Fiji

Bula!

My recent vacation was fabulous. No lie. 

The vacation started when Jenn arrived at LAX. We had a few days before traveling. We foolishly tried to acclimate to the time difference, pretty much failing. We had some Ambien, what was I thinking? I graciously helped Jenn lighten her load before departing--she was thankful later...

The flight was actually nice! We were both dreading the 10-1/2 hour flight, but the Fijian flight attendants were sweet beyond words, the seats comfortable, some movies...and Ambien. Woohoo! We arrived in Nadi refreshed and mostly acclimated to the time difference. Our first day was spent at a nice, family-oriented resort on Denarau Island. It was a great transition day. I bought a very nice sulu--I like going native. 

The next day we grabbed the ferry to Tokoriki. I was surprised the island had no dock, so we hopped aboard the resorts tender for a short ride through the reef, beaching the boat in the white sand. Walking up the beach, we were greeted by Fijians, 20 or so exuberantly singing a Fijian welcome song, one with a necklace for us, and another with a cold, tropical drink! After a delightful check-in process, we were showed to our room. Wow! It was amazing! We were shown around: a gorgeous bedroom with an incredible view of the sea, the trademark outdoor shower, a cabana, sun deck, plunge pool and a living room. No TV, no clocks, no telephone, no kids...ahhhh. 


We were surprised to discover that about 75% of the guests were newlyweds...well, there are only 30 or so rooms; the resort is intimate and lovely. We swam and snorkeled, had dinner on the beach. Our rhythm when vacationing is not typical. We were each morning before sunrise with Special Coffee....mmmm. Siesta in the afternoons; that sort of thing.  

The highlight of the first week had to be the "honeymoon picnic." The staff packed a cooler with a delicious lunch and a bottle of champagne then we were whisked off to an uninhabited, secluded beach on a nearby island. "Totally private," we were reminded several times, always with a wink and a smile. Sure enough, we had a half mile stretch of white sand beach all to ourselves for about 5 hours. We laughed and frolicked--it was amazing; an experience of a lifetime!  

Our second week was back on Viti Levu, the big island of Fiji. Catching a transfer from Denarau back to Nadi, we jumped on a bus a couple of scenic hours before arriving at Pacific Harbour. There, we had a rousing lovo dinner at the resort, visited the cultural center and took the whitewater rafting trip, which was the highlight of the second week. Our guide was outgoing and friendly by Fijian standards, and that is really saying something! Moses told us stories and shared details of village life inland on the river. I know how to catch fruit bats for lunch, now! Moses was fascinated by our travel stories and descriptions of life in LA and Florida. It was a delightful cultural exchange. Another real friend in Fiji! 

After Pacific Harbour, we traveled another couple of hours by bus to Suva, the capitol city. There, we visited the national museum where we saw something Moses had told us about...the shoe of Thomas Baker. Baker was a missionary to Fiji in the 1800s, completely ignorant of Fijian customs. He proceeded to help the local chief remove the combs from his voluminous hair to the horror of the entire village. (Even today, you do not touch Fijians on the head). In response to the grave insult, the missionary was reduced to his component parts, cooked and eaten. Realizing this did not appropriately include his shoes, they gave them a bit of a roasting, then tried to finish them off. The soles of the shoes were a bit too tough and you can see the remainder of the meal in the museum, complete with teeth marks. Afterward, we wandered the city, had some wonderful meals and got some tanning in. (Well, one of us, anyway). 
  

Saturday, we took off on the long busride back to Nadi, on the west side of the island, arriving at our resort just after dark. It was a friendly, little place with just 10 rooms and very nice beach access. The following day, we walked on the beach, luxuriating in our last day in Fiji. Our flight left late in the evening, and, oddly arrived back in Los Angeles earlier the same day. Such is the magic of the International Date Line, and perhaps, Ambien, too.   

again

This time of year is all about the small things for me. Wow! Did I just close the window before going to bed last night? It's been a while. That was a couple of weeks ago. A few days later, I woke to fog--inland fog. I rode my bike to work that day. Gloves tomorrow, I told myself. By 10 AM, I went outside to find the sun shining and the temperature rising. I must have imagined the fog, I thought. The following morning, the gloves were a good call.

