Update #1 (26th - 28th September)


BULA!!


This is, without question, the greatest word ever uttered by man. I mean it. Let me explain...

When we traipsed off the plane into a wall of heat, after a nice, uneventful flight from Auckland to Nadi International, we were both a wee bit on the tired side. Our 03:30 wake-up call had started to take its toll and all we were thinking about was getting to our hostel and crashing out for a few hours.

However, just before we reached the queue for immigration, we were suddenly confronted by three big Fijian guys playing guitars and singing their hearts out. I was transfixed. I didn't move for about two minutes, such was the beauty of their voices and the brightness of their smiles. What a wonderful way to greet incoming travellers to your country! Can you imagine that at Heathrow, JFK or Frankfurt?! No, neither can I.

This is one of the few areas where smaller countries can really make a difference - the genuine warmth and total uniqueness of their hospitality. The three men just looked SO happy and this joy was immediately passed on to 99% of the people arriving in the terminal (some, sadly, are beyond help!).

Anyway, I'm waffling again. One of the most noticeable words I caught in that first encounter with native Fijians, was Bula. I'd read about the word in our Lonely Planet guide book prior to arriving and knew it loosely translated as "life". What a wonderful word and what a wonderful way to express it - in song.

I gave the three chaps a huge smile back and a "Bula!" of my own for good measure. This made their smiles even larger than before, which gave me one of those warm, tingly feelings we all yearn to experience once in a while. Unforgettable.

After the excitement of our musical arrival, what followed next gave us a glimpse of the other side of Fiji - namely, the huge difference in personality between the 'native' people and the Indians (or Indo-Fijians, as they are correctly known). Blimey. We'd been warned (again, by Lonely Planet writers) about the persistent nature of these immigrant people and boy were they right! From the second we cleared arrivals, we were pestered:

"Taxi, boss?! Taxi to your hotel?!"

"No, thank you, we have a driver waiting."

"I cheaper! I quicker!"

"Yes, I'm sure you are (but you'll also take me to a completely different place, which is owned by a friend of yours, won't you?)."


You have to love the persistence of their kind. At the end of the day, it is unquestionably a culture thing. This had been proven within, ooo, 10 minutes of arriving in Fiji. The native (Pacific Island) people were so warm, affectionate and genuine - whereas the Indo-Fijians were constantly in-your-face, aggressive and, in all honesty, annoying as hell! This is just one of the many joys of world travel - meeting people from such vastly different walks of life.

After politely declining about 50,000 offers for "Taxi taxi!" (a baleful look cast in the direction of one guy, in particular, led to him reaching for a cigarette!) our pre-assigned driver appeared and led us to his van. His name didn't match the one we'd been given, but his minibus was so immaculately new and his uniform so clean, we decided to trust him. As it turned out, we weren't taken to a cockroach-infested hell-hole, thank God. Instead, we arrived at Smugglers Cove, which looked every bit the fantastic and brand new resort we'd been promised by Roy, our new-found friend met in Auckland.

When we tried to check in, we were informed our room wouldn't be ready for a little while. This, as we later discovered, was our first experience of 'Fiji Time'!! From what friends have told me, other tiny island-nations are the same - the people seem to operate on a completely different (and, to a 'Westerner', alien) level. I like it. It instantly relaxes you and makes you think "Sod it, I'm on holiday after all!". This was the entire point of our visit to Fiji anyway - to just sit back and relaaaaaaax...

To kill time, we wandered around the hostel grounds for a few hours, checked our emails on the occasionally-working computers (!) and befriended the wonderful Smugglers staff. Also, Emma will never forget the view that greeted us as we walked down the main corridor towards the rear of the building for the first time. We could see the sea through some palm trees, spreading out into the infinite oceanic distance beyond (which was flanked by a wonderfully green & volcanic landscape). There was something about the shimmering quality of the light that did it for me, I think, and I'm sure Emma felt the same. Unbelievable...

Three people at Smugglers stood out immediately: Waqa, Sarah and Noah. Noah was the hostel security guard, who greeted us warmly and tried to show us every square inch of the place! He laughed at the sweat that started pouring off me (the humidity was unreal) and then directed me to the nearest air conditioner. What a star! Sarah, who worked as a barmaid-cum-waitress-cum-hostess was wonderful - easily one of the nicest people I have ever met, anywhere.

Then, last but by no means least, was Waqa. Dear lord, what a legend! He just never stopped smiling!! Whilst the likes of Sarah and the other ladies working there had lovely, shy smiles, Waqa simply blinded you with his teeth on each greeting. And there were lots of them! All accompanied by that most wonderful of words... BULA!

When we eventually made it into our room (lovely), we managed to crash out for a few hours. This was much needed, what with the ludicrously early start to our day and then the wall of heat that'd greeted us on our arrival. It was all too much and sleep, as ever, was the best cure.

That night, we had a lovely meal in the Smugglers restaurant, perfectly served by Sarah. We admitted to finding it very strange being waited-on in such a fashion - up til then, we'd been fending for ourselves around the world (with the odd exception). "Sod it!" we thought, let's just enjoy the experience!

After finishing our meal, we ordered some amazing cocktails and watched the most beautiful sunset from the small garden area at the back (the building was perfectly positioned to capture this every evening!). Then, Waqa advised us to head next door, to the sister hostel Horizons. The reason? A "fantastic!" local band were playing that night and traditionally, they'd be doing so around the Kava bowl.

Ahhhh, Kava... another legendary aspect of Fijian culture (like Bula!).

We wandered over, not quite knowing what to expect to be honest. After grabbing some drinks at the bar, we took a seat in the covered patio area outside. This is where the action was obviously taking place and a band had just set-up shop. In-between singing songs both local and more well-known (eg 'Leaving on a Jet Plane'), Tai and his 'Kavaholics' also offered bowls of Kava to all the travellers seated around the bowl.

To explain: Kava is a Fijian drink made from the roots of the kava plant. For a far better description than I can give you here, check out the dedicated kava page on Wikipedia:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kava


In several countries around the world - including our beloved, politically-correct Britain, of course - Kava is illegal. Why, might you ask? Because it is a mild narcotic. When I say mild, I mean mild (as I was about to find out first hand).

Emma & I sat back from the matted floor for a while, content just to watch the proceedings and listen to the remarkable voices of Tai & Siko. Male Pacific islanders have a certain pitch to their voices, which is just so enchanting and addictive. Tai was a perfect example of this and soon had us joining him on the floor (he doesn't like anyone to miss out!). So, after telling him this was our first night in Fiji, he immediately asked us to join him at the Kava bowl - we had to be "de-virginised" you see. Oh dear!!

