January
11 – Nadi, Viti Levu
Coming off the plane a warm humid blast of air greeted us
with a firm “Bula” which in Fijian means “Hello
/ Welcome”. After some confusion as to who our driver
was, we were directed to a group of 4-5 men, leaning against
a bright red wall. One of them jumped up and informed us that
he was our driver when we said “Beachside Resort”.
Due to the jockeying of different taxi drivers for our custom
we weren’t sure if this was the right person to take
us to the right hotel and yet, we dutifully waited for his
return. We breathed a premature sigh of relief when he pulled
up in a white van marked “Beachside Resort”. We
climbed in and set out driving through Nadi in the intense
tropical sunlight.
For
the first time during our trip we felt like we had truly landed
in a foreign country. Whereas Aussies & Kiwi’s are
probably vehemently disagree, we found both Australia and
New Zealand more similar than different in mentality and first
impressions, but here we were driving through areas that felt
definitely third-world: structures without roofs, stores without
doors, and passing buses and trucks which belched out gaping
clouds of grey smoke - hanging in the air long after the offending
vehicle had passed. Suddenly we felt like unseasoned travelers.
There was what appeared to be poverty juxtaposed with resorts
aiming at the traveler with $$.
We
drove past a McDonald’s with manicured grounds, which
looked pristine by contrast and we proceeded through a residential
area. Marieke wondered why we pulled off the main road, as
there seemed to be a distinct lack of resort-like structures.
Then we turned left onto a dirt one-lane farm road speeding
past fields that were dotted with the occasional structure
that served as a house to someone. David leaned over and said
what Marieke was thinking: “and they were never seen
again…” At about that time the high grass flanking
the road opened up, revealing that we were driving parallel
to the coast. Small resorts began to pop up and we thought
“aha” as we sped past them. At length we came
to the Beachside Resort.
We
got into our room, which was comfortable yet basic and decided
to take a walk down to the beach. In order to do this, we
had to walk back up the dirt road to the next resort and go
through their property to access the beach. It was low tide
and pools of water gathered around sand banks, which formed
bridges to walk out to the receded water’s edge. Here
we shed our flip-flops and waded out into the shallow warm
water. In the distance the sun cutting through clouds, brightly
lit the foreground causing it to stand starkly against the
distant mountains and even more distant graying skies.
We
made our way back to the hotel and arrived just as one of
the musicians was drumming out a fanfare to announce Happy
Hour. It’s all about timing. And so we thought it was
time for a few drinks. As we sat down with our Happy drinks
the musicians played the guitar and sang traditional Fijian
songs to the relatively empty terrace. David had secretly
booked a massage and surprised Marieke when the girl from
reception and announced that our masseuse would be showing
up in 1/2 hour. Time as Albert Einstein informed us, is a
relative thing. And time it seems moves differently here in
Fiji for it took Ann, our masseuse, quite a bit longer than
1/2 hour to arrive, but she also massaged us for quite a bit
longer than the 1/2 booked. She was quite a character—
an earth mother with a mischievous streak who seemed up for
fun. As the musicians played and clapped she danced into the
area where the massage table was located. Massage: what a
lovely way to begin the “decompression” leg of
our journey.
Dinner
followed, fresh fish in a wasabi cream sauce with salad and
mashed sweet potato. We finished with ice cream rolled in
roasted coconut. We got some tips from our bar-tender/waitress
on basic Fijian words, like Bula (hello), Vinaka (Thanks),
Kere Kere (Please), Sega na Leqa (No worries). And then we
went up to our room and journaled the day.
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January
12, Octopus Resort – Waya Island
Bure
15 is our little hut away from home made of traditional rough-hewn
beams and thatch. The only things that have a modern appearance
are the doors and windows (oh and the ceiling fan & lights).
From our bure we hear the sound of the crashing ocean, some
30 feet outside our door. To get to the water, one has to
cross over our little porch, past the hammock, the sun loungers
and over the pristine blond sand. And then…warm water
of varying shades of blue: bright turquoise, aqua, pale blue
and dark blue mixing as the water stretches out to the horizon.
We’re
staying in a picture-postcard of Paradise. Although there’s
not a palm tree right outside our door, there’s one
next door and we feel that’s fine. As a matter of fact,
spending time here, you begin to feel that most things are
fine and you’re swiftly taken up with an island attitude
of Sega na Lega (no worries).
