Sat around on my last morning in Fiji, and watched as horses trotted across the beach.
Jen had left the night before and we'd had a great chat over dinner about the ups and downs of family, life and love. There had been a fair few lumps in the road for Jen along her path so far, certainly more than I'd experienced in my lifetime, and I couldn't help but admire her positivity and ability to deal with these not inconsiderable hurdles and still keep moving forward. Not only is she an interesting and candid character, but she's a good soul, and a helluva laugh. I hope to catch up with her again someday.
And I can't very well doff my cap to Jen without a heads up to my other Fiji pal Sinead. Now there's a one. A bold, brassy, loud, gobby, boozy, Irish piss-taker with a tongue piercing in the shape of a football and a torso littered in Leeds United tattoos (Sinead - if you are reading this, I hope you forgive this rather unflattering description and see where this is going!). It's fair to say when I first met her on the Stray bus in NZ, I couldn't see how we would ever really connect, and admitted this to her just before the taxi came to take me to Fiji airport. Unsurprisingly she said the same to me, and confessed that her first thought as I stepped on the bus wearing my battered straw trilby hat was "Oh god, look at this bloke, we've got a prima donna here". I'm not entirely sure what this means, but it's fair to say I didn't make a great first impression!
But the point is, we were both wrong. We jumped to conclusions, completely misjudged each other, and surprised ourselves by becoming really good friends over the course of a week in Fiji. Underneath that harsh exterior, Sinead is a smart cookie who is both rip-roaringly funny and exceptionally kind. If there's a better person to paint the town (or the island) red with, then I've yet to meet them and I shall never forget her falling off the bucking bronco in Christchurch.
Insert your own cliche about books and covers here. Never a truer word.
As the taxi picked me up and bumbled along the rough island roads to the airport, I chatted with the driver. He told me that he had never left Fiji and as he only earned $70 a week to support his family, was likely to spend his whole life there. It made me realise once again just how fortunate I was to be travelling overseas. It's an exceptionally privileged position to be in and it's not something that should ever be taken for granted.
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