44~(Once Upon A) Fiji Time

                                                   

                                                   Time is nothing. ~Audrey Niffenger

After the palm trees of LA bid a ceremonious farewell with their balloon like appearance, I settled into my seat that I had been assigned. I was surprised to be in the front row which was a window seat, with just one aisle seat next to me. I had the luxury of leg room and vast space. I almost felt the need to fashion a coffee table to make the palatial living quarters cosier for the next 11 hours. I am used to being penned in and actually like to rest my knees up against the seat in front and get all squished in! The lovely Fijian steward was tickled by my surprise to be in such a seat, as was the man next to me. Stewards wore shirts in bright floral patterns, huge smiles, gorgeous belly laughs and sweet and calm demeanours. Realising I had no plan for Fiji, that the clock was ticking, that I was out of time, I clutched my Lonely Planet and reread the island hopping advice. 

Island hopping had been the recommendations from Travel Nation when I booked my flights. My advisor felt that I would need no longer than 10-12 days in Fiji, the idea being that I would see the islands and then head New Zealand way. Something was telling me that I needed longer than that in this Polynesian paradise and there would be more to discover than just the obligatory islands that backpackers hit as part of their antipodean adventures. Feeling that I may discover so much more on this archipelago of islands, endeavouring to see something other than paradise islands, I extended my days here, as a result cutting down my Kiwi time. Timings and dates had vexed and played with my mind when juggling dates, negotiating flight changes and considering my movements. Fiji time was calling to me, though. Being here seemed improtant, somehow.

Flying across the world continued my extra terrestial/intergalactic vibe that perpetuated my stint in the other worldly desert vistas: my flight left 23:05 Sunday evening LA time and arrived in Nadi, Fiji on Tuesday morning at 5:30am. I felt propelled through time and space. A time traveller, watching the most phenomenal sky from my window seat, and later absorbing the most captivating image of the moon. Was I dreaming? I had never been privy to a front row seat of a glorious moon view during flight. It was spectacular and changed colours as the rays of the sun covered it. My friend next to me, sleepy soundly could not have been woken, but had he been a longtime friend I would have nudged him from his slumber to partake in this most fascinating spectacle. 

He and the steward were both Fijian and their beautiful manner and good vibes led me to discard the Lonely Planet and believe that it would all be okay… The moon and the sky felt like signs to trust and the way these Fijian men related to each other and interacted was reassurance enough that I would be in somehow perfectly fine.

Arif (the man sitting beside me) was heading to the town of Latouka. Arif was returning to his birth town to spend time with his mother on the mainland, before heading to Savusavu to go and look at the cocoa farm he is currently cultivating. He has lived in San Francisco for the past 15 years or so but nothing compares to the simpler life that he embraces when back in Fiji. His Fijian cocoa project and potential coffee bean crop sounds great, he is very much on the brink of something big it seems. We chat for so long and he gives me so many tips- he thinks I will love Savusavu which is the second main island called Vanua Levu. It is known as the ‘Hidden Paradise’ and admittedly I am sold by the name and the insider tip. I had not even ventured to that section of the Lonely Planet, overwhelmed by the various options and grounds to (attempt to) cover, I had stuck to the islands and the Vita Levu…

We chatted so incessantly, that soon it was 2:30am and all other passengers, when we turned round, were tucked within their blankets and seemingly sleeping soundly. We best try and sleep, we both admitted- we had not touched on our movie options, opting for conversation all the way. Time had played tricks on us and we had lost all track of it. Waking on such little sleep, but to the sight of the moon, I felt excited to be arriving on the next leg of the trip. I bid farewell to Arif and he gave me his card so I could contact him if I headed his way. Arriving in the early morning to hearty shouts of Bula!, the joyful ukulele and guitar strums, powerful voices full of happy welcome songs in Fijian, flowers in hair and chained around necks of the airport employees, I very much like a time traveller, the lands of America dissolving beyond my periphery. 

