Sinatoka

So we stand on a bus stop in a country that runs on it's own timings, this was always going to be a bit of a punt. We caught the local bus to Sinatoka (Sin-a-to-ka). We weren't stood for long when a passing mini-van scooped us up with a flash of his headlights. The journey price, of course, slightly undercutting the 'Fiji-time' now running late regular bus service, so without a second thought we piled in. We'd guessed this bus was supposed to be doing airport transfers but the driver, on his own steam, was doing pretty well at getting other people to other places and in the same process putting a few extra dollars straight in his own pocket. A nice little enterprise we thought. So with the sounds of Bob Marley it was off to Sinatoka.

The town itself was hot and a little over run. A stark contrast from our previous week on the Yasawas islands. Our main missions in this place were a haircut and a little light shopping just to ease the price-fix-pain that was being felt back at our hotel. In no time we came across a barber, £2 all up for a quick shave-over and a market with a 'we sell absolutely everything' attitude. With markets like  this you can see why this place feels and is a little hectic. Had great fun examining all the strangely shaped veg we didn't recognise from the norm run of the mill stuff. The indo-fijians were all over this place, totally running the show. Well out numbering indigenous Fijians who preferred more to hang back to give all passing trade a gentle 'BULA'.

All jobs done we hunted for the towns bus station with a hope of finding a bus that was heading back eastward. 'The blue one over there, the one with no windows', shouted the smartly dressed Indian station master. Once on board this thing gave you the feeling of being on a motorbike but with way more seats. We bounced along the coast road with the wind rushing through our hair as we fume-chugged past palm trees and beach casting fisherman. Our canvas window panels,  that are rolled down during inclement weather, flapped wildly. Being the only 'whities' onboard most locals where pretty curious therefore keen to say hello after an initial 'BULA'. Little kids turn in their seats fascinated by new faces on their regular bus ride. The stopping bell was an old piece of cord which ran the length of the bus to the driver.  We sharply tugged on it to slow this vintage beast to a halt outside  of our digs. As the bus pulled away all the passengers waved us off as if to say 'see you same time tomorrow yeah?' 

Most if not all of the guests back at our hotel are from Australia. We are most certainly without a doubt the only Brits here. You're reminded of this in most conversions as they normally kick off with "you're from England, wow you are far, far away from home". Most of these all inclusive guests seem overweight, all wearing their brightly coloured all inclusive wristbands almost as proudly as they are their bulging waist lines! You must wonder what the Fijians make of all  this carry-on.