There are certain protocols you should observe when accepting a drink of Kava from a native Fijian. Perhaps the most important of these is the way in which you 'store' your legs. Men must sit cross-legged, whilst women should lay them to the side (very gentlemanly!). So, after positioning myself accordingly, I waited for Dobs to fill a bowl of Kava for me. Before I could accept this, though, I had to clap my hands together (at a side angle, to get a deeper sound) and say "Bula!" once. No worries! Then I drank the whole lot in one, long slug.

Blimey! It tasted just as you might imagine muddy water would taste, for this is exactly what it looks like! However, after the initial shock had worn off, the aftertaste wasn't as bad as expected. Then, after handing the 'cup' back (actually half a small coconut shell), I clapped my hands 3 times, in the same way as before. At this point, the others sitting around me all did the same. Whilst drinking it, though, they said "Oooooooooo!" progressively louder until I'd finished (rather like football fans do when a 'keeper runs up to take a goal kick). They then shouted out "Maaaaathaaa!" - I have no clue what that means!

So, to celebrate my de-virginisation, I was given a signed membership card from Tai. I was now an official Kavaholic!! Quality! Emma then stepped up for her turn and loved every minute of it.

After one or two drinks, your lips and tongue go numb. After a few more, your whole mouth goes inactive, which is comedy for conversational attempts! It didn't matter that night, though, as everyone else was also on the stuff. Brilliant.

What a wonderful first day in a new country we'd had. The warmth of the welcome was the highlight, I think, but the rest of our first day and night in Fiji will never be forgotten. Once this latest coup has settled down and tourists start returning there, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it as a place to see & 'do'. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.


We woke up the next day to a startlingly blue sky, which has the effect of instantly putting you in a good mood, doesn't it? After eating a lovely, simple breakfast (self-served), we wandered over to the Travel Desk. Vinny, another example of a warm, sweet-natured native Fijian lady was manning it that morning. Like most Fijian men & women in the tourism industry, Vinny wore a lovely flower behind her ear. Now, this is important - the ear you place the flower behind depends entirely on whether you are single or not. Vinny wore hers behind her right, which, I think, meant she was 'taken'. Waqa and Sarah, for example, were both single so wore theirs behind the left. Isn't that lovely?

Vinny walked us through all the options available for local island visits, with most of the attention focused on the Mamanucas and Yasawas. They are the archipelagos of tiny volcanic islands that make up the northwestern part of Fiji. For a better idea of what I'm wittering on about, check this map out:

www.janeresture.com/fiji_mandyas/map.jpg


Vinny explained that there was a large catamaran, the Yasawa Flyer, which took people from island-to-island. This was the only way to travel on a relative budget, as sea-planes cost an awful lot of money to charter. Fair enough! So, taking all our brochures, we sat at the bar for a while and contemplated everything over a nice, cool drink (as you do!).

Before making a final decision on where we would head to for the next week, we thought we'd check out Nadi town centre. To get there, we thought we'd catch the local bus instead of hiring a cab - to sample the experience. And what an experience it was!! Amazing.

The bus pulled up, about 5 minutes late - Fiji Time, remember?! It was one of those wonderfully old buses, with no windows and choc-a-bloc full of character. Watching our driver manfully fight the 500 year-old gearbox each time he shifted-up or -down was a delight. The best part of the whole ride experience, though, was easily leaning out of the windows and watching Fiji roll by; kids would wave at you & shout "BULA!"; the skinniest cows this side of Ethiopia would look up at your passing, chewing their cud all the while; a wide variety of trees came in-and-out of view, fluttering in what little breeze managed to catch their leaves; glimpes of the crystalline sea would put yet another smile on your face...

How on earth anyone can adequately put into words an experience such as that, I wouldn't know. I've tried - manfully - but it's just too damned hard! Just believe me when I say it was a truly unforgettable experience and let's leave it at that...

Nadi Town was another eye-opener. Blimey! Within seconds of hopping off the bus, we were persuaded to go into a gift shop by the people standing by the front door. Indo-Fijians, of course. The native guy who was hovering about inside instantly gave us a big "Bula!" and left us to look about. Not the Indos, though, no way. They followed us around constantly and didn't give us a moments' peace. GAH! If there's nothing I hate more than a rude shop assistant, it's one that pesters you the whole time! Sadly, this experience was to be repeated in every... single... shop. Not good.

After wandering around the town for an hour or so, the heat, humidity and aggressive shop-keepers had taken its toll. Refreshments were needed, so we popped into the ZigZag café for a lite-bite and a smoothie. WOW! It was, and still is, the most amazing smoothie we'd ever tasted - anywhere! Just sweet perfection and nothing more. Also, the guy who waited on us was so keen to chat, he forgot to give the chef my order! So I waited an eternity for my sandwich, which put yet another smile on my face. Fiji Time, you see...

I spoke to the guy in question about the sarongs the native men all wore and he told me they were called 'sulu'. For some inexplicable reason, I was determined to buy one of them, so asked his advice. "Ah! My friend can come collect you and take you off to his warehouse! I will call him!". Alarm bells started ringing, although, to be fair he was probably genuine. To be safe, though, I bought one in a nearby shop and yes, I did look damn good wearing it. Honest!!

To add to this new purchase, I also bought a couple of shirts. The native and Indo men alike wore these and they are similar to what we would call 'Hawaiian' shirts - big, baggy and extremely colourful! In Fiji, of course, they are lovingly known as 'Bula' shirts. What else?! So, when in Rome and all that...

When we arrived back at Smugglers - after taking a detour that included driving over the beach and stopping every 20 metres to let a local off right outside their house! - I immediately tried on my new clobber. A picture of me wearing said clothing and grinning like a buffoon can be found in Gallery 15. Enjoy, but remember not to laugh too much!!

By the late afternoon, we'd decided to book a week in the Yasawas. Most of the Mamanuca resorts looked too 'chav-like' for our relaxed tastes, so we avoided them altogether. Vinny was happy to book everything for us, which was hilarious in itself. She had to use a radio-phone for one or two of the islands, as they don't have telephones!! Amazing, but nice at the same time.

Whilst talking to Vinny, she remarked that Emma was also a common name in Fiji. Whilst James, on the other hand, wasn't. However, Vinny said it would be pronounced 'Jamesa' by most native Fijians and over the course of the next fortnight-or-so, she was proved right!