Fatigue rushed over me in the sense of indecision. Awesome Adventures, which has a monopoly on the the Island Hopping options, are there to greet. Many have things booked and are being organised. I have nothing but had been chatting online with one of the ladies from the company the other night, making enquiries. She remembered me and bustled me into the office. I could either stay on the mainland, research more or book one of this ‘Bula Combo’ passes that I had actually heard about, way back when I booked my ticket. Everything is dealt with in coconuts- well, their rating system that is. I remember looking at it way back when and not being able to envisage being solely a 1 coocunut girl, just in dormorities and spartan in comparison to the 2 coconut limited luxuries or the all exclusive and expensive 3 coconut option, but now this seemed a no-brainer. A bed is merely to rest your head, surrounded by others or not! I did not need private rooms which would rack up expense (my funds already dwindling, of course) and modern luxuries when you had the luxury of island life seemed unnecessary. 

Although I dithered, sitting in a fatigued and stunned manner, the lovely ladies were patient and I decided to head to the islands with minutes to spare- they got on the walkie talkie to hold the bus for me as I made my payment, committing only to 7 days with the option to upgrade to more days should I want to. My timing was all out; they walkie talkie-d to the bus and I made it with seconds to spare. As I climbed on the bus and it traversed the streets of Nadi, I questioned my decision. Palm trees swayed, children were en route to school and it was all new smells, colours and sights. Knowing I would be back, that time would be spent here on the mainland, I tried to dispel worry. I felt it was all so packaged and predetermined, lacking the wistful, flowing-with-the-direction-that-the-coconut-palms-take-you that I had envisaged. But I had booked the boat pass. A 7 day, one coconut rated accommodation. No commitments to certain islands so I could at least be swayed from island to island without a predetermined schedule. Time and a lack of wanting to be dictated by it, seemed to be setting the scene for this princess and this Fijian fairytale! So I boarded the bright yellow Yasawa Flyer boat and set sail.

The ‘Lonely Planet’ had one thing right: 'work the boat to see which resorts are the best value as they change like the tide'. This coconut chat seemed absurd to some that had pre booked way in advance; they had not to consider where they may hop next and were unaware of the coconut rating system, just following the set itinerary that had been provided by their travel company. This would turn out to be a source of worry for some with predetermined destinations. Turns out all islands may be far from the utopia one could get accustomed to if they played the roulette game right. Amazingly, ‘White Sand Beach’ resort became quickly blacklisted; it spread like wildfire through the grapevine that this was not the place to spend your time. The insidious nature of this was quite damning. Some on pre booked hops had this as their destination and were willing to pay a sizeable fee to pull out of the prearranged stopover. However, the island resorts work together and a manager from one island informed the manager there what was being said- in hope they could rectify the issues that were causing this backlash. I must admit that I did not bother to hop to this island, even though I had come to the realisation that I would reserve judgement on new places until I had been myself. It seems there are many people willing to damn places they have never set foot in and I really did not want to become this person. Especially having suffered so many unfounded judgments thrown in Hull’s way.

I did not want to be pushed into the recommended sequence of hops and had gone for ‘Barefoot Island’, willing to undertake the 4 hour boat journey, and head up the Yasawa chain of islands which just read better in the ‘Awesome Adventures’ brochure (not much between the descriptions and pictures so I went with a gut feeling). I met a Brit bloke en route to my first island I had chosen. Although he too was deciding day to day where to head, he had followed suit with the advice and stopped on one of the first Mamanuca Islands. He was the only guest there (the island was very small but could at times, when full, become quite a party island!) and had enjoyed his little slice of paradise but felt the need for other holidaying humans.

There is only so much you can converse with a coconut or rely upon the staff to listen to your inane ramblings after being alone in your thoughts and head for unanticipated long periods. My new friend and I contemplated the various islands and which ones we could venture to- coconut dependant, of course. I realised our coconut chat sounded bizarre to the couple beside us on the small boat we had climbed onto from the Yasawa Flyer. I was tired now and in a world of turquoise sparkly waters, white sands and coconut trees was a whole new colour palette for my eyes to feast upon.

Requiring a few technical tricks within my mind, I performed a filmic dissolve to recover the last screensaver imprinted in my mind of the American desert. Wow. As the gorgeous smiley face of a Fijian man held out his hand to help us into the water to walk onto the island, my feet felt the warmth of the waters, my toes and feet squishing down into the fine sands, and I closed my eyes, momentarily, to feel and recognise the gratitude that overwhelmed me. What a ridiculously stunning world…