On
arrival, a small group of local Fijians greeted us as our
taxi boat drove up onto the sand, for us to depart to the
resort. We were told not to worry about our bags and then
escorted past the bar and pool to some chairs in the shade
where we were offered fresh tropical juice and given a mini-orientation.
A wonderful lady (Meriani) let us to our bure and showed us
the bathroom with open air shower (open to the sky).
We
went back to the dining hall and had lunch. The good here
has been fantastic with the exception of the ice cream, it
has all been really good and fresh. Marieke learned how to
tie the sula (sarong) that she had bought and was given a
crash course in the bula dance while David fell asleep on
a lounger. We then went for an hour-long massage at FI$30
each – for an hour long massage!! Feeling relaxed to
the point of drunkenness we stumbled back to our bure, conveniently
located next door, grabbed our gear and went out into the
ocean for a quick bit of snorkeling. The coral reef starts
only 20ft. into the water and stretch out through the basin
of our bay. It was low tide and a wave’s undertow pulled
Marieke into some coral. She got a little scraped up, so we
got out of the water, found the manager and got some first
aid. Then it was time to get ready for our Kava ceremony (welcome
ceremony) and dinner. We showed up at the appointed place,
asked if this is where it was happening and were told not
to worry as it was island time. So we sat down to watch the
sunset.
David
had his pervasive camera bag and whipped out the camera to
take more photos. One of the hotel staff came and said that
they were waiting for us, so we hurried over for the kava
ceremony, which was not as bad tasting as most people make
out. We drank the kava, we were dismissed and it was time
for a special dance/singing ceremony that was part of their
continued new years celebrations. Then it was dinner. A series
of curry-like dishes were served up and we chatted with the
people at our dinner table.
After
dinner we decided it would be nice to walk back to the bure
via the beach, which was dark…so much that we worried
if we would make it back. We found our bure and more importantly
found the light and settled in for a deep night sleep with
the sound of the ocean lulling us off.
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January
13, Octopus Resort – Waya Island
The same sound of the ocean greeted us in the morning. Somehow
we didn’t set the alarm correctly (or we just didn’t
hear it) and we woke up a little past 8:00 am. We had to be
at the Dive Shop at 8:50, so we huddled on our clothes, grabbed
our things and headed out the door for breakfast. Pineapple
and orange juice awaited us with a buffet containing toast,
jams, crepes and fresh tropical fruits. Oh, and coffee for
David – happy Dave.
We
went to the Dive Shop and geared up for our first dive here
in Fiji. We went out to a single motor outboard boat to speed
out for 12 minutes to our first dive site: Black Rock. It
was the tip of a small peak just reaching above sea level.
Around it were corals and fish galore. There were only 5 of
us and the guide. We followed our guide swimming against the
very slight current and it was lovely. The nice thing about
diving with the dive master, was that we could just be “passengers”
and we didn’t have to worry about any navigating and/or
getting back to the boat. Visibility was good, although for
both our taste the guide was moving too fast. As per normal,
the 40 minutes of dive time went too quickly and we soon found
ourselves back in the boat heading for land.
We
had yet another delicious lunch: fresh fish burgers –
the best fish burger we’d ever had. The food is absolutely
phenomenal, everything is fresh and presentation is great.
It’s so good that whenever the time for a meal comes
around, Marieke is like a kid on Christmas morning: full of
anticipation and excitement about what she’s gonna get.
At
2:00 pm we went out for our 2nd dive of the day. This time
we were only with 3 divers and a dive master – small
groups are great. The 7 minute ride out to “The Edge”
as the reef is called, was choppy but problemless or Marieke
who was doped up on Dramamine. The dive turned out to be both
quite cool and frustrating. Cool for Marieke as she got very
excited about spotting both a turtle and 3 baby white tip
sharks. Frustrating for David who had rented a point and shoot
digital camera from the dive shop which didn’t perform
as he would have liked. Consequently David spent most of the
dive wrestling with the camera.
We
got back. Marieke fell asleep on the loungers outside the
bure, while David went out to toast his back, snorkeling.
The SPF 45 didn’t cut the mustard and David’s
back looks like an undercover lobster. He was snorkeling with
the rental camera to try and get some shots right –
one of those places where his tenacity can be counter productive.
Dinner
was awesome: BBQ Fijian style. Spicy ribs, lamb chops, salads,
you name it, it was there – and good. Being Saturday
night, they extended Happy Hour and the manager of the resort
hosted a series of games after the bonfire was lit and they
performed some fire – dancing. We almost won a bottle
of bubbles in the balloon dancing competition. Our salsa-classes
paid off, but not quite enough to get us to win.
