Fiji days: part 3

Thursday, April 9

This is our departure day, our checkout is at 10 AM but our flight doesn't leave until 10Pm, so we have several bonus hours to spend in fiji. We are allowed to put our luggage into a storage closet, and will be able to shower in the dorm before we leave this evening. For the day, we plan to take the bus into Nadi (fare is 70 cents fijian), then walk about and have lunch there. "Must see" items are the produce markets and a beautifully decorated hindu temple at the south end of town. We meet Shirley while waiting for the bus. She is from the UK and has been traveling alone for three months. Her plans for the day match ours so we'll travel together. She tells us her story about leaving her job and a failing marriage in England to take the first big trip of her life. By a series of coincidences she had arranged to stay with a couple in Wellington, New Zealand . When she arrived in Wellington, the couple was not there , but she met the house sitter, a man named Paul. Shirley and Paul traveled a bit together, they fell in love and made plans to meet again when Shirley gets back to England where they will probably marry. What a nice story.

The bus arrives, an open air affair with no windows, only side curtains. This bus shows a lot of mileage as does the driver. There are many locals and lots of chatter. We are greeted with smiles and "Bulas" by many. The seats are small and lumpy, and altho the bus cannot go faster than 60KM/hr, it is necessary to hang on tight. I doubt many people could handle that bus the way our driver did on those narrow roads with other Fijian drivers darting in and out, passing and driving down the middle of the road.

Once in Nadi town, we get off at the bus terminal. There is a distinct third world feel about the place. Diesel smoke pervades all, there is chaotic movement of people, taxis and buses. We are marked as tourists with our travel clothes and pasty skin. There is a feeling that all eyes are on our wallets as we head off to the food bazaar. We enter a pavilion that seems totally devoted to the sale of kava root, with rows of tables stacked high with the stuff, and a number of vendors consuming it. Next we enter the pavilion with all the other produce being sold. Many stalls featured bunches of what appeared to be palm root altho we never did find out what it was or how it was used. Since we couldn't bring produce out of the country, we could only buy what we could eat there, so we snacked on some bananas and tasty pineapple.

Once outside the market we were confronted with the anarchic traffic and bustle of local commerce. We must have been seen as wealthy travelers (which we were by comparison), who needed to buy the various wood and cloth objects being sold up and down the street. For hygienic reasons, we were advised to avoid eating things sold on the street, but we were hungry and in search of a restaurant. For a while we were badgered by a large woman in a red dress who suggested we go to a craft bazaar down the street and help support the local artisans. We pleaded hungry and our search for food brought us to a popular eatery which had very good curry dishes. After a fine lunch, we came out and that woman was waiting for us. We promised to see the bazaar after we visited the temple which was only a few blocks away.

This is the largest Hindu temple on the island and features an amazing array of brightly painted stupa like structures and a main temple with every surface covered with bright colors and murals depicting the various Hindu deities. A priest we spoke with pointed to the artist who was on site directing the handling of one of his pieces. A gentle rain started as we left and risked life and limb crossing several busy streets on the way back to the bus terminal. Once again we encountered the large woman in the red dress who redirected us to the bazaar. We quickly passed through even as the vendors implored us to buy various tacky items..

We managed to find our bus amid the pandemonium and shared our lumpy seats with bunches of uniformed primary school kids on their way home. Driving back we saw signs of sluggish recovery from the January flooding with repair of roads and sidewalks in progress . Many of the school kids gave us smiles and "Bulas" as they got off at their stops. Much to our amazement, the bus driver took the same route over the sandy beach that we had traveled with our other drivers.

Back at the hotel, we say goodbye to Shirley and wish her well with her new life. We go for our last Fijian supper at our new favorite place. The prices have doubled since yesterday, our hostess says there is "new management". We make to leave and she offers a meal at yesterday's prices, so we stay to dine once more. The sun has gone down and our great adventure is near it's end.

We clean up, gather our suitcases, packs and souvenir box and wait for our cab. Our ride is in a faded Mercedes which appears to have been "ridden hard and put away wet". On the way to the airport our driver relates the tale of his life of woe. Of course he has to take care of his sick mother and a number of siblings with a pitiful wage. It's an effective ploy and once at the airport we give him all of our remaining Fijian dollars.

This the end of our narrative, the airport was hell, it took over three hours to check in, there were about 600 people on the plane and my seat didn't recline properly. But I wouldn't want to end on a negative note. We had a time we will never forget and we have enjoyed sharing our stories.