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.

Fiji days: part 2

Weds, April 8

We have booked a day cruise on a sailing catamaran out to one of the dozens of tropical islands off shore. We hope to have an "authentic Fijian experience" highlighted by free beverages and entertainment on the boat trip. The brochure mentions a Kava ceremony as well. Kava is a popular drink in Fiji, prepared from ground up Kava root which is than put into a bandana and wrung out in a bowl of fresh water. The result is a thin, milky liquid with a pungent odor. Kava root is a mild intoxicant, and the preparation and imbibing of the liquid involves a ceremony that involves clapping and the shouting of "Bula". If you go to Fiji, see the ceremony but don't drink the Kava, unless you like the taste of dishwater and feeling your mouth and throat go numb.

A very thin man with a toothache picked us up for the cruise at 8:30 AM. We climbed into a twenty something year old station wagon with a grinding stick shift. Our route took over bumpy dirt road, and when the road stopped, he drove out onto a beach, to get to the next dirt road and another guest pickup. Once we were all packed in, he headed for the port of Denarau, where we would board our Captain Cook cruise.

Port of Denaurau is a mixture of wealth inside and abject poverty outside it's gated entrance. The hub is a newly erected shopping center, near the wharf, featuring expensive clothing shops and anchored by a huge Hard Rock Cafe. Our boat was the Nadi 1. It was not the catamaran promised in the brochure, which, we were told, could not navigate the too shallow channel at low tide. The Nadi 1 was a bit delapidated, but a sturdy vessel capable of getting us to our destination, Mystery Island. The boat crew was charming and soon won over the multinational group of about 20 passengere with Fijian renditions of old standards. Punctuated with guitar, ukelele and frequently shouted "Bulas" the quartet (sometimes more, sometimes less) played such favorites as "My Bonnie", "Home on the Range" as well as some tunes for the Aussies, Brits and Germans aboard. There were some Elvis tunes as well.

After about an hour (We are on Fijian time now) we arrive at the island but it's low tide and the taxi can't get very close to shore. We all hop out and wade about 100 ft through bathtub warm, calf deep blue Pacific to reach the golden beach.
Mystery Island is small, (you can walk around the island in seven minutes, I did) with a very nice sandy beach and nearby coral areas for great snorkeling. The guests sprinkled themselves about the island for their day in tropical paradise. Dianne and I laid our mat under a shady palm tree where we could look out to the deep blue ocean. Meanwhile the crew got busy opening the bar and preparing for the BBQ feast to come. We had frequent visits by some local flightless birds which looked like small Wekas, that had a similar interest in our snack foods.

The BBQ was filling and fortunately had lots of veggies for Dianne. We were frequently encouraged to get more food and drink more beer, perhaps not the best thing to do if you planned to snorkel after lunch. Our crew entertained with more hits from the nineteenth century and soon everybody was "bula-ing" everyone else. It was a really nice day except for some problems I had when snorkeling with too small fins and an ill-fitting mask. I am told that the coral was really beautiful, I can't give a first hand account as I was too busy flailing about and swallowing sea water.

At about 3PM, we get back on our ship for the lazy ride back. On the way, we are treated to a demonstration of basket weaving from the coconut palm frond. Next we are shown how to strip the husk from a coconut using only a pointed stick and bare (but very strong) hands. Then the coconut is opened by Natt, the crewman, with a bare handed blow. This is only accomplished after a mind meld with some passengers which gives Natt "The Power" to open the coconut. Very impressive.

Once back at Port Denarau, we search, with some others, for our ride back. It turns out Natt is headed our way and he leads us to our van. As we are rolling out, we hear some shouting, as the van door slides open to allow four more Fijians aboard. The van now with twelve of us, bounces along now familiar dirt roads. We soon come to the same beach detour, only now it's high tide. No problem, after a quick survey, the driver drives through the surf, around some people fishing (they wave and shout Bula") then back onto the beach and the connection back to the main dirt road. The ride through Fiji countryside was an adventure, but we were very glad to get back to the hotel.