We
decided to come back to our bure where a delicious night’s
sleep awaited Marieke – still drowsy from her Dramamine
and a night of careful sleeping on his tummy to avoid the
burned back waited for Dave.
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January
14, Octopus Resort – Waya Island
Ah the sound of sleeping next to the ocean. Being Sunday,
many of the activities are not available as the Methodist
missionaries got to the Islands in the early years of European
contact. However, having a day off (even on the Island) proved
to be quite nice.
We
went to church in the local village taking a 15-minute walk
over the ridge and down to the Bay opposite the resort. This
is home to a village about 200 Fijians. It was slightly overcast,
but humid and by the time we all reached the village, we were
all drenched in sweat. Luckily, Marieke had borrowed a couple
of fans, which really helped during the seemingly service.
The
village is a hodge-podge of traditional thatch bures, corrugated
tin structures and buildings made of cinder blocks. The effect
is that of a shantytown. Many buildings having no doors and
almost all having no windows and dirt floors. Still, the people
were friendly, occasionally shouting out “Bula”
as we passed their dwellings. The church was the building
at the end of a sort of mall.
The
church had wooden pews and was simply done. We left our shoes
outside and women were required to cover both shoulders and
knees. Hats and sunglasses were not permitted. The service
itself was hard to follow, being in Fijian, but the singing
was tremendous. A choir sang harmonized hymns in Fijian that
was just beautiful – a mix of what you’d expect
at a Methodist church with the more mournful quality of gospel.
One elder got up and gave an impassioned speech. He was very
emotional, at points bringing himself to tears. We wondered
is someone had died or what was going on. Later we found out
that Monday the children leave for boarding school on the
main land and he was advising them to stay focused on their
tasks and go “become more powerful and bring that power
back to the village”.
By
the time we got back, lunch was being served and we sat down
for more great food: cocoa, a type of marinated fish like
cervichi – yumyum. We then returned to our bure where
Marieke became one with the hammock and drifted off to sleep,
while David tinkered on the laptop. It was perfect for a Sunday.
Later, we video taped David for a video diary and made our
way over to the restaurant to order a cocktail. David photographed
the sunset and then it was dinner: a salad nicoise as a starter
and a local fish on creamy fettuccine, with grilled veggies
as an entrée. After dinner it was movie night: The
Illusionist.
We
walked home, marveling at the stars and had to go out by the
water to sit in the sand and just gaze up for a while. We
saw one tremendous falling star and several smaller ones,
but the panoply of stars was mind-boggling. And now we write
and soon we sleep. The ocean beckons us to sleep with its
lulling waves. Night, night.
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January 15, Octopus Resort – Waya Island
We broke our evening’s fast with Tammy and Grant and
their daughter, Jessica. It was then time to grab our gear
and go on our “romantic picnic.” We got on the
dive boat, Bubble Maker, and were ferried around the point
to the next beach. They dropped us off with a pack lunch,
a bottle of wine, some water, a beach mat and a large umbrella.
We supplied towels, snorkeling gear and a camera bag. As the
Bubble Maker disappeared round the next point (on their way
to recover a lost anchor), the first order of business was
to move the umbrella. The guy had placed it back in the woods
lining the beach, not on the beach were we could appreciate
the view, namely the pristine blonde beach. Then David took
some shots and video before we went any farther with tracking
up the virgin beach. The only thing that had disturbed the
sand other than us and the guy from the boat was the sand
crabs who had burrowed out their temporary lodgings. Then
we sat on the matt and went wow, this is our beach…
for the next few hours. Nothing, no one in sight – only
azure and turquoise waters, jagged dark volcanic rocks book-ending
the white undisturbed beaches and the woods behinds us. Oh,
and the blue sky interrupted by the sporadic cloud.
After
appreciating the beauty of the place and how lucky we were
to be living this Kodak moment, we did what any self respecting
honey-mooning couple would do left alone on an isolated beach,
we took a walk.
We
went snorkeling for about half an hour and then lunched. The
sun was pretty intense and even having you foot sticking out
of the shade of the umbrella, quickly became uncomfortable.
After lunch Marieke napped and David went off to take some
more photos. He found a willing model in a four inch sand
crab he christened, “Archibald.” After his close
ups Archibald retired to his trailer (a sand hole) and David
went back to the relative cool of the umbrella – out
of the sun. It was here that we discovered why the guy had
placed the umbrella so far from the water – it was approaching.
