Tomorrow in Fiji: Time and Temperature

The neglected blog. A time honored Peace Corps tradition. Like diarrhea, dirty hair and skin conditions (scabies, boils, ringworm…). But I’m off-point. (already). Why so difficult to stay on track?

When it comes to Peace Corps service, many of the clichés we heard in training do apply: “expect the unexpected;” “get comfortable with being uncomfortable;” “flexibility is your friend.” Routines, such as they are, are often interrupted by mind-numbing hours of downtime. Which, of course, makes little sense. Many of these empty hours are simply filled with waiting – for meetings to start, for transportation to arrive, for action… any action, on something… anything. Our American sensibilities (habits, ambitions, time management devices) are severely tested in an environment that eschews clocks. Our need to be engaged, in motion, accomplished becomes a curious cultural defect in an island nation that values the casual drift of days and weeks and hours: Fiji Time.

Then how does a volunteer explain looking at a calendar and wondering where the last six month have gone. Not exactly in the blink of an eye, mind you. More of a slow and steady lowering and raising of the eyelids. Nonetheless, time has been swift. Even from this lazy perspective… and without the benefit of schedules, agendas and to-do lists. Come to think of it: are there benefits in such things? Why place such a high value on goals and objectives when they can so often serve to disappoint, humiliate, and depress us if we neglect to pay them proper attention.

I have no answers. Only more clichés: relax. live in the moment. no day is promised. life is good.

These thoughts occur in a haze on a hot and breezeless humid day as I lay in a hammock under a palm tree, sipping water from a fresh coconut, drifting in and out of a half-sleep. Or, maybe I dreamed the part about the hammock, palm tree and coconut. Yes, I’m awake now. almost. And I’m lying on the floor of my house in a glistening sweat (not the sexy kind) despite the cold shower I took less than an hour ago and the fan that I have directed to provide a constant flow of air in my vicinity. Hot sticky thick wind. It is 2 pm. Oh, whadaya know… there is a clock here. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to summer in Fiji. The hot wet season.

We were spoiled. For the past six months (the ones that just winked by), we’d been treated to an exceptionally pleasant cool dry season – winter, technically, down here in the south pacific. Fiji, un-technically, has two seasons: hot wet and cool dry. You’ll never hear a Fijian refer to an autumn or a spring. Even in the primary schools they teach in science class that Fiji has a winter and a summer. The winter of 2012 saw Fijians breaking out the wool socks and heavy parkas on an almost daily basis - evenings mostly.

I remember chuckling during my first few months in Fiji, when I was still in training, at my host family as they bundled up against a cool evening breeze. At that point in my Fiji existence I was still acclimating to the tropics with a 24/7 designed-to-cool-down steady sweat. I wondered if I would ever get to the point of needing even a light jacket or socks. How long would that take? Answer: about a year. Granted, even most Fijians concede this past winter to be a cooler-than-normal one. But they don’t say “cooler than normal.” They say “cold.” (Batabata in the native language). These terms are of course relative.

Indeed, the paper reported one day in July that a temperature of 15 degrees had been recorded in the interior overnight - a record low. Of course, we’re talking Celsius.

Science and Math lesson - to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit use the following formula:

°C x 1.8 + 32 = °F

So on that finger-numbing night in July:

15° C x 1.8 + 32 = 59° F

Brrrrrrr….

Now you try one. The average low for a Fiji winter is 20° C. What would it be in Fahrenheit? (see answer below*). For you completists in the crowd, the average high for a Fiji winter is 26° C. Converted to Fahrenheit is ___ . (see answer below**).

Those comfy days and cool nights seem like a distance memory when they really weren’t all that long ago. Now it feels as if someone flipped a switch. No warning. No gradual build-up. All of a sudden, it’s 36° C and I’m drifting in and out consciousness lying in a pool of perspiration. The air is thick and still (“it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity…”). I wonder how long it will be until I’m acclimated again. Answer: I don’t know. I can’t think. I just know I need to get up and move and do something so I have something else to write about besides the weather.

An hour later and it’s down to 35° C. Final exam: how hot is that in °F? (see answer below***)