Which is home and which is
away has become very blurred of late.
My assignment end is just
around the corner and I have had a quick trip back to Australia, a place that I
have comfortably been away from.
It’s an odd possie to be in,
not even a week ago I was in Sydney wanting to be in Tarawa, now I’m in Tarawa
packing up to return to Sydney.
Recently someone asked me for clarification when I used the word “home”,
no automatic answer came to mind.
Looks like Sydney girls can be found anywhere - this one is in Fiji !
The return trip was to sit
in the dentist chair for root canal therapy, but honestly talking over ones
troubles, doing some sand play or just drowning some sorrows with a nice glass
of wine has got to be easier therapy path. The lovely dentist in Tarawa
diagnosed the problem well but the decision to see a dentist in a developed
country is what took me back there. With the work done to a stable condition I
returned to Tarawa to pack my home at “ocean view” and wrap up my assignment.
I have expected a mixture of
emotions and feelings to arise as the assignment end approaches and having a
lightening quick visit back gave me the opportunity to dip my toes back in to
the shoes of a developed country.
It’s funny to note the once
perfectly normal things that now seem so alien. I sat on a train and marvelled
that every single person was wearing shoes, took up residence in the fruit and
veggie shop gooey eyed with choice and if I ate any more grapes I reckon I
could have been labelled and cellared.
And what a delight to drink
water straight from the tap and OMG the hot showers, I felt like a teenage boy
that takes eons to get into a shower, then you can’t move them.
As for the supermarkets,
what a maze, I’d forgotten that food came in so many packets, varieties,
shapes, sizes, colours, caters to specific needs/markets, offers desserts,
snacks, food for kids, dogs, cats, birds and a squillion products to get your
clothes clean. As for the dairy section there wasn’t a tin of powered milk in
sight but enough cheese to sink a Tarawa supply boat.
As anyone that has read this
blog or knows me will glean I am a fan of op shops and giving things a new go
at life. Recycling, re-gifting, rethreading, re anything really, I’m up for
keeping the wheel of stuff going round.
The second hand furniture and goods market in Tarawa isn’t
big, selective, designer or going to feature in some glossy home or style
magazine, it’s mostly us foreigners that who haven’t been sitting crossed
legged from the time we could walk that need such comforts. The few items
available are unfashionably old and grungy, any western hard rubbish or council
throw out is going to run rings around the frayed lounges or occasional table
that you’d only want to use occasionally as found here.
When in Sydney one day as I
walked to a train station I spotted a gem, a mop with a manual wringer-outer
thingo, I slowed down, I perused the item (very good condition with many a wash
still to be had) and slowly kept walking as a strong thought urge surfaced,
“I’d kill for that in Tarawa” !
The trek here requires at
least a one-night stopover in Fiji and a wake up call for the 5 am flight departure.
The Air Pacific twice weekly schedule must be the first flight out of Nadi and
last Monday I joined the check-in queue with the other bleary eyed passengers.
Next it’s a wander by the duty free shops with their eager young shop
assistants, 3.30am isn’t a time I have gin and tonic is my mind so I make it to
the lounge for coffee and my last dose of real milk.
The Kiribati experience
really begins the moment you are on that plane, the smiles, the laughter and
the talking to each other from 4 rows apart starts before the rubber of those
small wheels even turns. It’s a 3 hour flight that takes off in the dark, where
a blanket is needed for those not accustomed to air conditioned and sleep comes
accompanied by a cacophony of sounds.
And this is before take off !
Given this would be my last
flight into Tarawa I looked forward to marvelling at the sunrise and the view
of the slither of land we would land on. Opps, I seem to have taken up the
Kiribati skill of sleeping and wake as we hit the tarmac.
The air stip of Tarawa International Airport - good to see it used wisely !
Before making it to the
terminal it’s “Mauri, Mauri and welcome back” and a hug from a local that
appears genuinely happy that I have arrived back. Our paths have crossed at the
airport on the buses over the past year and a bit, she knows where I work and
she knows my people (those with disabilities) and she makes me feel at
home.
I know I am going to miss
the people of Kiribati, it is my physical home for just a little longer and the
memories will travel with me but for now it’s packing up and goodbyes.
Happy Easter
Up next - One big Botaki to come
