Return to Nadi, Wayne and Myra fly home.

After breakfast, Wayne walks to a building next to our hotel because he’s curious about cars parked bumper to bumper along the highway in front of it, with maybe a hundred people milling in a line snaking out the door. He asks them what’s up and they say that each family is registering to get their $1,000 Fijian from the current government for “housing improvement” after the cyclone of a few weeks ago that did little to no damage to anyone’s homes, and to be reminded that they should vote if and when the new campaign is announced.

We debate whether or not $500 US is a good price for a vote. As we drive along the coast with rocky volcanic plugs rising sharply above soft green hills, and small, dense green islands dotting the silver-blue Pacific, we come to no conclusion but decide to stop at an agricultural center named Ba (also the name of the largest of Fiji’s 14 provinces). Fairly large with about 15,000 people, it’s mostly inhabited by Indians who came to its nearby sugar cane fields about a century ago, and is known for a restaurant in the shape of a soccer ball by the bridge over the river near the Muslim mosque at one end of town. (The city’s a soccer jaugernaut.)

It is another day with beautiful scenery.  More mountains and less ocean but very interesting.  Hillsides with large volcanic rock, multiple ranges in the distance, and gentle hills near the road.  We came across a huge pond full of water lilies.  Cynthia asks to stop and walks to the water’s edge for a photo.  A horse decides to swim, eat and drink and walks into the middle of the blossoms.  We all agree that we had never seen this part of Fiji when we were here.  So nice to have made this drive.

Cynthia wants to get Byron a Fijian shirt and we dip into a store whose sign proclaims it as “D. Hari & Sons Tailors and Drapers LTA approved auto-glass tinting and auto sound system and accessories”, which seems a good name if, perhaps, a bit long. Unfortunately, the shirts are too large and/or mostly polyester, and we move on without a shirt, tinted window, or under-seat bass booster.

We stop in Lautoka, the second largest city in Fiji and only 24 klicks north of Nadi. It’s another almost entirely Indian city and, we all agree, is the cleanest we have yet seen (not counting some villages of three to five houses along the highway). It’s Main Street is jammed with cars and we have to circle five blocks to finally find a parking space. We’re here for Myra to get presents for neighbors at a place called Jacks, for Cynthia to search for more shirts or dresses, for all of us to get lunch, and for simply a break in driving.

In Lautoka, like every town we have been through, there are long lines at The Vodafone stores.  We learn that there is a promotion on this month and everyone is trying to get “topped up”.  The phone system is confusing to Cynthia.  It seems one must buy a SIM card (easy to get one free), buy data, and buy credits toward phone calls and text messages.  A local call is F$.60 a minute, but this price varies depending on whether one is calling using a Vodafone sim to another Vodafone sim or whether calling another company sim number.  Land lines and overseas are different again.  I could never get a list of charges to estimate my needs and just took package deals and hoped it would work.

Myra gets most of her shopping done and Cynthia does not buy a shirt but we find lunch in a food court at a mall in the middle of town that’s almost like any in suburban America. We chow up on goat curry, large dahl with vegetables and passion fruit smoothies, and leave town stuffed.

Back at Jane’s place in Nadi, Wayne and Myra pack to leave for Minnesota tonight, finishing their six-week adventure and having a final cocktail before taking the VW Polo back to the airport (unless, perhaps, Wayne finds a kava ceremony en route home).

Note: David drove another 865 kilometers — basically the circumference of Viti Levu, the main island — missing all manner of vehicular catastrophe except for two potholes that sprang out of nowhere north of Suva and grabbed the front left wheel, shaking loose four lug nuts, one tie rod, seven crowns, fifteen fillings, three dental implants and our sense of unassailable safety.

David cooks a dinner that’s memorable for its mediocrity and we fall asleep, hoping our lingering colds will dissipate with the rising sun.

Another sun-filled day in Paradise.