The Bus Ride

In preparation for my trip to the village, I bought some toothpaste, razors, deodorant and a small package of laundry detergent (which also functions as an hourglass as the granules leak slowly into my backpack). In typical fashion, I had neglected to pack any underwear, so after trying in vain to find some boxer shorts, I finally broke down and purchased the only other available option...some über gay briefs (not that there's anything wrong with that) which the salesman assured me were large.

Please note that these are NOT photos of the actual underwear I purchased, but they're not too far off.

If you want a good laugh, go to kittyhell.com....one man's battle against "cuteness".

Keep in mind that a SMALL Fijian man is about 6'5'' and 250 lbs., so I was a little surprised at the salesman's assessment of my underwear needs (but also very proud). After returning to the guest house, I put them on and in about 10 minutes my legs had gone completely numb from lack of circulation, so apparently he had mistaken me for an large adolescent girl.

Off we went on our journey, about 2 hours awa

y on a cro

wded bus with our bags on our laps. About halfway there, we stopped at a bus depot, where I ran in search of a bathroom, which to my delight was only one notch below what you might expect at the Four Seasons Hotel.

Please note: This IS an actual photo of the bathroom at the bus depot in Nausori.

When I emerged from the bathroom, feeling greatly relieved, I realized that there were about 20 identical buses at the depot, and that I had failed to take note of any identifying characteristics which would enable me to find the one I arrived on. I began to walk amongst the crowded vehicles, searching for a familiar face, or a sign of my new friend. After making several frantic passes through the busy parking lot, and almost getting crushed between two moving buses, I began to panic.

Suddenly I remembered that I had left my bag on the dashboard of the bus, which would make it easy to spot. So I dashed between the buses again, half of which had left since I began my search and had been replaced by incoming buses. No luck.

I didn’t have a clue what to do next, but I took a deep breath and decided that whatever happened, including losing my stuff and my friend and having to somehow make it back to the city, it was gonna be alright, and that at the very least, I’d have a story to tell. I had already started to chuckle to myself at the ridiculousnosity of my situation, when she came dashing up and told me that the bus had moved about three blocks down the street. If nothing else, I was able to confirm that my adrenal glands are still working.

As we ran down the street towards the waiting bus, Kelera decided that this would be a good time to buy some bread. We ducked into a shop, where she hemmed and hawed over what to get, and by the time we made our purchase and got to the bus, I got the feeling from the driver’s facial expression that I hadn’t done much to cement foreign relations.

The rest of our trip was uneventful, and when we stepped off the bus onto the deserted highway, there was not a village in sight..only a red dirt road, and a lush green landscape of trees, vines and palms with leaves that looked like giant ferns, drenched in the amber light of late afternoon.

I neglected to mention that before we left Suva we went grocery shopping, so in addition to the pack containing my personal belongings (approximate weight 13 pounds), I was lugging 4 liters of water (approximate weight 10 pounds), 2 pounds of powdered kava (more on that later) and miscellaneous other provisions.

Not knowing whether we had a hundred yards or 10 miles to hike, I decided not to ask, and just embrace the moment. Within the first 30 seconds, the plastic bag containing the bottles of water began to slowly and painfully amputate the fingers of my right hand, and I started to wonder whether we really needed the mostly thawed frozen chicken I was toting.

Just as the sun dropped behind a hill and the light began to fade, the the village came into sight, and I was greeted with mute stares and a few shy waves from children who had never seen an albino before.