exit strategies 1-10

Well, last week I came as close as I’ve ever been to marriage… Steph and I had been talking to Gen (Honiara housemates) about the beauty of Frank, who guided us up the volcano on Savo Island (see Savo Island post). He is pretty darn spunky, and also deaf and dumb (I’ll leave it up to you as to whether this is a positive or negative attribute, and I will post a photo as soon as I’m able!). Gen went back to Savo and, wanting to see Frank with her own two eyes, mentioned to Victoria (who runs the village rest house where we stayed) that I was keen on Frank. This resulted in Victoria’s husband Noel looking me up at Ben’s party in Honiara, to let me know that he and Victoria fully approved of this situation, and that all I had to do was send word back and I would be a done deal (oh, and possibly buy a couple of bags of rice, and Frank could do with a new screen for his DVD player, just for starters). Suspecting that this offer had little to do with mutual attraction on Frank’s behalf (I’m sure he saw me as a lumbering, awkward whitey) and a fair bit to do with my potential to be a benevolent provider of all things western to the village, I wrote to Victoria explaining that, where I’m from, two people usually get to know each other a bit before jumping into a lifelong commitment and besides I’m moving to Gizo. Exit strategy #1

Now I've finally left Honiara (exit strategy #2). Things here in Gizo are pretty good – it really is a beautiful place; nice and clean after Honiara, and soooo quiet at night. One of the med students at Phoebe’s mentioned a noisy rooster close-by, but I sure haven’t noticed it after the raucous mob outside my window at Tanuli. I arrived on Thursday night at around 7:30 (the boat ended up taking about 12 hours all up), fairly zombified from the constant drone of the engine, the snap freezing, and too much sitting in the sun to thaw out. I dropped into Nings on the way for a polo bun, then decided that I should limit consumption for the rest of the trip to avoid the toilet, and conserve my limited paper supply. It was a good plan… typical that my only real, ongoing stomach problems coincided with a 12-hour boat ride! I can’t say that I really enjoyed the boat trip… too cold inside, and crowded, windy and wet/sunny/smokey/vomity outside. The video clips being shown on the DVD were pretty funny, but by the end of the trip I think I new them by heart. I woke up from a quick snooze at one point to see footage of Madonna performing live at some Live-Aid event – very surreal.

When I got to Phoebes Jaffar was there with three of the Swedish med students we met on Savo Island and a British med student too. Jaffar works at the Gizo hotel (you’ll meet him when you come and visit, he’s a classic, completely camp and lovely), and came to cook for us last time I was here, demonstrating how to make coconut rice and deal with big fishies. Discovered that I was very hungry and ate about half a tuna and a good SI-style helping of really yummy c’nut rice. Mmmmmm. Then realized that belly still wasn’t up to scratch, and have been filling up on fluffy white bread ever since. Better than that gastro-stop stuff, I reckon! I reached new heights of mental density when I managed to ask the British med student - who wears a skullcap and who’s name is Gideon – what he’s doing for Christmas. I think my thought processes must have the same problem as my bowels at the moment… bypassing some critical step on the way to the outside world, resulting in unplanned and somewhat undesirable exit strategies…(#3&4)

I went for a bit of a walk along the road that follows the southern coast of Ghizo Is this morning, through a couple of villages which have the most amazing settings and views out past the reef, across to the other parts of the island etc. The road is pretty reasonable, and I think it’ll be perfect to ride along; the furthest point on the road, Sasikola (or something like that) is about 12 km away. Someone rode past me on my way back, and he had front suspension, so mine definitely won’t be the swankiest bike around (‘though I think his bike was even noisier than mine, and didn’t seem to be working on all gears).I still have to put my bike together, and hope that it hasn’t rusted solid. The bike box lasted for just long enough… after being unloaded onto a wet wharf at Gizo the bottom fell apart when I got to Phoebe’s.

Now I’m just chilling in the office, quite literally; the office here has air-con, and toilets that flush! Or at least they do when the water is on. Seems to be off pretty often, but I think the shower at Phoebe’s is rainwater, so at least I can still wash.

The others at Phoebe’s are going to Fatboy’s tomorrow, so I might tag along for a snorkel. I’ve got a pretty crazy week coming up, and all this staring at nice-but-unswimmable sea is going to drive me ‘nanas!

Oh, and the other six exit strategies? At the moment they're to do with work... both what's being written into workplans for finishing up projects and my fantasies for the increasing times when the beauracracy and financial difficulties just seem completely unworkable, and 'boring' Canberra looks attractive again.