That night, we ate across the road at Horizons. The menu was a little cheaper and more basic, but the food was good, wholesome stuff and the drinks flowed just as quickly...


The next day dawned as wonderfully as the last and we spent it just milling around the hostel and the beach it backs on to. Emma wanted to go into town again, to mooch about and window shop. I wasn't so keen, but went with her as a protective measure! I was just wary of the Indo-Fijian men who loitered about town and constantly pestered you. On several occasions that afternoon, I was offered marijuana by the seediest-looking people known to man: "Heyyyy, maaaan, want some weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed?!" Classic stuff (the experience, not the weed!).

We also stocked-up on some supplies at the local supermarket, as we'd been advised that you have to really shell-out for mineral water and booze in the islands. Drinking water wouldn't always be available, you see, unless it rained a lot. How could it rain, though, when the skies were as bright, blue & clear as they were?

After sampling another wonderful ZigZag smoothie, we jumped back on the bus (along with a million school kids!) and returned as leisurely as possible to Smugglers. Another wonderful Fijian transport experience (just wish I'd taken my camera!).

That night, our last in Nadi for a week or so, was lovely. This was partly because of our wonderful hosts and partly because we met a great couple who then joined us for dinner. He was from Australia, so we compared notes for a while and she was English, so we did the same all over again!

I also agreed to wear my new Fijian outfit to dinner that night. Waqa & Sarah had made me promise I would, so how could I disappoint my new-found friends?! The reaction I received was mixed - some of my fellow travellers looked-on in disgust (or pity?!), whilst the others and all the staff gave me huge smiles! This was the night I was given my new nickname, too, by Waqa of course:- Superman. Oh dear...!!


Update #2 (29th - 30th September)

The coach for the Yasawa Flyer arrived at about 7:15 - nice and early! We soon discovered we wouldn't be alone on the catamaran, as the coach (and the one following it) was absolutely rammed! It stopped at several other hostels, all of which looked pretty bedraggled. So at least we made the right choice in that sense.

When we arrived at the ferry terminal, we had to queue for a while to get our boarding passes for the week ahead (we'd be island-hopping, so would need several). The general atmosphere was quite lively, but there was a definite mixture of the regular backpackers and the more chav-like variety.

It didn't matter, though, as when we arrived at the Mamanuca chain of islands, the chavs hopped on to the waiting motor boats and were whisked off to spend several days drinking and, well, you know... Don't get me wrong, if I was 18-21 again, then I'd probably enjoy that kind of experience. I'm not, or I wasn't when I was in Fiji (31!). Good luck to them, if that's the kind of relaxation they enjoy!

As the hours slid by, the sights before our eyes just got better and better. Being volcanic, the Yasawas come in all shapes and sizes and are liberally sprinkled about the sea almost higgeldy-piggeldy. They were so green, too and surrounded by the most stunning-looking reef systems you could imagine. This, I think, was one of the main reasons we had booked a week up there - the reefs were just off the beaches, whereas in Australia, for example, you had to be taken out 15-20 miles offshore in a boat. A huge difference.

In groups ranging from two to ten or more, the people left the Flyer to be taken to their resort of choice (and an equal number of people hopped on-board, too). At one point, the catamaran rendezvoused with its sister ship, the Wana Tiki. Now this would've been our ultimate nightmare. It was basically a floating party boat, moored a mile or so away from a little island chain. The people we spotted on-board looked tired, miserable and very, very sunburnt. You have to wonder why they bother, to be honest.

Our first resort, Oarsmans Bay Lodge - www.oarsmansbay.com - was on one of the northernmost islands in the Yasawas (Nacula), so we were among the last people to leave the Flyer. This was good, as we'd been treated to so many wonderful views, watching each island in the archipelago slide by. It was so remote up there, but just so beautiful too.

Shortly before arriving at our final destination, we stopped near the Yasawas most famous island - Turtle Island (or Nanuya Levu to the locals). Way back in the early 70s, a rather wealthy chap bought the entire island for his own, private use. Richard Evanson had made his money in cable television, but had burnt out in the process. So, taking a generator, a fridge and a barge-load of beer, he upped and moved out to his new island home.

After many years, he brought himself out of his drunken stupor (he was an alcoholic recluse, you see) and decided to reinvigorate both the island and himself. He succeeded and now owns and operates perhaps the most famous (and exclusive) resort in the South Pacific. Many of you will have seen the island, too, without ever having been there - the 1980 film, Blue Lagoon, was filmed there.

The Yasawan people, as we later discovered, were inspired by his work on Nanuya Levu and made their own, later, inroads into resort management (often with his help, in the form of loans and advice).

After a little over 4 hours on the Flyer, we arrived at our destination - the lovely island of Nacula. A small boat soon appeared on the horizon and zipped across the water towards us. A very friendly-looking Fijian guy moored-up alongside the Flyer, offloaded a few people and their baggage and then ushered us on-board. The boat looked like it'd seen many years of service, but this only added to the experience and the engine was certainly willing enough!

After a brief introduction (his name was Aleki, or Alex as we would say), he whisked us off towards what we hoped was an island paradise. We weren't far off, let me tell you! As the beach hove into view, we just sat there in awestruck silence, with the occasional shared look of disbelief/amazement. It really did look like something out of a movie or hi-colour glossy travel brochure. Wonderful.

As Aleki brought the taxi-boat up to the beach, music and song met our ears. The Oarsmans staff were all lined up and singing a traditional Fijian song of welcome. Oh deary me... it was so beautiful, with their lilting, soulful voices to the fore - I was almost moved to tears, I tell you. What a special welcome once again by the native Fijians. You can see why so many people travel across the world each year for a South Pacific holiday.

Oni, the manageress of Oarsmans, greeted us one-by-one and then guided us over to the dining area. There, she explained a little about the resort; meal times, a few rules and other things like where to snorkel and what activities were on offer - a blackboard was updated daily for this (yes, please note, black Fijian people call them blackboards - none of this politically correct bullshit we have to put up with in England). That done, Oni then took us all into her office, one-by-one, to put our credit card details down.

This was because the resort accepted no cash (due to its remoteness, I assume) and everything you took from the bar was then billed to your card. Not a bad idea in a hotel, when travelling on business or a decent holiday budget, but a bit scary for the average backpacker! We'd fortunately brought some supplies (rum/vodka!) with us, which we hoped would keep down that particular cost...

