Bula bula bula,
Back in Fiji again after my Cook Islands and French Polynesia detour, I decided this time to spend some more time on the outer islands, so I could at least check off a few of the 331 islands making up the country. By the end of this trip, my tally will be 5 out of 331 - not too shabby. I spent a day or two in town, planning my trip, using the internet, eating various curries at the cheap Indian supermarket and getting a pretty good haircut for about 1/5 the price in the US. It was a bit of an adventure, though, since the power went out just as he started using the electric clippers, and then he decided to shave my neck and sides with a straight razor, which is a bit scary if you don't trust the person, but don't worry, everything turned out well. Of course, I returned to my favorite hostel (Mama's Tropic of Capricorn) and had a fabulous Sunday roast with chicken, gravy, roasted vegetables and bread pudding for dessert.
Going across the Pacific to get here and then back and forth amongst the various island groups, I felt like I've been doing a great bit of traveling recently, so I did a few quick calculations. By plane alone over the past two and a half weeks, I've traveled around 13,500 miles, in addition to some local bus rides, boat rides and my bicycle trek around Bora Bora. By the end of this trip in July, I should be just over the 30,000 mile mark. Not too bad for a small town kid from rural Kentucky, saving up hard-earned pennies and nickels since childhood, working long hours at various jobs just to keep himself fed...or not too bad for a regular kid from Seattle/Phoenix/Atlanta either. (I was thinking of inserting a Journey lyric here, but we'd all be worse off for it - "Just a small town boy...")
So, at around 7 am the next morning, I was leisurely taking a nice warm shower, planning to be ready at exactly 7:15 when the bus was scheduled to come, yet some screams through the door alerted me that for the first time in Fijian history, the bus decided to come early. Luckily I already had packed most of my stuff, so I threw on some clothes, grabbed the toast that Mama nicely made and packed for us and ran to the street and the awaiting bus. I booked my trip based on a few color brochures, some brief sentences from the guide books and mostly the recommendations of Mere, one of the workers at our hostel. Two young Brits, Lucy and Jade, also booked using the same method. so we ended up with the same itinerary for my whole trip, and then their trip continued on from there. Fortunately, they turned out to be good travel partners, and we had a fine time moving from island to island together. We arrived at the port and boarded the approximately 70 passenger catamaran, featuring a top viewing deck and nice big window from the inside of the cabin, which worked out well because it was slightly raining as we departed.
The boat was filled with various types of backpackers, a few locals that I doubt paid the full price, and a few higher class travelers making their way out to the Yasawa island group along the NW side of Fiji. My English friends taught me a few slang words as we analyzed the large group of Brits on the boat, sporting every possible style and look, some worse than others. Soon , the rain cleared away, and the views of the island chain were spectacular. After a few small palm islands, we moved into the larger ones with some small beaches with a few palm trees giving way to steep hills with thick forests, topped by varying shades of green and yellow grasslands on the peaks. Most of the islands contain one or two small villages along with a basic hotel or two. We again passed the island (Monriki, I think) used by Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway, so that should give you an idea of the look and feel of some of these islands. Clearly demarcated FedEx boxes littered the beaches, often miraculously containing useful tools and sporting equipment that came in handy for both survival and sanity-maintaining purposes.
Along the way, the catamaran would stop a few minutes offshore of each of the main islands, and tiny powerboats from the hotels would dock on to the back of the boat and pick up the 5 or 10 passengers at that stop and take them the rest of the way to the beach. At our stop for Barefoot Lodge of Drawaqa Island, we were happy to see that we were the only three getting off the boat, allowing us to get away from a few of the less agreeable passengers on the boat. The tiny motorboat took us up to the minuscule island's main beach, and we were welcomed by 3 workers with a guitar, traditional song and shell necklaces. After a brief orientation to the island, we knew about all there was to know about the place. It is only 1.5 km long by .5 km wide (.9 miles x .3 miles), has 20 small bungalows/bures, a main bungalow, a garden and a Northern point containing the island's three beaches - one on each side of the tip. There is absolutely no power on the island, and the water supply comes from stored rainwater. The Southern half of the island is hilly and forested, with the water reservoir being the only sign of civilization. The beaches and forest are very nice - not the best I've ever seen, but certainly good enough to still play the part of a tropical paradise. Included in the price of lodging (about $60/night) is three all-you-can eat meals a day, which turned out to be wonderful. Grilled sandwiches, juicy pineapple, watermelon and papaya, fish and chips, pancakes, different types of eggs, and fish fillets all made their way to my plate at one time or another.
Our first night have us a welcome ceremony around the bowl of kava, the national drink that basically looks and tastes like muddy water. We also had "International Night," meaning that guests would present a song, dance or information about their country. Not wanting to join up with the older American couples, I became a British citizen for the night from "a long way outside London." Lucy and Jade gave a brief bit of information about the country, and I did what was described as a quite convincing accent while impersonating a bobby (British policeman). The three of us then joined the workers, sitting on the floor around the kava bowl, playing songs and telling stories while the rain came back for the night.
