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Your average Fijian would rather pay for Sky Pacific than proper flooring.
The television is nearly always on at our house. And Fiji comes to a near standstill at 8.30pm every weeknight, which is when everyone races to the nearest telly to catch the latest episode of Shortland Street. I’m having to fight getting addicted to it.
Every Wednesday night, Scrubs series 6 is on. I arrived at my placement on a Wednesday night. Scrubs made me feel at home. I love Scrubs, but you knew that anyway.
Fiji One has very catchy jingles and adverts.
[Go on and treat yourself to Tuckers!]
[Your flavour, your flavour, tell me what's your flavour? It's Chow Time! Chow is the one that's right for you...]
[Crest Chicken Sausages? Crest Chicken Sausages?! Crest Chicken Sausages!]
[Easy Credit, e-e-easy CREDIT!]
[There's two Inkk Hyundai cars in the lot, there's two Inkk Hyundai cars...]
[That's right! FREEBEES is back! And it's bigger and better! So enjoy it, Fiji!]
(and, my personal favourite)
[The football final's on TV but your girlfriend's getting frisky? Time for Twisties, things are lookin' strange, time for Twisties, maybe your luck will change!]
*ahem*
You’re always something good to come home to, always something good on Fiji One.
Fijians laugh a lot. They laugh at other people’s mishaps. If you watch a horror movie with a Fijian, they will be in hysterics all the way through. I was on a bus the other day, and I smacked my head off the luggage bit above your head, and we all laughed it off. I’m okay with that.
I was walking down Beach Street one day when these two guys, probably mid-twenties, started laughing at me behind my back about the mosquito bites on my legs.
I was quite offended. I mean, in Britain that’s pretty rude, right? Still, when in Rome. I hadn’t thought that the laughing-at-other-people’s-mishaps thing would extend to behind-a-stranger’s-back, but it does.
One day I saw a six year old walking alone along a dirt road holding a machete. Two days later I saw an eight year old lob a bread knife at a cat.
One thing that I’m finding difficult to adjust to is having to take a new perspective on what is expensive. For example, I think nothing of paying $3.50 for a sandwich in a restaurant. Back home that’s bloody cheap. Here, that’s expensive, and it’s hard to get my head round that. Last night I asked my host how much a pirate DVD cost here. He said $7. I was like “Oh, okay, cool, that’s pretty cheap” The Fijians all looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“I was joking, it’s $1.50…”
Damnit.
Currently having the following conversation several times a day:
“Ohh! Your mosquito bites! You can buy mosquito nets in the town, you know.”
“Already got one, actually.”
“You are tucking it in nicely?”
“Yep.”
“You should use mosquito repellent then.”
“I am. In fact, I’m using a variety of 5 different kinds, since people keep recommending different ones to me, and none of them seem to do anything. I also have an electric mosquito killer and Black Hit.”
“And you’re still getting bitten that badly?”
“Yep.”
“Boy, do those mosquitoes love you.”
The little fuckers are starting to lay off a bit now, I think, touch wood. I killed one the other day, that’ll show ‘em.
Finally got here!
And it’s lovely. It really is.
The school is beautiful; I’m staying on campus with one of the teachers and his wife who are both lovely. School’s out this week due to the cyclone so I don’t start til Monday, so I’ve just been hanging around with the locals trying to get to know the town.
Would write more but I’ve been on the internet for an hour already and the grapevine tells me that the internet cafes here are well expensive so I’m gonna go not scratch my millions of mosquito bites and go to the supermarket. Cheerio.
