get commission on $99 of it. As it turned out, the company didn't even run that tour on the day I wanted (and she would screw me out of that same tour another time) so I gave up and retired to the beach with the rum for another sunset. After dinner I enjoyed the sweet reggae stylings of Tai & The Kavaholics.
I drank probably 12 shells with them. It's much weaker than Vanuatu kava and tastes much better, though still not pleasant-- something like muddy water and farts. But the whole routine is different in Fiji-- you accept your bowl, clap once, say 'Bula', drink it, then clap three times. A little too much work, really, but once the kava settled on me I was calm enough to sleep like a glacier-- and it was probably me snoring like a bastard that night.Drink Count: 6
Taki!
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