Fijians are dark—much darker than I would have thought. Their lovely, musical accent sounds similar to East Indians or Jamaicans. It must be the result of mixing a British accent with a native tongue—it’s perfectly literate, correct English, but just sounds like it’s their second language, even though most all of them have been speaking it since childhood. Fortunately, having got accustomed to this type of accent by spending hours on the phone with various customer service centres (notice British spelling!) in Calcutta and Delhi, I had no problem understanding the charming Fijian lady at the “Island Massage” booth in the airport when she asked if I wanted a massage. Strangely, I did.
After a 11 hour flight from LAX (most of which I slept through, but in an economy aisle seat), a massage sounded almost better than a cup of coffee. And since I knew I had time for both, I went for it. Cost: $15 for 15 minutes, US$ or FJ$, your choice. They were very happy about my paying in US$, because evidently, the US$ is still higher than their local dollar (as I learned later when buying a $5 cup of coffee with a slightly tattered Abe Lincoln note (I just love getting that guy’s picture out of my pocket) and receiving two Fijian $1 coins in change. So that massage lady got a good bonus with me paying in US$ (and leaving a tip!)
The shocker, however, was when she said to take off my shirt. Now I have seen people getting massages in airports in Seattle, Phoenix, Chicago…but I have never seen anyone naked from the waist up getting their massage. At first, I objected, and wanted to walk away, but I know she would have been much saddened by losing a customer (especially since it was 7am), and so, considering it an opportunity to practice humility and charity, I bared my slightly fat and very white (especially by Fijian standard, I’m sure) body to the massage lady and the few people who happened to be passing by.
I got over it quickly, especially as the warm coconut oil soaked into my skin. However, I quickly realized that all my older children are much more competent at massage than an airport masseuse. I’m very blessed, but now a little worried…will I really have to pay them $1 per minute? And will that be FJ$ (worth about 65¢ it seems), or will I have to pay in US$? Or will they continue to do it for love? It’s really dangerous telling your kids that they’re as good as a professional if it makes them get dollar signs in their eyes…
3 comments:
LOL,LOL,LOL... you see even my proper English escapes me after reading your hysterical posts. No joke about the $ signs either. I am so glad that you made it to Fiji without needing to look for a volleyball :) Thanks so much for doing this daddy, even though it makes me miss you even more. I love you pacific oceans, immense skies, and millions of Fijis.
<3 Julia
P.S. did you take the picture above
i'm glad you took my wise advice and splurged on a massage ;) however, I won't say that I am sorry we are better than any old (or young) Fijian masseuse.
i'm content giving you massages for free. all I ask is that you pay my children.
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