Tips and advice worked both ways of course, and I headed to ‘Long Beach’ for my next stop as a result of a talk up of this island. My time on ‘Barefoot’ was pretty interesting, though. This turns out to be a busier island, with maybe 20 or so guests. I only learnt this when I had a point of comparison as my stint in the Yassawa lengthened and my hopping got under way. Realising that wifi and anything technological was not a priority here, my feral beach bumming habits quickly kicked in; I shed the armours of phone, laptop, kindle (as I had not the foresight to bring an adapter to charge my digital devices and was unsure as to whether or not the huts had electricity) and took quite quickly to lying on my towel, sea gazing, comparing blues, observing the palms swaying in the breeze, counting clouds. My room was a hut, with 2 bunks and one bed. It was metres from the beach on the Sunrise side of the island. This could have perhaps been better named the Wind Tunnel. Less than a minute meander to the Sunset side of Barefoot the island appeared to be unaffected by the turbulence and crashing winds that whipped through the doors and windows. Believing I had lucked out and was rooming alone, I lay out my yoga mat. Later I would be joined by two loveable rogues. British boys that had drunk themselves silly in NZ and were taking it easy on the islands. Early twenties, very tanned- a result they told me of burning themselves terribly on another island where they then had to take to the indoors for recovery- and best of buddies, they were quite an amusing pair. They seemed like naughty boys but I enjoyed their company: we dined, sunbathed, napped during a cloudy interlude together, shared a wonderful display of mangata together and they charged all my devices. 

I had decided to stay another night on this island as soon as I arrived. It was beautiful and the food was lovely, the people quite interesting, friendly and fun. The Fijian staff were full of smiles and friendly chats. We had a new roommate, Tom, the following day. He had arrived with his two mates and they were all Brits. They had some quite incredible stories of their travels, very charming young men with a great sense of humour and outlook on life. We all had a nice dinner (communal dining with all on the island) and took part in the quiz. Dinner is accompanied by the ukulele, guitar and Fijian song. It is all rather jovial. Tom asked if I would like to walk after dinner and we headed up to the lookout point; the loveable rogues therefore and to leave the door open and Lee was therefore exposed in his bed to the never-ending gusts shooting through our hut. When I returned his mosquito net frantically whipped over him, like a 80’s love song music video on fastforward- I had no idea how he slept. Turns out Tom took me for a walk to kiss me. I was pretty shocked. Mainly because he was very young (or I presumed him to be) and we had only spent an evening together at a communal dinner table. I wondered if he and his buddies had some sort of tally of women they kept on their travels and I had to decline his advances, however charming and good looking he may have been! I am not in the market for off the cuff kisses, even in the moonlight on a tropical island. It was sort of awkward but I was leaving the island the next day, taking Tom’s advice to head to Long Beach. 

So I waved good bye to the lads and bid farewell to the other friends I had made, hopping back onto the boat to head to Long Beach. I intended to spend one night and ended up staying 3. Tom was right about this island; it was magical. It was stunning as one might expect- a huge stretch of white sand but it was the people that ran the show here that made the magic. Chris, the young Fijian man that managed the island, was becoming famous amongst the island hoppers. There were lots of people asking those heading to Long Beach to “say hi to Chris for me”, returning island hoppers and hoppers disappointed about set itineraries that did not include this desired spot. 

Much happened over the following days and I wish I had time to tell all in detail. That afternoon though, I immediately fell a little in love with Chris. I understood why his he was so in vogue amongst the island hoppers. He was funny, clever, friendly, so laid-back, affectionate, caring, expressive and to top it off he had the most amazing laugh. Also Chris demonstrated on many occasion incredible strength; cracking open a coconut with his bare hand, climbing coconut trees, breaking wood with almighty swings of an axe, pack horsing 3 back packs to the bures- 2 on either shoulder and 1 on his head and the list of displays of strength goes on. His attitude towards life on the island was (I suspect) unique- he loves to share and create an environment where the guests are part of all aspects of island life but only as much as they want to be. He does not ever let the island get fully booked, preferring to have a chilled out atmosphere. There would only be 7 of us that evening. We made coconut jewellery, led by Chris. He cut his finger when sawing the coconut ring. No drama on his part, however. Stoically fetching some jungle remedy of leaves to press into the wound, he continued with our class as we continued to sand our coconut shells somewhat impressed. His hilarious story of being nearly killed by two Chinese guests who could not swim but attempted to snorkel (much imperative communications about swimming ability lost in translation with all the smiling and nodding), had us all in stitches. I was pretty enraptured in his story telling, his expression and accent.

