It was toward the end of dinner. We were having a lovely time with our friends Jon, Carol and their crew Jack from Arnementia (who we first met last year in Niue).

We started the evening with cocktails on the dock admiring the gorgeous sunset across the river, with the far mountains shrouded in clouds in the background across the bay. Stunning view, and great catching up on our respective journeys this past year. And given that Jon was in the British Military in the artillery, we also learned a bit about “screw guns”-artillery pieces that came apart with a couple screws that you would then cart up a mountain on the back of a mule. Used in Burma and all that.

But I digress.

So, there we were…a little later in the evening at the newest hot spot in Savusavu enjoying some curry dishes while listening to a Fijian rock band playing ’60’s Brit rock/blues when a…a creature came hopping along the floor past our table.

At first I thought it was a mouse or possibly just a hallucination. Then I turned further to look more closely (while becoming mildly alarmed) to see what kind of creature was hopping past me two feet away while I was in the midst of some lovely curried prawns.

It was a frog. Actually a rather large frog. With really long legs.

Ironically (for the frog as well as for me) I had just read a review in the New York Times (online of course) of how to properly cook frog’s legs, so this was the first thing that came to mind while munching my delicious curried prawns in the Fijian restaurant.

Fortunately for the frog, frog’s legs were not on the menu and the manager of the establishment took control and began to shoo Mr Frog back out the door the way he had come in. He was barefoot. The Manager. And he chased that frog all the way safely out the door and far away from the grasp of the very large Fijian Chef. Who was planning tomorrow’s menu. I could almost see his lips longingly murmuring “froooggggs leggggs”. In curry no doubt.

So there you have it. Another exciting night in a Fijian restaurant in Downtown Savusavu. Actually there really isn’t a downtown. Savusavu is not big enough to actually have a downtown, but you get the picture. And it’s a safe place for wayward frogs. Good thing he didn’t hop further inside where the band was drinking Kava, then all bets would have been off (although I might still bet on the frog).