Waidroka Bay, Fiji

April 15th

We all knew the routine pretty well by now.  Go to the bathroom, get out passports and papers, head to customs, try to be first in line or the wait could be endless, collect bags, wait for surf boards to come out, go through agriculture inspection, go to a cell phone kiosk, pick up a sim card, find a working ATM to withdraw money in the new currency and find transportation.  We also knew that not everything goes smoothly when traveling, so when they didn’t have any portable WiFi devices in stock and the store in town was closed, the ATM was broken, and our shuttle driver didn’t show up, we rolled with it. 

Luckily, the woman at the info kiosk was super helpful and within minutes we had contacted the surf resort and we were loading up our boards on top of a taxi (think Endless Summer in Africa with the Taxi and surfboards).   The taxi wasn’t quite as nice as the air conditioned van they promised us, but at least we were moving forward.

As the sun set, we were still driving to Waidroka Bay.  It was a 2 ½ hour drive. The smell of exhaust and the heat of the engine seeping up through the floorboards couldn’t help but make us all a little nauseous and car sick.  Hot and tired, I finally saw the sign for Serua, the village of our destination.  The dirt road that leads to the surf camp ascends a small mountain and then descends to the ocean.  We listened to the sound of metal grinding on the road under the car and the occasional ping of car parts dropping from the underside of the taxi.  Now we were not only holding our breath to prevent asphyxiation but also in fear of breaking down in the dark on a remote dirt road.   Finally, the sign for the Waidroka Bay Resort came into view and within minutes we were all  breathing a little easier.

Gil, one of the surf guides greeted us at the door without an apology for having forgotten us at the airport.  “It happens,” was all he said.  At least we were there safely with four plates of food to fill our hungry bellies.  We headed to our Bure, avoiding the over population of frogs and toads on the pathway.  Willie got the low down on the morning surf plans and soon we were fast asleep.

Saying goodbye to New Zealand

April, 15th

Three days ago we returned our RV.  We were ready to move on.  New Zealand was beautiful but we were all excited to get back to warmer weather and water.

 RV Living in very close proximity to each other.

Not much room to dance.

  Aimee especially.  It had been a rough month for her. The sand flies, jelly fish stings and bed bugs left bites like the Southern Hemisphere constellations all over her body.  She had red rolling hills across her arms and face from the inflammation.  The medications took the edge off but never really got the itching under control.

When the Tui rental camper shuttle delivered us to our hotel we all looked a little rough from camping for the past month. We had been using public toilets, showers and laundromats.   By week four, we started looking like our clothes – not quite clean, pilled and faded.  We were ready to look and feel fresh again.  We were ready to return to the warm water and sun of the tropics.

 Our hotel in Christchurch was a good start. We all had space to stretch out, go to the bathroom in privacy and dry off with a fluffy clean towel.  There was a pool, hot tub, sauna and restaurant that we took full advantage of. Don’t get me wrong, RV living had been fun, but it was camping. We had been in the camper for many hours each day, traveling across windy roads, often rough and dirty. It felt good to get our land legs back and not have to worry about the timed showers stopping while you still had conditioner in your hair or only one leg shaved.

We woke on the morning of April 15th and boarded our plane to Fiji.  This time we were prepared.  When they asked for our departure itinerary from Fiji, I proudly pulled out our flight confirmation for 4 passengers to Brisbane, Australia.  I had successfully avoided a repeat of our experience when trying to leave Tahiti. 

 It was a quick flight from Christchurch to Auckland and then a 4 hour flight to Nadi, Fiji. My plan was to catch up on some writing and work on the blog, but I indulged in a free movie instead.   I reclined, drank my sparkling water, and let myself escape to that wonderful world of cinema.  Before I knew it, we were touching down and stepping outside on another island in the South Pacific.  The eighth island of our Pacific Tour.  We welcomed the warm and humid air.  The moisture put a curl in my hair and instantly erased the lines around my eyes and forehead.  Within days, we would all have that tropical glow again. 

Trying to leave New Zealand.

 

Leaving New Zealand.

Shotover Jet

Willie hates roller coasters.   He is an engineer.  When he looks at an amusement park ride, he sees the potential for human error, miscalculations, and structural weaknesses.  He can tie himself to the end of a climbing rope and throw himself off a bridge, but he HATES roller coasters. As long as he is the one tying the rope, building the ride or generally in control, he is fine. The fact that he let someone sit at the helm of a jet boat, driving 40 – 50 MPH down a shallow river, through a narrow canyon, coming centimeters from the canyon walls, took a lot of courage.  He also needed to overcome his PTSD caused by a brother that would drive their motorboat recklessly around lake Tahoe seeing how close they could come to a boat or dock at high speeds without hitting them.  Although completely gripped at the idea, he let go of his fears (mostly not to look too cowardly in front of his 12 year old daughter who after the ride, casually exited the boat and asked to go bungee jumping because the boat ride wasn’t scary enough), and purchased 4 tickets for the Shotover Jet Ride.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9evp6MWZ_w&feature=youtu.be

 

 

Queenstown

We spent a couple of beautiful Fall days in Queenstown.  The girls did a little shopping and the boys did a little skateboarding.  We warmed up at a little harbor side Pub and the next day indulged in a cup of real coffee at Starbucks.