The next morning, most of the other guests (only 10 or so) left on their large sailboat, leaving just the three of us and a few workers on the island, so we each had our own beach with hammocks and benches for complete relaxation. Early on, we also did a quick hike to the top of the island for a view of the surrounding islands and the forest below, which was a nice way to start the day. We did have a good bit of rain that day, but it was still one of the most peaceful days I've had in a long time. The comfortable bed of my bure was right on the beach, so with the door and large windows open, I still had a great view of the beach, palm trees and ocean from my bed. Apart from meals, I relaxed, listened to some music, enjoyed the superb views and lounged around for the entire day, and I couldn't have been happier about it. I had my own private bungalow with two beds with mosquito nets and huge, open windows on each wall. Fortunately the bed I chose was a bit safer than the other one that turned out to have a wasp's nest underneath, though they didn't bother me too much. I fell asleep that night and awoke early the next morning to a spectacular orange sky that poured into my room through the many open windows, along with the cool ocean breezes that helped keep the mosquitoes away. Despite being 5:50 in the morning, the glowing sky was too incredible to ignore, so I popped out of bed and meandered onto the beach for a picture or two before propping down in the hammock in time to see the changing hues of yellow, orange and red as the sun made its way over the horizon. As in Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds," I "woke up this morning; smiled at the rising sun," something that I've forever envisioned myself doing on an isolated island since first hearing and succumbing to the imagery of that song. With a mix of supreme relaxation, isolation and beauty, this island was a perfect retreat, and we certainly didn't want to leave.
The last day, I again took it easy after the enchanting sunrise before moving on to a few activities including planting a papaya and coconut tree in the garden (so we'll come back and see it one day and because they grow their own fruit) and a demonstration on how to open a coconut and the uses of the palm leaves. It was also interesting at a few times when remaining pieces of sexism and thoughts of women's inferiority could be seen just through a few comments and the activities where the females weren't allowed to do everything the males did. Even more interesting was one of our conversations with the local worker about the erosion of their culture as tourism and education bring Fiji's society closer and closer to a Western one, though losing some local knowledge, tradition and language along the way. He lamented that this generation or the next would soon have to be learning in school about their own cultures before they were diluted, much like what happens with Aborigines of Australia or Maori people of New Zealand today. Late in the afternoon of our third day there, we reluctantly said goodbye and headed off for Wayalailai, our next stop.
Back in Fiji again after my Cook Islands and French Polynesia detour, I decided this time to spend some more time on the outer islands, so I could at least check off a few of the 331 islands making up the country. By the end of this trip, my tally will be 5 out of 331 - not too shabby. I spent a day or two in town, planning my trip, using the internet, eating various curries at the cheap Indian supermarket and getting a pretty good haircut for about 1/5 the price in the US. It was a bit of an adventure, though, since the power went out just as he started using the electric clippers, and then he decided to shave my neck and sides with a straight razor, which is a bit scary if you don't trust the person, but don't worry, everything turned out well. Of course, I returned to my favorite hostel (Mama's Tropic of Capricorn) and had a fabulous Sunday roast with chicken, gravy, roasted vegetables and bread pudding for dessert.
Going across the Pacific to get here and then back and forth amongst the various island groups, I felt like I've been doing a great bit of traveling recently, so I did a few quick calculations. By plane alone over the past two and a half weeks, I've traveled around 13,500 miles, in addition to some local bus rides, boat rides and my bicycle trek around Bora Bora. By the end of this trip in July, I should be just over the 30,000 mile mark. Not too bad for a small town kid from rural Kentucky, saving up hard-earned pennies and nickels since childhood, working long hours at various jobs just to keep himself fed...or not too bad for a regular kid from Seattle/Phoenix/Atlanta either. (I was thinking of inserting a Journey lyric here, but we'd all be worse off for it - "Just a small town boy...")
So, at around 7 am the next morning, I was leisurely taking a nice warm shower, planning to be ready at exactly 7:15 when the bus was scheduled to come, yet some screams through the door alerted me that for the first time in Fijian history, the bus decided to come early. Luckily I already had packed most of my stuff, so I threw on some clothes, grabbed the toast that Mama nicely made and packed for us and ran to the street and the awaiting bus. I booked my trip based on a few color brochures, some brief sentences from the guide books and mostly the recommendations of Mere, one of the workers at our hostel. Two young Brits, Lucy and Jade, also booked using the same method. so we ended up with the same itinerary for my whole trip, and then their trip continued on from there. Fortunately, they turned out to be good travel partners, and we had a fine time moving from island to island together. We arrived at the port and boarded the approximately 70 passenger catamaran, featuring a top viewing deck and nice big window from the inside of the cabin, which worked out well because it was slightly raining as we departed.
The boat was filled with various types of backpackers, a few locals that I doubt paid the full price, and a few higher class travelers making their way out to the Yasawa island group along the NW side of Fiji. My English friends taught me a few slang words as we analyzed the large group of Brits on the boat, sporting every possible style and look, some worse than others. Soon , the rain cleared away, and the views of the island chain were spectacular. After a few small palm islands, we moved into the larger ones with some small beaches with a few palm trees giving way to steep hills with thick forests, topped by varying shades of green and yellow grasslands on the peaks. Most of the islands contain one or two small villages along with a basic hotel or two. We again passed the island (Monriki, I think) used by Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway, so that should give you an idea of the look and feel of some of these islands. Clearly demarcated FedEx boxes littered the beaches, often miraculously containing useful tools and sporting equipment that came in handy for both survival and sanity-maintaining purposes.
