The R&R Big Adventure

Tropical hazards

We circumnavigated Rock Island in our kayak on Friday morning. OK, it was a forty minute paddle there and back but, still, for only our third kayak together we were pleased with our achievement.

There are currently only fifteen guests in the resort (there is a maximum capacity of forty-eight, and at one point, we had only twelve). R has got to meet most of them – five Brits, five Americans, a South African, two Germans and two Chinese. We were the only gay couple here (it is legal in Fiji), but since we arrived on Wednesday, it has become a semi-gay hotel, with the addition of an American and a German couple. Actually, one of the Americans here with his new wife on honeymoon has such a camp demeanour by the pool, it is surely only a matter of time before he comes out as well. The Germans have only just arrived, so I cannot comment. A South African lady and one of the English ladies (here as friends) were living in the UK together (Earlsfield – small world) but now live in Australia. We got chatting to the four of them; the ladies we met on a lovely sunset boat trip on Thursday night. R arranged to go on an excursion to Cloud 9 yesterday afternoon with them. Famous in these parts, Cloud 9 is essentially a large, double-decker floating platform, anchored out at sea, at which day-trippers drink, eat pizza, and jump in the water. I preferred a quieter afternoon, so as they sped off in the tender to get there (around twenty minutes from our island) I headed up a small hill next to the resort where the spa was situated. I was having a foot soak and body massage. The location was idyllic – set on a promontory, it had water on three sides, with a gentle breeze blowing through the palm trees and the open-sided treatment room. It was a very relaxing massage, and my masseuse was a lovely, friendly lady. She was, however, a well-endowed woman, and as she leant over me to massage my chest, her ample bosom kept caressing my face. I don’t know if she was oblivious to this, or whether most of her male clientele didn’t complain. Either way, it didn’t bring my sexuality into doubt.

I heard the singing coming from the tender before it moored. They had returned from Cloud 9 in time for karaoke at the waterside bar at 5pm. Now usually (when sober) R is adamant ‘he is not a performing seal and will not sing on demand’. After an afternoon’s drinking in the sun, and with a new audience, it is a different matter though. I am not a fan of karaoke, and was about six drinks behind them, so decided to leave them to it, whilst I appreciated the beautiful sunset. From someone who doesn’t sing on demand, there was a lot of Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston coming from the bar. The resort staff loved R’s singing. R loves all of them.

My Insta story of last night’s sunset was picked up by Meta as potential branded content (I had posted the caption ‘today’s sunset has been brought to you by… Malolo Island’). If only Meta’s algorithms were as hot off the mark at picking up violent and extremist content, rather than misinterpreting innocent holiday posts. Common sense has now broken out at hotels.com: they have confirmed a refund for one of our hotels in Vanuatu, and I am hopeful for the second. There are still no flights to and from the island however :(

This morning was rather gusty by the pool – so much so that a couple of branches and a coconut have been blown off the poolside palm trees (tropical island occupational hazard). Imagine if we had avoided an earthquake, only to be killed by a coconut instead. The low occupancy rate here has also meant blissfully quiet meals – we have been the only people in the waterside restaurant for lunch the last few days, and today was no exception; it felt like we had our own personal chef and waiter.

R is having a massage as I type – I will be swapping notes on his bosom-brushing experience when he returns.