Malo!
So the Indo-Fijian homestay was pretty delicious. Best food of the trip, by far. My friend Julie and I stayed with a lovely family (Our parents, a grandfather, and a 27-year-old brother and his wife of a year) that spoke no English. Well, the son spoke English, but he worked all day in a nearby hotel so we only got to communicate with our family after 7 pm.
The first night we arrived, our parents presented us with a bowl of kava and stacks and stacks of wedding photos. It was surprising to see all the pictures of the wedding because it had nothing to do with any sort of Pacific culture; it was entirely an Indian wedding. The ceremony and all events surrounding the main event were colorful, lively, and made me want to visit India (think henna tattoos, nose rings, and sarees). It's kind of shocking, however, that about 50 percent of the Fijian population so strongly identifies with Indian culture, even though they've never been to the country. You would think that this many generations after their ancestors came to Fiji as indentured servants they'd be more assimilated to the Fijian way of life.
Anyway, after that first night we didn't talk to our family that much because, well, we couldn't. When the son was home they watched TV, so Julie and I either read in our room or sat awkwardly on the couch pretending to understand a religious Hindi film with live people and cartoon visual effects mixed together. Occasionally we'd all smile at each other, but the only thing my mom could have a conversation about was how many brothers and sisters she had and where they all were living.
I had a fever the day after we arrived, but hiked to the sand dunes anyway. It was so worth it. When I think "sand dunes" I think of the dunes in Malibu. This was nothing like that-- it reminded me much more of the Sahara. From the lush rainforest, we suddenly ascended a massive sand mountain, arriving at the pinnacle only to realize the sand lands were quite expansive. We ran around the dunes, sweating under the sun's brilliant rays, and reached the other side to find the ocean stretching out before us. In the distance you could see some of the other Fijian islands (there are over 300), and watch the waves breaking over the reef. It was unreal to look to one side and encounter a tropical rainforest, splattered with clearings for farms and homes, then turn around to discover the majestically turquoise Pacific Ocean, all while standing atop a pristine white sand mountain range. Then wave to the Fijian national rugby team practicing on the next mound over.
When we left our families, we headed to a resort. Although we were supposed to stay a few hours, to really understand this mini-village type hotel, the group hated the place so intensely that we left after only 45 minutes. I don't understand why tourists like these places; it's not like your actually visiting Fiji when you stay there.
We went to a small city next and Lindsay and I found ourselves in a clothing store. While we gawked at the prices of the Roxy dresses (300 Fijian dollars!), a woman came up to us and exclaimed, "nice sarongs, ladies!" Lindsay and I proceeded to roll on the floor laughing uproariously because we weren't wearing "sarongs." We were wearing our only-been-worn-ten-times-since-the-last-time-I-washed-it-therefore-it's-cleaner-than-anything-else-I-own lavalavas. It's pretty funny to have people treat you like a tourist when you feel so removed from experiencing a country as a tourist. I'm not trying to fool myself--I know I'm still a tourist and that being somewhere for three months by no means makes me anything more than that. But if the elongated visit ans student status gives you nothing else, it sure provides a unique lens through which to view the week-long tourists in their "sarongs."
Since being back in Samoa from Fiji, we've completed all of our classes and are now working on our independent study projects. It's been very frustrating trying to contact people for mine. It seems that making appointments and emailing people to set up interviews is still kind of a foreign concept to Samoans. Many times people just don't show up when they said they would or say they're free to meet up for an interview, but end up having only ten minutes to spare. Email responses are rare and I don't have much time to work on this project. I'm hoping to go to American Samoa on Thursday and interview some students at American Samoa Community College, but, again, I haven't been able to reach anyone over there to schedule anything.
Last weekend we decided to start off ISP time with a bang and a few of us traveled to Namu'a, a tiny private island off the south coast of Upolu. We took an extremely over packed bus (every seat on the bus was double stacked, meaning each two-person bench held four people or more, and the aisle was stuffed) to the "ferry," which turned out to be a small motorboat that held no more than seven people at a time. You could walk around the island in an hour and hike to the top in 20 minutes. The fales where we stayed were the only things besides nature on the rock, on the only beach that had been somewhat cleared. There was the best snorkeling we've had so far and some pretty awesome shells to collect. We had bonfires at night with everyone on the island (a whopping 20 people or so) since there was no electricity, and generally had a relaxing weekend of reading, sleeping, and tanning on the beach. Plus I got to log ISP hours since I was reading Pacific literature.
I'm hoping to have another nice weekend soon, but this ISP seems like death at the moment. I keep trying to remember to have fun with my research; I'm not at Middlebury and therefore the report doesn't need to be of publishable quality. But any Middkid will tell you that the perfectionist inside doesn't sleep just because you're not in Vermont.
Tai lava ma alofa ia te otou! (Thanks a lot and I love you all!) I'll post again when ISP is done.
-Leah
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