As a Southern Californian, I know a secret that other folks do not. "What do you know about the seasons? You are in Los Angeles--it is summer all the time!" Well, I think to myself, I'm not in Maryland, where Fall is color-coded, like Garanimals. Seriously, do you need autumn to slap you in the face and ask, "who's ya momma?!" In winter, we Southern Californians are quiet. New Yorkers, among millions of others, will scoff at us. "Winter!?! Let me tell you about winter! Snow up to my bahoogies, I tells ya!"

Ummm, duh.

The fact is, I don't need ice cubes touching my bits to know when winter arrives. Likewise, Nature puts on a technicolor display in New England. I think she suspects no one would notice anything subtle. I would. I'm the guy that just put a bedspread on my bed for the first time in months. Yes, Mother Nature, I feels ya...

a dance

 Some time ago, a friend wrote about her appreciation for the beauty of a day when she completed all her errands in order and as planned. I know what she meant, for I, too, appreciate the well-executed Dance of Efficiency. 

Not surprisingly, I find my life happier and far less stressful with carefully crafted routines and rituals. Each morning, I wake to my morning ablutions, all in the same order. It is the small things, like music when I shower; my razor right where I left it. In general, I am a moderately organized person. I am not organized for the sake of organization; rather, for the effects. I smile a little when I run out of shaving cream, open the cabinet and there is a spare. It’s like a dance, almost graceful. 

I like traveling. Long ago, I dreaded the logistics of the trip, but loved the destination. I had a few wonderful vacations where the joy of the arrival was heightened by the adrenaline of the air travel. I once forgot about a sailing knife in my bag. TSA reminded me about it, before taking  it away. I liked that knife. I once forgot about the time difference in the Dallas airport. Wow, that was some excitement! Over time, however, I made friends with air travel, developing an almost-religious set of rituals. I find it surprisingly gratifying to walk serenely through the security checkpoint, greeting TSA with a smile, then putting my shoes back on before a drink in the airport bar. There is almost always a swirl of angry chaos in this place, yet it doesn’t quite touch me; it’s like a rabid dog, but I know exactly how long its leash.

comfort

I think, ultimately, I am immature; childish, even. As evidence, my ongoing desire to keep the “long-distance” in my long-distance relationship. (I visited Jenn for a long weekend and we were talking about it).

First, my work. I have often said that Jenn would be the ruin of my career. One cannot thrive at the office by coming in late, going home early, and taking long lunches in the middle. Should I grow up, move her in, and change our relationship to fit my work needs? Hmmm…

Next, there’s me. Unsurprisingly, I gained weight over the holiday. I ate like a king, drank like a sailor, and took a vacation from exercise. With ready access to my GF, would I watch my weight? Evidence suggests otherwise. Would I really get out to ride my bike if she, and that delightful perfume, were under my roof? Hey, I’m not sure I want her seeing me sweat and yelling obscenities at the skinny POS that recorded my exercise tapes.

Then there’s her, too. Jenn is an independent woman with her own interests, obligations and exercise routines. I want to be the type of boyfriend that brings her spiked coffee and breakfast in bed; not the type that encourages her to pop P90X into the DVD player. No, that’s for HER time and I like making sure she has that time by staying 2200 miles away.

A wise young woman posted a quote somewhere: “The lust for comfort murders the passions of the soul.” This has me wondering about the nature of a comfort in a relationship. What would I be murdering if I served up a comfortable, lusty breakfast in bed every day?

…let’s not risk it.

nerd philosphy

I had a bit of a revelation this morning. This may have had something to do with Special Coffee, but I will take inspiration where I can find it.

When I was much younger, I was introduced to Dungeons & Dragons. (It's funny how I feel 50% of the people that read this will never get past that last statement. Nerdcore Level: 37). In the D&D manual, there was a chart that explained character alignment with axes for Good vs. Evil and Order vs. Chaos. As simple as it was, this chart made a great deal of sense to me, and continues to help me understand the world around me, even today. 

