Backpacking, the new pandemic

In 1918 an aggressive Influenza virus caused over 100 million deaths in a population still struggling with World War I. To deviate attention of the problem and maintain morale on the countries more directly involved in the armed conflict, like UK, France and the US, the media pointed to neutral Spain as the epicentre of the disease although it was in fact one of the less impacted European countries. The infamous "Spanish Flu" Fake News was created.

I often wonder if the world is so jealous that it has to be constantly creating fake news about us, like the one saying that our former dictator bought the jury votes to make us win our first Eurovision title in 1969. Luckily now that our new government has decided to unearth him, he will be able to kill this insidious rumour once and for all.

But global pandemics, are not a thing of the past.  Most recently, the world has been hit by more virulent ones such as the Kardashian flu, which has affected over 400 million souls in the planet according to the number of Instagram followers they have, and that still remains one of the most feared threats to the survival of humanity or at least to its sanity and fashion sense.

For those of us lucky enough to live in Singapore, we are safe. Not just because the Kardashians has yet to visit the country, although I hope Trump's recent visit has not awoken their interest. Hopefully we will be fine as I don't think they ever watch the news.

What I refer to by being safe is to the efforts of Our Government, which truly worries about the wellbeing of its citizens and as usual, is one step ahead of the rest of the world, launching a campaign to prevent us for the new viral disease: backpacking.

Yes, I know many of you have that romantic idea of backpacking which consist of traveling across the world living a free life ( meaning having an excuse to shower less) , making friends along the way (meaning not using Tinder to score ) and all on a budget ( meaning saving all the money for alcohol). I have to confess I never understood why the poorer the country is, the more backpackers it gets. It does not make any sense. I would understand thousands backpackers in Switzerland or Singapore where everything is so expensive, but doing it in Burma where you can easily afford a decent hotel, still puzzles me.

But there is another type of backpacking, less smelly but far more dangerous, that has reached the level of an epidemic across Asia.

It is impossible to ride a public bus or metro without legions of people carrying heavily loaded rucksacks that swing unexpectedly putting you at risk of a serious trauma. It is even more lethal than the WhatsApp virus, that wipes out people's ability to speak or look at reality with their eyes instead of using the phone camera.

And yes, there is no known cure for it. You cannot escape from backpackers or run away from their devastating effects. There are everywhere like a plague, like Starbucks.

From my field research I have noticed that the heavier the bag is, the more unaware the person seems to be of his surroundings, and the faster they are able to swing their loads in your face.

Recently, I also discovered that the disease has dangerously spread to planes. I warn everybody to avoid the aisle seats if they do not want to be at risk of being decapitated by a sweet innocent guy turning to talk to his friend completely unaware of the mortal weapon on his back.

Why do people need to carry such heavy bags on a daily basis?  Do they all have a Mary Poppins syndrome and need to carry a weird arrange of objects in case they need to unexpectedly break out in  song? Do the miss school so much that want to recreate their youth years?

Perhaps they carry emergency supplies in case of nuclear war. Which is a plausible explanation in a country such as Singapore where each house has a bomb shelter in case Armageddon arrives. Maybe even supplies of chicken rice in case the bird flu strikes unexpectedly.

This remains an unsolved mystery, similar to why people elect stupid politicians all the time in every country. Until Netflix does a documentary to explain this behaviour,  next time you decide to use public transport in Asia, don't forget your helmet.

Spain is different

In 1960, the Spanish Government launched a campaign under the slogan  "Spain is different" that changed the fate of country forever. The once isolated nation, still suffering the consequences of the Civil War, saw how suddenly, millions of European tourists discovered the history, beauty and strange habits of our country.

The success of that initiative made Spain what it is today, the second most visited country in the world ( now you will probably understand better why we don't like French )

Almost 60 years after that campaign we still are different. Very different.

But hey, it is not because we don't try to open to foreign contributions. For instance, it is easier to listen to reggaeton on the radio than flamenco and there is no corner in the country without a Starbuck water ( sorry I meant coffee ) outlet. We are even willing to pay three times more what it costs in a regular local place, wait 5 times more and have basically a tenth of the flavour. That's what I call commitment to internationalization.

In this effort to look more like the rest of the world, our dear and always imaginative Government has decided to start celebrating Halloween, changing our tradition of paying tribute to our ancestors and eat ( yes, it is not an authentic celebration if there isn't plenty of food and special cakes for the occasion).