Some of us snorkelled late afternoon. and in the evening Chris made a fire, which we all sat around and chatted, drinking cava. Chris taught us the ritual, clapping three times on receiving the offering, saying 'Bula!' and drinking the cupful with a big smile. The smile is to mask any potential grimaces for those not keen on the taste. This root is mashed into a powder (incredibly hard work to make this the fine powder that Marika was a hilarious Finnish girl. She worked in security back in Finland and demonstrated some of her holds and training. I ended up face first in the sand with my arms behind my back and my ass in the air. Chris helped me to my feet and hugged me, wiping the sand from my hair. He is a bit of a hero.

Liza had been introduced to the group later that day as she had arrived from the North Islands. Chris introduced her as his sister. A different mother, he explained, but the same father. They formed a tight sibling bond and she became to be known as sister. Chris had an easy affectionate nature with people; his kindness, understanding and what I read as a unique quality to see the beauty in everyone, connecting so fluidly, I had nothing but admiration for his ways (and quite a crush on him, which I suspect all, boys included, developed easily). Skylar and Fred, were a newly connected couple. Skylar and American and Fred from Sweden. They were awesome fun, Fred particularly humorous and out there. We bonded around a beachside fire and a lazy evening.

Following our campfire and star gazing, we lay out on a woven mat and watched a scary movie. Huddled around a laptop screen, we strained to hear and see but this was fortunate- it was so scary, if I had seen it in its entirety, I would have surely been petrified. I lay beside Chris as we all  the film and I can honesty say that I have never smelt a more beautiful smelling man. The warmth of his leg against mine was electric and I wondered if there was something about these islands! After the scary film, Marika and I walked to the huts- it was terrifying as the breeze rustled the leaves and the darkness played tricks on my eyes. She had a room to herself- a 2 coconut girl and I was terrified as I walked the path to my dorm. She offered to share her bed but after she almost took me out I trudged on through the rustling and blackened jungle. Electric only feeds the main building after 10pm and my dorm was in darkness. I turned back, realising I was far too scared to sleep in the darkened room (to top it off I could not locate my torch). Fortunately, my two roomies were heading back, opting out of the second film. 

The following day Marika was leaving and she had been such a source of hilarity and fun that it seemed a shame. Liza and I both had been amused by her upfront, jovial manner. She barraged us into taking a Blue Lagoon snorkelling trip which was actually a great thing to do. She was desperate to see a seahorse (her impression of one was quite something) and although we did not see one, the spot that we snorkelled was sublime. A game of touch rugby with a coconut and more gymnastics and grappling on the beach? A fun morning in paradise. Marika left and we accumulated some new hoppers. A miserable Israeli couple that were more a 2 or 3 coconut and they were disappointed with the facilities. The rest of us were shocked by their disdain as we were pretty sure this was paradise at its absolute best. Chris was the ultimate guy and guide. He spent time with us, wanting to teach us about Fiji and island life. Other islands charged you for jewellery making, basket weaving sessions, coconut demos, guided hiking. Here, we were part of the family and Chris was with the group most of the time, happy for us to shape the day and request activities. “Up to you guys,” Chris would say and this was a phrase that Liza and I would later use during some adventures in Latouka. 

Olivia was the best friend of Chris’ sister and she, alongside Chris, made this the wonderful place that it is. The morning we had gone out snorkelling, it became apparent that it was Fiji Day. A huge deal by all accounts. However, our island was so much immersed in the infamous Fiji Time, our hosts had forgotten that it was Fiji Day. Chris had lots of ideas and activities in the pipeline; most other islands were preparing for the calibration days in advance- dressing guests up as chiefs, preparing games, joining other islands… Olivia had been part of the planning process and she said she wondered what the commotion on the island across the way could be about. Realising what the celebratory cheers, riot and mirth were, Olivia said she was laughing and simultaneously slightly panicked- “All our guests were scattered about- we had completely forgotten! All the other islands were doing lots of activities for their guests!” It could not have been a better example of Fiji Time and we all had a great day regardless of the fact we did not partake in organised shenanigans. 