The revelation? In my various meditations, a recurring theme is commitment. My views on commitment are strange, without a doubt. This morning's revelation: where I personally fit on the alignment graph might explain it best! I have always thought of myself as chaotic good, as opposed to lawful good, or any of the other combinations. I highly value personal freedom and think that relying too much on "law" for moral guidance weakens the personal spirit. (Catholics, please feel free to start gathering stones for my imminent demise). I think people should do right because the FEEL it and KNOW it, not because it is a rule. In a lawful world view, people are taught to follow the law, then understand WHY the law was made later. In a chaotic worldview, the WHY comes first, and the rule is personalized, i.e., followed as a conscious choice to do right, not blindly follow the law.

Anyway, back to the point...my views of commitment are screwy. 

Long ago, I read a book by Piers Anthony, in which the author espoused a rather chaotic ideal for commitment. In this imaginary world, a man gave his necklace to a woman, which signified she was his mate. The woman would wear the necklace as a sign of her acceptance...voila, they were mated for as long as she wore the necklace. The man was free to ask for the necklace back at any time, and the woman was free to return it whenever she wanted. In this way, commitments could last as little as an hour or go on for decades; the commitment was constantly renewed, even daily. I thought this concept was beautiful, but realized it has shortcomings for the begetting of children and forming a household.

But what about now, in my current station of life? What does commitment mean now? What SHOULD it mean? With the issue of begetting children and forming a household behind me, is Anthony's model better suited? I am thinking so. There are those that will rail against the idea, probably with the argument that a commitment STRENGTHENS a relationship. To be honest, that argument has never really resonated with me. Yes, I suppose making a commitment can help you with the decision to try and work things out instead of bolt for the door, but geez, is that really a strength? I feel like I have rationality to better serve the same purpose--why throw away something valuable that can be salvaged? Andm if it is not valuable, doesn't it belong on the dustheap?


Anyway, I guess my point is that this daily renewal kind of commitment is very attractive to me. I wonder if it is better to say a) I made this commitment once and stuck with it 5 years, or b) I made this commitment every day for 5 years? Which indicates a more stable relationship? Heck, should it even matter? Should we value a long-lasting relationship over a happy one?

a thought

I read somewhere that variety is a luxury. I've been thinking about the truth in that. Wise...

late-onset add

Vacationitis is a serious disease that strikes down a man in his prime, severely cutting into his productive time at a critical stage in his work life. Rather than receiving the pity he deserves, he is heaped with scorn and derision. Don't hate...

hmmm

Sure, what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger...

but it only takes one to break the streak.

tempest

Snow in Atlanta had some unintended consequences for me last week. Jenn was scheduled to fly out for a weekend of manhandling, but bitter cold in Atlanta shut down the airport, and she had a connection there. Delta cancelled her Wednesday night flight, and re-booked her on Thursday night. That was a 25% reduction in manhandling…I was not pleased. The next day, the weather had not changed, so Delta cancelled her Thursday flight, also, with no news on possible rebooking! Although I tried valiantly to keep in mind that snow is not Delta’s fault, I was mightily disappointed. I was extremely cranky, as I had completely given up. 

With no automated response from Delta by Thursday, Jenn got on the phone. After about 5 minutes, she had a new flight out of Orlando that bypassed Atlanta and put her into Los Angeles by 7 PM the same day. Excellent news! Even better, she could extend her visit until Monday night as opposed to Sunday morning, a 25% increase in manhandling! Yeehaw! She hurried to catch her flight and soon she was in my arms. My Valentine’s Day was saved.

We each get a lot of questions about how we make our relationship work. The most common comment is, “It must be hard.” It is and it isn’t. It’s a bit like dieting. Like dieting, some sacrifice yields results, and results make one happier than never dieting at all. The snow in Atlanta reminded me of one thing; skipping a meal on top of dieting can make me very cranky, indeed.