The evening entertainment at Smuggler's Cove is a traveling dance troupe from the island of Tuva. They will be performing traditional Micronesian dances including the "Sword Dance" and the "Fire Dance". It's all quite exciting, altho some of the crowd appears drunk and not willing to shout their "Bulas" of encouragement for the dancers. The sword dance passes without causing major injury, altho we notice one of the dancers has a heavily bandaged hand. Things get interesting with the first fire dancer, a slight young man, who appears to get a cinder in his eye early in the performance, and does much of his routine with squinting watery eyes. There are some drops of the baton and bits of smelly burning kerosene littered about the sand. After that one husky fire dancer follows another, each trying to outdo with higher throws, faster twirling. Many will light their torch from bits of flame placed in their mouth or on various body parts. Dianne is cringing, I am quickly reviewing first aid for major burns. The crowd is now definitely drunk, but getting into the action, We leave quickly when there is a call for volunteers to learn some dance moves.

Fiji Days part 1, by Phil

We arrived in Nadi, Fiji about 3Pm local time on Mon, 4/7. It is hot and humid here in the tropics, very different from New Zealand. A small Fijian band welcomes us with song and shouts of "Bula". It is time to say goodbye to our wonderful traveling buddies, Ed and Colleen. We feel so fortunate to have had this time together, sharing great times and really getting along so well. After hugs and a pledge to get together soon, we find ourselves near the end of the long line at customs. As we get near our turn, a group of Japanese missionaries ahead of us is getting a hard time , being told " You can't just come here and start preaching, you need a work permit". This made us wonder what the government of the day was and which general was in charge. Anyway after that they just waved us boring Americans through.

As our luggage is being X-Rayed, we're asked "What's in the box?" We start to explain about TimTams and Milo, and are quickly waved through again and pointed in the direction of ground transportation. Here we wait with other groups of travelers, most quite a bit younger than us and weighted with heavy backpacks. We wait and sweat until our van arrives and then travel about 8 Km over bad road to our hotel .(We had earlier learned that a major flood In January caused serious infrastructure, road and property damage to Nadi). Our destination,"Smuggler's Cove" is a former hostel which was bought by an Australian entrepreneur in 2003 and rehabbed to it's current state as a highly rated backpacker which also has olceanview ensuites for the "independent traveler". I found it on the Internet and took a chance.

We arrive hot and sticky, wearing jeans which we can't wait to change out of. We are given electronic room keys which don't work so someone from the front desk will be letting us into our room during our stay. oh well. The room is large and clean with a great ocean view over the pool and patio area. Thank God it has AC as well. On the negative side, the room is not quiet. We are above the patio where bar patrons congregate and a loud Fiji radio station is playing hits from the 90's and some reggae. It helps when we close the patio door which also keeps the place cooler.

The food at Smuggler's Cove is unusual and overpriced . We order veggie pizza which arrives covered with an unidentified cheese oozing grease. We are hungry enough to eat the whole thing. We watch a beautiful sunset from the open air restaurant and we mellow out with a drink. Back to the room a security guard opens our door with his key, but only after forcefully jamming the electronic key in and out to no avail. We take another cold shower before going to bed with the AC blowing over us.

Tues morning Dianne is up first and opens the curtain to see three horses lazily walking down the beach in lovely morning light. We go down for the complementary breakfast of juice ,cereal ,coffee and toast. A brazen bird takes the opportunity to steal a raisin from my Raisin Bran when I'm not looking. Over breakfast, Dianne and I plan our first vacation day of no planned activity, a total loafing day. The hotel has some hammocks, chaises and straw covered cabanas. We will play cribbage, read our trashy novels and take naps. If we're ambitious we'll step into the ocean or take a short beach walk. A group of Fijians on the beach next to the hotel is having a great time singing songs, shouting "Bula" and drinking lots of beer. We speculate that they may have been hired by hotel management to add a dash of Fijian culture to the guests stay, but they probably were just unemployed locals. Lunch at Smuggler's Cove is disappointing again and we decide we'll look elsewhere for our remaining meals. As it gets hotter, we retreat to the room for another cold shower. About this time was when we realized there was no hot water. It seems management had neglected to flip the necessary switch when we checked in. The situation is soon corrected. oh well.

The sunset that day is truly gorgeous with lighting unlike anything I can remember seeing. Blues, pinks and golds mixed in the sky, making the air seem to glow and foliage to appear luminous. We walk a short distance down the street and notice several other backpackers, all with menu boards announcing meal choices. We select a place with interesting veggie curry choices and prices about half that of Smuggler's Cove. The food is great, it's quiet and we have our place to eat locked in.