Our Island day actually involved actually a village visit. We followed Olivia and Chris’s mother in the afternoon, down the trail from the beach, through the jungle and into the village. I love the single file manner in which we traverse into the jungle. This path was familiar to myself as I had ran it the previous 2 mornings, passing a pen of pigs, goats and cows. (Also running into a ridiculously strong, sticky spiders web. It coated my already salt stained and tangled hair. leaving me in a bit of a beauty predicament. The showers on the islands were salt water and the water pumps were not always working. Olivia later kindly filled my bottle with rainwater so I could attempt to get my hair untangled.)  The village school was celebrating a birthday and the children were performing some songs and dances for the people of the village. We sat under a shelter and enjoyed the opportunity to experience this insight into village life. The chief and many men were gathered, seated under the shelter. They drunk cava, performing the clapping ritual that Chris had shown us the previous nights. Liza and I were offered a cup to share and feeling quite honoured, we supped back the cava and then enjoyed hunks of dense coconut and brown sugar cake the children brought to us, washed down with cups of sweet tea. 

As we walked back to Long Beach, Olivia and I went off track, separating from the group. She showed me the church. I spoke to a teacher from the village school who happened to be Chris’s cousin. At 7 months pregnant she would be leaving the island and heading the mainland in anticipation for giving birth (the mainland meaning that she would have access to the hospital). An elderly British man was with her; he was currently teaching at the school too. He picked my brains for my thoughts on teaching multiplication. I realised how far away my teaching life seemed as I cobbled together my thoughts from the recesses of my mind! Olivia and I moved on and chatted about love and life as we walked back, single file through path in the jungle. Expectation generally here is to be married in your early twenties; the belief that if you remain childless, you are receiving a punishment from God. We met others on the way back, all so friendly and wanting to chat.

Returning to Long Beach, we had a (drunken) history lesson from Chris. His buddy from the island opposite had boated over and they had indulged in an afternoon of drinks, to celebrate Fiji Day. Although inebriated (it seemed only to be clocked by myself, however), Chris hosted a lovely evening, his ability to host and perform manly tasks (like chopping wood and building fires) not at all impaired by his afternoon of drinking. Chris took Liza and Fred spear fishing. They practised with their spears on land and prepared their snorkels; the fish should be easier to snare at night as they would be asleep. Chris and his cousin would go in the day time as they had the skill but night fishing was pretty cool too. He told us a story at a later date of a spear fishing expedition that involved a shark. Fijians believe that the shark is not a real threat an ancestral protector. But during this encounter, Chris was bleeding and had a speared fish at his side, which the shark evidently had an interest in. It was a close call, but Chris almost lost his supper and a part of his ass. We watched the lights from their torches in the distance, and the sky began to rumble. Skylar and I had stayed on the beach, enjoying the camp fire, lying on the mat watching the few stars that could be seen between the thick clouds. The twinkle of the torches could be seen in the distance and the sky began to rumble; as the heavens opened, we were pleased we had opted to stay put. 

Days went by and Fiji time prevailed. I hopped to another island although it was difficult to peel myself away from halcyon days of Long Beach. I had arrived intending to stay for one night and found I was here 3 days later. Sunday is an activity free day- the chalk board merely stating CHILLAX, but we had the option to attend church in the village. Chris took us by boat. Are we going to be late Chris? Relax, he said, it is Fiji time. Then he proceeded to tell of us another incident when Fiji time prevailed. He was taking a large group for a Sunday church visit. Single file trekking his team through the jungle, he was laughed at by his cousin seeing their arrival. They were 2 hours late for service. Fiji Time can catch you out every time- even on a day of worship! We were not that late, but when we arrived the service appeared well under way and Chris ushered us in. We crept in and sat amongst the villagers, enjoying the room full of song and prayer. Nearing the end we shook hands with those around, returning the words, “Peace be with you.” Chris showed us the school and Liza showed us just how intrepid she was while in Australia; this little Taiwanese girl is a right firecracker. Full of verve, adventure and fun. Liza were buddies from the off and I couldn’t help but hope one day I may road trip with her.

We meandered around the classrooms and waited for Toby, Chris's cousin, to return from wakling his family and taking his baby back home after church. He would sail with us back to Long Beach. 

Before the trip home we collected some mangoes to eat; mango shopping never seemed so reasonable both in price and method of purchase:

Toby arrives, also laden with mangoes. Peeling and eating them tastes pretty good- who need to chop them up? Getting them on your face and rinsing your hands in the ocean feels like the way a mango should always be eaten.

