Dec 07 2013
10 days we have in Fiji. The time is both bitter sweet. In 10 days my friends 6 month trip will be coming to an end. MG cried so hard the last night. I feel so bad, I wish I could help her. We sat and talked a lot during our time here, and she just has this desire this need to see it all and wishes that she didn’t have to go back and wait for the next time she can see more. I really feel like MG is a different kind of person, one who needs more to life than just what is present. She is searching for something. I am not sure what it is, and maybe she does not know either, but there is something that MG gets from being “here”, even when that here is no where. I don’t think she would find the words to explain to you what it is that I can see in her desperation to not leave it all. It literally was tearing at her heart to leave it all behind, to go home. She told me she feels more home when she is away seeing the world than when she is home.
It was not all sad at all. We had a very busy routine on Bounty Island. We would wake up, eat breakfast, drag our chairs to the end of the island, and bake/swim till lunch. After lunch we would claim the hammocks under the coconut trees and we would take a few hour nap or read a book, usually both. We would shower before dinner, watch sunset and then eat dinner, talk with the other vacationers and locals and then off to bed for another long and exhausting day.
So a few things, Bounty Island, is a small backpacker island in the Fiji Island Chains. I believe I heard MG say it was about 25USD/day that included your room and food. The island was soooo super small. It took about 10 minutes to walk around the complete island and about 7 mins if you cut the middle in half. So when I said we dragged our chairs to end of the island, I mean for about 2 mins.
Getting to Bounty Island was comical. There are large backpacker ferries that leave daily from the mainland where the airport is and they make stops to either drop off or pick people up. When you arrive at Bounty, as you pull up you think, one strong wave and there is no Bounty Island. There ferry pulls up probably half a mile from the island, and this man in a little fishing boat with an engine older than my parents pulls up beside the ferry. There is some shuffling as your bags are tossed from the bellows of the boat onto the fishing boat. Then the latter is placed onto the side of the boat with a loud clatter, you confirm it is stable to use. Then one by one we climbed from the passenger deck into the fishing boat. The fishing boat sputters away first, and as you grow nearer and near to Bounty Island you here this song. I can still hear it today, welcoming you to Bounty Island in this voice that could heal the soul.