I’m listening to Grandmaster Flash on the beach. Literally pretty pissed off. The roof in the dorm leaked again during the night. At two o’clock a jet pours into my face again. Move the bed again. Awake for another two hours.
In the morning I have to cool down. Swim with John, an American triathlete, out to the outer reef. From the beach it looked like maybe 700 metres. I don’t know how far it was. All I know is that a good two hours later I crawl back ashore, shaking. It takes a while for the shaking to stop. Two Cokes, a packet of chocolate crackers, a packet of crisps and a portion of chips with sausage.
Immediately afterwards, the receptionist whistles me up to reception. I had booked three days. They are over. All the other hostels in Fiji were more than happy for me to stay longer. Especially when I was the only guest. It’s different at Ratukini. Ratuini is going well. I have to vacate my bed and move to another dorm.
My new place is in a dorm without electricity. The shower hut is outside, shared with about 20 employees. There’s a noisy building site behind the dorm. In front of it is the bar. There is always loud music playing in the bar. Always the same CD, and one song worse than the other. “Fuck me biatch – lick my rims and grab my money Ami-Hiphop” from the bottom drawer. Only seeing Paris Hilton naked is worse. Then comes “Do you really love me underneath at all”. I gasp for air.
The internet is offline all day. I have something to do and I can’t. Always makes me cranky. Then the manager comes up to me and tells me that he doesn’t want to see my laptop when I try to dial up in vain. I work for you, you snoozer! Should I send my bytes by carrier pigeon, or would you prefer your homepage extension to go online this year? A few sentences with the dive instructor and client Andrew clarify the situation. A bitter aftertaste remains.
The neighbouring hostel also wants a homepage from me. I throw the European prices overboard here anyway. A Fijian would have to work 10 whole days for one hour from me. A little development aid never hurt anyone. I’m offered 10 days’ food and accommodation for five hours’ work. Great dilemma: as soon as I move over from Ratukini, I’m guaranteed that I can no longer use the modem here. It’s the only one on the island.
Other than that. The evening programmes are lovely. Children weave flower wreaths all day and put on a concert in the evening. The next evening, the gay chef, who always loads me up with extra food, dances a hula dance with maximum grace. The next day there’s a crab race. Unfortunately, my crab “Franziskaner” doesn’t bring me a free beer. Should have named it after a decent beer.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.