But to have a proper Halloween celebration, a proper villain is required to terrorized the population. The name of Jamie Oliver first came to mind. What can be more scary than adding chorizo to a paella. It is undeniable that the Spanish population still have nightmares about the whole "paella-gate" thing. But although ideal the suggestion was soon rejected,  as it could backfire with the British and we may loose Gibraltar forever.

Second option was to create the fake news that Julio Iglesias was about to release another album in English, but then the Spice Girls anticipated their return a few days ago, so nobody could beat that horror.

Last but not least, they though about giving the Catalans independence, but just the rumour of it threw thousands of the local politicians onto the streets to beg the authorities for that not to happen, afraid they will loose their chances to keep robbing the citizens with the excuse of nationalism.

And then when our tall President was about to announce he backtrack (yet again), from the promise of national Halloween extravaganza, the brain of one our smart Ministers finally had an idea: what if we bring our old dictator back to life? said and done. A squad has been prepared to go and dig up his grave in time for the event.

Personally, I would have chosen other famous ( or infamous ) past citizens to dig out, for instance famous Architect Gaudi, the person responsible for making all the world think that we are lazy and can never do things on time. The famous "mañana , mañana" started when they asked him when was the Sagrada Familia will be finished. And lets not talk about Picasso, responsible for making the world believe with his portraits, that all Spaniards look weird and drive everyone in the country to imitate his style in search of fame. The famous old lady that restored a medieval painting in a "Picassian" way comes to mind...


Only time will tell if our Government will succeed in its attempt to put our country in the world stage, but as long as it does not frighten the tourists as much as it is frightening the population we should be ok.

Break a leg

People in show business often use the expression "break a leg" when they want to wish luck to an act that is about to perform.

Since I am at engineer, although sometimes I do business development, which is a less glamorous version of acting, I recently decided to break my elbow instead.

Almost everyone, has mentioned to me how lucky I am that I broke my left arm being right handed, but they are wrong, in today's world, that is no longer defined by the hand you use for writing but for  the one you use to take selfies.

It is still early to confirm whether this fracture will bring me some more meaningful luck, but judging by my latest insurance bill, I am double "broke" now.

But I am a firm believer that you have to always look at the bright side of things. I have made a lot of people happy, specially all my colleagues now that the get one line emails due to the speed of my typing. And this fracture has been like a revelation in my life. Actually now that I am not crossfitting anymore, I realized how many things you can do in a day and that I can even have time to think instead of having to constantly count reps. That has made me see the world with new eyes.

For instance, it has helped me understand vegans. Believe me, once you have singlehanded tried to cut a steak, you may just giving up meat all together to avoid that level of frustration.

I have also discovered that the most important thing a human can have in life is not love, respect or a lifetime subscription to Netflix. If Shakespeare claimed that Richard the Third shouted: "My kingdom for a horse" after being defeated in the Battle of Bosworth, I had to admit that during my first shower after the injury, I shouted: "my kingdom for a loofah brush".

Another interesting fact that I noticed about this new me, its that I have become (even) more emotional. Maybe it is just a side effect of the medication but I recently found myself crying of happiness when I finally managed to open a jar of tuna with one hand. That said, after several failed attempts that put all my engineering skills to the test.

But the injury has not only allowed me to discover things about my friends. They all have kindly offered to do the shopping for me, which I can easily do online,  but not the actual cooking, which I cant. I guess none of them are Masterchef fans

Talking about friends, who would have thought that a fracture was going to be the best conversation starter ever. I highly recommend to those of you that are single and shy that immediately buy a splinter or a cast. Forget Tinder, Crossfit or any of these old fashion dating methods. Whether you are in the office, the mall or the lamest bar in town. No woman or man will reject you when you approach them with a bottle of beer to be opened. Or a jar of tuna, if you are that desperate.

Anatomy of a Kiss

In 1979 a picture of Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev and East German leader Erich Honecker, passionately kissing in public scandalized the world. The motive of that kiss had nothing to do with a marriage proposal or support to Pride month. The actual reason, was to thank each other for a ten-year agreement to help producing chemical and nuclear weapons. Some say that kissing is like an explosion of endorphins. This one was. Literally.

I don't think Donald trump and his best (and so far only friend) Kim Jong-Un, went as far as kissing each other on their first date, here in paradisiac Singapore, just a few months ago. But hey, if Adam and Eve felt the love at the first sight in Paradise why not them. I just hope the outcome of their encounter will have lesser damaging consequences to the fate of humanity that the Biblical couple had. 

