Not much beats waking up on a beach on a remote Fijian island. Trust me.
It was another rough day at the office. For starters, some one made my breakfast for me, again. Then, I had to suffer through hanging out at the beach until church.
Oh, church. We did not have the foresight to bring nice clothes to the island, so some kind villagers offered all the staff their Sunday Best. I wore a bright res and black button down shirt along with a dress zulu. If I have yet to describe a zulu, it is basically a brightly colored bedsheet that one wraps around their waist like a towel. In Fiji, this is considered unisex and not afeminite, whish is good for me because I occasionally enjoy to wear a zulu in lieu of pants. This particular zulu was plain black with a built in belt. I looked so good it rivaled my powder-blue prom tuxedo.
Despite the fact that I understood only about three sentences at the church service, I thoroughly enjoyed it. This was due to the choir. About half the village population seemed to be a member. It easily ranks as one of the best choirs I've heard. The power of their voices and the notes they hit brought goosebumps. Sitting in the second pew, with a hymnal, I felt priviledged to add my song to theirs.
My second favorite part of church was the old guy sitting in the back row of the children's section. He held a long bamboo stick. I imagine that stick to have a name. The Religious Regulator, or The Devil Deterrer.
Church ended and we waited on the beach for lunch. I know, life can be difficult. We ate, more staff arrived, and we left for snorkeling. It was nice. I saw two fish staring at something, so I swam down and joined them. I couldn't figure out was what was so intriguing. I soone decided to abort snorkeling and began diving from the top of the boat, perhaps a staggering meter and a half above the water. Not long after, we left, ate dinner, some delicous fish cooked in coconut milk), discovered that two of our staff were lost on this remote Fijian island. They were bushwacking/trailblazing a trail for their prgram. Senga na lenqa- no worries. They're more trained in the outdoors than I am. They returned for breakfast. We spent the first few hours of the night bonding as a staff, then went to bed.
Poor planning on the part of someone led us to running out of food. Well, almost out. Breakfast consisted of rice cooked in cocnut milk. Not bad, but insubstantial. We ate, lounged some more on the beach, and said our farewells. The people, scenery, and serenity of Malakati Village is not something that will soon, if ever, be forgotten by any of us.
It was another rough day at the office. For starters, some one made my breakfast for me, again. Then, I had to suffer through hanging out at the beach until church.
Oh, church. We did not have the foresight to bring nice clothes to the island, so some kind villagers offered all the staff their Sunday Best. I wore a bright res and black button down shirt along with a dress zulu. If I have yet to describe a zulu, it is basically a brightly colored bedsheet that one wraps around their waist like a towel. In Fiji, this is considered unisex and not afeminite, whish is good for me because I occasionally enjoy to wear a zulu in lieu of pants. This particular zulu was plain black with a built in belt. I looked so good it rivaled my powder-blue prom tuxedo.
Despite the fact that I understood only about three sentences at the church service, I thoroughly enjoyed it. This was due to the choir. About half the village population seemed to be a member. It easily ranks as one of the best choirs I've heard. The power of their voices and the notes they hit brought goosebumps. Sitting in the second pew, with a hymnal, I felt priviledged to add my song to theirs.
My second favorite part of church was the old guy sitting in the back row of the children's section. He held a long bamboo stick. I imagine that stick to have a name. The Religious Regulator, or The Devil Deterrer.
Church ended and we waited on the beach for lunch. I know, life can be difficult. We ate, more staff arrived, and we left for snorkeling. It was nice. I saw two fish staring at something, so I swam down and joined them. I couldn't figure out was what was so intriguing. I soone decided to abort snorkeling and began diving from the top of the boat, perhaps a staggering meter and a half above the water. Not long after, we left, ate dinner, some delicous fish cooked in coconut milk), discovered that two of our staff were lost on this remote Fijian island. They were bushwacking/trailblazing a trail for their prgram. Senga na lenqa- no worries. They're more trained in the outdoors than I am. They returned for breakfast. We spent the first few hours of the night bonding as a staff, then went to bed.
Poor planning on the part of someone led us to running out of food. Well, almost out. Breakfast consisted of rice cooked in cocnut milk. Not bad, but insubstantial. We ate, lounged some more on the beach, and said our farewells. The people, scenery, and serenity of Malakati Village is not something that will soon, if ever, be forgotten by any of us.
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