We really loved Oakland. Housesitting for Jesse's brother, Sean, was such a relief after months on the road, deciding between a tent and the futon in the van (down by the river), dealing with sketchy bathroom situations, and always driving and driving to the next place. Shower and kitchen at our disposal all the time, plus the wonders of San Francisco and Berkeley just a hop away, friends and new babies to visit (hola, Tharp and Amy L!). We got to spend a good few evenings with Sean after he returned from NYC, eating wonderful food and drinking lovely wines, and it was priceless to get to know him better. We really liked Berkeley - a farmer's market that was all organic, beautiful stuff; the best bubble tea I've had yet on the roadtrip, chicago-style deep-dish pizza, and free WIFI a-plenty, just not in any bars or restaurants that we could find. There's a true gap there for anyone willing to take it up, enterprisers... We hiked miles and miles up and down San Francisco, and I got back in touch with a friend I hadn’t seen for more than 10 years, who was as anything-goes as ever. San Fran is a great town, but we both seemed to prefer the sleepy streets of Oakland for living, despite its crime statistics (I think we were told 100 shooting deaths YTD, and counting). There's lots more to say about that area, including our first listing of the travel van for sale, but maybe Jesse will fill in the gaps.
Leaving San Fran, we camped one night at a beautiful beachside campground down the coast, and then spent the following night in Temecula, where we parked ourselves in a motel and wearily headed out to the wineries. Jess had some trepidation about the region that I either didn't listen to or simply wasn't told, but when I found that each winery charged like $12 for 5 samples, I had no choice but to sniff and walk away. Really, I don't know how wineries stay in business, giving away so much wine, but it's what we've gotten used to, and it was hard to accept paying for what we generally have gotten free. So Temecula was just a place to stop and relax. And not recommend to others. San Diego, on the other hand, was just fabulous, as always.
Our first stop was the fabulous Pizza Port, home of craft brews and lovely fat pizzas, where we marked time while Rommie worked late. We’d been told when originally making plans for San Diego that Mike wouldn't be in town that week, and we continue to hope that maybe with Mike's love of New Zealand, we can all finally commune there someday, where J & I can hopefully return the favor for all the time spent in their guest room! When we met up with Rommie at her and Mike’s apartment in Del Mar, she was eager to share some of their wedding beer with us after hearing about our brewery tours, and even tried to take us to one of the best breweries in the country called Artisan Brewery, which was closed. But Rommie saved the day by driving far out to this amazing brewery/taphouse, where we were able to taste a wide range of California beers, and find that Artisan brews were awesome. We sat around a fancy fire pit, chatting into the night. Good times. On Thursday morning, we got a call that my grandfather had passed away during the night, and that services would be held for him in Chicago on the following two days. Rommie had plans to be in Chicago anyhow over the weekend, but we had a hard time deciding what to do next. We’d been trying to sell the van since San Francisco through Craigslist, and our tickets had us leaving out of LA the upcoming Tuesday for overseas. The bites that had come in for the van had all fallen through so far, even one so far as the mechanic of a rather crazy, albeit enthusiastic, buyer, and we were looking at taking a great last-minute loss on the car by having to pawn it off on a dealer if we didn’t knuckle down over the weekend. Still, we considered that the events might be an omen to drive back to the Midwest, allowing Uncle Randy to sell the van and extending our date out because of bereavement, if the airline would allow it. But by the time we thought of this, there was truly no way that we could make it by road in time for any of the memorials, being held so soon. And even flying round trip would leave us with a van to sell with even less time and more complications. So we missed it, and were forced to swallow the sadness of missing both funerals for both of my grandparents in a matter of months (grandma passed away during a DICP performance in June). And then the van sold on Friday. It was ridiculous, like the buyers were sent directly by Poppa. They pulled up in a Prius, said they needed a beater to go down to Baja and kayak, lived less than a mile from Mike and Rommie, and payed our asking price (granted, it had been reduced at least three times). It was like they were us, extended. The sale took all day, what with the emissions tests and DMV requirements California requires of a sale, but it was done. And we were left with all our stuff.We met up with my dad over the weekend closer to LA and ate well some more, this time with cocktails more along the tropical lines, to celebrate the release of the car and moving forward with the adventure. The van sale was the next big milemarker since Setsugi, and things were feeling a little surreal again. Not to mention that we had way too much stuff that still needed to be dealt with. We’d sold a few things to the crazy woman who originally wanted to buy the van, a young guy took the bike and accessories (we actually ran into him again, riding the bike on the Mission Beach boardwalk in the city), handed off a ton of food to Dad, and gave just about everything else away with the van, but we still had to send three huge boxes back before we could get things down to a manageable carriage, or two huge bags each, which had to be further rearranged at the airport to meet weight standards.
