Postcards From Paradise

Volume 1, Issue 2 2012

2nd Edition 2012

Adventures of the Apocalypse

Its been an eventful couple of months with two trips to hospital, cyclones, an earthquake, floods and I believe 4 apocalyptic horsemen rode past at one point. But we drew on some good old fashioned Blitz Spirit and pulled through. Thanks for all the kind and sarcastic comments on the previous editionI hope you enjoy this one just as much as we enjoyed writing it.

Inside this issue:

Bush craft 101 A birthday party Rats 1-Visitors 5 Harry came to work in the morning, and feeling pretty pleased with our survival I said to him, See - were still here Harry. Were pretty tough us Brits living in a tent in a cyclone. To which he responded with a puzzled look. It hasnt started yet, cyclone comes tonight. Oh crapWe might sleep in the house with the rats tonight! All the bloody nature Picture Gallery Breathe Deep Jungle John 2 2 2 3 4 6 8

Strong Winds Warning

Not that kind of wind! (Although the Dahl soup does take a toll). Last night Harry came over and said that the government issued a weather warning for strong winds and rain, developing to a CYCLONE ! Now we are from the north of England, so strong wind and rain isnt something that holds any fear for us. But when a Fijian says it, you wonder if it takes on a new meaning. Are Fijians masters of understatement? A bit like the Brits would find themselves in a hurricane and say Bit breezy out isnt it? Living in a tent directly under some coconut trees; and the look of concern on Harrys face both pushed us into battening down the hatches and securing a few things in the old plantation house. Readers will recall that the problem with the house is that it is the central battlefield of the ugly and ongoing rat war. So the scarier thought was that the wind and rain would be too much for the tents and we would have to come into the house overnight ourselves. (Shudder) We braved the night in the tent. There were a few close calls with coconuts flying horizontally and branches off the trees heading for us like spears, hurled by an ancient Fijian warrior angry that wed set up camp on his ancestors graves. There were three occasions when we scrambled as fast as we could out of the tent to try and save the tarpaulin that was being ripped away and ultimately ended up in a breadfruit tree at the back of the orchard. There was certainly no sleep to be had it was very noisy, windy and rainy and kind of scary.

NB Postcards from Paradise is loosely based on stuff that happened with a dash of gross exaggeration, some under exaggeration and some stuff I might have dreamed, but its all loosely what happened with a bit of artistic license. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent but they are innocent anyway so give them a break.

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Postcards From Paradise

Bush craft 101

Jungle John has seen the infamous and mysterious Seppo out hunting fish with some kind of spear crossed with a string off a bow and arrow and is intrigued. Seppo is looking slightly perturbed at the wide eyed white man constantly watching him through binoculars. Who wouldnt? On Seppos return to shore, Jungle John immediately grabbed the nearest vine and swung over, leopard skin loincloth wafting in the breeze. ugspear...me want is roughly how I imagine the conversation went, but to fair I didnt actually witness it. So bless his lack of cotton socks or socks and shoes of any kind, Seppo showed John how to make one. It was simple too, just a case of getting some steel rebar from under the house, wrestling it away from King Rat, and then sharpening it with a file to a serious point and a notch at the top the same way for the laggy band to go. I suspect this is one of those things that looks easy, but youd make a right hash of it without decades of practice. But nonetheless, Jungle John is a happy camper with his new toy and Seppo is slightly less worried about being stalked.

A birthday party
Since meeting neighbours Nigel and Carol (just a 10 minute kayak away) they have taken great pity on us dumb white kids living in the bush in tents and have been wonderful hosts. Invited for dinner one evening there was quiche and another night steak and COLD beer. Nigel's birthday party even had cake and wine and roast chicken. Where do they get these things? They also have fabulous magical tricks such as fridges and freezers and cookers... and a blummin big generator. My only complaint with this warmth and generosity is that while there, Jungle John acts as if I never feed him, just beat him with a stick and throw him a dead rat to gnaw on. Nothing could be further from the truth. I cant tell you how much effort goes into making dahl soup in different textures, varying the type of lentils, adding and taking away spices so it isnt identical day by day. Three fingers show the scars of battling with the scalding roti pan. So one more worshipful puppy dog eyed face at Carol at lunch time, and Im going to shrink his loin cloth on a hot wash.

