Rizz goes round the world

Bula Fiji! (Nadi, the Mamanucas and the Yasawas, Fiji)

2 September- 11 September

I apologize, as I already wrote about some of this, but I'm copying and pasting this from my blog set up at Feehan (yes, still teaching, though not getting paid). I'll add in some details, but it took me so long to write the thing, particularly as I deleted it once, that I'm too lazy to make major changes.

So, apart from the bag situation, my first day in Fiji was a pleasant one. I set off to the hostel with my three new friends: Gemma, a crazy podiatrist from Birmingham, England, Fredrik, a Swede who had just driven across the States in an '88 Cadillac without a license plate, and Phil, a Canadian college student who, for you Feehan folks, I SWEAR was Dan Romero, aged 6 years. The resemblance in personality was uncanny.

The "hostel" was really a resort, complete with 2 pools, 3 restaurants, a salon, a game room, a movie theater, and gardens of exotic plants and trees. All for 14 dollars.

After settling in to the hostel (it didn't take me long as I had no bag), Gemma, Phil and I headed to Nadi town (what they call downtown Nadi). Nadi is the second largest city in Fiji, located on the west coast of Viti Levu, the largest island in Fiji. The largest city, the capital city of Suva, is on the east coast of Viti Levu. Fiji is the home to 2 major ethnic groups, the indigenous Fijians, who historically lived in small villages under chiefs or kings, and the Indo-Fijians, descendants of Indian indentured workers the British sent over to work on farms (Fiji was once a British colony). The two groups live in harmony in Nadi, but Fiji is rife with a history of often violent tension between the two groups. Part of this tension has arisen from the fact that the Indo-Fijians, when they arrived, were not allowed to own the land upon which they resided and were instead granted 99 year leases. As those leases ran out within the past couple of decades, Indo-Fijians were forced from land upon which they had resided for generations. At any rate, the tensions between the 2 groups have been a major factor in the 3 coups Fiji has seen, the last of which occurred in, I believe, 2000. That coup destroyed the tourism industry, but fortunately things are relatively back to normal and I saw no evidence of strife.

After being led on various wild-goose chases by the many street bullies in Nadi (Indo-Fijians who would approach you all friendly, shake your hand, then try to lead you to their or their friend's store. At first we felt bad saying no, but we quickly got over that. This was good practice for me for India, where overly-aggressive "helpers" such as these are abundant.), we bought some sunscreen and grabbed a taxi to Wailoaloa beach. After being nearly abducted by the again overly-helpful taxi driver, keen on charging us $100 each to see the whole island and selling us hash, we had lunch by the sea and then decided to walk back to our resort. Then it was an afternoon of napping in hammocks. For dinner we went back into Nadi town to buy fruit from the enormous open-air market. We dined on fresh papaya (paw-paw), pineapple and watermelon. Life was good.

The next day we made our way via public bus to the enormous Sigatoka sand dunes. I sat next to a Fijian man coming back from the airport. His brother is a Green Beret for the British Royal army, and had just left for service in Afghanistan. I was embarrassed by how our ugly politics could interfere with the inhabitants of paradise, but he seemed quite proud.

We arrived at the dunes and vast mountains of sand rose steeply above our heads. I had a moment of panic as I lost a flip-flop on the way up. Visions of walking through Nadi town with one shoe flashed through my head, but fortunately Gemma found it. We were briefly transported to the Sahara and had some fun running up and rolling down the hot dunes. Then we headed down to the angry sea, and walked the beach on the way back. The water was brilliantly aquamarine and beautiful, but the rips were vicious, so no swimming for us here. Hundreds of little crabs running around on the beach scattered at the vibrations of our footsteps. We walked back to the road through a forest of mahogany trees, and stopped to take a picture of an enormous spider.

After navigating our way back to the road, we headed to Natadala beach. We were going to take a bus, but found a cheap taxi who took us on a hair-raising off-roading trip out to the beach. Natadola beach is considered the most beautiful beach on Viti Levu, but still judged ugly by Fijian standards. Narragansett can't raise a candle, but, still, for the fabled seaside paradise Fiji is known for, we had to head out to the islands that string off the west coast, the Mamanucas and the Yasawas.

The next day we did just that. Then it was four days of white sandy beaches, snorkelling in the bluest of waters to spot even bluer sapphire-colored starfish and an octopus that almost became dinner, boatrides out to THE blue lagoon. Mornings were spent waking up to the sound of the sea and doing yoga on the most beautiful of beaches; afternoons by lounging on hammocks writing. Evenings were devoid of electricity but full of campfires, that cursed kava (a very mild mind-altering substance made from the ground root of the kava plant and strained through a fabric bag with water. It's effects were unfortunately stronger on my stomach than on my mind and any sense of euphoria disappeared as I vomitted into the sand) and new friends, and nights were spent under thatched roofs with geckos as roommates. On Sunday I took a petrifying ride on a tiny boat through an immense and angry sea to attend a church service in the local Fijian village. It wasn't technically mass, I suppose, as no communion was given, but there was a sermon, hymns, and bible readings--I assume. I didn't understand a word--it was all in Fijian. Still, the hymns in particular were beautiful and inspiring, particularly those sung by the children. Before the service, we got to sit in on a Sunday school class. Under a roof of fabric stretched across four poles, next to the sea, Fijian children took notes in neat handwriting on the Gospel of John.

It was sad to head back to the mainland, but all good things must end, hopefully to yield in more good things. I had a final dinner with the other members of the fearless foursome, then I headed to the airport in the morning and off I went to Auckland. Fortunately my bags made it with me this time, and I was ready and content to start part two of my adventure.

posted by La Rizz @ 12:53 AM