After sorting out the financial arrangements with Oni and being introduced to her staff (a mixture of native islanders and imported 'experts' from Europe), we were taken to our accommodation for the next 3 nights. Oh dear. We'd been told to expect a 'luxurious' tent, but in its place was a tiny dome tent that looked rather sorry for itself. As it transpired, it hadn't been put up properly by the staff, so Emma & I took it down and set it up all over again. One of the poles was from a different tent, though, so I had to jerry-rig a new clip. It held against the elements, thankfully.

Elements? Yes, elements other than sun, sun & more sun. Well, the weather on our arrival was wonderful, as one would expect during the Fijian summer. However, that was about to change...

That afternoon, we did a bit of snorkelling, lazed about on the beach, sat at the bar and generally just chilled out. Lovely. That was exactly why we'd planned on visiting Fiji in the first place and we didn't intend changing our plans one little bit! The snorkelling, in particular, was wonderful. The water was so crystal-clear and, from the beach, looked turquoise in colour. The reef was wonderful - not as huge as on the Gt. Barrier Reef, but special all the same. Then, when you sat at the water's edge, taking your flippers off for example, scores of small fish buzzed about you. Amazing.

I was in & out of the water all that afternoon and loved every second of it. The difference a good quality mask/snorkel makes is vast and thankfully the set I bought in Australia did me proud (silicone around the edge of the mask and on snorkel base, rather than the cheaper plastic alternative). The clarity of the water allowed me to see so much down there. One of the highlights, without question, were the countless purply/blue starfish native to Fijian waters. Some of them were huge, growing up to approx. 2ft across! That's a big starfish.

That night made our first day in the Yasawas 100 times more special. As it was a Friday, we were treated to a special evening's entertainment - a Lovo meal. This is when all the food on offer has been cooked in a traditional fijian oven, one that's buried in the earth. Boy oh boy was it tasty! The texture of the various meat and veg on offer was simply mindblowing - everything was just so succulent. A veritable taste infusion!

After the meal had been cleared away, the staff then gave us another treat. The lights were turned off and then, through the darkness, we could make out the shapes of people winding their way in to the communal dining area (another wonderful idea - it brought all the guests closer together). Then they started singing... Oh, those voices! I really can't describe them well enough. So mournful, yet full of the joys of life at the same time. Unique.

What they were doing was actually revealed a moment later; a birthday cake followed them out, with several candles aglow on top. They'd discovered earlier in the day it was a guest's birthday and had gone to the trouble of baking a cake! The celebratory mood was so special and the cake's recipient, a lovely girl called Anushka, was embarrassed but obviously delighted as well. Who can blame her? It is a rare person indeed who can say they've celebrated their birthday in such memorable style.

During the 'Happy Birthday' song, sung beautifully of course, the local dogs (of which there were many) started howling away, as only dogs can. Then the pitch of the music must've hit a raw nerve with one or more of them - the next thing we knew, a fight had broken out amongst two in particular, but they were soon joined by the rest of the pack. At first, we all laughed, but then the locals began to realise it wasn't a mere 'scrap', so they proceeded to clobber each dog with the nearest weapon available. One guy, hilariously, used his ukelele, which ended up as broken scraps on the floor (which was, quite literally, sand!).

In the end, the dogs stopped fighting, but most ended up with bruised bodies thanks to their owners (if they even have owners). The guests took it all in their stride, with the exception of the passionate animal lovers amongst us (including Emma, of course). They didn't look too impressed by the locals' treatment of their dogs, but that's how it often is in the poorer parts of the world. Anyway, there's no animal more loyal than a dog, so I'm sure no harm was done.

Over the next two hours, we were treated to incredible entertainment. The lights stayed low for a long time and the villagers and staff sang, danced, handed out garlands of flowers (lei) and generally just put on an amazing show. I can still hear those voices now, if I close my eyes. Beautiful. The added [modern] addition of flashes from the assembled cameras only added to the amazing atmosphere, and although I don't have a wonderful photograph to record the moment(s), I don't really care to be honest. It was something to treasure for those who were there, if you excuse my manners. The brain, as I have always said, is the greatest recording instrument we possess and those hauntingly beautiful memories will stay locked up there forevermore...


The next day dawned... badly. The wind and rain were as unexpected as they were unwelcome. We couldn't believe it! A week in paradise was the plan, but it looked like the weather gods had decided to spoil it. Fortunately, as mentioned previously, our tent had withstood the rigours of the assault so we weren't too badly done by.

At breakfast (like all meals, announced by a young lad banging on a large, hollow log!), the staff warned us the weather was due to be bad for several days. Wonderful! So, after eating our fill, we talked about what we could do. I was still intent on snorkelling, so grabbed some flippers and wandered off to the far side of the beach (after some good advice by a nice English chap). Once underwater, you don't really get affected by the gloomy, overcast sky. The wind, however, did whip-up the water a bit!! Emma, on the other hand, sat with the majority of other guests and watched a coconut-skinning demonstration for a couple of hours. She loved it.

I was also having a great time... for about 10 minutes. Things changed, however - I noticed there was a distinct lack of fish all of a sudden. Not good! I just had that unique and quite scary sensation there was something in the water of a predatory nature and close, too. I never actually saw anything, but believe me, there was definitely something out there, lurking just out of sight... my money would be on a reef shark, or scarier still, a bull or tiger shark. That would've been something to tell those back home about, blimey!

That afternoon, evening and night were mainly spent sitting around the communal area talking, drinking and generally just relaxing. The wind continued to howl about us, but in the end even that stopped being an issue, such was the quality of the company. Oh, the drinks weren't bad, either...


Update #3 (1st October)

The night before, we'd noticed the Oarsmans activity staff were organising a visit to a local church. This seemed like too good an opportunity to miss, so Emma & I put our names on the board. In the end, we turned out to be the only people interested in the outing. The fools! They missed out on a truly unforgettable experience.

After we'd eaten our breakfast (lovely as always), we hopped into the motor boat with Aleki, his son Bob and one of the nice young ladies who worked at the resort, who must've been at least 6' tall! We then took a slow cruise around the island, which was wonderful - the sea was so crystalline we could see the abundance of sea life in all its glory. The clouds kindly parted with us occasionally, which illuminated things even more.

