Fiji or/and bust

I haven't decided yet whether our holiday was tremendous or terrible. It certainly had elements of both. I'm just not sure which one there was more of though. It depends if I'm having a glass half empty or half full day. But when people ask me 'how was your holiday?' I tell them honestly, and usually with a shrug of my shoulder, 'I haven't decided'.

Our trip to Fiji was supposed to be all sunshine and lazing about. In many ways it was. There was the obligatory palm trees, and locals greeting us in their native tongue. I got to read my book by a pool. The children watched a man nimbly scale a coconut tree and relieve it of it's fruit. All those good wholesome things a tropical holiday is supposed to be.







Shoes optional on tropical holidays.









A lemonade for me, and a beer for my mum, thank you very much.















Don't all those photos make our holiday look wonderful? Unfortunately it wasn't all beers at the swim up bar. About 2 hours into our flight, Ryan woke up flaming hot. I could have warmed my in-flight meal up on him. He couldn't talk, and I could smell the tonsillitis on his breath. Cue three days of round the clock medicine, taking turns to stay in the suite while Ryan slept, trying to coax Ryan to eat or drink something. He finally started to bounce back and I could see my relaxing holiday on the horizon.

But before I could grab my towel and head to the beach Miles was struck down. Hello tonsillitis mark II (and a temp above 40 degrees if you don't mind). Miles was sicker than Ryan. The sickest he's been all year.







Miles having his temp checked by the resort doctor (he nearly melted her thermometer). The doctor was worth her eight in gold, prescribing medication, giving advice as to how to help the children, being suitably sympathetic that they were so unwell while they were away from home.



They tried to rally. They really did. This is Miles bobbing around in the pool. Note the grey pallor and languid expression.



Ryan doing 'tricks'.



... and back to what they did best (and most of).



Amba and I weren't going to spend the entire trip staring at the wall of our suite, so we tempted the children out with promises of iguanas. And boat rides.







They offered Ryan some orange juice on board. He drank two glasses in very quick succession. They didn't go down well. Try to aim over the side Ryan.













And then we went home. The trip wasn't a total write off. Not completely. But almost. On the plane home I asked Amba where we were going to make up for this trip. Bali? Canada? The Barwon Heads caravan park?











* Meaghan

All photos taken on my bright orange Panasonic Lumix. All shots taken by either me or one of the children.