so, we're back. missing the weather, obviously, but it's very nice to be sleeping in my own bed again. the trip away was very good, with all the book-related stuff really going off well, and the rest of it - catching up with friends and family, just being in fiji - being quite pleasant as well. we kept up with the soccer as best as we could, culminating with the time we got up very early to watch the aus-italy game and went back to sleep again afterward feeling very sorry for ourselves. we went out to two nightclubs and got addicted to bounty rum and coke (the soundtrack hasn't changed a bit, which is very comforting - now i know why i love eighties music so much. ah, richard marx. ub40. boney m...) i ate kokoda at every opportunity i got. immediately upon entering any shop, i would converse in hindi with the shop attendants; this got me 'local pricing' on two occasions, and on another prompted one of the shop attendants to ask me if i could find her a nice boy to marry (she was sixteen, a complete stranger, and deadly serious - i was a little taken aback by that one). i am ashamed to admit however, that we fell prey to the most notorious of fijian cliches - the sword-seller. i know, i know... i just thought he was being friendly. in the end i was so impressed with his front that i bought the swords (engraved 'mr mark and mrs shalini - 2006 bula fiji tour') - but not before haggling. hey, i might not be a local anymore, but i'm not that much of a tourist!