Unbalanced Vision

The family has invited me to come along to their summer holiday. A young scholar-to-be in oceanic anthropolgy is going to start his studies later this year, with a full grant, and as most proud fathers would reward their studious sons, this one is sponsoring a trip to Fiji, accompanied with his parents--my brother sure knows how to pick his area of research. As my father says, "If you don't want to be an armchair traveller, you certainly don't want to be an 'armchair anthropologist'". There will be no trench-digging experiences under the sun, nor interviews with locals, and don't expect cheap hotels and lousy food, for middle-aged travellers desire authenticity and inauthenticity. And I am just as excited. Searching high and low for cheap flights on the Internet, I am also looking at pristine images of white sandy beaches, emerald waters, beautiful marine life and the warm tropical breeze; er, the last one was just part of my imagination. Anyways, the ticket prices are horrendous: from London to Seoul to Fiji, or London to LA to Fiji and back all add up to a glorious 1000+ quid. *gasp* In that case, I'm quite happy to stay in gloomy, old London. However, not too long ago a gent who is able to afford 1000+ pound flights to anywhere in the world was spotted in Fiji, on a coconut tree, and later, lying flat next to the coconut tree. That lunatic is none other than Keith Richards. I'm not a fan, but already I am admiring the old man who was said to have a 'self-deprecating humour' and survived debauchery. I suppose I won't be reading news about bro falling off coconut trees. Wildness does not run in the family. If we want coconut juice, we'd just go and buy a can at the local convenience store. Yet I'm quite worried about the island's cannibalism... So dear natives, leave my bro's bony arse alone for it must taste yucky.