Am I Home Yet?

A ten-day trip to Australia in February 2024 was followed by a seven-night Fiji cruise on a six-room catamaran with only two crew members. I wrote about that here:

Australia was under an extreme heat wave, and I live in a cooler climate. My days and evenings on the trip were consumed with trying to see the lovely sights but finding shade and air conditioning.

I’ve decided that all the Australians under fifty-five are sun-tanned goddesses and gods who swim like Aquaman, run like Tom Cruise in his movies, and drink and party like the wildest USA college you can imagine. (I'm just kidding about the drinking; they are simply boisterous and loud in the bars, like Americans, enjoying themselves with friends).

Vistas of sun-tanned, slim and muscular very fit, women and men were everywhere. I think they hide their gills; they have to be part fish with all the swimming! Saltwater swimming pools were all over, gorgeous and FREE. Wow, not in the USA -it would cost a gym membership; you know, like $200 per month or something (shameful).

Fiji was even hotter than Cairns in Australia (both were very humid, increasing the heat index). Photos of the trip clearly show my bright pink cheeks, damp hair curled up every which way, and the discomfort I experienced due to my overheated body.

I can snorkel and swim but hate water up my nose, and I'm not a diver. I never dive into pools and don't scuba dive (or plan to learn). I slip into the water, hanging on so my head doesn't go under. If I MUST jump in, I hold my nose.

My preference is for land, not water; mountains and forests are better than beaches. My hanging out on the beach days are past; hot sun beating on me is not enjoyable. Younger times had many trips to the gulf side of Florida, Baja Mexico, and to the Big Island in Hawaii.

The small catamaran was stable enough, but sitting on the deck made me want to get into the eighty-five-degree sea water to cool off from the atmospheric heat. The Captain would drop anchor and tell everyone to go snorkeling for an hour, and then off we went, motoring to another spot to snorkel. Water was everywhere, with occasional islands visible. We traveled around the islands during the day, and the boat was anchored while we slept. The two crew members were strong swimmers and free divers. We were surrounded by FISH people, my husband and I. That was great, though, in case we needed a hand (or a breath). Someone inadvertently dropped their snorkel, so I looked down into the water through mine and found it below me. I pointed it out to the Captain, who did a dive about sixty feet down to retrieve it, holding his breath.

One day, we went ashore to a village for a ceremony, and it was extremely hot. We took a walk through the village with a wandering old cat and a dog whose snout had been bitten off (perhaps by a bush pig?). My heart was with the very poor skinny animals. The children at the school showed us a dance and sang. Then we were escorted indoors – open doors and windows, no fans, no air conditioning. We saw how the villagers lived normally. This was not a luxury resort that people stayed at in Fiji; those only show the pampered luxury and not how Fijians on the islands really live, fishing, growing food, burning their trash, etc.

Included inside the building were ceremonial prayers, singing, giant island men in grass skirts doing kumite (sparring), and the guests (us) dancing with the villagers. I really wanted to join the kumite since I used to teach martial arts. I think the villagers would have been shocked had I jumped up and did a sparring movement with the humungous kumite leader. We had to have our shoulders and knees covered for the visit; even the men had to wear a sarong to cover their knees. My husband was elected the chief of our group and drank the ceremonial kava with the village leader.

Little children wanted to see what their elders were doing. They peeked through the doorless entry, and one boy kept scooting closer and closer; finally, one of the elder women motioned for him to sit by her.

It was HOT! HUMID! FUN, FUN! However, I was extremely glad when we got back to air conditioning in the cabin.

There was one visit for lunch to a luxury resort. Remember, though, that luxury doesn't always mean air conditioning. We ate outside under large ceiling fans, but everyone in our group was so hot that lunch wasn't enjoyable.

Despite the humid heat and no way to cool off on land, the Fiji people are all friendly and say BULA (hi) with giant smiles. You fall in love with them before you leave.

My brain became confused after three hotels in Australia, one in Fiji, and the catamaran cabin. Midnight bathroom jaunts made me pause: "Which direction is the bathroom? Where am I?" We got home safely after a ten-hour flight, a three-hour delay in Los Angeles, another three-hour flight, and finally an hour's drive.

My brain was still zigging at home when it should have been zagging, and was loudly awake when it should have been in sleep mode. It wasn't processing what time it was, or where I was. We lost a day going Down Under and gained the day back when we came home. My husband and I couldn't catch the time back; our internal clocks for sleep, food, time, and position on the planet were discombobulated.

Then there were the nightmares. There was water in all of them, sea water all around; we bobbed up and down in my dreams, rolling with the waves on the boat, and I woke thinking I was still onboard.

In one, I thought, "Where is the bathroom in this cabin? They shoved us in here quickly and took off to sea, but they didn't give us a tour of the boat or show us anything about our cabin." I woke up and swung my legs out of bed. I took a step, feeling the doorframe, and thought, "Wow, this is bigger than I remember. Nice!" I reached for the doorknob, opened the door, and THEN realized, "I'm home! This is MY bathroom."

These dreams continued for five nights: seawater, the boat bobbing, more water. I would wake up and not be able to process WHERE I was for a minute. My husband woke me one night moaning. His nightmare was of being on the boat and it was sinking! Both of us were waking in the night and still feeling like we were on a rocking boat.

After my brain settled down, I realized I didn't ever want to go anywhere where it is extremely hot or humid again—not even Florida, where I have relatives and friends. I know there are cool seasons in Florida, so I may change my mind later. That trip melted me. I didn't have to use my eye drops in the day to keep them moist except once per day; or any ointment at night. Did the heat make my natural oils along the lashes work, spreading them out as they should? I told people it was so hot that my eyeballs were melting.

I have always planned my trips to try not to go hot places on the planet during the hottest times. Southeast Asia and anywhere else humid I know will not be comfortable but there are vistas I will miss. Humidity affects me horribly and my husband finally saw the affects on this trip. To plan trips, I must research where, the best way to get there, should we do a self; tour or group tour; and the weather MUST be considered, as well as the dates of regular sporting events my husband participates in. Complicated, especially since global warming has changed weather patterns.

I always use sunscreen; I used an entire tube of it for myself on the trip. Outside at home in April, in 64-degree weather, the sun beat on me like an extreme heat lamp. Of course, I quickly moved to the shade. This is a brand-new occurrence at that temperature and in April, feeling such burning heat from the sun on my arm. It might be a warning of an extreme summer coming this year because a friend felt the same way that same day.

Right after the trip, I saw some show on TV with an ocean scene, and seeing all the water made me cringe. Yet, we are slated for one more cruise, a larger vessel, and some friends are coming. Thank goodness the scopolamine patch for seasickness works for me. I usually have bad side effects with meds, but this one works for me.

At least now my dreams are a little more normal – for me – no more ocean or boat dreams. Now I'm back to the weird, mixed-up ones that sometimes repeat.

I just had this one past week about a giant spider in the bedroom that became this story:

Copyright © 4/22/2024 by Andrea O. Corwin

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