This post is part 4 of the series Livin’ in Fiji – A House Sitters Story
We find we’re spending quite a bit of time writing and working from the porch here in Fiji where we’re house sitting. The owners have named their home Sunset Cottage and from the views when the sun drops behind the mountains, it’s easy to see why.
The view is mesmerizing. Hazy mountains across Savusavu Bay decorate the vast expanse of water that starts at the end of the driveway. The sound of waves on the rocky shore puts us to sleep at night. During the day, it’s how we tell time. “Must be close to high tide, the ocean is getting noisy”.
The water is an ever-changing kaleidoscope of blues as the winds chase each other over the bay. Boats of all shapes and sizes pass by…enormous, but silent ferries, traveling sailboats looking for a safe harbor, and small skiffs with Fiji Pearls on the side going out to collect the day’s harvest. 
Mosquito coils have become our friends since we spend so much time outside. Though we have to be careful to watch so the friendly butterflies don’t find the flame by mistake. Tropical breezes keep us cool, sometimes even sending us inside in search of more clothes!
The road at the end of the steep driveway is packed dirt, only a few feet past the tar seal, considered “the country”, not city. Buses trundle along into Savusavu, kicking up a cloud of dust as they go by. Taxis wave as they pass and shout “Bula!” (Hello) with a smile. In the mornings, we listen to young girls singing as they walk hand- in-hand to school.
At night we watch the fruit bats. Bruno is our favorite. An enormous fellow who loves to hang upside down and eat our papayas just as they begin to ripen. Of course, the sunsets compete for our attention, too. One strategically placed palm tree makes the most perfect frame for pictures and the sky doesn’t disappoint. The mountains across the bay seem to glow from an inner fire as the sky changes into muted shades of gold and purple.
In the morning, the cacophony outside the window is practically deafening. It’s as though every bird on the island is making sure we don’t sleep a moment past 6:30. Even the neighborhood roosters get in on the act, starting their first tentative crows around 4am!
I think the birds make so much noise at dawn because they don’t want us to miss a single moment of this tropical beauty. And when the cloud-kissed colors of the morning sky greet us on the porch, with Paddy at our feet and a cup if coffee in hand, it’s easy to see why (and hard to be angry!).
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