I awaken in a cold sweat at 2:24am. I begin thinking about how I’m not really feeling the diving tomorrow afternoon. Besides, the day we arrived we were told that most divers prefer to snorkel here because there’s so much to see, even in the shallow parts of the water. I worry Paul will be disappointed but know that if I do go, it will most certainly ruin my day. Not wanting to wake him, I send Paul a text message asking him to cancel when he wakes up. He is up and at ‘em by 6:45 and lets me know that the booking’s been cancelled – sweet relief! Paul is off to swim with the sharks and I head to the gym knowing it will make me feel accomplished since I already feel defeated. Forty-five minutes later I am enjoying a detox smoothie (detoxing all my negative emotions!) and take a dip to cool down in our private plunge pool.
Breakfast arrives and I eat on the balcony of our new and improved villa, looking down on the blue waters below. I proceed to eat the best omelet of my life and take the opportunity to catch up on social media and check in with friends. I also catch up on my writing from last night due to Paul’s annoyance that I was “writing an entire book” while laying in bed. He’ll thank me later when he has all of these amazing memories to look back on with enough detail to make us feel like we’re in Fiji again. I also get a head start on Day 3 as to focus my attention elsewhere later this evening.
The villa phone rings and I am certain that someone is calling to tell me Paul has lost a limb shark diving and is being transported to the mainland to receive medical attention. Never mind, it’s just La calling to remind me to place my lunch order….
Paul returns, all appendages still intact and proceeds to show me amazing footage that he captured, complete with what appears to be thousands of fish and several large sharks. The divers are baiting them closer with fish heads, pretty wild stuff! It’s clear to me that this adventure proved to be quite enjoyable for him and we head off to our next one, kayaking.
I am sporting my brand new score from Australia, a handcrafted bikini from Thailand that is let’s say, cheeky. I throw on a cover up and we head down to the pool area to retrieve a two seater kayak. We each grab an oar and slowly creep into the clear waters, as I try not to be dragged back to the shore with the tide. Paul tells me to jump in and I trustingly do – hoping to not capsize in the process. We are off! I am on Cloud 9! This is the life- husband and wife just cruising around a remote island in Fiji, taking on the sea. This lasts for nearly three entire minutes before I realize that the shallow reef that surrounds the island, though beautiful to look at, would be painful as f%@! to land on. We make our first turn and it reveals a much stronger wind coming from this side. The choppy waters are only fitting. Waves are crashing overtop of the front end as Paul powers on from the back seat, increasing our speed. We are now approaching a vast, rocky shore and I ask when we can turn around. Paul insists on passing a large rock in the distance where there will “surely be cover from the wind”. We push forward, careful not to prematurely make landfall. When we get to the other side, the most beautiful landscape greets us: an island in the distance with lush green vegetation and articulated mountain peaks. This calls for a photo op! If I can get a good photo to document our voyage, then it will all be worth it.
Paul reaches for the GoPro attached to the selfie stick. (Please note that when I received the selfie stick as a birthday gift back in July, Paul yelled out “Bloody hell!” and proceeded to tell me that it was completely narcissistic and unnecessary. This is also the same guy that asked to borrow it for his shark dive. See babe, I told you it was AUSSOME! Thanks again JP!) We paddle, we smile, I try to casually look like I’m having the time of my life while secretly wondering how bad our injuries will be once we go under. Snap, snap, snap! I’m ready to turn around. Paul tells me we’ll just circle the island until we end up back where we started. What?! I didn’t pack for that! I don’t have proper rations, food or supplies! I’m not game, nor am I prepared, but I go with it wondering if my tiny ass biceps can keep up. Two minutes later and we’ve made it back to safety. I guess the island isn’t as big as I had initially thought. I exit the water, proud of myself for expanding my horizons and not sealing my fate as Ginger on Gilligan’s Island. I declare we shall do it again tomorrow.
We return the kayak and I make my way back to the pool area, not feeling the need to cover my ASS-ets. Look, this booty is the result of many hours of squats in preparation for wearing such a getup, and you know what, what the eff. I am working that beach like it’s the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show runway and I have just been given my wings. WERK. We stop and have a quick chat with honeymooners that were on Paul’s shark dive and after a few minutes of small talk, we part ways. Paul asks me if I want him to walk behind me. Why?! Was he embarrassed?! Was he afraid I was going to intimidate everyone else in their full coverage suits?! “No, Paul. Why?” I ask reluctantly. “You have a rash on your butt.” “Excuse me?” I say. “There’s a rash on your ass” in his best American accent. Oh. My. God. Could this little sand crab to the left of me dig a hole big enough for me to crawl into? I do the walk of shame back to our room. Between this “rash” and the mean, angry sunburn I have from earlier this morning, I am far from impressing anyone. Once in the room, I head straight for the mirror to see what type of irritation is enveloping my backside. Not to worry, it is only the mark where the kayak seat was. I sigh in relief. (Ladies: thong bikinis are only meant for standing apparently) We take our traditional dip in the pool and have a quick underwater photoshoot complete with mediation poses. A quick nap is the only thing standing in the way of pregaming the Crab Races.
I wake up thirty minutes later to find my sunburn worse that when I went to sleep a few minutes before. A bra will not be an option this evening so I find a loose fitting cover up, tuck it into a pair of pants, and pop a bottle of champagne in preparation for the big race. We arrive five minutes early at 6:25pm to a get a front seat. In my mind, this was the equivalent of the Kentucky Derby or Melbourne Cup! The bar and restaurant are both decorated with bright beautiful lanterns and table décor in celebration of Diwali.
We have another cocktail and pick our crabs for the race, three in total. One each for the women’s race, the men’s race and the couple’s race. I find childish humor in telling Paul I have crabs. Each race is made up of three rounds, the winner proceeding to the finals. They are dropped in the middle of the chalk drawn circle with our villa numbers drawn on their shells. Our crab for the women’s round fails to perform, but Paul’s selection for the men’s race makes it to the finals. I am now crab free and Paul has crabs. ;)
Our little crabby loses and I begin to inquire who is responsible for making sure they are returned home safely. I am told they are supposed to be set free on the beach but since dinner immediately follows the races, they are sometimes too busy and let them go near the restaurant. Not on my watch! I shall free the crabbies!! I have loved hermit crabs for as long as I can remember and now I shall be their voice since they do not have one. I interrupt Paul as he’s about to sit down to dinner to clue him in on the great crab prison break, so that he can accompany me to their emancipation. A run down to the beach with a container full of them, rejoicing as I free them to their rightful place, hoping that the tide doesn’t come in and wash them out to sea.
We return to the restaurant for yet another amazing meal, clinking our glasses to toast the freedom of my spirit animal. We watch as the beaming fireworks light up the sky! Happy Diwali!
I wake up at 6:00am, anxiety ridden! I wonder if I let the crabs free to close to the water and if in an attempt to free them, I led them straight to death. Unable to go back to sleep, I wake up Paul to get his thoughts. “How good do you think a crab’s instincts are? Do you think they innately know how to seek safe passage from the ocean?”
TO BE CONTINUED...