Let's just hope that if it actually happened, at least it wasn't a bad kiss. There is nothing worse than meeting the love of your life and find out he/she is a terrible kisser. You can teach someone how to ride a bike but not how to kiss. That's genetic. You either have it or not. Like the ability to understand Singlish.

Talking about the high level meeting, one had to wonder if, instead of both of them having to travel half the world to meet for a quick  dim sum lunch, it would have not been easier,  maybe just having a quick chat over the phone or create a WhatsApp group to discuss their issues with emoticons like the rest of the world does.

I have the feeling that the next world financial crisis will happen for the lack of productivity of people having to manage so many WhatsApp groups at the same time. Yes, it is not anymore about how many followers you have in Instagram but about how many groups are you have been included on.

Bullying has acquire a new meaning. Erasing a person from the group, it is the equivalent of a death sentence. You become an outcast. The worst offense you can do to anyone. It is similar to when people used to unfriend you in Facebook. For those how does not know what that's. It was an ancient form of communication used by Mothers to keep an eye on their children.

Equally cruel is when you find out your friends have had a group for a while of which you are not part of. That is the same as when Judas showed up in the Last Supper and he was already chatting with the Romans.

Nothing matters anymore unless someone creates a WhatsApp group about it. That's the reality of today's world

WhatsApp groups are like Ex-s. You can never get rid of them . We all have that friend that keep posting in the group for the birthday party from 2005. 

All of this is creating new complex "first world problems" for humanity. For instance , what to do when you have a group with all your friends and one of them breaks up with their partner.

What is the solution?. To create an alternative group without that person while pretending in the original that all is ok. But in order to do that we need also to create a separate one with the ex but without your friend to ensure the ex is not feeling left out. Extrapolate that to your family, in-laws, gym friends, work colleagues, ex work colleagues, former school friends,  random Tinder friends and your groups will multiply like followers in Instagram after posting a nude picture.

With all this attention required, it is not possible to work anymore. We all need a community manager. Because you have be careful not to send the comment about the ex to the group with the ex involved. Or even worse not to send your Mother the message meant for your lover.

Only positive outcome has been that finally the theory of parallel universes has been proved. You can live different lifes under different personas depending on the chat you are in.

World War three will not start by activating the nuclear bottom but when Trump sends the wrong emoticon to his bestie. 

Liberté, Égalité...and Sangría

Some historians says that history tends to repeat itself and on my recent holidays I managed to confirm that the statement is not far from truth. In 1808 a bunch of heroics Spaniards battled hard in Madrid, to rebel against the French invaders commanded by Napoleon. The epic rebellion was immortalized by the genius painter Goya in one of his most famous works.

Unfortunately, today we can say, that their admirable sacrifice was in vein. Although we momentarily threw them away, they are all back.

No kidding. I just recently return from a trip to Spain and everywhere I looked there was a Frenchman. Whether it was at the plane, at a bar or even cooking a paella in the beach, Frenchman were walking proudly among us as if they were Trump supporters.  I tried to do some investigation of my own to find out the motives of this reconquering of the nation but you all know how hard is to understand their logic. Anyone that has recently watched, a French movie will know what im talking about.


Third of May Painting by Goya ( Prado Museum)

But, what has been the response of the Spanish authorities to this invasion? Well, they have decided to change the official time zone of the country in an attempt to confuse them.

I must say I truly support the initiative. Spain has an endemic problem with time. And I do not refer to that Spanish tradition of eating our meals at least 4 hours later than anyone else in the world. By the way we do that on purpose, to ensure tourists don't overcrowd our favorite restaurants. Neither to the fact that meetings start in average, at least 30 minutes past the scheduled time. And no need to mentioned the famous "mañana, mañana" popularized by our administration, and curiously, one of the two sentences that Brits can pronounce in Spanish besides "Otra Cerveza por favor" [Another Beer please].

For a country that once ruled the world we seem to struggle on how to keep with times and regain relevance ( by that I mean followers talking in todays language ). We have got our timing wrong lately in everything we tried.

For years we have also tried very hard to overcome the fact that nobody in the European Union pay attention to us. For that, we cleverly appointed a very tall Prime Minister to make it easier for the rest of the European Leader to notice him in the summits. But as our Napoleon once proved, the height of their leader does not equal his power. So we tried a different approach, and sent a dull balad to Eurovision Song Contest just a year after Portugal won with an even duller one. Clearly a year too late.

