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Writer's picturePru Warren

The Pot of Gold at the End of the Rainbow: Fiji

Oct. 7, middle of the night (in fact, 9pm but feels like 3:30 am)

 

If I don’t write something, I’ll fall behind. So I made it to Fiji! This would have much more of a YAY factor if I wasn’t sitting on a bed, having just brushed my teeth for the first time since the Bronze Age. The collapse is imminent.

 

What water do they serve on Fiji Air? Why, Fiji water, of course. This tickles me as only something so obvious can tickle a person who can’t figure out quite how long ago it was that I left home this morning. Sort of this morning.



Clouds over the South Pacific. This is how traditional navigators do it. Clouds. Waves. Currents. Mysteries. Beautiful down there.



 

Had a great driver from the airport named Isaac. Pretty sunset, with effortless palms silhouetted against gold and peach.



Had a great golf cart delivery guy to my room named Robbie, who helped me throw my bag into the room and immediately get back in the golf cart to find Twig and Harry at the lovely outdoor restaurant.

 

Greeted my family with love and delight and had dinner amid soft island breezes. Can’t wait to see this place in the sunlight.

 

All three of us are stupid with jet lag. Bed now—adventures tomorrow. Oh, yay. YAY. Large, soft bed in silence. No airplane motors. Prrrr.

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