The Sounds of Then - Fiji, Malolo Island, Musket Cove

Our third day commenced a little earlier than expected due to an unseasonal thunderstorm. At dinner last night we were aware of the lightning in the background but couldn’t hear any thunder so we assumed it was a long way off. At 11:15pm thunder had become the new sound track replacing the rattle and hum of the air con and whirring and clicking of the fans. Whichever way you look at it, it's better than Redfern's concrete saws and sirens. By midnight the thunder was the rain on the tin roof. It sounded far worse than it was and when I looked outside, the grass in front of the buré was populated by frogs. Perhaps the next plague is on its way; we've already endured fire, flood and the Morrison government. The storm was done by 1am and replaced by a gentle breeze. Louvres open, air con, back to sleep.

I’m sure, my dear reader, you are curious about today’s title. How does a classic Gangjagang song about Australia fit with our holiday in Fiji? Sing it with me, “out on the patio we sit, and the humidity we breathe, we watch the lightning”, OK, let’s stop there. That is pretty much our world at present. Except our view is the Pacific Ocean and surrounding islands and we can wander off to the pool or down to the water’s edge at any time to cool off.

The lagoon in the morning

We discussed the storm at breakfast with one of the locals who said it was unseasonal and probably linked to climate change. Despite the pathetic posturing by current Australian LNP politicians, climate change is very real here and threatens, not just their way of life, but their world. The tide is in as I type this and we are barely 1 metre above the water level. While the reef protects the islands from the kind of storm surge we experience in coastal Australia it can only be a matter of time before rising sea levels have a devastating impact on the communities of the South Pacific. It’s hardly surprising that the Solomon Islands are seeking a closer friendship with China, given the disdain with which the Australian Government has treated Pacifica’s climate concerns.

Looking at to the Island Bar

Sunrise was around 6am. No photos. I was merely up to adjust the air con. We did roll out of bed just after 7 and headed for the pool to make use of the 25 metre lap swim area. A heated (it could be natural), salt water pool was not as easy to swim in as I first thought. The salt was extremely dehydrating. We managed 20 laps before breakfast.

Breakfast, like dinner last evening, was a buffet. There was quite the choice: bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, omelettes made to order, fresh fruit, cereal, yoghurt, an assortment of pastries, bircher muesli and more. It was quite pleasant to linger over a coffee and watch the resident cats attempting to get fed, or the bulbuls flying ever closer to the diners, hopeful of some crumbs.

Did I mention the heat and humidity, dear reader? It is almost too hot to drink alcohol. We are going through bottled water at a great rate. Probably at a 5:1 ratio to rosé, the current wine of choice. Quite unusual for us in holiday mode.

The day drifted by, assisted by a pleasant breeze. We picked up our flippers in anticipation of our Cloud 9 experience and headed out beyond the island bar to have a practise snorkel. It’s been a while. Actually, it’s been an eternity and our goggles and snorkels (we bought our own you know, covid and stuff) were covered in a thick layer of Redfern dust. Ah, how we miss the sounds of sirens and construction and traffic. Nah, not so much.

There is not a lot of coral here, although they are clearly attempting to grow their own. Now that was a tempting title for today. No? Neil Young, Homegrown. Anyway. They have a series of steps down into the water where we sat and washed our goggles and put on the flippers. The visibility today, official rating, was shit. It was very cloudy, the water, not the sky. There were plenty of small colourful fish, numerous blue starfish and the coral re-growth was fascinating to see. Some of it was growing on rope attached to other outcrops. As a place to snorkel, I’ve experienced better, but it was just to test the equipment. Also, I believe it would be a better experience in the morning. We shall see.

Post snorkelling the decision was – no lunch. How much can one person eat? We lounged and re-applied sunscreen for the adventure to Cloud 9. The name promises so much. Jayne was concerned about the transfers, by boat, a question we would pose prior to departure. And then, there was an epiphany moment. We are standing there, ready to embark, snorkel, flippers, beach bag, discussing the ease of access and egress and the guy we’re talking with makes everything clear. Cloud 9 is NOT a snorkelling platform. It is a multi-level pizza bar. People, read millennials, pay $75 each for the pleasure of being transported to a floating dance club. I have no doubt the pizza would not live up to expectations, the drinks would be overpriced and the music … let’s not go there. And the Murdoch press thinks smashed avo is stopping millennials from owning a home. His journos should get out more.

A Pacific Kingfisher

It was a tough decision but we opted to have a RAT instead. It is a travel requirement to have a RAT between 48 and 72 hours after arrival in Fiji.  Was it a tough decision? Let’s think about this. A couple of hours listening to ear drum splitting girls squealing and giggling, music that I detest, bad pizza, ridiculously expensive alcohol and buff boys posturing for the girls, OR have someone shove a stick up your nose. No contest. We both passed the test and were allowed to continue our holiday unhindered.

There was only one choice now, the Island Bar. It has shade. It is slightly elevated. It gets the breeze. And, it’s a bar. Bonus. The barge arrived earlier today so I’m excited for the expanded wine choice, tomorrow. Today, eschewing the rosé, we opted for a NZ sav blanc. Yep. Whatever. No need for fruit salad for dessert tonight. Curious why all the chardy and pinot gris has sold out. Or is it?

A flower. What? I'm  not Costa from Gardening Australia.

We whiled away the afternoon as the workers set up for tonight’s BBQ - for a special group. We are not among them so we don’t care. And then catastrophe. Jayne’s bikini top clasp decided to disintegrate… she let out a little squawk, a gasp and demonstrated her discomfort by the look of horror on her face. Thankfully the wardrobe malfunction was quickly salvaged via the sarong and, since my wife is a very resourceful person who plans for the unexpected – upon our return to the buré, the sewing kit was located and the bikini top has been successfully resurrected.

Crisis averted, it was time to wash off the sun screen pre-dinner and enjoy the breeze we wanted so badly yesterday.

As it turned out we were invited to the special dinner at the Island Bar. We walked down to main the restaurant to see the staff setting up for breakfast. "Dinner?" We politely enquired. “Oh, it’s at the Island Bar tonight, like every Thursday. Did you not see the sign out the front”? Clearly we didn’t. Out the front is actually the back for us. Our buré faces the water and we walk along the water to the restaurant. The front, as they refer to it, is on the other side. We have no need to walk down there, ever. It’s a pity they don’t publish a list of what’s on, what’s for dinner and the like if there is a set structure to meals and where they are going to be served. We don’t need three meals a day and generally skip lunch, but we could easily opt for lunch and skip dinner if we knew what the choices were.

That said, the Island Bar is a lovely spot with a more expansive view of the island, made the prettier by night lights across the lagoon. However, it was a little more crowded than the restaurant and we shared our table with a couple who had arrived that day.

It was a beautiful starlit walk back to the buré. While I have no regrets moving to the city, there are things I miss. The quiet nights and an inky black sky, pierced by a million sparkling stars are two.

Until next time.