Nigel with his Mum and Dad on his birthday

Rats 1, Visitors 5
In the on-going battle for the house with the rats, we have made significant strides with the aid of traps and poison. Never thought I would turn to chemical warfare. So far we have found 4 dead rats, the stench from under the house indicates more and the pool around one of the traps indicates one bloody nose. Sadly a minor birds beak was also taken in collateral damage. In a key strategic turning point and after some intense negotiations, the marmite was returned unharmed, I know we all slept better after that. The consequence of all this death is somewhat stinky though. As Jungle John keeps saying, I love the smell of death in the morning, smells like victory

Rats 1, Visitors 5

Smells like...victory

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All the bloody nature

Young Harry (who I have now nicknamed Eddie the blur Daniels because he moves so fast (not)) has done a corking job clearing the orchard. You can actually see the wood for the trees now. The mosquitoes back there are still rampant, but hopefully that will tail off with the end of the rainy season. Feeling adventurous, I roped Jungle John into a fruit collection session, which mostly consisted of me pointing at the highest branches and saying I want that one. Several avocadoes, limes, guavas and custard apples later, and I spot the robust spiky form of a soursop. Massive it was, on the highest branch of course, and my mouth was already watering thinking about making soursop juice. A choir sang rousingly in the background and a beam of sunlight broke through the clouds as if to highlight the bestest fruit in the whole orchard - no, WORLD! So up he climbs its a pretty climbable tree, but the fruit is just out of reach. I pass the spear up to jungle boy so he can reach. Unfortunately, just seconds earlier, he discovered the fire ant nest. Or at least they discovered him. I couldnt honestly tell you which came first. But there were a few seconds with a truly extraordinary range of facial expressions, some of which Im sure were entirely new; before he launched himself back out of the tree towards me (minus the bloody soursop). Big ants these things too. And hes rapidly rediscovered the power of speech get em off me! What am I going to do with an arm full of fruit? Throw a lime at them? I make an attempt to brush down his back, and quickly realise they are taking this opportunity to climb onto me and that cant be a good thing. No point us both getting bitten if only he were calmer Im sure hed agree. After all, my first aider training clearly states that before going into a rescue I quickly realized they were taking the opportunity to climb onto me - and that cant be a good thing. No point should bittenif only heassess Im sure hed agree. attempt I us both getting always were calmer the scene for my own safety. Which I quickly do and scarper! Im not sure if it was the stop, drop and roll maneuver, or the running into the sea that finally vanquished his foes, but I was very impressed at his self-rescue skills, and indeed told him so. When he starts speaking to me again I shall even tell him where I hid the Stingese. The moral of this story is never rely on your wife when theres fire ants about,

Mangrove crab. Also called Harrys dinner

Everybody say Ahhhhh

Eurgh..but also quite pretty!

About the size of Johns hand

Clear for take-off

We had these at school, but smaller

Transport to the island

Gizmothe alpha of Harrys pack

Bambi the skinny little baby in the pack

Jungle Johnalways happy with a fire and a machete

And Shithead, named for getting his head stuck in packs of chocolate biccies

Seppo teaching Bush Craft

Handwashingpain in the backside. Well the back actually.

Off foraging

The neighbours

Noel, Nigel and Flo

Carol & Flo

The tents at night

Solar power!

