The best-laid plans

Greetings from Santa Monica! It's a long story. I was all set (and eager after all that time in black) to leave Tonga on Friday afternoon but reckoned without a fierce tropical storm that has caused immensely damaging flooding in Fiji and grounded flights for most of the weekend. It also crashed most computers in Fiji, which didn't help. Winston and I chased round to try and find out what was going on, then gave up and went to Billfish, a restaurant/bar on the waterfront and had just about the best tuna steak I've ever tasted. Saturday morning, thanks to Winston's office, we managed to get on an Air New Zealand flight to Auckland and were booked for an onward flight to Fiji the next day, all ready for my scheduled departure from Nadi Sunday evening. But Sunday morning flights to Nadi were still cancelled. I approached the Qantas desk and was  mightifly relieved to get the last seat on a direct flight from Auckland  to LA. Arrived LA soon after 6.00 this morning.

Sister Fehoko and Fr Sione at St Andrew's High School

where I took the assembly on Friday morning.

this all underlines the fact that when we travel from the '1st world' to the '3rd', if a disaster strikes, as it has to Fiji, we always have a ticket home; those who have lost homes or crops, or their means of living don't hav e that luxury. Winston has had a succession of crises while I've been working with him and will want to spend time with his parishes in the west of Viti Levus, where the flooding is worst. In addition, one of the priests at the Cathedral in Suva, with whome I shared services a couple of weeks ago, has died suddenly at the age of 55 while we've been in Tonga.

Much of my luggage (including warm clothing and rail tickets) is still in Suva, but that is a small inconvenience by comparison.

But back to LA: on the advice of a helpful man on the information desk, I decided to have a few hours out of airport and catch a bus to Santa Monica. As some of you will know, there is no better way of remindeing yourself that not everyone in the US is rich and happy tha n by riding on a public bus.

Once at Santa Monica I treated myself to an excellent breakfast (eggs Benedict on the verandah of the Georgian Hotel, overlooking the ocean - I recommend it). Then I walked along the famous walk-way and pier, perhaps looking slightly incongruous  sporting my panama and towing my suitcase. I saw the various ways people get fit at the beach: beach volley ball, running, gymnastics, cycling, roller-skating, etc  I looked for a church to celebrate Palm Sunday but the only one I found had already finished its service; Santa Monica seems rather more interested in the body beautiful than the immortal soul.

Apparently no-ne had thought of getting fit before!

My next contact should be when I'm back on terra Britannica.