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Day 8.
We decided that if our mate Ian Robinson was taking us on a tour of off road Fiji, then we could cut that leg out of the rest of our tour of Fiji and head back to Sigatoka for the big rugby game. We were up early to go but he didn’t show up so we went to the Fiji museum instead. There was quite a lot of interesting stuff in there about the origin of the Fiji race, affects of foreign settlers, and most importantly plenty of weapons and cannibal stories.
Still no sign of Ian Robinson at the tennis club so we went to a backpackers place set in the forest just outside of Suva. It was slightly more expensive again and seemed empty so were pretty disappointed. The only attraction nearby was a waterfall, which was really nice (see pics) but a good 35 mins hard walk in flip flops with blisters, and because the forest rangers were finished for the day we didn’t fancy risking diving or using the rope swing into the pool because of the rocks. Down on our luck for the day, Duncan had to endure one of my rant/sulk specialties throughout the trek there and back. However things were about to get MUCH better.
Back at the hostel it was happy hour so we made the most of the ½ price drinks for 2 hours because normal rate was too expensive (£2 a pint - not in Fiji mate). Then we saw a sign advertising free fishing using a hollowed out tree and line tied to a coke bottle in the onsite lake. I noticed a few sniggers when we asked, then the receptionist proved she wasn’t joking about monster ells by throwing bread in……lots of small fish gathered, then a massive eel pounced on them. After 5 pints we thought, no problem, so off we went! I’ve never been fishing in my life before, nor has Duncan and neither of us had rowed in a hollowed out tree. We caught nothing in ½ hour and decided to call it a day, tough this fishing lark. When we got out all the staff were laughing because not only did we look like we didn’t have a clue what we were doing, but we were the first guests ever stupid enough to go out at night when the eels were about! Hardcore us two.
Still pumped with adrenaline, we decided to brave the non happy hour prices at the bar and ended up meeting a pretty interesting English bloke. He explained that he had lived in Fiji for 13 years and gave us a full run down on the military coup and a very different opinion than anyone else. I wont bore you with it here but it was pretty fascinating to us considering we were sitting right in the middle of it. It mostly boils down to a military presence making Suva a much safer place (due to fear of murder for committing crime - which is true we see it in the papers) but at the same time destroying the tourism economy and long term relations with other governments.
He also said the main bars in town are safe if we take the usual precautions when drinking in a dodgy area back home. On hearing this we were disappointed that we wimped out on going the night before. Help was at hand however because due to being the ‘stupid white boys’ we were invited out to the main club in Suva with the hostel staff (we take it as a compliment I guess).
I had 2 concerns I had to ask about though:
1. We had read in the paper that a bouncer in Suva threw a Fijian national rugby down some stairs and killed him. He was then sentenced to 18 months (!) but the judge even considered that because the last of his 23 (!) convictions was in 2001, he might be best off with a suspended sentence (!).
2. We are not meant to be in Fiji based on foreign office advise, let alone Suva where the problems are, let alone going to get pissed up in the main night club.
Everyone confirmed that none of this should be a problem, which was good enough to us, so off in a taxi we went! The club reminded me of a dingier version of The Priz, but flip the percentage of white to black people and throw in more reggae. It wasn’t bad at all and we had no problems. Throwing out time is 1am and we were told under no uncertain terms that when the lights come on, put your drink down and leave. Otherwise at 1am the military come in and kick the s*** out of everyone still drinking. Indeed at 1, the lights came on, we saw a few soldiers burst in and as soon as we did…….we did one, sharpish!
All through the night Matilda, the duty manager of our hostel took amazing care of us and on the street outside the club, if anyone came near us, she was straight in with a few swear words and shoves. A real tough cookie who despite her size, I definitely wouldn’t want to mess with if I was a woman (I probably wouldn’t want to cross her, full stop!).
Confident on surviving one club, and having our own bodyguard (albeit female), me and duncs asked for more. The ‘late clubs’ are apparently not as friendly because the scum go there after the more reputable ones shut. Still we went to one and had a cheeky drink before it really was pretty late and the only people left we HUGE, pissed up, poor, black blokes and I guess we looked like tiny, seemingly rich, foreigners. I think Matilda was even getting a bit concerned about being able to fend these lot off, so we left.
3 different and bloody brilliant nights on the trot…….plus we survived! “You don’t know man, you weren’t even there!” J
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