I went to Silana - a traditional village on the north side of Ovalau island to spend a few days. I stayed with a family that lives on the outskirts of the village. It is the residence of the Chief, but he is a doctor in Suva, so Seru, his nephew lives there now with his family. They welcome visitors (as tourists are called here, everyone else is a local) to stay in their house, and one is given an insight into traditonal Fijian life.

I was picked up by Sala and her youngest son Billy Boy, and we headed out from Levuka town on the truck. There will sooner or later be a short video of it in the blog. It is almost impossible to be alone in Fiji, so when I wanted to try the inviting blue waves and the snorkelling, Billy Boy was told to go with me. One of the other daughters also joined in, and they showed me the good spots. How endlessly refreshing to be in the ocean!

After lunch under the trees on the beach we were heading to the village, a short walk on the beach. When you enter a village you have to cover your shoulders and wear a sulu or a skirt that covers your knees. No headgear or glasses, and don't carry your bag on your shoulder. The head and the shoulders are taboo - sacred and not to be touched. It was a big moment for me and I wanted to make sure I did everything right. This is the home village of Seru, and each village is basically one enormous extended family. It was such a relaxed and friendly place, so even if I had done something out of protocol, it would have been all right.

We met and greeted a lot of people, and I watched as they went about their work, and for the most part hung around talking. There isn't any noticable generation gap, and people are very interested in everybody else. It was great to watch the eldest daughter tell stories about how she experienced the Hibiscus Festival in Suva, and how they were all laughing so hard at her bubbly expressions. The women were all ages, but it was like she was talking to her girlfriends.

In the evening it was time for the kava ceremony. Kava is a ground up root of a plant of the same name, and when mixed with water it is called grog. It is a narcotic drink, and it calmes you down. Apparently the only negative side effect is dehydration if you drink too much. Some Fijians have it every day, others only on weekends. Kava is also a kind of currency, and it is the sevusevu (gift) that you present to the chief when you ask permission to enter his village.

We all sat down on a big woven mat and everybody placed themselves around the kava bowl. The spokesperson (in big or small 'official' matters, no-one speaks directly to each other) presented the kava on my behalf, and the chief accepted. He was all smiles, but it was quite serious for me. Many solemn words were exchanged, and even though all these people are relatives and see each other every day, in the ceremony it is very formal. The first one to drink is the chief, then the one who presents the sevusevu and then the others. You clap once before you take the bowl (made of coconut) drink it in one gulp if you can and everybody claps three times. I think this is more or less accurate. After the first bowl is finished, it is more informal and people chat and relax. It tasted a bit like... ground up root mixed with water. In the village, selling kava is the main income.

I was really living in the pocket of this lovely family, and was with them all the time. If I happened to take a stroll along the beach, the dog would follow me, always together. Fijilife.

The women weave beautiful mats from the dried leaf of some plants that I can't remember the name of. Some of them are dyed black by boiling them with some other plants. Two colours make it more expencive and special. They sometimes put yarn in different colours in it too. I was taken to the house of the eldest person in the village, a 85 year old woman, referred to as Bubu - grandmother. Her eyes were shining with wit and I thought I saw a mischievious look on her face a couple of times. She was sitting on the floor for the longest time, with such ease. I was placed on the couch to get the best vantage point to watch the women weave.

So then the usual questions start. What is your name? Judy? What country are you from? Oh, cold eh? Are you married? WHY NOT? How many children do you have? NONE!!!!!!?????? And it is thick in the air - WHAT is wrong with you? I might as well tell them that my life has no meaning, no light, no purpose. Even Fijians who can't themselves have children can ask a sibling to have one of theirs. It is an honour to give a child to someone who can't have any. They will anyway be close, as the family is very, very close.

After these questions I was invited to bring my firstborn child to the village, so they could give the traditional mat to the child. And they were also willing to host my wedding. Good to know.

The other question you hear a lot is 'where are you going?' I was sitting on a coconut branch on the beach watching the sunset, and a woman carrying a pot walked by. I found myself actually very curious about where she was going. Seru and Sala's house is between two villages, and people walk by from time to time, to do some work - getting coconut, fruit and so on. Well, I greeted her with the usual Bula! and asked her were she was going. She was going to the next village with some freshly made roti (indian pancake shape 'bread'. They fill it with curry and so on - very yummy) to an Australian woman who loved them so much. Would I like one? You always ask anyone if they want some of what you have, and if you are eating in your house, you always ask passersby if they want to join you, if you know them or not.