The Unofficial Version of the Nursery Rhyme

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We arrived in Fiji late in the evening and spent the night in transit at a small motel type establishment that seemed to be almost at the end of the runway. According to everything we'd read, our ultimate destination was a resort on a palm fringed beach complete with pools, bars and restaurants, so we were keen to leave the diesel fumes of our slightly ramshackle overnight accommodation as soon as possible. Convincing Scott of this however proved to be somewhat difficult. He'd discovered that it had a small playground, and nothing was going to drag him away from it, well at least not without a lot of loud protesting. This did leave us contemplating the rather extreme difference in vacation requirements between us and and least one of our offspring. Our holidays would be a lot cheaper if the only prerequisite was a playground. I'm sure the local industrial estate back in Melbourne has probably got at least one of those.....

We arrived at the Shangri La Fijian Resort on the southern Coral Coast. Our absolute first priority was to track down a dentist to reattach the caps on Issy's two front teeth (refer previous blog entry for details of what went wrong there). "No problem" we were told; there's an excellent dentist in the small nearby town of Sigatoka. "No need to ring ahead; just turn up". We caught a taxi into town and tracked down the address we'd been given. All was going swimmingly until we read the sign on the door "Away on holidays - back in a few weeks". This was now not quite going exactly according to plan. A young local lass who was walking past happened to notice Issy staring forlornly at the sign, and told us that there was another dentist just around the corner. Excellent we thought, as were guided along the footpath. Enthusiasm started to wane ever so slightly when were directed down a narrow dirt alleyway between two buildings, but panic really set in when Issy was led into a tin shed with a dirt floor - "the dental surgery". I waited outside, so I didn't actually watch the procedure. According to Issy it comprised the dentist pulling the caps out, giving them a quick wipe with a cloth, sticking some glue on the back of them, and shoving them back in her mouth again. I wasn't all that surprised when she launched into more than a few whiskies when we got back to the resort. What I was less sure about was whether they were more intended to kill off the germs or to dull her memories of the whole experience....

We decided to take Scott on a guided trek through the jungle to a local village and a waterfall. Emma and Troy were a bit too young for this, and in any event seemed more than happy to be left to spend the day at the resort's Kids Club. Our guide told us that to get to get to the waterfall we first needed to get permission from the chief of the local village. We would also need to show our respect by participating in a traditional Fijian kava ceremony. Our guide was now striking fear into our hearts. The kava ceremony was clearly a complex one. We were told that every part of the ceremony had to be conducted in a very specific sequence; we had to clap our hands once before drinking, and three times afterwards. Or was three times before and twice afterwards? Now I know this was 2002 not 1802, but I still somehow had visions of the chief as a fearsome warrior with a large headdress and a bone through his nose, ready to smite anyone who didn't show him sufficient respect or made a tiny mistake during the ceremony. Scott was looking particularly nervous. The chief was of course just an ordinary middle aged bloke dressed in jeans and a shirt, and probably only too grateful that his village was able pick up a few dollars each day by entertaining passing tourists. I've never quite understood the attraction of kava. It tastes like water from the bottom of a muddy river, and the only effect I could sense was a slight tingling in my mouth. The waterfall was spectacular, and we were thankful to be able to cool off in the large pool at its base.

Emma had got into the habit of sucking her thumb when she was a toddler and despite our very best efforts, neither of us had ever managed to convince her to stop. She was seven now and it wasn't a great look. We also weren't all that keen on the prospect of having to sell up and live in a tent to pay for the orthodontic bills that would inevitably follow if she kept it up for much longer. We were desperate for new ideas. In a moment of inspiration we decided to tell her that thumb sucking was deeply offensive to Fijians, so much so that it was now illegal, and if a Fijian policeman caught her in the act she'd be taken away and locked up. Now I'd always thought that children believed everything that their parents told them, well at least until they turned into brooding teenagers. It seems however that my credibility must have taken an early hit. Emma wasn't having a bar of it. Her thumb seemed to spend as much time in her mouth as out of it during our Fijian sojourn, even in plain sight of officers of the law. I'd clearly failed in yet another aspect of parenting.

And my failures weren't restricted to Emma. Troy made friends with a young New Zealand lad named Gianni, who was only about four. The two of them were in the pool together one day and I thought I'd amuse them by launching into one of my best dad jokes as I cruised past. Troy just rolled his eyes. "That's my dad", he said to Gianni. "He always bes (sic) silly".

Like most parents, we used to occasionally sing nursery rhymes to our offspring to try to get them to go to sleep. (Now that I think back, I hope it was Issy that did most of the singing.) One of Emma's favourite tunes was Mary Mary Quite Contrary, but we personalised the words just for her, and it became Emma Spemma Quite Contremma. We thought she realised that these words were nonsensical, and that this wasn't the officially recognised version, but apparently not. We were wandering back from dinner at the resort one night and we thought we'd take a peek at the talent quest that was in progress at the Kids Club. There was Emma, up on stage, belting out her best rendition of Emma Spemma Quite Contremma, to the rather perplexed looks of the staff.

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[D MJ Binkley]

Waterfalls a plenty
Living the dream.