Warning: longer than usual post to follow. Get a drink or a cuppa.
She did it. Jayne went the omelette option for breakfast – mushroom, ham and cheese and was well pleased with the outcome. As ever, I opted for more pedestrian fare and had bad coffee with fruit and pastry. What is it with brewed coffee in 2022? Why has no one introduced the espresso coffee machine to Fiji? Has Australia had no influence here? Actually there was an espresso machine. However, you had to order the coffee, another thing that was overlooked in our introduction to the restaurant.
It was another stunning morning, not a breath of wind and already 27° by 8am. There is not much on the agenda today, a swim, a massage, a walk, another swim perhaps, reading on the verandah. It’s a life.
At breakfast this morning, I was able to feed one of the Bulbuls that bravely takes on the numerous marauding Indian Mynahs, damn ferals that they are; the Mynahs, not the Bulbuls. They hang out in packs, tormenting the local birds and resident cats; again, the Mynahs. So, I was happy to reward the Bulbul with a small piece of muffin for his or her bravery.
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| Some fresh muffin was his reward. |
Following breakfast, we walked down to reception to check out “what’s on”. Not a lot of things for us, but there was a Kokoda class. We are a long way from New Guinea so this was intriguing. Jayne asked what it was about. “It’s a cooking class,” came the reply. Interesting, so is Kokoda a style of cooking? “No. It’s a fish. You prepare it and eat it raw”. Not quite a cooking class then. More a food preparation course. NSW TAFE would know the difference. It's not actually eaten raw, it’s cured in a mixture of lemon juice and coconut milk, from memory. Google it but don’t correct me. I really don’t care.
Ever since we visited Rarotonga, I have wanted to buy a bracelet with a single black pearl. They had one at the shop where we bought Jayne’s pearl earrings but I was indecisive and didn’t buy it. A regret I’ve carried ever since. I’ve searched for something similar, online and when we visited Broome - to no avail. Jayne casually mentioned she saw something similar in the island shop at reception. Clearly that was our next stop. And there it was. Just as I remembered. A single black (read black/green) pearl on a twined leather bracelet secured in place by silver. It is now mine!
Next, mission impossible, a map of the island. The tourist blurb bangs on about walking trails through the palms, blah blah blah, to get people to book the idyllic South Pacific holiday. Yet, we were not furnished with a map upon arrival. Nor were we encouraged to explore our new locale on the brief introductory walk to our accommodation. There was nothing in our buré to assist with island navigation but there were clearly things to see. So, to reception we went with our simple request, “A map of the island please.”
Not so simple it turned out. Lights flashed above our heads; sirens were screaming in the rooms behind reception with a blinking neon sign “troublemakers”. I find it difficult to believe that no one has asked the question before. There are two other resorts on this side of the island, an airstrip separating us and it was made clear we shouldn’t visit the other resorts. Interesting, since the couple we shared our dinner table with the other night were planning on spending time there because that is where their daughter is holidaying. OK then, we don’t visit Plantation Island Resort. Although we wouldn’t require a map for that journey. It is clearly visible across the lagoon. I don’t think even Jayne could take a wrong turn on that short trek!
After several minutes of colleague consultation and then, research on the computer, (the reception girl was probably playing solitaire to look like she was trying help us), we drew a blank. Then, indifferently, a well-worn map was produced from within a drawer and a photocopy was made. See, it wasn’t that difficult. Much.
Then it was time for the massage. Hayley, who usually straightens out my old, crooked body, ensures that the answer to the question, “How was the massage?” is never “relaxing”. Not so here. A holiday massage. De-stressing and relaxing, although she did find some points of interest that will guarantee I’ll be seeing Hayley shortly after returning home.
While I was being de-kinked (just leave that alone), Jayne was relaxing on the verandah with a novel. It really is a tough life here. Books down, lagoon time. The only drawback being sunscreen. I detest the stuff although it is a necessary evil.
After bobbing around for 30 minutes or so, we went to the restaurant to check out the lunch situation. Normally we would eschew lunch. Seriously, how much can one person eat? But I’m approaching my buffet limit and am looking for options. Whatever was being offered for lunch today was not going to entice me to eat, so we walked on, towards the airstrip to have a look. It looked like an airstrip. Thoroughly unremarkable, although on the other side of it, we did see a man in a sentry-type house, next to a boom gate that had a stop sign on it. Presumably this was to discourage Musket Cove ‘resorters’ from fraternising with the other resort patrons. Like a high school dance separating the love interests.
