Where Fin-Ance Kills Rom-Ance

"Young Man, Stay Away From the Islands!"

By “Na Vokai”

A BEACH shimmering silver in the light of the full moon ... the trade wind crooning in the palm trees . . . the eternal rumble of the Pacific rollers breaking on the fringing coral reef . . . the tinkling of guitars and melodious voices singing the songs of the Islands. Romance with a capital R—so the guide books and fiction of the Islands would have it. Sometimes we see it called the glamour of the South Sea Islands.

Beware, young man—and maiden, too —seekers after this elusive romance and glamour of the tropic seas. Remember that advertising men were ever strainers of the truth, and writers of Islands fic tion . . . !

Remember that, hovering round that beach, there will be a myriad extremely vicious sandflies and/or mosquitoes. Pre datory crabs wander the sands in the moonlight, and even the most graceful and romantic coconut-palm sometimes drops a heavy nut, which announces not its coming. The old couch by the winter fireside back home can be lots more com fortable—believe me, for I know both.

Perhaps you dream of languorous brown maidens, dressed in a wreath of flowers and a smile, and strumming guitars. All hooey! The missionaries made ’em get dressed years before you and I saw the light, and besides, they nearly all run to fat early in life, and a gigantic waistline soon spells death to romance. rAT, perhaps, disposes of the more accepted forms of South Sea glamour. But there are one or two other illusions which remain.

You have heard much of the freedom of life in the Islands. There is freedom of a kind. Then, perchance you have heard of lack of convention —a phrase which alwavs sounds attractive to subur ban and small-town dwellers. Forget it.

Nowadays the Islands are civilised, and one small town is like another—whether it be on the equator or the Antarctic Circle. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and if they should not happen to know it at the moment, they make it their business to rectify the omission at an early opportunity.

Class distinctions are more finely drawn than in the most hidebound small town elsewhere. One is either Govern ment or commerce, and each of those broad divisions has its more Intimate cleavages—in the case of the Govern ment, plainly labelled, “Senior Division and “Junior Division.” The Senior Divi sion is almost exclusively the preserve of the appointee who sports an old school tie The Junior Division is the monopoly of the local-born, and the importation from nearby dominions.

rE greatest illusion of all, however, is coming to the Islands to save money.

We all fall for that. We are offered a job at a salary that is greater than ever we have earned before. But we need it all, and then some!

If you think of coming to the Islands for a couple of years to save money, and then go back home with a -fat bank balance to marry the little girl who is waiting there—don’t! Marry her now, and stay at home.

Life in the Islands is free and easy, but more easy than free. You receive a nice fat cheque at the end of the month, and you pay out a good slice of it for board and lodging. Then, perhaps you think a night at the pictures will not be too great a dissipation, with the dearest seats priced at two shilings. Remember, though, there are no twopenny tram sec tions in the Islands. It is probably raining, and you have to take a taxi to pick up your partner for the evening.

That is another couple of bob, each way.

Then there is a drink at half-time in the lounge of the nearest pub, which con veniently keeps open till 10 o’clock — another couple of boo. Throw in a couple more of the elusive bobs for chocolates and three of them for supper, and the total is fifteen—not much left out of that pound you broke.

Then, of course, some night when there is a big dance in honour of a visiting tourist boat, you will decide to go the whole hog, and have a night out. By the time each tourist boat arrives, the preceding interval has been so dull that you are more than ready for a break and a chance to see new faces.

It will cost you 10/- for two of you to get in—in addition to your taxi fares — but that is only the beginning. You might as well say good-bye to a couple of pounds. Dancing is hot work in the Islands, with the evening temperature in the middle seventies, and humid at that, and the pubs, where most of the dances are held, keep their beer cool. But—on dance nights they know how to charge for it; and, for the privilege of having a glass of beer served on the verandah, you pay one shilling. Probably your girl friend has not your plebeian taste for beer, and prefers a cocktail or two. That will set you back eighteen pence or so a time.

Whisky and ginger ale (imported ginger ale—and they never have anything but the imported variety on dance nights), runs to 1/9 a pop. In a dance party of four, that’s 7/- a “shout.” Yes. it’s a great place to save money!

BUT— and this is important—it is not necessary to wait until pay day at the end of the month to have a little dissipation. Certainly, if you want to go to the pictures, you will have to pay cash to get in, and the same applies to a dance; but once that little difficulty is overcome, you need not have a sou in your pocket for the rest of the evening, or a care in your head for the rest of the month.

How? you ask. My dear innocent, your name is good. You sign chits for your drinks, you can have your supper on tick, and you say to the taxi-driver. “My car, driver.” After awhile, in the Islands, it probably is your car in everything but title, for more likely than not you will have paid off the mortgage on it.

I said that you need not have a care on your head till the end of the month.

Exactly! But at the end of the month the bills roll in, and as like as not you will have enough to make a really good bonfire. You receive that nice fat salary

in one hand, and pay it out with the other, only to find more often than not, there is a substantial difference between the salary and the total of the bills—on the wrong side. And so it goes on—with that trip home on leave, or to that little girl who is waiting, monthly receding farther and farther into the distance.

Young man, heed this gipsy’s warning, and stay away from the glamourous, romantic South Sea Islands. Go east or west* or north, but keep away from the South Seas. Finally, if you must come, come with a return ticket on a holiday, but don’t overstay the limits of the Who said South Sea Islands Romance?