I spent my 4 days with Jenn mostly touching. Technology does a great job helping us stay current, but there is no substitute for skin-time. She liked her trinkets, the full moon was amazing, roses bloomed, and the “vacation coffee” was extra special. Yes, we accomplished almost nothing, but we had a very good time doing it.

remarkable tuesday

To my chagrin, my bicycle was recently stolen, so this morning was a lovely walk into the office while the sun was rising. Southern California really is gorgeous!

I know it is unusual for a divorced guy to celebrate his wedding anniversary, but I do, and today is the day. I was married for 25 years. We had a lot of good times and those are worth remembering, worth celebrating. 

I have plans this weekend. My girlfriend is coming into town for some kissing and stuff, and it just happens to be Valentine's Day, too. 

As I walked in today, I realized I have it pretty good--many fantastic memories from my married past, time to enjoy the sunrise in my present, and some lovely things in my future. 

lyrical

Lyrics from a song this morning:

"Don't think about all the things you feel,
Just be glad you feel."

movies

I have often wondered at the impact of movies on humans, as a species. Don’t get me wrong, I love going to the movies, but are movies in general good for us? (Two of my favorite things growing up were high-fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated vegetable oil…get my point?)

One of the things I like about movies is that I can walk away from a movie theater feeling happy or sad or scared or romantic with just a 2 hour investment. My life is often transformed for a day or more as the images and themes work their way through my conscious mind. I think there is a little residual that, like memory, remains behind, and that is a little scary. I firmly believe there are things you can’t unsee.

When my lads were far younger, I was concerned by the anthropomorphism rampant in Disney movies. My sons were being programmed, I was sure. Could I really put out mouse traps each spring, knowing my kids might ask me if I killed Bernard or Bianca, yet? There was an Ikea commercial a few years ago that made me laugh almost every time I saw it. There is a lamp atop a pile of junk awaiting the arrival of the trash man. Sorrowful music played, and a Swedish voice says: “Some of you feel bad for this lamp. That is because you are stupid. It is just a lamp. Get a new one.” Of course, I thought about the Brave Little Toaster… I wonder how many people are vegetarians today because they are convinced on some deep, dark level that Disney & friends were right? That our food has feelings? (Funny, when I suddenly realize Disney did not often select food animals for characters? Cows, pigs, chickens…not a lot in the Disney pantheon…hmmm. But there was an awful lot of vermin!). Could a lifetime of Disney movies impact how you see animals?

Horror. This really seems obvious, doesn’t it? Who doesn’t ever think about Jaws when they go swimming? There are images in my head I wish were not there, thanks to horror movies. It was bad enough when movie technology was a little hokey—I could chant, It’s not real! It’s not real! But nowadays, special effects are so special…seeing is believing (?). Side note: scariest movie for me, “Silence of the Lambs.” Still scared.

Ugh, movie romance. My contempt is sharpened by the fact that I am not immune to it…damnit. My favorite romantic comedy is “Serendipity,” and what a scourge that has been in my life! I’ve watched it several times, and I hate myself a little each time I do. Fate? Ooog. Not sure I believe in that, and this movie really pushes the boundaries. For Kate Beckinsale, I am tempted to believe… Love the movie, hate myself.  

  

A recent conversation pointed out a bifurcation with move sex scenes: the morning after, they are either in love (95%), or mortified (5%). There is no middle ground. Is life like that? Should life be like that?

In the movies, a couple falls in love based on 3 or 4 magical scenes that push the characters together, irresistibly. Are those scenes enough to sustain a relationship? Of course not, and every filmmaker would say, it’s just a story and a lot of stuff happens off-screen. Duh. But why do I so rarely think about the off-screen parts? Movies are like modern day fairy tales that skip over a lot of the mundane stuff. Sleeping Beauty…one kiss and she didn’t even have to give her permission. I’m thinking of the sexual assault charges these days. One kiss, she opens her eyes, doesn’t scream and is suddenly in TRUE LOVE. 

I think the difference between fairy tales and movies is simply speed. In fairy tales, people fall in love in 30 seconds; in movies, 2 hours. Is that realistic? Oh, and if we’re talking realistic, how often is movie courtship even close to realistic? Can too much schmaltz impact how you view dating?