Just another recent example, our new brand new Prime Minister watched the Twilight movies on TV and immediately decided to dig the grave of or former dictator without realizing that vampire movies are not in fashion anymore. Again wrong timing

The obsession with time has also influenced television. A recent Spanish TV hit series portrays a secret Government task force that travel through time preserving Spanish history from evil foreign enemies that try to change it. People were glued to their TV set every week to ensure at least the 2 greatest moments of our history were not altered. The first one, the epic Spanish win at the Eurovision Song Contest in 1969, were we avenged the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1700s by clinging the title by a single against the UK in their home soil, and of course our recent victory in Soccer World Cup. Probably the only two historical events that an average Spaniard will be able to remember due to our "great" education system.

But do we really want to be a leading country nowadays? What is the point? Arent we better to be a lay back country where people just enjoy life? If we are already the second most visited country in the world we must be doing something right.

Even the French have surrendered to the truth. Everything taste better in Spain. I even heard one cheering to the crowd the other night: Liberté, Égalité...and Sangría

Once upon a Cult

People often say that the first step to overcome a problem is to actually admit it. So here i come: I have joined a cult. One of the worst kind: a fitness one.

And as they also say in rehab sessions: My name is Alberto and I am a crossfitter.

It is curious to think that we live, in theory, in a free world, where we can be whoever we want and yet people are desperate to belong to something, called it: cult, tribe, religion or line dancing group. The more the people single out themselves by the way they dress, tattoo, pierce, talk, eat or use fancy emoticons, they more they are trying to desperate call the attention of their fellow cult members.

But since cults are on trend, why not joining a hard-core one. Call it middle age crisis if you want. I always have being a believer that if you are going to do something, do it all the way, so hey, Crossfit sounded like a good option.

Many of you will ask, what the hell is Crossfit? Well, according to my Mom is an sport for rich people who don't have to work.  And as usual Moms are always right. Cross-fitters have to have plenty of money prior to join the cult, why? because we loose all our bets. You just have to challenge them to talk for five minutes without mentioned anything related to the sport and you will easily make a few quick bucks. 

If I have to define it, I would say its like masochism but without the sex. Yes, don't get too fooled about the sculptural beautiful bodies, because Crossfitters are like monks, they may not have the chastity vow but at the end of the day they are either too tired from the last workout or too busy practising a new movement, so sex is out of the equation.

On the positive side, they make great friends. Just get acquainted with one and you will never have to pay for house movers in your entire life. Crossfit gang will lift your boxes , jump on top of them and carry them for hours and they will even pay afterwards for the bootcamp.

One wonder why modern human beings spend their money torturing themselves in gyms when there are much better places to get fit like for instance an airport.

Lets face it, what you do in a gym you can do it same way in a terminal. Think about what you normally do in a gym. You get there, you get undressed an dressed up, lift weights and burn energies. Well, airports nowadays provide you with multitude of options to do exactly the same. You will have to get almost naked in the security controls. It puzzles me that each year they invent a more futuristic machines, but you still have to take the same things off. Similar to IPhone and the new versions, hard to tell what is the point of them.

If you want to burn some calories what its a travellator if not a long treadmill, and you can practice weightlifting carrying all your luggage and trying to check in yourself. Funny again that technology at airports is being developed only to make us do more things rather than make things simpler.


Airports are one of those rare places where will be hard to find Crossfitters. Fitness cults are far more demanding than Religions where you can tick the box by attending the Sunday Service. One of the strict rules of the cult is that you cannot travel to any place unless there is a Crossfit gym you can go to and report upon landing.

So next time you feel like your fitness routine is not working, just go to the airport and travel, you will get equally fit and you may actually learn something.

PS. A few travel tips. Always bring your Mom while travelling. They are the best skipping queues at boarding. and if you see a crossfitter sited next to you ask him to put your bag in the overhead compartment, you will make his day.

No country for Chicken

A few weeks ago, Israel won the Eurovision Song Contest with a song that many thought was inspired by the #metoo movement when it, actually had a even much more meaningful message. In a contest where half of the countries are not actually in Europe and half on the entries do not know how to sing, was refreshing to see the audience was able to see beyond the glitter and get the social message of the song. Because let's face it, Chicken genocide in Singapore is an important issue.

