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.