I managed to tear myself away from Long Beach. Will and Stacey, a great British couple on a world wide tour too, I hoped to see again on one of the Southern islands. Liza would be leaving later that day and attempting to sort visa troubles. It was hard to say good bye. Liza came bounding up as I boarded the boat that delivers you to the Yellow Flyer- she wanted to come to say good bye. Nubua was my next stop. I enjoyed the quiet of Nubua and the hiking that island offered. The beachside cafe with a slab of coconut cake was pretty sweet too.

I met a cool guy, Dave from the Channel Islands, and we roomed together. The bures were quite lovely, the hiking and sunset great too. There was just 7 of us on the island that night.

I missed Long Beach. I headed to Naqualia island, meeting Will and Stacey from Long Beach on the boat and had an awesome evening of dancing and fun there. This was a family run island and you were made to feel part of it all. But Long Beach called- I decided to head back for my last two nights. 

This was completely the right decision. Experiencing Chris’s 'Coconut Demo' was a highlight. As a coconut fanatic, learning the way in which the tree is a life force here, attempting to climb the tree and then watching Chris break open a coconut with his bare hands- awesome! I did not think this samurai act could be topped but as we made coconut milk by squeezing flesh we shredded, Chris introduced us to a dessert made purely from the items we had collected from the jungle: papaya with lime juice and coconut milk. Words can not describe the heavenly taste of this delight.

                                     

                                     

Visiting the school was touching. The children are so bright- they go to school learning and using three languages; Fijian, English and their local dialect. Children behave and they look out for each other, they are entrusted by the adults act in accordance to the moral compasses all children have. Their is a respect, fun, freedom and kindness in these children. We sat with the head teacher and he talked to us about the school and the children. We compared timetables, the report writing process and the process of children moving up the schooling system and onto the mainland. Fijian children can sing up a storm and also dance!  

  

Chris continued to be the chilled but ever pleasing host. We weaved baskets from palm leaves and he indulged us with a sunset cruise. He had some AMAZING pictures of an evening where the sun set literally set the sky on fire- undulating red clouds spread wide over the horizon and refelected in the waters around the island. I had never seen anything like it. I love the way everyone here appreciates the nature around even though they live, breathe and see it every day. Taking their Fiji time to watch a sunset and sunrise, if it takes their fancy or if it looks like it will be a pretty one. 

Another beach fire and a ceremonious drinking of cava. Most retired early on my last evening. Chris, Dave and I stayed up, drinking cava and talking rubbish. I laughed. A lot. We talked about the stars, the depths of the ocean, humans and their chequered relationships with dolphins. The wonder of Chris and what he does and how he does it I will never be able to capture in words. He touches everyone he meets- a free spirit with laughter and light emanating every cell. In some ways I can not imagine him anywhere but this island. He has lived on the mainland, however, in a very mechanical and technical job. He has terrifying ghost stories of the house on Vita Levu where his sister still lives. He has been to school in the capital city and although he is yet to travel outside of Fiji, I imagine he would draw people and wonderful experiences wherever he should go. But being bare foot, in touch with the simpler ways of life, living in harmony with the land seems perfect for now. It seems like the key to an uncomplicated happiness that quickly disappears in so many other parts of the world. I could have stayed here so much longer but the mainland was calling and so was Liza. She was currently in Latouka, stuck because of a visa problem. I would go see her and then make a plan after that. Where would I go next? I had vague hopes of Savusavu, but every person seemed to have different information about the ferries and how to get there. The morning I left Long Beach, I was unsure whether I could.

So this worldwide princess had a new take on the once upon a time. Fiji style. Saying good bye to this island was hard. I had fallen a little in love. Chris told me I could come back anytime. Time does have a disobliging habit of creeping up, even the time warp of Long Beach and magical Fiji time could not create a spell strong enough to prevent the one constant and punctual event: The Yellow Boat. I was off, this fairytale lost in space and time but very present in my heart and head. I love Long Beach. I love the Islands, the villages, the people. I love the way time evapourated here. Time dissolved: all that became important were sun sets, coconuts, friends, fires on the beach, papayas, mangoes, the sand between your toes and the warm waters at your feet. Fiji time; where hours, minutes and seconds are meaningless. Only the most special of lands and most special types of souls can create a timeless world. Time: lost in the sway of the palms, the lapping of the water, the laughter of the people. I love that time became nothing. 

             It's dark now and I am very tired. I love you always. Time is nothing. ~Audrey Niffenger