Sunday, December 26, 2010
FIJI (PART ONE)
Back in October, I went to Fiji for 5 days and stayed at The Outrigger on the Lagoon resort, situated on the Coral Coast. The resort had everything a stressed holidayer wants: BULA bellowed ecstatically from the strapping gatekeeper once you arrive, service with warmth, reef walking, fire and kava ceremonies, crab racing, coconut palms and golden palms and palms that turn you into the person you always wish you were, memorable international cuisine, traditional dances, Indian music, bar crooners, splendid lagoon and ocean vistas, resplendent gardens etc. I felt utterly spoilt and blessed to be there.
Several of the staff at the resort had lost their homes and farms during a 2009 flood that devastated the local area of Sigatoka; they were trying to rebuild their livelihoods and dignity, as well as provide for their families. Most staff walked or hitched to work as they couldn't afford cars. I tried to help out where I could with tips, but this seemed a token act. I felt, as a privileged westerner, with two cars, I was exploiting people. Then again, without me, these people wouldn't have jobs.
I greatly enjoyed speaking with the local people and hearing their stories. I made a friend in a gardener who sported stacked frangipanis behind his ear and a real passion for flora - he turned the resort into the slice of Eden it is today. I have his address: I must send him a letter inc. photo's of my local Highland flowers.
Fiji is more than just endless sunshine and poolside luxuriance... I get the sense that there are thousands over there struggling under military rule - there is no real sense of democracy - people felt nervy speaking out against the government. The land has been plagued by drought for years. Most of the geography between Nadi and the Coral Coast is a tattered patchwork of sugar cane fields, paw paw groves, fiery hills, goat-flecked waste and odd riparian scrub. Everywhere you drive there are poor peddling paw paws and polychromatic fish. The country seems heavy, groggy, foggy... yet surviving.
Touristy photographs from the resort are in my next couple of posts. These shots reflect the Fiji Aussies want to see and the Fiji most Fijians, I guess, want us to see.
LJ, December 26 2010.
Several of the staff at the resort had lost their homes and farms during a 2009 flood that devastated the local area of Sigatoka; they were trying to rebuild their livelihoods and dignity, as well as provide for their families. Most staff walked or hitched to work as they couldn't afford cars. I tried to help out where I could with tips, but this seemed a token act. I felt, as a privileged westerner, with two cars, I was exploiting people. Then again, without me, these people wouldn't have jobs.
I greatly enjoyed speaking with the local people and hearing their stories. I made a friend in a gardener who sported stacked frangipanis behind his ear and a real passion for flora - he turned the resort into the slice of Eden it is today. I have his address: I must send him a letter inc. photo's of my local Highland flowers.
Fiji is more than just endless sunshine and poolside luxuriance... I get the sense that there are thousands over there struggling under military rule - there is no real sense of democracy - people felt nervy speaking out against the government. The land has been plagued by drought for years. Most of the geography between Nadi and the Coral Coast is a tattered patchwork of sugar cane fields, paw paw groves, fiery hills, goat-flecked waste and odd riparian scrub. Everywhere you drive there are poor peddling paw paws and polychromatic fish. The country seems heavy, groggy, foggy... yet surviving.
Touristy photographs from the resort are in my next couple of posts. These shots reflect the Fiji Aussies want to see and the Fiji most Fijians, I guess, want us to see.
LJ, December 26 2010.
Monday, December 20, 2010
VIEWER VS LUNATIC
I've just watched Edward "Bear" Grylls drink his own urine in The Kimberley.
My life is now complete.
LJ, December 20 2010
My life is now complete.
LJ, December 20 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
MOUNTAINOUS GORILLAZ
Some friends and I went to see Gorillaz at Sydney's Entertainment Centre last Thursday evening. I've been a Gorillaz devotee for some time. This year's offering from Damon Albarn and co. - Plastic Beach - is probably my album of the year.
The gig was a stunning affair; punters of all ages (ten year olds to those in their forties) weren't given any respite from an onslaught of mesmerising percussive bombast, guitar glamour and electric eclectic performers from Hypnotic Brass Ensemble to De La Soul (who opened for Gorillaz and almost knocked over AMP/Centrepoint Tower with their hilarity and temerity).
The pinnacle of the event for me was seeing my guitar heroes Mick Jones and Paul Simonon together. As mentioned in an old post, Jones' BAD is THE band that has meant the most to me in my thirty-eight years on Earth. The Clash is a close second. Witnessing MJ cut loose on his electric, show off his peculiar 'winged' dancing style and race after other performers with a huge grin, elevated me. And PS has still got it - his bass line for the Snoop-led Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach was spine-marrow jarring.
Much of the cartoons for the tour featured characters under seige, warfare, bullets splashed everywhere, and virtual band members losing their temper and being electrified ... I didn't really get the point... still, it was engrossing.
Damon Albarn is a visionary - his Gorillaz are unpredictable and dazzling- they're saving music from turning into wet cardboard.
LJ, December 19 2010
The gig was a stunning affair; punters of all ages (ten year olds to those in their forties) weren't given any respite from an onslaught of mesmerising percussive bombast, guitar glamour and electric eclectic performers from Hypnotic Brass Ensemble to De La Soul (who opened for Gorillaz and almost knocked over AMP/Centrepoint Tower with their hilarity and temerity).
The pinnacle of the event for me was seeing my guitar heroes Mick Jones and Paul Simonon together. As mentioned in an old post, Jones' BAD is THE band that has meant the most to me in my thirty-eight years on Earth. The Clash is a close second. Witnessing MJ cut loose on his electric, show off his peculiar 'winged' dancing style and race after other performers with a huge grin, elevated me. And PS has still got it - his bass line for the Snoop-led Welcome to the World of the Plastic Beach was spine-marrow jarring.
Much of the cartoons for the tour featured characters under seige, warfare, bullets splashed everywhere, and virtual band members losing their temper and being electrified ... I didn't really get the point... still, it was engrossing.
Damon Albarn is a visionary - his Gorillaz are unpredictable and dazzling- they're saving music from turning into wet cardboard.
LJ, December 19 2010
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