The tide was moving in and when the water touched the matt,
David finally caved in and moved the matt and eventually the
umbrella back away from the advancing surf. Then we found
ourselves in a Fijian time warp. The trip into the village
was at 2.30 and we both wanted to go, but neither of us had
brought a watch and it felt as thought we’d been on
our deserted island beach for ages. We speculated the need
to swim or hike back to the resort when, at length, nothing
happened. So we laid down, having move the matt back and took
a nap. Light dozing lead to the sound of an outboard motor
and we loaded up and went back around the point. Some local
villagers had come down to the water and we wondered just
how alone we might have been for the entire time we were there…
On
our return people had gathered for the trip to Nalauwaki,
the village on the other side of the ridge, which supplies
most of the staff for the resort. The village is home to about
200 people of which about 50 work for the resort. We told
one of the staff members that we’d just got back and
to wait for us as we rushed off to our bure to rinse off and
change. They obliged us by leave without us, so we beat a
hasty path over the trail to the village, trying to catch
up. We finally did catch them, and we were now dripping with
perspiration for the spirited track over the ridge. We were
briefed on village etiquette: no hats and sunglasses while
in the village and women must keep their shoulders and knees
covered.
We
were guided through the village by one of the resort managers,
Polly. On entering the village a young man blew a conch shell
to alert the villagers that we had arrived. Almost all the
villagers merrily chimed out “Bula” as we passed.
We were given permission to take photographs and most of the
children struck poses with thumbs up sign and then couldn’t
wait to see the picture in the back of the digital cameras.
The friendliness and charm of the people was pervasive and
delightful. We ran into Joe who we met on the transfer boat
to the island, who recognized us from the boat and was very
happy to see us. He asked if we could take some pictures of
his granddaughter who he was visiting here on the island.
When the tour through the village eventually led to the bure
of his daughter-in-law, Joe was there to greet us and we shot
a lot of pictures of Mere, his granddaughter with her grandmother;
a woman whose expansive energy reminded us of Nasrin.
The
kava ceremony commenced; a welcoming ceremony involving the
village elders (men only) who officially welcomed all of the
guests to their village. A large mat is placed on the ground
and everyone sits cross-legged, the villagers facing the guests.
The chief / senior elder sits off to one side. The kava is
made from a root that is ground up and mixed with water in
a large cloth bag, something like a teabag. The result is
something that looks like muddy water and has a bitter taste,
but makes your lips tingle. The spokesman of the village welcomes
everyone and kava is dished out and drunk from a small bowl
made out of a coconut shell. Before drinking, the person being
offered the kava, clap once, say “Bula!”, drink
the bowl in 1 go and clap three times. All of the male guests
are greeted first and sit up front, followed by the female
guests. The whole ceremony took a little time as there were
33 of us and during the ceremony more of the male villagers
arrived. At length they told us to relax, get up and move
around.
Then
a large group of villagers began approaching in traditional
Fijian costume, the men wearing grass skirts over their shorts
with large lei’s around their necks. The women wearing
brightly colored tops on traditional sula’s (sarongs).
Many of the men and women also had the single flower in their
hair. They then performed the traditional maka-show: guitar
music accompanied with beautiful singing and dancing. The
men and women started out with a couple of dances together
after which the men performed what seemed like a warrior dance
with wooden “pretend” weapons resembling axes.
The women performed dances which were much more delicate,
almost flower-like. It was obvious that they had put just
a ‘tad’ more preparation and rehearsal into their
performances than the men, whose performance came across a
lot less coordinated and synchronized. However, Marieke found
their physiques more than enough to make up for any dance
deficiencies.
After
the dancing they took a bow and Rai, the mayor prompted us
to show our appreciation with another round of applause. Within
a couple minutes the women had laid out blankets and covered
them with their wears, mostly jewelry made from shells and
beads, carved wooden bowls and sula’s. We wandered around
feeling the urge to purchase something from each vendor and
as it was we spent almost all the cash we had on us, FJ $130.
It was a good feeling spending money there. Not only were
we getting something beautiful, but the fact that the money
was going directly to this by our standards 3rd world village
made the shopping experience richer and more satisfying.
