Easy Breezy Fiji
Aug 7-14
Seven days in Fiji is a lifetime in other places. The days are long and sunny, and the nights are just as long and filled with more memory-making moments than I once thought possible to put in a 24 hour period. I split my time in Fiji between two islands—Beachcomber Island that is just a short ferry ride away from the big island of Nandi’s main port, and Oarsman’s Bay on Nacula, a serene paradise north of Nandi in the far-flung Yasawas. As different as they are unique in their beauty, both islands gave me something to remember as I spent my time swimming in the beautiful waters, lying on the white sand beaches and wishing I didn’t have to leave each morning I awoke one day closer to my departure.
When I arrived into Fiji I flew in on a low fare from Sydney and wasn’t expecting anything VIP—I had booked my rooms at both resorts but I was just a kid with a small bag and a toothbrush, so the treatment I got when I landed with a big BULA! into the airport was just awesome. As soon as I passed through customs a hand came softly on my shoulder as I heard a voice address me from off to my left.
“Mr. Brown, welcome to Fiji. If you would follow me sir to the office, we will get you to where you need to be.” A smiling Fijian man led me to Beachcomber’s airport office where they processed all my paper work and put me in a taxi to the big islands main port where my ferry was waiting for me. As I waited to board the ferry I went to get a water bottle and some supplies for the trip (crackers and alcohol—never know when you need a snack or a drink on the beach). As I wandered around another Fijian man addressed me by name and told me my ferry was waiting for me. I couldn’t help but smile at anyone giving a shit whether I made my boat or not but it was a cool feeling to be treated that way. I rode the ferry out to Beachcomber, basking in the 31 degree, sunny heat of Fiji and thinking about the 15-degree morning I had just spent in chilly Sydney. I smiled big and wide and watched the wake of the pretty blue water behind the ferry as the boat sped onto my first stop.
When I got into Beachcomber it was “Bula!” this and “Bula!” that from all the happy staff of the island, bula is like aloha in Fiji and it loosely translates in to “Hello my friend, I may or may not know you but I live in this beautiful island paradise and our lives, however briefly intertwined in this greeting are good and I hope you remain happy in your remaining days on earth.” Bula—it sounds silly but it gets down right infectious, I was bula this and bula that soon enough too, and as a proud Texan who uses howdy more often than not it didn’t take long for me to fall in with everyone in Fiji’s happy and smiling culture. So I had arrived, after months and months sitting in my classroom at work, literally spinning a globe in my hands and looking at far-flung Fiji and its mythical waters, I was there. I had never been happier after arriving somewhere, having talked and planned for so long, it was a great feeling to stand, my feet in the sand and my heart full, overlooking the prettiest part of the ocean I had ever seen.
I checked in and put my stuff under my bed which was 1 of a 100 in a giant thatched bure, for 55$US a night I had 3 squares of all you can eat Fiji cuisine and a bed with 99 of my newest and bestest friends on the island. Having spent some time traveling through the world’s hostels, I have experienced how open and friendly people are when traveling and living together, but in Fiji it was ten times as open and hospitable. It was as though everyone refused to let even one person not have as amazing a time as they and their friends were having, and not including everyone in the revelelrie would be tantamount to sacrilege. I made friends quickly with a few English kids traveling together, and then after dinner I fell in with my Fiji crew who I would party with for the rest of my first and second trips to the island. A group of English guys and Irish, English, German and Kiwi girls would compromise my group of amigos who I would eat, drink and bula dance with on my time in Beachcomber. For three nights we would eat breakfast early, no matter how hard we went the night previous, and then head to the beach to lie out, snorkel, swim and enjoy the bright and omnipresent South Pacific sun. I got so dark and brown in my week out there, never had the tan lines between my tanned back and my moon-white behind been so pronounced. After three days though I got on the Yasawa flyer ferry and took a four-hour ferry north and west around the main island to get to the isolated and beautiful Yasawas. For months I had been not only spinning the globe in my hands and dreaming of Fiji, but this one place in the Yasawas called Oarsman’s Bay specifically had captured my imagination. I thought the pictures were going to end up being overly flattering, but I was so, so wrong. When I got into the bay that afternoon of my fourth day and took the small skiff into the resort’s shallow waters, I was speechless. The blues and greens of the crystal clear waters were the most beautiful I had ever seen. I remember putting my hand into the water as the boat pulled into the beach and feeling how warm it was, and looking down ten feet to the bottom, how absolutely pure it was. I spent three days and two nights in Nacula, walking along the 3mile long beach and snorkeling with the fish in the coral right off the sand. I became friends with a British couple Robin and Louise who I spent my time with them there, enjoying the beach and taking a trip to dive and swim through the caves on the island, and spending the afternoon in the blue lagoon, a paradise of swaying palms and placid waters, filled with clown fish and multi colored coral just under its surface. We ended up both leaving early to back to Beachcomber to party it up—and it was well worth it. I rejoined my crew there and spent forty-eight hours straight of living it up before, sadly, I had to return home. Sitting on the beach, in my board shorts that were my only clothes for 7 days, watching someone parasail around the island as my friends were all laying under the sun, while beautiful girls ran around the beach playing Frisbee, I was hit with a supreme sense of sadness knowing I was not only returning to the regular traveling life, but also to sweaters and jeans and Australia’s chilly winter. Getting onto that ferry sucked big time, but my sadness was so acute because of the happy and bright contrast to the week I had just had—Fiji was one of the best weeks of my life, hands down. When I go back, it will be for much longer.
Tags: Travel