Being a country where Chicken Rice is the National Dish, nobody dares to raise their voice about the problem. Singapore praises itself as a city in a Garden, where humans and animals coexist in harmony. You can easily see monkeys, iguanas and all sort of wild lives creatures and aunties lingering free across the city, but the only chickens you will see will be hanging out by their poor necks at the multiple food stalls, across the city in a constant reminder to the poor creatures of their fate.

Not even vegans dare to speak about it, although I am not surprised, it is already hard enough to live pretending tofu taste great. Compared to that, all other issues seem first world problems.

Singaporean compulsive Chicken passion is similar to Spanish fetish with pigs. Since we haven't won Eurovision for decades we take our frustration on pigs, hanging their legs in every bar across the country.

Hanging animals parts in public places is not the only common thing Singaporeans and Spaniards have in common. We are both irrelevant in the International arena, but Singapore has a plan to raise the profile above the world indifference and secretly want to join the Eurovision Song Contest.

Think about it, its not a bad plan. After all, who knew where Sweden was before ABBA won the Contest. And look at them, they can sell lousy meatballs and cheap furniture and yet people still look at them nicely. All because they won Eurovision.

But lets face it, winning the contest its difficult. Spain has been charming millions of European tourists for decades and yet no one vote for us.

So Singapore has taken note, and the Government have been thoroughly preparing for the event, by choosing each year  an entry to honour their country for the National Day. Similar to any Eurovision Entry, they are mostly cheesy, and vary from soul to pop or rap in order to catch the attention of the population. With all this experience , Singapore is relentlessly testing public reactions to the different styles and that way find the perfect entry by playing the song at all times in radio, metro stations and any public spaces with loudspeakers.

If local talent is not sufficient, officials have the idea to instruct each household to scout their large Filipino maids population for potential entries following the Philippines worldwide reputation for amazing voices. There are even rumours that the Celine Dion's concert organized in a months time, its an excuse to convince her to forget the crude Canadian winters and become a Singaporean.

Whether Singapore succeeds in their World domination plans is still to be seen, but what nobody can deny is that a good Chicken Rice deserve 12 points.

Blame it on Abba

While the world cheers up anytime an Abba song breaks in the dance floor, there are a handful of us that are instantly reminded of the Abba curse, and by that I do not mean the painful thought of Meryl Streep trying to sing or act in the infamous movie, a proof that even geniuses are not good at everything.

I refer to the curse of all Spanish people living abroad endure for not having an worldwide standard naming structure.

Yes, way before the #metoo movement, Spanish women were the first ones in the world to scape the male domination, and were protected by law from changing their maiden names and most important were allowed to figure in the property and civil registers with their real family names, so assets and family lines could be preserved. Long story short, this means that all Spaniards have two surnames, one coming from the fathers side and another from the women side. Till there, this may stay as a corky fun fact or a conversation started on a first date.

But then, Abba decided that, since most of Swedish were spending their holidays in Spain, they should start introducing some Spanish flair to their songs, and their Machiavellian mind orchestrated a song called Fernando. The curse was born.

Ever since the song hit the charts, people started to forget that I actually had a first name and started calling me Fernando. Some will say its close enough to my actual first surname, Fernandez, so confusion could be forgiven.

But this things typically get worse. After Abba's success, Lady Gaga also tried to use Spanish to get the audiences together, and a song called Alejandro was made. So I went from Fernando to Alejandro and from there people start taking creative liberties.

I have been called, Roberto, Alvaro, Ferdinand, Ferdinando, Alvin and any combinations of letters that can imagine.

You may think it is a trivial issue, as the majority of the things I talked about in this blog, but it isn't. Think about the consequences, I haven't been able to convince my office travel agency to book me a ticket with my names and surnames in correct order for years. So they can never find my reservation at check in My credit card creatively cuts the family names short so I always look suspicious in shops when asked for ID.

Even more, my bank think I am Philipino and decided to start sending me notifications in Tagal.

Being Spanish, it is already too hard. Let's face it. We haven't won the Eurovision Song Contest for so many decades, everyone in my office ignores my deadlines and always use as an excuse they thought I meant 'mañana".

They also believe we are always taking naps, when it is actually the Chinese who do that at the office. And the most annoying of all,  restaurants of all kinds have decided to be mean and make smaller portions and call it tapas, when they have no resemblance whatsoever with the real thing.

So please next time you see me, think what a hard life Spanish people have to endure and call me by my name ( Or at least don't call me Chiquitita ).