We
walked back to the resort, chatting with Polly the manager,
freshened up with a cold shower and went to dinner: a Lovo
dinner – dinner where an entire pig and fish, had been
placed in a pit with rocks over which a fire was built. The
meats were lowered into the glowing ambers which along with
the rocks created an underground oven. The only problem was
that both the pig and the fish still had their heads on. The
pig especially reminded us of the cute little piglets we had
passed right outside the village. It was awkward enough to
push Marieke towards vegetarianism (Shelley would say “Yeah”),
but the promise of yet another fantastic “Octopus Resort
Dinner” pushed Marieke past her concerns.
Then
it was off to our bure for what we hoped would be a good night
sleep, however, Marieke had gotten quite burned on our trip
to the deserted beach (in the shade, despite SPF45). Part
of her back was lobster red and radiated heat like the rocks
from the lovo. Wet towels served as blankets, attempting to
absorb the radiant heat.
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January
16, Nadi Airport – Vitu Levu Island, Fiji
We got up after a restless night of sleep for Marieke. David
slept a little better as his back burn had eased a little.
We began to pack, got most of it done and headed off for breakfast.
It’s always strange to be leaving a place and not knowing
if you’ll return or not. The senses got sharpened, your
awareness heightened as you try to absorb the impressions,
the sites, the sounds, the smells, the ambiance of a place.
So was as we left our bure and walked down the path to breakfast.
There we joined Tammy, Grant & Jessica. While Marieke
continued her conversation with them, David went to the office
to check out and to call Mike Neill to confirm our pick-up
from LAX. Checkout was certainly done in Fijian time, but
it was okay. We went back to the room to finish packing and
suddenly it was 10:00 am, checkout time. Unlike our other
days at the resort, the sands were flowing through the hourglass
quickly. We took our luggage to the bar / dining area, did
a little journaling when Tammy joined us. David ran off to
take some last photos and it was time for lunch.
We
enjoyed our last Fijian fish burgers (YUMMY!!) and then one
of the staff members beat out a rhythm on a hollow log right
outside the bar area, it told us that the boat had arrived
and it was time to board. We gathered our things and went
out to the beach were we boarded the little speedboat which
would take us out to the resort ferry. A large contingent
of the staff including Meriani, Ross (the resort manager),
Ben & Rebecca (the English couple), Tammy and other guests
had gathered on the beach to wish us a fond farewell. The
staff members played the guitar and sang a farewell song while
the boat pulled away from the beach and headed out into the
bay to the larger boat.
Perhaps
it was us, perhaps some of the other guests leaving, but the
day before when some guests departed only a few staff members
showed up. We were very moved by the sincerity of their farewell.
We got onto the boat and waited while the speedboat went back
to shore to gather the villagers who were also taking the
ferry back to the main island. The trip became very long for
David after the halfway point when he realized he needed to
use the bathroom. Ah, the curse of a small blatter…
Arrival on the mainland was especially gratifying for him,
say no more. Despite his discomfort the water was wonderfully
smooth which allowed the boat ride (which usually takes 90
minutes) to only take 65 minutes instead.
The
van ride to the airport was uneventful. The one military checkpoint
that we had past on the way going was still there with the
soldiers as cheerful and friendly as any other Fijian we have
met. We stayed several hours at Raffles Gateway Hotel across
the street from the airport to kill time in a slightly more
comfortable environment that the waiting lounge at Nadi International.
We spent the time checking email, having a cocktail and having
light dinner. Around 8:00 pm we left for the airport and are
now waiting to board the aircraft that will get us back to
LA, thus concluding our “2nd Honeymoon” / Big
trip / pre-baby-making-extravaganza.
So,
here we are, seated in the airport at Nadi, with mixed feelings:
sadness to be leaving such a beautiful place, which also is
serving as the punctuation on our 1-month trip, and excitement
to return home to see our pets, friends and resume our regular
lives. Looking back over our trip, it’s been an amazing
series of journeys, both externally and internally: there
is the obvious external journey of visiting 3 amazing countries,
practically half way around the world and there are the internal
ones of acquiring new skills, overcoming fears and encountering
such beauty in these places – the rugged emptiness of
the desert in Australia to the ranging mountains in New Zealand
to the island paradise of Fiji. It’s hard to remain
unmoved or unchanged encountering this. While we were in Auckland
a movie was shown in the Sky Tower about the history of Auckland
and a Maori historian said that according to Maori myth all
lines of humanity form single strands that twist together
something like cable. And just being in that place affects
the place and even when you’ve left, it doesn’t
matter. A part of you will always remain there. Conversely,
part of these places will always remain an influence as one
of the strands of our lives.
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