Finally, we boarded the airplane to Fiji and there was no turning back. It brought a grins to our faces.
We landed at Nadi at 5am, a small airport on the western coast of Viti Levu, one of the two larger islands that make up Fiji. After some machinations with logistics, and after checking two of our heavier bags with the airport luggage service, we grabbed a taxi to take a look at a hotel we were considering for the last half of our stay on the island, closer to the airport and a sports bar where Jesse could see a game or two of the World Series with his beloved Rockies, the great underdogs. We were warned by the guidebooks that we wouldn't be impressed with the Nadi area, and the books were pretty much correct. The area is rather ghetto Polynesia, with everyone clambering to survive and (frequently to) make a buck off the tourists. Hopping a public bus to a bustling and squalid downtown Nadi Town, Jesse negotiated for a commuter van ride to our first residence, the Beachouse, about 2 hours down the south coast. We had decided to camp while at the Beachouse to save money, but it was pretty wet and puddley when we arrived, and also we were told we’d prepaid for one night in a private room via our online reservation. So we took the room for the night, to consider the camping idea for the following days. Of course, after a day of sitting in 90-degree sun, wading in the clear, warm waters beach that lined the lodging, kayaking at high tide (a complementary activity of the beachouse), eating free homemade scones and tea at 4pm, and falling asleep with nursed sunburns around 7pm, we woke up the next morning unwilling to give up our comfy digs, and renewed the small bure (standalone thatched hut-type room) for another two nights. We agreed to move on to another lodging after that, to keep costs down and be closer to where Jesse could potentially see some baseball. There's not a lot of TV channels in Fiji, but maybe we'd have some luck when we got back to Nadi.
So we spent the rest of the time at the Beachouse laying around in hammocks, doing a lot of reading and swimming, and even snorkeling nearby. The cocktails were outrageously priced, and only came in a can or bottle (2 kinds of Fjij beer, both gross), but the Beachouse hosted a free tea every afternoon with homemade scones and good coffee (according to J), and on top of the free breakfast of fruit, “muesli” (there is no granola in the south pacific) and white toast, along with our freeze-dried camping meals, we kept ourselves rather well-fed. I even started running again, with the help of over-the-counter arthritis medicines. Fiji is a very poor place, and that is reflected in the supplies available at the stores, in both their cost and variety. White bread is the standard, jam comes from a can, and orange juice is a tang-like powder. Anything "real" will cost you, and even the fruit, which is plentiful and affordable in the markets, was poorly represented at both places we stayed, with only bananas at the beachouse and seemingly canned at the high-end place we got a deal for during the last part of the week. That place was run by the Indo-Fijian crowd, and we were paying about ¼ of what the hotel normally charged. It was close to Nadi Town (maybe 3 miles or so), and even closer to the airport. It had a little gym in an open-air room, where we ran and Jesse lifted weights while we were chewed on by the Nadi brand mosquitos, little reddish guys that could hardly be seen. The hotel room was lavish and large, but the place itself was pretty isolated. We were able to get the local bus to town and walk to the supermarkets along the main stretch, where things were much more affordable, but still very expensive, than downtown Nadi. While there was pay email, overpriced amenities, and pretty bad food with the exception of a really good penne arrabiatta from the only night we attempted to eat at the restaurant buffet; we did some nice things while there, including getting caught in a rainstorm and finding Ed’s, a wonderful little decently priced bar halfway to town, Jesse getting a $5 almost-bald haircut, and my wandering around solo to watch airplanes taking off and landing at the local flight school and finding a good Australian liquor store, a relief from the crap liquors and beers we’d been ingesting so far. We also took a day trip to South Sea Island, the closest island of the Yasawas, and did a ton of independent snorkeling on the tiny place, seeing really neat underwater lands and all sorts of fish. That was wonderful. But Fiji was an exercise in patience, and we were ready to leave when November 1 came around. We even missed Halloween altogether (it's not celebrated in Fiji).