The Truth about Engineers

In the 18th Century, Dubliners started painting their house doors in bright colours. Some say it was done by the women, in order to help orientate their drunken husbands back home after an evening in the pub, a theory that somehow seems plausible if you have been to any St Patrick's day celebration. But some other historians point that Dubliners wanted to rebel from the strict British Georgian Architectural rules that controlled almost every single detail of the exterior look and feel of the home and somehow contest the British rule in general.

Traditional Dublin Doors

And in a similar way, after centuries trapped in hideous outfits, engineers have finally found a way to rebel. But lets start from the beginning. Engineers have been criticized for years for their looks. We have been mocked and laughed about in every corner of the office and at any water cooler chit chat.

It is about time someone tells the whole picture about this. We don't dress like this by choice.

We have never been allowed to dress in black, the colour for widows and architects. I always wonder why archaeologists waste their time studying why different cultures, with no apparent contact among themselves built pyramids, and they don't get intrigued by why every single architectural colleague in the world produces architects dressed in black.

Engineers cannot dress in orange either. When getting your degree you are immediately sentenced to spend most of your life at the office, so we don't want to make it even more obvious and look like a prisoner.

Blue is also forbidden, engineer profession is so often downgraded to manual labour, that we cannot further highlight that by dressing like a blue collar worker.

So, for centuries, engineers were forced to dressed in whatever was left on the rack, short sleeves shirts with patterns closer to a table cloth than a garment and ill-fitting pants.

But engineers are tenacious and after years of suffering the mockery of architects and interior designers they finally found a way to rebel: their hair.

I have been recently conducting a study following Engineers where nobody has seen them before. Like Diane Fossey and her Gorillas in the Mist, I begun witnessing the behaviour of engineers in our office bathroom and discover a ritual never documented before.

My office engineers spent hours carefully grooming their hair in front of the mirror. You can clearly observe how they enter the bathroom, face looking down, with a defeated sad look typical of any engineer but suddenly their faces light out when they pull out their favourite comb and grooming tools. It is remarkable how much they save to buy all this equipment on an engineer's paycheck.

The ritual can last for a long time. Some of them even compete in front of the mirror to determine who has the most dominant hairdo.

I have also heard rumours that female engineers rituals include hair washing. Apparently even other odd watersports activities occur daily. A few brave women have managed to break the silence about this, but I have not been able to venture myself into that wild territory, so I can only report based on the legends and on the rivers of water coming out below the door to give some veracity to the rumours.

So next time you see an Engineers please before laughing, please think about the hard life we endure and look at the glamour hair if the outfit hurts you eyes

Fiji Water

I recently had the opportunity to watch the movie Battle of the Sexes on my flight to Fiji. A movie which was suppose to be about tennis but which premise could be summarized in "'a haircut can change your life''.

Little I knew, it was going to be a very appropriate prelude for the trip. First of all because it help me fall sleep so quickly , that's the good thing about bad movies. But it brought up to light an even more important topic. And I don't refer to the mystery that have kept me puzzled recently, why my male Filipino colleagues spend hours combing their hair in front of the mirror at the office. Promise I will dedicate a post soon to this intriguing subject.

What I refer to, is probably one of the biggest mysteries of humanity still uncovered: what is the secret ingredient of Fiji water?

Pretenders ( sorry I meant Influencers ) and other similar people who want the rest of the world to believe they have an interesting life, have decided that Fiji water is the Cool thing to drink even if they charge you 3 times the price and none of us could differentiate it from regular tap water. But for once, I must admit, they may be right.

Anyone who has been to the beautiful country of Fiji, will have to agree. As they say there must be something in the water. Otherwise you cannot explain how people can be so big. And by big, I mean in every possible dimension. And of a proportion that makes you feel as you were a liliputiense in the famous Gulliver travels book or when you visit the Netherlands.

At first I thought it was a secondary hallucinogenic effect of their other famous local drink Kava. For the record, by Kava I don't mean that Drink of certain spanish region produces, that it is not champagne nor water nor tasty ( any italian reading please do not laugh as proseco falls into the same category)

But no, it is not a hallucination, women of gigantic proportions and equally large heart and nice demeanor populate the islands and rule the land and sing like angles, from way before Beyonce realized she was too big deal and did not need to bother anymore producing any good music.

But, be careful, Fiji water does not always work the same way. While it make Fijian women smarter and powerful it makes the western influencers grow.... in stupidity and Instagram followers.

A suggestion to Fijian authorities, stop exporting water and send your women to rule the world, it will be for sure a better place