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Postcards From Paradise

Breathe Deep
Well one of the things we came here for was to make a difference ecologically speaking. In the words of Monty Python, lets DO SOMETHING Reg. And what an opportunity we have. In May, we were amongst several who attended the Suva meeting with the Minister for Fisheries about an ongoing lobbying campaign principally by the Save The Coral Alliance and Fiji Shark Defenders to make all of Fijian waters a marine reserve for sharks. It would make it illegal to kill a shark anywhere in Fijian waters (as it already is to kill a turtle). This is a tall order for a developing nation with giants such as China and Japan constantly pressuring and paying well for the right to come and fin sharks here. But we have put a good case forward that financially they make more money from tourists coming to dive with the sharks, than they can from finning. And since it would be the worlds 2nd largest shark reserve, they could do some great marketing on the back of that. What happened at the meeting? The tuna fisheries put forward their argument that they dont try to catch shark, they are by catch and it is a waste to just throw them back, but if they come on board alive they do throw them back. A shark sanctuary in Fijian waters would put them out of business they say. They claim it is in the in shore local fishermen causing the real problem. And to a degree they are right on that point at least. Last year, the official by catch figures declared around 70,000 sharks caught and landed here.officially. The figures hide what is happening though. The staff on the tuna boats tell us that they arent paid enough to live on, so they have to take the sharks fins in order to supplement their earnings. Their bosses dont encourage it, but they know its going on. And it means the live sharks thrown back are usually those without fins. Once the shark appears in a market, we cant tell if it is from shallow or deep water so we need the shark sanctuary to be all Fijian waters for it to be enforceable. I suggested that by charging tourists who visit Fijian sanctuary waters, we create jobs to police the area, and we can look at compensating the tuna fishing industry for their losses from not being allowed to keep the shark by-catch. In turn they can pass that on to their staff who need a livable wage. (See www.facebookcom/ fijisharkdefenders if you want to know more or get involved). Want to help? Email the editor of the Fiji Times saying you want to come to Fiji and dive with sharks. and support the Shark Sanctuary. Thanks to all who liked and shared the links on the Breathe Deep Diving Page about the meeting.

A spanner in the works

John and I have been in serious competition for the doctors attention recently. Well it is one of those places things happen here. In this instance a mosquito bite theres a lot of them. But occasionally in spite of best efforts to keep them clean and keep flies off them, one gets infected. I have to be honest I probably wasnt taking John seriously enough when he said one was particularly hurting it looked like all the others, and well hes a man isnt he. Its like manflu all over again. A few days later you could see it was really swollen though with a big hard lump under the surface. We located a phone signal, called a pharmacist who said we had the wrong kind of antibiotics for it, but it was better than nothing. John started on the wrong antibiotics, pain killers, anti-inflammatories and an antibiotic cream. This little combo did bugger all! The lump grew, the red area grew and

then it all started turning black. Now Im all for getting a tan, but even I know black flesh is not good on a white man. I should say that we had by this stage been trying to get to the clinic for about 4 days to get this sorted. Problem was it coincided with the weather warning. Harry had to take his engine off the boat and pull the boat in shore. Then the spark plugs went. Neighbour Dan was on the next island over. The one day the boat was working the clinic was closed. Eventually neighbour Nigel lent us his big boat and a captain to get John to the clinic. This was after he slit it open to relieve the pressure, which was like having a front seat for a live action stage show of some awful Discovery documentary on Things that Go Ouch in the Jungle. Weirdly the Western doctor that he saw having prescribed the right antibiotic, also prescribed using a plant to wash the wound in Bush medicine. Which I will tell you all about in the next Bush Craft section.

Front seat for a live action stage show of some awful discovery documentary on things that go ouch in the jungle.

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Bush craft 2
The western doctor told John to find a little plant and wash his mangled leg with it 3 times a day. He said its better than any antiseptic known to man. Hed done tests and everything. So we went on a search and as soon as we mention it to Harry, he smiles knowingly and says yes, very strong Fijian medicine, lots of it around here. Not sure why he didnt volunteer that information days ago when it would have been helpful, but better late than never. So we boiled this stuff up roots, leaves, flowers and all, let it cool and used the liquid to wash the wound. You can also drink it if you are feeling a bit crook, but of course being wild, you cant predict the dosage you are getting so it could all go a bit Alice in Wonderland if you arent careful. Woo hoomines a double!

Not to be outdone A spanner in the works

We needed to go to Suva. The capital. The plan was to fly in, spend a working week there getting round all the lawyers, accountants, banks, and government departments we needed to. And what actually happened? ..Monday morning yours truly is covered in a really painful rash and joints swollen up so much I can hardly move and I look like a circus freak. So I went to the doctors, and was admitted to hospital with suspected meningitis and septicemia. Many tests followed. A quick blood test not a big deal you might think...and youd be completely wrong! The needles here are designed for Fijian veins. I do not have Fijian veins. Even the needles they use on babies here are too big, and go straight through both sides of the vein. 4 stabs in different spots it took. Not a fun day, but the nighttime routine was a cracker. From 10pm to 6am the routine included waking me for tablets twice, waking me to swap IV saline to antibiotics and back 4 times, 2 sets of blood pressure and temperature checks, and usually at least one time where the IV would have gone through the vein and been dripping into the tissue instead of the vein making my arm / hand swell up to hulk proportions. Then finally 6am wake up with a chirpy did you sleep well? Ummmmm not especially. Having said all that its a week later, and Im alive and considerably poorer. So they did a great job, thanks to all at Suva Private Hospital.

