Bula and welcome to...wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff

So I got on a plane in L.A. on Thursday evening and when I got off 11 hours later, it was suddenly two days later and instead of me being 9 hours behind you, you're now 10 hours behind me. Time travel is weird, guys.

And for those of you who don't know, „bula“ means „hello“ or „welcome“ in Fijian. Even though it feels like they use it for everything they want. Or maybe they just do that with the tourists. I think I had to scream „Bula!“ about 70 times in the past few days.

But anyway, who has two thumbs and spent her day puking over the side of a boat yesterday? This Whiny Wanderer! Hello seasickness my old nemesis friend. If this is how it’s going to go, then I was obviously worried about the wrong end of things when it comes to the Phillipines. In my defense, though, Sarah from Australia did the same thing on the other side of the boat, so at least I wasn’t alone in my misery. And my tour group was very sweet. Three people gave me motion sickness pills, I got ginger chews, herbs to smell, people kept bringing me water or just came by to tell me how sorry they were I was feeling like shit. Once we finally made it to Modriki (the island where they filmed Cast Away and apparently also Survivor) and I could take a pill that stayed down for longer than 5 minutes, I started actually feeling better, though. And hey, look who I found there:

However, to add insult to injury I am burned to hell. My back is pretty much raw (and the back of my thighs joined into the fun yesterday). Even my shirt touching it hurts like hell. I don’t know what exactly happened, because SPF50 really is my friend, but ouch. So much ouch. I can’t sleep on my back or my side, I can’t lean against things, I can’t even actually really sit, but that really can’t be helped. I was kinda hoping it's day three, I should start feeling better, but we’ve reached agony levels today. I feel a big peeling session coming on soon. Not sure how I’m gonna make it through the next days considering I can’t really carry my backpack, but I guess I’ll have to improvise a bit.

Despite all that I have to say, though, that Fiji really is very pretty and the people are very, very sweet. Took them only about 5 minutes after me leaving the airport to become concerned about me not having a husband and children at my advanced age. No, but honestly, everybody’s been really nice. Got greeted by a couple of skirt-wearing ukulele-playing singers when I arrived at five in the morning and singing overall seems to be a big thing here. Lots of very nice Australians to chat with, too. And they have lamingtons! OMG, I didn’t even know how much I’ve missed these. And raspberry lamingtons at that. Not sure I ever had these in Australia.

Was forced to take part in a traditional Kava ceremony on Saturday, because apparently you haven’t been to Fiji if you’ve never done that and let me just say…wow, not sure I’ve ever had to drink anything more disgusting. Looked like used dishwater, tasted even worse and let me tell you, that taste stays with you for a looooong time. But hey, all in the name of intercultural exchange…or something.

Anyway. I think I also realized why I haven't won the lottery yet: Because I'd be a really shitty rich person. I've been staying at this resort in Fiji and it's not even a particularly nice one. Looks like one at first and then you realize your fridge is broken, your tv is from the '70s, you share your bathroom with quite a few creepy-crawlies (including a persistent mosquito who got me 4 times - so now I'm hoping there's no dengue fever in my future...) and soundproofing is a non-existent concept in the place (which is especially amazing when you have about a dozen roosters closeby who start their damn jabbering at 4 in the morning). And yet, behind every corner there's some guy waiting to rip your bags from your hands - not to steal them, but to carry them for you or to open doors for you or close them for you (and then of course expect a tip). I am very much capable of carrying my own purse, thank you very much. Plus, I don't have tipping random luggage carriers and door openers in the budget dammit. This stuff is freaking me out. As also evidenced by the business class freak-out of 2018.

Alright. Next stop: New Zealand. Where it's 20 degrees colder and the weather predicts nothing but shit conditions wherever I go. Well. I guess it had to catch up to me sometime...