Cold Showers, Angry Wasps and Crappy Food – OH MY!

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Shortly after settling in to our bure (cottage), it became very apparent that our days in Fijian solitude were actually an audition for Survivor; or so it seemed.

Having traveled the better part of 16 hours we were both itching for a shower and much to our chagrin quickly realized that hot water was a commodity in these parts. (In fact, water is a commodity as supply is mainly sourced from passing storms.) As I danced around the weak stream of cool water, slowly acclimating my body, I prepared myself for the whining which I knew would come to epitomize Gina’s daily showers. Without fail, I popped my head into the bathroom once Gina started to shower and saw her standing a good 5 feet away from the falling water. I inquired, “What are you doing?”

“It’s f*ckin’ cold.”

“Sorry babe.”

Knowing that I was completely responsible for the debacle since I had booked the accommodation on Jess’ girlfriend’s recommendation, I could only be apologetic.

Pulling ourselves together, we ventured back to the common eating area where the others who had arrived with us were eating lunch. We had been informed upon arrival that meals were the same for all guests and at the chef’s discretion. Two plates were set in front of us and I could see Gina’s grimace at the potpourri of items. Having subsided on dried fruits and nuts since Rarotonga, we were happy to fill our bellies. However, to say that the food was satisfying would be like saying a kick in the shin was better than a kick in the groin.

Arriving back at the bure, we quickly noticed the swarm of wasps forming in front of our door. Gina and I looked at one another a devised a plan that on 3 we would dash for the door, I would turn the key and we’d rush ourselves into the room. 1…2…3! We were in. Shit, one made it through with us. Gina shrieked and began running around the room like someone has set her on fire - never taking her eyes off our unwanted guest. “He’s over there,” she exclaimed from under the sheets which were up to her neck. As I wound up a magazine to take a swat, I realized that I had one chance to smash him or we’d end up with one pissed off wasp. I made contact with the yellow devil but only maimed a wing. “He’s in the window!” Looking around the room, I made out a can of Raid on the bathroom counter and without hesitation grabbed it, uncapped it and charged the wasp. After emptying half the can on the wasp, it slowly writhed and died.

Day one.

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Comments

[Mikkie]

I'm outta there
Upon reading this section - with my eyes wide open - large as a flying saucers...I could relate to Gina's freight over the wasp...that would have been the day that I sunk or swam....out of that island by sea.