Bush Medicine

Flowers from the gang at Nanettes

A little language lesson

Local dialects. Go an hour down the road in the UK and you are in a completely different territory accent wise, I should knowwhen Jungle John is in Teesside, and the accent starts to come backI need someone doing sign language next to him to have the first clue what he is saying. But its not just not just accents, its words, meanings, food, culture it all changes. Yorkshire Pudding, Lancashire hot pot, a passport is required to cross the Pennines and the North South dividedont get me started.

Well reassuringly, Fiji is just the same. Up here in Vanua Levu, they find those from the island of Kandavu as hard to understand as we find Rab C Nesbitsubtitles please? Even within our island it is true, a relatively massive 5,500km2 (That's about 3 times the size of Yorkshire) and a population of a dizzying 130,000 people (thats less than the Borough of Harrogate) And even hereif Im on the East coast I say Vinaka for thank you, for the west coast Vinaawith the k missed out like a Yorkshire Tah home from home. Get it wrong...and theyll look at you as if youre from Lancashire!

You aint from round ere

Breath Deep Diving at Rainbow Beach Estates, is two British nutters who decided to up sticks and move to Fiji to go diving. Instead of buying a house or something easy, they bought an old, overgrown coconut plantation, a rotten damp rat infested excuse for a house and took a tent with them. Off the beaten track? Theres no track to beat! No
Rainbow Beach Estates Ltd PO Box 687 Savusavu Post Office, Vanua Levu, Fiji Phone: +679 8853186 E-mail: theboss@breathedeepdiving.com

power, no roads, no water, no mobile signal, no internet...just coconuts. Postcards from Paradise is the story of their battle to turn this into their dream of a small eco friendly and innovative dive school. Paradise found, paradise built.

Diving, skiving, just about surviving

A word from Jungle John
Hes definitely gone native. You can tell by the way hes stopped saying OK and started saying set like the locals. That and the weird little calls and whistle Harry and he have agreed between them so they know at a distance who wants what and where. Its like boy scouts gone mad. Ive never read Lord of the Flies, but as soon as I get my Kindle near a wifi signal, its going on there. I may need to be prepared. And this month Jungle Johns summary isBefore slicing into your own leg to relieve the pressure, make sure the boat is working and there isnt a cyclone in between you and the nearest Doctor. Oh and always get Harry to climb the tree with the soursops.

The Good Life

Today I have been mostly planting ooh all sorts actually. Watermelons, capsicums, chilies, lettuce, cucumber, aubergienes, tomatoes & spring onions. And Ive integrated recycling into the project by using old tin cans and water bottles with holes poked in the bottom as my pots. Yay me. Im feeling rather smug about it to be honest. Not least because I cant grow so much as a weed in the UK, green fingered is not how I would describe myself. But here with the volcanic soil, the sun and the rain in plentiful supply just 3 days later, and my watermelons have sprouted. 4 days and the tomatoes and lettuces followed, and everything else from there. Harry is going to build me a raised bed to plant everything into and my arse will eventually look like Felicity Kendalls. All is well.

Watermelonday three

The Weather Report

Monday: Tuesday: Wednesday: Thursday: Friday: Saturday: Sunday: Cyclone Warning. Idiots in tents, please seek shelter. On the bright side Mozzies gone. Seriously, you pitched your tent UNDER a coconut tree? Maybe you should move that then, its going to be a bit breezy. Oh and damp (cue laughter from locals watching the Kaivalangis move tents in vicious wind and rain) Gravity defying coconuts fly sideways. Its still raining. Constantly. And heavily. Say goodbye to that tarpaulin too. Well drop it at the back of the orchard for you, wrapped in a breadfruit tree. Bit like England this really grey, windy, wet but warmer and with flying coconuts. You left your washing out? What you think this is a rinse cycle? Pick it all up out of the mud and start again. May be nail it to the washing line this time. And relax the worst is over, the sun is out, the sea is calm, and all is well youre back in Cansas now... Or Fiji. Only joking Earthquake! And next week were planning a flood - yay!