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| A Wandering Tattler racing us to the lagoon |
On the return trip to the verandah to enjoy the afternoon breeze and sunshine, we walked past the fire pit where part of dinner is often prepared. Tonight, it would appear we are having slow-roasted suckling pig. Jayne is excited. I am, meh. I hope there are some interesting salads.
I am not far from ordering a late pizza at the Island Bar and skipping the buffet dinner. I love eating pizza in different parts of the world. It is, as I have remarked previously, the true international food. It also allows me to be bitterly disappointed. I have had some really bad pizzas in my travels. That’s a story for another day.
It now time for the big reveal, dear reader. Are you seated? Today could be an alcohol-free day. I know, I know. Instead of wading or walking out to the Island Bar, we opted to put our freshly minted map into use and navigated the northern end of the island. Excited? Don’t be, it was rather unspectacular. There are some interesting houses with excellent views of the Pacific but I’m not certain if they are private or available for rent. There are also some other island villas on other lagoon-style waterways. It did provide an interesting perspective looking back at the marina. There were also plenty of dead frogs. A major island pastime appears to be obliterating frogs with your vehicle. We passed many flat examples of former amphibian life.
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| Looking toward Island Bar and the deep water channel. |
Exercise instead of alcohol – what is to become of me?
Dinner is up next. Oh, be still my beating heart, another buffet with precious little choice of wine. I have had it up to pussy’s bow with grassy NZ sav blanc and too-sweet rosé. The trader ship has been sighted the last couple of days but, as previously mentioned, so far it has not had a positive impact on the wine selection. An AFD is a big chance. Stay tuned.
Alas, an AFD was not to be. Jayne attempted to order a pinot noir to go with the suckling pig. There were two choices, both out of stock. Unsurprisingly. She settled on a cab sav which, when paired with an ice bucket, proved to be an excellent wine. Red wine at blood temperature is not pleasant. I could never be a vampire.
Perhaps I’m reading too much into dinner service but I’m seeing a pattern. The night some new guests arrived from England, we had Yorkshire Pudding to accompany the roast beef. I know that’s a thing, but in Fiji? It seemed somewhat incongruous. Last night, one of the new couples was Japanese and there was sushi. Not a major contributor to the meal, but still, sushi, and it stood out. I am hoping for visitors from Italy, China and the Middle East in the coming days.
It was the sushi that saved my evening. Ignoring the pig, the roast chicken, baked potatoes, baked pumpkin, and aubergine concoction I had fried rice, fish and sushi. OK, so the red wine was an anomaly, but finally serving light food. There was also sufficient variety of fresh vegetables to construct a salad. Perhaps tomorrow night.
In the continuing attempt to keep all the guests guessing, last night was performance night. Who knew? Not us. Just as we were finishing dinner and thinking about heading back to the buré, a couple of Fiji warriors in traditional dress appeared on the edge of the light beyond the diners. Then women, also in traditional dress, appeared and an MC stepped forward to introduce them and announce that it was performance night. It was difficult to hear the MC’s explanation for every performance but there was singing and dancing about happy things and sad things and warriors with spears, scaring little girls in the front row, the usual schtick. Although, like Advance Australia Fair, or a Banjo Paterson poem, or Scott Morrison’s tenure as PM, the performances tended to go on a little too long and audience interest visibly waned towards the conclusion of each performance.
The climax, of course, was crowd interaction. Unlike the cultural evening on Rarotonga, participation here was voluntary and did not involve the ritual humiliation of every male in the room. I was safe, this time. However, the pretty young girls in the crowd, and there were many, were targeted by the grass-skirted, shirtless, be-muscled warriors to participate in the dance. I’m sure the new husbands, who were left on the shelf, were supportive of such hijinks.
And so, dear reader, a surprise performance ended our evening. And the title today? From An Officer and A Gentleman, I’m not sure I’ve even seen the movie. As the song goes, “Who knows what tomorrow brings?" Certainly, no guest staying at Musket Cove.
Until next time.
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