The original plan was to visit the main church in the actual village of Nacula itself, but this changed. The reason became clear when Aleki proudly beamed his wonderful smile at us - his grandson was being christened, along with two other children, in the Methodist church in the village of Naisisili (when a Sunday falls on the first of the month, the islanders have a special service). So, we were whisked in that direction instead.

After mooring the boat up, we took a delightful stroll overland to Naisisili, along the way passing two other churches (one of which was, quite simply, a simple outdoor shed!!). Music blared out of both of them and people were seen to be dancing away and singing to their hearts content. It was good to witness this first-hand.

We arrived in Naisisili a little early, so Aleki invited us in to his humble home. Well, although it was a very simple house made from wood, stone and corrugated metal, it was actually one of the most luxurious in the village. It even had a television set!! Emma & I enjoyed sitting in Aleki's house, talking to the very shy Bob and watching the world slip by at the Fijian pace (I reckon I must have Fijian blood!).

Then, after the second lot of drum rolls had been heard, we walked over to the church. It was so hot and humid, I really didn't think I was going to survive the experience to be honest. However, once we'd sat ourselves down in the church, I almost forgot about the heat - the colours on display (from the women's dresses) were wonderful and the men were all dressed up in their Sunday Best (now I know where the saying has its origins). Everyone looked so proud to be there, with the exception of a few bored older children, of course!

The best was yet to come, however. When the choir started singing, I was simply stunned. The voices I'd heard in Fiji up to then (eg Tai & The Kavaholics and the guys at the airport) were special, but when experienced in such wonderful harmony as they were on that Sunday... well, it was just out of this world. In fact, I wish I could've transported all those friends & family of mine who love music into that church. Especially my uncle, John - the added religious element would've appealed to him more than anyone else I know.

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

The christenings were also lovely, with Aleki and his wife looking proudly on the whole time. The whole service was hosted by several people (including the Chief of Naisisili himself), but one in particular stood out a mile. He was, apparently, a vicar visiting from the mainland and was only there because it was a special ceremony (1st of the month and all that). He reminded me of the American actor, John Amos (from, among other films, 'Coming to America' and 'Die Hard : 2') in both looks and [acting]character. In case you don't know who the hell I'm on about, here's a pic:

www.questmedia.net/images/JAmos.jpg


A lot of his words to the congregation were of the "fire & brimstone" variety, which certainly made for a wonderful show! Due to the sheer humidity, he was soon sweating by the bucketload, which only added to the heat and passion of his words. The locals were certainly taken in by them, as was I, to a point. Religion, or modern Christianity, must've been such a culture shock to people such as those in Naisisili when it was first introduced by the pilgrims of the day. Even though the religious men all wore suits, I could still imagine them standing at the pulpit in their more native garb...

After an hour or so, the other visitors to the church from resorts nearby decided enough was enough (heat, I think). They all filed out politely and left Emma & I as the only 'strangers' in town. Not that this bothered us at all - we were made to feel extremely welcome and were even mentioned in one particular speech given by a lovely member of the congregation, who then promptly fell asleep 20 minutes later!!

After two and a half hours of our church experience, we were led outside by our lady guide (she later admitted it was too hot in there even for her). We waited for Aleki and then made our way back to the boat, again taking in all the sights on offer - including a wide range of 'bures' (houses), animals and people. Everyone was so friendly and so eager to talk to us, it was wonderful. Unfortunately, we didn't take the camera with us, as it didn't seem right (in case we offended anyone's sensibilities, etc, etc).

No matter, the entire experience will never be forgotten.

That afternoon, back at Oarsmans, we both did a bit of snorkelling and general laying about. At one point, Emma spotted a small stingray whilst she was paddling about. She soon had a group of people wading about in the area, all watching the little creature in admiration (little did we know a much large version would later claim the life of the legend that was Steve Irwin... RIP, my friend, RIP).

After dinner, we talked the night away with the guests and staff on our last night at the resort. Emma had a new friend in Anushka and they gossiped away for hours on end (as only women can!). I, on the other hand, enjoyed a wonderfully interesting conversation with Oni, the owner of Oarsmans Bay Lodge. What a fascinating life she has had and some of the things I learnt from her were amazing. For example:

- her brother, Ratu Epeli, is the Tui Drola, or High Chief of not just the Nacula-Tavewa area but also the entire Yasawas!

- with her brother and a few other village elders, she went to Richard Evanson for advice and he ended up loaning them the money to build Oarsmans Bay and then market it successfully (the loan was paid, in full, shortly after we left!)

- she never forgets a name and when I say never, I mean NEVER!

- she would only retire at the end of the night when the last person had departed to their bed, this would often give her only a few hours' sleep, but you'd never have noticed


It's people like Oni who make a place like Oarsmans and I'm sure she has like-minded individuals in other 'paradise' isles around the world. From what my brother has told me, places like Barbados and Trinidad are the same. Long live people like this - those who can make a holidaymaker so at ease.

Our one disappointment was not being invited to sit around their kava bowl on our last night (as others' had been on previous days). However, to be fair, it was a Sunday night and all the senior staff were given time off that night. Oh well, maybe next time...!


Update #4 (2nd October)

We had several hours to kill before the water taxi took us to meet up with the Yasawa Flyer once again. Typically, the weather had decided to improve and blue skies were spread above us once again. This made for perfect photo opportunities, so I wandered about the resort and its environs, snapping happily away. I just remember the sea being the most beautiful colour - cerulean would probably be the best way of describing it. This was, at last, the remote, tropical Fiji we'd yearned to see and how wonderful it looked!

Before lunch, we decided to try out the wee kayaks the resort owned. These were of the short, stubby variety and looked nothing like the traditionally long versions most people would recognise. Emma took to hers like a duck to water, but I, on the other hand, had a nightmare! There was a small ballast tank fitted to each kayak, but when combined with my weight all it did was cause me to ride rather low in the water... Not good! Emma spent the next 10-15 minutes or so laughing hysterically at me. I was slowly but surely sinking!

After making it back to shore safely, we packed-up the tent and then watched in delight as our hefty backpacks were carried to the luggage rack down the beach. This was probably the first time since leaving England our bags had been 'taken' from our hands - we'd become so used to hefting them about ourselves, it was quite a strange feeling.

Lunch was lovely and, of course, spent in the company of the delightful staff and fellow guests of Oarsmans Bay. We'd been fortunate to have been there at the same time as some great people. Those who stood out were: a lovely German couple, who were treating themselves to a nice, extended retirement holiday; Anushka, the English girl we'd befriended; a great Kiwi family, with the most fun-loving and well-behaved kids I'd ever seen and a couple of girls from South America, who just danced and danced and danced...

