Cannonball and Uncle Bulgaria dragged us away from the growing crowds, up the gently sloping beach, and onto the back of a waiting pickup truck which then drove us all of 300m down the dirt track which passes as the main road, to the room which I was to call home for the next six weeks. That first night we were treated like kings and welcomed into the community like long lost brothers. A feast had been prepared, and my stomach rejoiced at the thought of some sustenance after being empty for almost three days – little did I know that this was to begin the longest food binge I have ever been asked to undertake
Life on the Ocean Waves
It turns out that trying to understand the shipping schedule in Tuvalu is a bit like trying to discuss the meaning of life in a nightclub – both parties ask the right questions, then follows lots of noise and wildly exaggerated hand gestures, but ultimately no one has a clue what is going on and so the answer is never reached. After peering into my crystal ball, consulting the Rosetta stone, and asking for some local assistance, I came to the conclusion that I needed a ticket for route (ii) whatever that meant...