Along the way, the catamaran would stop a few minutes offshore of each of the main islands, and tiny powerboats from the hotels would dock on to the back of the boat and pick up the 5 or 10 passengers at that stop and take them the rest of the way to the beach. At our stop for Barefoot Lodge of Drawaqa Island, we were happy to see that we were the only three getting off the boat, allowing us to get away from a few of the less agreeable passengers on the boat. The tiny motorboat took us up to the minuscule island's main beach, and we were welcomed by 3 workers with a guitar, traditional song and shell necklaces. After a brief orientation to the island, we knew about all there was to know about the place. It is only 1.5 km long by .5 km wide (.9 miles x .3 miles), has 20 small bungalows/bures, a main bungalow, a garden and a Northern point containing the island's three beaches - one on each side of the tip. There is absolutely no power on the island, and the water supply comes from stored rainwater. The Southern half of the island is hilly and forested, with the water reservoir being the only sign of civilization. The beaches and forest are very nice - not the best I've ever seen, but certainly good enough to still play the part of a tropical paradise. Included in the price of lodging (about $60/night) is three all-you-can eat meals a day, which turned out to be wonderful. Grilled sandwiches, juicy pineapple, watermelon and papaya, fish and chips, pancakes, different types of eggs, and fish fillets all made their way to my plate at one time or another.
Our first night have us a welcome ceremony around the bowl of kava, the national drink that basically looks and tastes like muddy water. We also had "International Night," meaning that guests would present a song, dance or information about their country. Not wanting to join up with the older American couples, I became a British citizen for the night from "a long way outside London." Lucy and Jade gave a brief bit of information about the country, and I did what was described as a quite convincing accent while impersonating a bobby (British policeman). The three of us then joined the workers, sitting on the floor around the kava bowl, playing songs and telling stories while the rain came back for the night.
The next morning, most of the other guests (only 10 or so) left on their large sailboat, leaving just the three of us and a few workers on the island, so we each had our own beach with hammocks and benches for complete relaxation. Early on, we also did a quick hike to the top of the island for a view of the surrounding islands and the forest below, which was a nice way to start the day. We did have a good bit of rain that day, but it was still one of the most peaceful days I've had in a long time. The comfortable bed of my bure was right on the beach, so with the door and large windows open, I still had a great view of the beach, palm trees and ocean from my bed. Apart from meals, I relaxed, listened to some music, enjoyed the superb views and lounged around for the entire day, and I couldn't have been happier about it. I had my own private bungalow with two beds with mosquito nets and huge, open windows on each wall. Fortunately the bed I chose was a bit safer than the other one that turned out to have a wasp's nest underneath, though they didn't bother me too much. I fell asleep that night and awoke early the next morning to a spectacular orange sky that poured into my room through the many open windows, along with the cool ocean breezes that helped keep the mosquitoes away. Despite being 5:50 in the morning, the glowing sky was too incredible to ignore, so I popped out of bed and meandered onto the beach for a picture or two before propping down in the hammock in time to see the changing hues of yellow, orange and red as the sun made its way over the horizon. As in Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds," I "woke up this morning; smiled at the rising sun," something that I've forever envisioned myself doing on an isolated island since first hearing and succumbing to the imagery of that song. With a mix of supreme relaxation, isolation and beauty, this island was a perfect retreat, and we certainly didn't want to leave.
The last day, I again took it easy after the enchanting sunrise before moving on to a few activities including planting a papaya and coconut tree in the garden (so we'll come back and see it one day and because they grow their own fruit) and a demonstration on how to open a coconut and the uses of the palm leaves. It was also interesting at a few times when remaining pieces of sexism and thoughts of women's inferiority could be seen just through a few comments and the activities where the females weren't allowed to do everything the males did. Even more interesting was one of our conversations with the local worker about the erosion of their culture as tourism and education bring Fiji's society closer and closer to a Western one, though losing some local knowledge, tradition and language along the way. He lamented that this generation or the next would soon have to be learning in school about their own cultures before they were diluted, much like what happens with Aborigines of Australia or Maori people of New Zealand today. Late in the afternoon of our third day there, we reluctantly said goodbye and headed off for Wayalailai, our next stop.
(Our greeters upon arriving at Drawaqa Island)
(Jade, me and Lucy atop the small hill of the island, overlooking Manta Ray Island)
(The sunrise at 5:50 in the morning that enchanted me)
(Keeping guard outside my bure)
(The beach just feet away from my front door...not too bad)
(The second beach at the Northern tip of the island, looking across to Naviti Island)
2 comments:
You lie. I want to hear this British accent sometime. I'm glad that you had such a relaxing time here, and that you were able to see some great sunsets...and learn to be sexist.
that sunrise is to die for.
and i always thought you were a bit queer. i mean british.
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