The staff, as mentioned many times already, were also wonderful. Oni was unique, but there were so many others who made our stay so memorable: the two young guys who served our food each day, one of whom made Emma's week by saying "You're welcome, Eemaaaaa" in such wonderful fashion; the head 'cook', a towering, warm lady who was also one of the 4-5 owners of Oarsmans; Aleki, a fantastic person with the cutest son you could imagine and the lovely young lady who took us to church and also looked after us on many other occasions (I just wish I could remember her name!).

Unfortunately, there was also a downside to our stay at Oarsmans Bay Resort - money.

When we booked our week in the Yasawas, with Vinny at Smuggler's Cove, we were told what each resort would cost per night (for accommodation, food and other expenses). We double-checked and triple-checked everything before hopping on to the Flyer, to make sure we didn't have any nasty surprises. How wrong could we have been?!

To cut a long and [financially] painful story short, we ended up paying almost $700 FJ for our 3 night stay at Oarsmans. We'd been told to expect a very different bill by Vinny, who'd confirmed the prices with the Oarsmans staff over the phone infront of us. To say we were a little shocked was an understatement!!

I think the worst thing of all was the fact we'd paid all that money out to stay in a tiny tent that leaked and was infested with ants. Oh, I forgot to mention that before...!

Never mind. The staff and fellow guests, the beach, the food, the entertainment and the snorkelling did, in hindsight, make up for the horrendous cost of staying there. However, I would advise people to be careful if you ever choose to stay at Oarsmans Bay Resort - just watch out for lots of 'extras' being added to your bill.

All of a sudden, after our lunch, it was time to leave the resort. We said some fond farewells to the staff and other guests, most of whom gathered by the beach to say goodbye (the community spirit there really was amazing). Then, as we climbed aboard the water taxi, Oni and the other staff members sang us a song of farewell (the actual word for goodbye is 'moce', pronounced "moh-ve"). This was even more beautiful than the one that'd welcomed us (probably because we had got to know the singers!). We waved at them all until they were mere specs on the horizon, and I must admit to feeling a little bit emotional, as sad as that is!

Once back aboard the Yasawa Flyer, we settled down to enjoy the views on offer once again. Turtle Island drifted by, as did Manta Ray Island and so many others. When the sun is shining, this remote, northwestern part of Fiji really is stunning to behold. Simply wonderful.

Whilst we were motoring over the wavetops, I struck up a conversation with the nice New Zealand chap we'd stayed at Oarsmans with. He turned out to be a psychiatrist and was therefore fascinating to talk to. One point me made, however, stuck in my mind more than the others and is something I think I and many others should take note of.

I asked him how he succeeded in having such wonderful kids - kids who were both full of life and happiness, yet were polite and so well behaved. It's not often you see this in today's day and age, believe me. His answer couldn't have been more simple: bed time. Yep, he was adamant that because his wife and he had always been strict when it came to the kids' bed time, they had learnt to respect not just their parents, but everyone else, too.

Blimey. Now there's a bit of wisdom for you!

After my new friend from Kiwi Land had departed for his next destination and several more islands had slipped by, the Flyer arrived at our second Yasawan stop-off - White Sandy Beach Resort, which sits on the southern shore of Naviti island. The guys who came out to meet us in the little boat were, as usual, incredibly friendly and grinned great big toothy smiles at us. You just have to LOVE the native Fijians.

One of the two guys introduce himself as Rupi and he came across as a bit of a 'lad'. My initial assumption was later proved very, very correct!! Joining us in the boat and subsequently at the resort too, were another English couple. The lad, also called James, I'd met 4 days earlier in the reception area of Smuggler's. That morning, I found him leaning against the counter, spouting off about how he'd conned his dad out of "...a coupla grand, mate, yeah". He was explaining to a small group of lads just how cool he was and they were taken in hook, line and sinker.

Me? I'm too old and ugly to take any notice of people like him. Watching him both at Smuggler's and then in the boat across to White Sandy was great fun, though, I grant you that much. It was all a big show, especially when his girlfriend was with him. Deary, deary me... what a chav.

Anyway, back to the story. Once again, we were welcomed to a resort with music and lots of "BULAS!". The staff were waiting for us, with guitars in hand and voices in fine fettle. Then, immediately on hopping ashore, we were handed a freshly prepared coconut 'shell' each, with a lovely tropical punch inside. This was, of course, sucked through about 500 straws! Wonderful.

The manageress introduced everyone to everyone else and then sat us down to sort through all the payments. When it was my turn to go up there, I made a point immediately of checking exactly how much the accommodation/food package was going to cost. She quoted the same figure Vinny & I had worked out several days previously, much to our relief (Emm was hovering in the background, worrying as much as me). So, from what we could gather, there had been a serious communication breakdown between Vinny and whoever had answered the phone at Oarsmans that day. Oh well, you live and you learn!

We were both a little 'chilled' after arriving, so went to investigate our double 'bure' with the intention of taking a nice afternoon nap. Wow! What a fantastic little house it was! Traditionally, Fijian bures are made from wood and reeds and ours was no exception. It really was lovely - so airy, spacious and full of native character. It had a small en-suite inside and a huge mossie net over the big double bed, too. Outside, there was a private verandah and also a huge hammock just for us. We couldn't believe it... the whole thing; bure, food and several daily activities when added together was less than HALF the price of our 3 night stay at Oarsmans. Unbelievable!

Click on this link to see a picture of our private bure:

www.fiji.hotel-pictures.com/offshore-islands/whitesands/600x400/family-bure-in.jpg


After a nice, relaxing afternoon doing sweet FA, we joined the other guests for dinner. Other than chavvy James, they were lovely - Barbara and Peter, a couple from Switzerland, in particular. Oh the stories they had to tell us... truly amazing! Peter had recently retired (from a bank, where else?!) and decided he needed to see the world. Barbara left her teaching job behind, but hadn't regretted the decision once - the places they'd seen saw to that (Mongolia & S America amongst so many others). Meeting people as worldly-wise as those two is always fascinating.

Volk (I think), was a German lad who was quite quiet until he'd had a few beers. Then, like his fellow countryman who joined us a day later, David, he went a bit 'mental'. It was funny to watch, though, as they capered about the place, encouraging everyone else to boogie or just laugh with them. And they say the Germans have no sense of humour...? Those of a travelling persuasion certainly do, from my experience.

