3am Champaign

My apologies for the delay in posting. Maybe some of you were worried…. yes? Worried, anybody? Grandma?

I find myself in an interesting position. The political situation here is tense and rather sensitive. Also, my work, while not classified per se, has many areas that I could reveal too much information inadvertently and be terminated. Interns do not have much recourse, or institutional patience. For safety, I am not going to speak much of work or politics, and stick to mundane issues, such as love, life, and string band.

Upon leaving LA, I found myself on a 10 hour flight to Nadi, Fiji. If you have never crossed the International Date Line, let me tell you, it can be trippy. Sunday, June 22nd, 2007 never existed for me. Gone. I left LA on Saturday night, and landed Monday morning a little tired, and again very hungry. I have to ask, did I miss anything on Sunday? Good thing it isn’t football season.

So maybe I wasn’t too hungry. We were served breakfast at 3 am, with Champaign. The couple in front of me were getting married in Fiji. They finished a bottle.

I have traveled Air Pacific several times before, and distinctly remember the breakfast. Three years later, and still the same eggs, sausage, and mushrooms. I fear there is a warehouse somewhere with a decade’s supply that simply needs water added and nuked.

My least favorite aspect of international travel: walking through immigration, past the guards and blast doors, into the shark tank of cab drivers and touts.

As an intern, traveling 8,000 miles from Anchorage to Suva, I figure that someone, anyone, would come to pick me up. Hell, even an embassy golf cart would be fine. I don’t mind figuring it out my self, truthfully. It is having to battle the feeding frenzy as you stand there, unsure if a ride is coming, or if you are looking for someone, that I mind. This leaves you, the awkward greenhorn, at the mercy of the jilted cabbies.

"You need a ride?" No. "Is someone coming to pick you up?" Yes. "Who?" Friends.
And you wait.

"You sure your friends know what flight you came in on?" Yes. "Because you know, this was the only flight of the day." Yes. "And you were late, so they should be here." Sigh.

And you shuffle defeated to the money changer.

"Ah, you do need a ride." Yes. "I see you changed your money." Yes. "How much did you change?" Enough. "Ok ok, just making sure, no worries friend. Where to?"

And you humbly get the cab ride into town, which you secretly enjoy, because driving with locals beats the American option any day. This is a sage Peace Corps lesson, kiddies. Make conversation with cabbies. They love telling you about their city.

Unless you are in the US, of course. Or Kenya, so I hear.

Fiji is a fascinating melting pot. First there are the indigenous Fijians, the land owners and historical residents of Fiji. Next are the Indo-Fijians. In the late 19th century, Britain needed cheap labor for the sugar cane plantations, and shipped Indians over in bulk to work 5 year contract. Most ended up staying, as Fiji offered respite from caste systems, overcrowding, etc. Next are ethnic minorities, such as Solomon Islanders, Polynesians, Tongans, and Micronesians. The Chinese also live in Fiji, often immigrating to start businesses and stores. Last are the ex-pats, who come from anywhere in the world, and especially from Australia and New Zealand.

My previous experience in the South Pacific was in Vanuatu, which has a comparatively uniform ethnicity except for Port Vila and Luganville. It is strange to be in an almost identical environment but have such a completely different cultural context. One issue that quickly becomes apparent is land rights. In the Pacific, land is scarce and valuable, socially politically and economically. In Vanuatu, land disputes are very frequent and extremely contentious, as old tribal methods of division are being updated to modern times. In Fiji, the issue of land and a huge influx of relatively new cultures, many of which have thousands of people, brings a whole new element into the mix, and indeed is the root cause of much of the current political turmoil. Minority rights and involvement in the government process.

Another issue, I’m finding, is applying democracy and Western style government to cultures with rich political and governmental histories, based on completely different principles. Chief systems for example.

It has been a busy week. A crash course in diplomacy, politics, government protocol, local context, and how to navigate the maze of Suva streets.

More to come, I’m sure.

Living and Dying in LA

So here I go again, back to the South Pacific.

Welcome old friends, new friends, family, girlfriend. As always, please feel free to share with others, unless they are registered psychologists or government agents investigating my background.

I get asked a lot just what I am doing in Fiji. I have been accused of “giving vague answers” and “dodging the question”….. maybe I don’t really know what I am doing

............ I plan on backpacking through Fiji, based out of Suva. I will pursue my interests of exploring the culture, language, and food of Fiji.

OK, so I don’t really know exactly what I will be doing. But whatever, there is always a beach to go lay on. Languish in stuffy DC offices fellow interns, languish in stuffy DC offices.

Currently, I am in LA. You can imagine what a kid from the mountains of Alaska thinks of LA, so I will not stoop to swearing and derogatory comments in my first posting….much.

Let me tell you about my day in LA. I arrive late last night from Anchorage and three hours later, accounting for sitting on the tarmac at LAX, I show up at Four Corners by Sheraton Lax.

Clue number one that Expedia.com lied about the quality of the hotel: All the hotel shuttle guests get off at the Hilton, and you are left with the Air Mexicana flight crew to hold hands with as the shuttle bus turns into the back alleys of LA.

I was really hungry. Oh how I long for the days of crappy airplane food. We were wrong to ever complain about the quality. I would sit in sackcloth and ashes, if the free food would return.

Clue number two that Expedia.com lied about the quality of the hotel: The smoke alarm goes off during your hot shower, and moments later your room is invaded by security and a maintenance crew, while you huddle in the corner in a wet towel. The hilarity of the situation is compounded by the fact that the maintenance man is only 4 ft. tall, so you have to stretch to your full extent to take down the wailing alarm, mooning the scared midget with a tool-belt in the process.

I am finding it is hard to save the world while living in poverty. Stuffing my face with leftover trail mix doesn’t satisfy my daily recommended nutritional intake.

Clue number three that Expedia.com lied about the quality of the hotel: The free shuttle to the “mall” drops you off at Target, with a Burger King in the parking lot and a Ross Fashion Outlet across the street.

I shouldn’t complain too bad… there is free wireless internet. And ESPN on the TV.

My flight leaves tonight at 11:30 PM. Air Pacific. I get into Nadi, Fiji 10 hours later on Monday, as they are a day ahead, and a season behind. Please feel free to email me.

Sori i go long ol jif mo bigbig man from ol rabis fasin. Presem Masta Jisas Kris.

The Adventure Continues

Word.