There's a woman who makes her living writing about boats and "the cruising lifestyle" etc�... I don't recall if it's in printed form or on the Blogosphere, whatever that is. However, the point is, she says what we're doing, what Time Bandit blog follower(s) (?) read about, is "voyaging", not "cruising".

Seems a bit pedantic to me and I'm not sure what the difference is but I think the original definition of "standing under a cold shower tearing up fivers" does just fine. However, if, in fact, a new definition is required, perhaps a Mission Statement, if you like - do people still spend hours in interminably boring meetings and spend thousands of pounds of corporate cash coming up with that old cobblers? Another reason I really don't miss the corporate world, but anyway, I digress, if a new word is required, I'd suggest the new word should be "voyeuraging". (©Time Bandit).

Yes, that is a new word, but one that does quite a good job of describing our sailboat cruising life. It may even find its way onto the Oxford Concise Dictionary. (now there's an oxymoron for you if ever you heard one).

It seems to me we sail around the islands stopping at places for a nosey, peering into peoples' lives from our, to them, luxury yachts like a bunch of tanned and slightly bedraggled voyeurs.

Take Suva. We arrive there from the bright lights of fairly expensive New Zealand, grab a 3 Fijian dollar taxi into town to get some veggies and spend the next hour gawping at those we deem less fortunate than us sitting cross legged on their cardboard boxes peddling their poor little pyramids of oranges and baskets of confused looking ducks. Mind you, it's as well they're on the pavement (sidewalk to my US reader) otherwise they'd be mown down by either the wealthy locals who, by whatever, means have broken through the economic glass ceiling and hurtle around town in their four wheel drives, or the taxi drivers and honking buses. At all times of the day you will see fishermen and woman up to their waists, out on the sand banks throwing their nets trying to catch tonight's dinner. Somewhat ironically you can sit in the rather posh floating restaurant Tikos, eating lobster or surf 'n turf or catch of the day while a few metres away, half a dozen women are casting their lines from the breakwater, again trying to catch tonight's dinner.

Since the heady sights and bustling Suva our voyeuraging has taken us to the Lau Group island of Fulaga or Vulaga but pronounced Fulanga. A three day, two nights 275 mile thrash to windward against the 20 knot Trades and a decent sea. (Imagine sitting in the marina bar thinking, "hey guys, let's go and tack our way half way down the British Isles". Most would think you're nuts). And it felt like it. Also, it would have been two nights if we hadn't missed the tide at the Fulaga reef pass. After hanging around outside for an hour to let the standing waves, thrown up by the 4 ½ knot current, subside we decided prudence should prevail and we hove to for the night to aimlessly drift among the reefs until dawn. It was a pain but better than joining the statistics of those who've added their own wee wreck symbol to the chart.

We're in Fulaga to do some voyeuraging at what some say is the last remaining true Fiji islanders. Think St Kilda but with food. Our itinerary includes a picnic on the beach followed by our welcoming "Sevusevu" with the chief, then church and a lunch with our island hosts. It's going to be interesting!