After a nice, simple and very filling dinner, it was entertainment time. Rupi, the young guy from the boat, suddenly reappeared - it seemed he was the chief of entertainment at White Sandy. He very shyly introduced himself to all the new arrivals (James, as it turned out, had been to WS before) and then proceeded to explain what activities were on offer both that night and the next day, too. With that done, it was time to dance!

The staff led us all outside and asked us to sit on the rock wall above the beach (about 8m from the resort). Rupi and his motley crew of helpers then told Sally, the lady behind the bar, to "Hit it!". So, obligingly, she did and music suddenly burst forth from the hi-fi. Oh dear lord! Rupi and the others started doing the 'Bula Dance', which is their way of welcoming all new visitors to their little resort. How fantastic it was, too. Emma and I just couldn't stop smiling and laughing throughout the performance, it was that much fun.

Then, to my joy and Emma's horror (!), we were asked to join Rupi and give it a go ourselves! HA! Quality! I need little encouragement when it comes to boogeying, as you know well, and I was soon shouting "BULA!" with the best of 'em. I can't describe exactly how the dance went, but needless to say it was immense fun. If any of you wish to see it first-hand, either visit White Sandy yourselves or ask the next time you see me. I'll gladly give you a reprise!

After the Bula Dance, we had a session of limbo dancing. I actually did quite well, considering my excessive height and incredibly poor sense of balance. Emma was very good, as were Sally, Rupi and Volk. The rest of the staff also joined in and together, we all had a wonderful evening.

Later that night, we joined Rupi on the beach for a nice fire. It turned out it was his 21st birthday, which shocked us a bit as he really did look older (we thought at least 28). Fijian men, and women to be fair, can look so much older than they actually are - perhaps it's the constant exposure to the intense sun? Or maybe the excessive amount of kava they drink?! Who knows!

Rupi, amusingly, became more and more drunk that night. People kept plying him with drink and our mate James, of course, out-did everyone else by buying him an entire bottle of Bounty rum. Good lord, no wonder he was hammered, bless him!

At one point during the nights' shenanigans, Rupi suddenly pricked his ears up and looked out to sea. I scanned the dark horizon myself, but couldn't see a thing. Then, out of the blackness, came the sound of voices. Shortly afterwards, the silhouette of a boat hove into view and then Rupi ran out into the sea to meet these strange new arrivals. They were, in fact, traders who were bringing in building supplies to the resort! At about 11pm! Amazing... it was another perfect example of Fiji time.

We helped the men unload all the supplies (which were to be used to build another bure) and then eventually settled back down by the fire. I remember that night so clearly, still - there was hardly a star in the sky as the clouds had rolled back over us again, so it was almost perfectly dark. The Pacific could be heard, of course, on its eternal journey around the island and beyond. In-between conversations with Emma, Barbara, Peter, Volk and Rupi, I took the time to just stand/sit there and listen to the nature that surrounded me.

I love doing that, you know. Always have. Always will.


Update #5 (3rd - 7th October)

The following morning, we discovered Rupi had wandered off into the darkness on his own at one point. With a bottle of rum. Oh dear! He looked rather worse for wear and genuinely couldn't remember much from the night before. He also mentioned that he was found asleep that morning, in a boat! He must've sought shelter or something and just crashed out. Classic stuff.

Our main activity that day was a visit to the local village. Well, I say local, but the boat ride there took at least 20 minutes. What a ride though! The scenery was wonderful - volcanic islands covered in greenery whizzed past us, whilst spray flew up from the pointed bow of the boat. Another experience difficult to put into words, to be honest, but memorable all the same.

On arrival at the small village on the other island, we were greeted with lots of Bula's!, which were as welcoming as always. After a quick introduction to a few of the villagers, we were invited to sit with the chief and his 'main men'. The 'we' were myself, Emma, Barbara and Peter, the nice Swiss couple. We were the only people at White Sandy to show any interest in the village visit and what a good decision it was.

We drank Kava with the chief (Barbara kept refusing, until Rupi persuaded her it was the polite thing to do), which was a great experience. Although it looks like muddy pond water and is therefore an acquired taste, Emma & I really enjoyed drinking it. Just a shame it's illegal in the UK, really!

Once we'd left the chief's company, we were escorted around the village itself. This was excellent and an education at the same time. Kids kept popping their heads out of bures, shouting Bula! welcomes at us, whilst the adults were content with the odd shy wave. Banana plants (trees!) were spotted in several 'gardens', along with some beautiful flowers too. At one point, we were all given a flower each by our guide, a lovely young man who just didn't stop smiling. The four of us were 'taken', as it were, so all wore our flowers behind our right ears.

In the middle of the village, of course, was a church, which we popped inside to investigate. It was a bit tatty, but still a lovely wee place and one where you imagined the atmosphere to be wonderful. Further down from the church was the local school, which attracted pupils from all over the northern Yasawas.

We didn't go all the way up to the main building, but instead visited the tiny pre-school room at the front of the compound. I guess the kids we saw in there would be in Year 3 or 4 in a British equivalent school and my oh my, were we in for a treat!

The lovely young teacher gathered the kiddies together, once they'd all grabbed a doll each, of course. They then performed a song for us, sung in English, which was just the sweetest thing we'd ever seen I reckon (one girl, in particular, was the cutest kid I've ever seen, anywhere). Then, to top it off, they put their dolls down and gave us another song - once again in English! It was just wonderful and a memory to be treasured forever more.

When we returned to the main village, we were immediately faced with a bit of Fiji cheek. Basically, whilst we'd been walking around the village, taking in all the sights and sounds, a whole load of mats had been laid out. On these mats, the local women had laid out a wide variety of objects for us to peruse. We'd already been told, by Rupi, we might have to buy a "couple" of things to appease the women. However, he then told us that, between the four of us, we should buy something from "every single one of them".

!!!

That, in our opinion, was a bit cheeky as there were about 12 ladies selling their wares that day! To make matters worse, most of the women were selling the same type of thing - jewellery, shells, prints and more jewellery! Oh dear... what a predicament we'd been put in.

In the end, I think I bought five items (2 for Emma), Emma bought four things and Barbara & Peter also bought a handful (they needed to borrow about $20FJ from Emma to do so). Although most of our gifts were lovely and very well made, we still felt we'd been put on the spot a little. It would've been easier if the four of us were 'minted' tourists, but we weren't. Travellers travelling on a tight budget can't really afford to splash out on things like that. Oh well, at least the village itself was special, the kiddies we saw all over the place so cute and the school so memorable. That counts for a lot, methinks.

After waving goodbye to the villagers (you say "Moce", which is pronounced 'mo-they') we enjoyed another lovely boat ride, this time back to White Sandy. That night, we cracked open our own bottle of Bounty rum, shortly after welcoming the new arrivals with the same Bula! dance we'd had to perform the night before! That dance was just so wonderful.


Ooops! Emma was poisoned by the previous nights' meal, or so it seemed. We figured out that the meal - a kind of vegetable chop suey - must've been cooked in fish oil or something similar. Whether this simply caused a reaction of its own (in the stomach of a vegetarian), or something in the meal was 'off', we still aren't too sure about. As far as we knew, no one else was ill after eating the same dish, so it was a bit of a puzzler!

The main activity that day was snorkelling with manta rays. Whoohoo!! Quality!! No matter how many times I insisted, Emma was adamant I didn't stay at the resort to look after her. She eventually persuaded me to go, so I hopped into the boat with Rupi once again. This time, more of the younger people were interested and a few from the other resort nearby joined us, too. Among them were a nice English couple I'd met previously, back in Nadi.

When we made it across the sea to the spot where the mantas 'hung out', Rupi went over some last-minute things. He was mainly checking we were all confident enough to swim out in the big bad sea and that our equipment was OK. We all nodded our agreement that everything was A-OK and then jumped in one-by-one. I had my waterproof camera with me, just in case I caught site of a manta and/or a shark! David Attenborough who?

The next 20-25 minutes was wonderful, even though not a single manta ray was spotted by the group. Although it would've been brilliant, the coral was still more than good enough to make the trip worthwhile. In amongst the coral formations down there, were a multitude of fish species and the largest starfish I've ever seen! The things were bloody huge!! I took a few pics of the purple wonders, which were OK and made a decent effort of showing the sheer size of the starfish.

Floating along on the current, just watching the underwater life unfold was truly special. No manta rays though - Rupi looked very sheepish on the way back to the resort and went on to explain why. He'd taken us to the right place to see these gentle giants, but at completely the wrong time! The muppet should have taken us there at high tide, but instead took us when it was low!! AAAGGGHHH!!

Oh well, it was still a wonderful wonderful experience.

That night was once again fantastic. Emma, thankfully, felt much better and even managed to eat something. As usual, Bob and the other musical staff sang for us whilst we ate - a really special thing to do, I thought. Then, when the dinner things were all packed away, we shouted requests out to the 'band'. My request was more to Sally, the bargirl. She knew several of Tai & The Kavaholics' tunes, so was eventually persuaded to sing 'Papaya', which is a tune of legend! It goes something like this:

"I was visiting the Fiji islands, when I met a friend called Dobs" "He was selling papaya down by the beach, a hula girl was standing beeeeeside hiiiim!"

"But she saiddddd, pleeeeease don't touch my papaya, I save it for my good friend Jooooooan" "And if you touch my papaya, everybody on the island willlll knoooooow!"

Now, I don't expect you all to appreciate the genius of this song from the written words alone. So, I am making it available to download direct from the site. On a PC, right-click on the link below, choose 'Save-as' and download the file. It's an MP3, so will open up in your default music player when you double-click it. I hope you enjoy it as much as you should!!

Click here to download this file

Sally certainly did the song justice that night and even changed the words to suit the time, people and place! For example, she said she'd "Save it for my good friend Bob", who was the guitarist and "...everybody at White Sandy will know!". Brilliant brilliant brilliant entertainment!

Also that night, we took part in lots of dances aside from the welcome Bula! dance. We did a conga and then some native Fijian boogeying, too. All-in-all, it summed-up our stay at White Sandy perfectly. Fun, laughter and just damn nice people - the usual suspects of ourselves, Barabara & Peter and Volk & David, were joined by Paloma (a girl stunning enough to be a model, but sadly she knew it too) and a nice Norwegian couple who were up for a good time from the start.


Our last day at the resort was another difficult one for Emma. Her stomach, after seeming to settle, was bad once again. This was a nightmare for her, as a picnic lunch had been arranged for the guests on a nearby beach. Emma persuaded me to go along once again, so grudgingly I did as I was bade.

We packed a load of stuff into the boat along with a good 12 people and darted off into the distance. When we arrived at the beach, the sky was still grey and overcast, but a wee bit of sun had decided to peep out from the mass of cloud. This was good, as the coral formations I spied as we drifted inshore looked wonderful under the sunlight.

After unpacking the boat, I decided to go for a snorkel. However, just before I walked to the sea (the tide was out), Peter spotted some air bubbles escaping from a small hole in the coral close by. Rupi went over to investigate and immediately told us it was an octopus! Our amateur eyes could only make out something as silty-brown as the rest of the coral, but Rupi grabbed a sharp-ended stick from the beach and started poking and prodding at it! A few minutes later, the octopus suddenly decided to grab the thing prodding it and Rupi snatched the poor blighter straight out of the hole. "Dinner!" he grinned at me.

After that bit of excitement, I soon added to it. I spied a small ray, gliding about in the shallow water close to our group. When I told Rupi, he took one look at the ray and then screamed for us to "Get back! Stay away! Stingray!". This shocked us into inaction and we all froze on the spot! Whilst he walked around behind the tiny stingray, trying to spear it with his stick, he explained that the stingray is feared in Fiji because they have wounded and even killed many people over the centuries. Interesting!

This, in fact, made me think instantly of my old mate Steve Irwin and his tragic final encounter with that much bigger stingray. He is an immense loss to the world, regardless of what some Aussies have said. The animals he protected and researched are almost certainly better off now, for his work, dedication and passion. From what I have seen, Bindi, his young daughter, will carry his flame into the future and good luck to the wee girl.

RIP Stevo

After all the excitement generated by the octopus and stingray, I managed to get a bit of snorkelling in. I had to walk and then swim out a fair distance before I was able to go down fairly deep, due to the tide. When I did, oooo what a sight met my eyes! There were again lots of purple starfish and hundreds of other creatures out there. The most impressive ones, though, were the tiny little fish that were the most brilliant blue in colour. They shimmered under the sunlight and I just couldn't stop looking at them.

I've done a bit of research and I think the fish in question is called a Fiji Devil. Here's a picture of one for you (click on the link to view):

animal-world.com/encyclo/Articles/Marine/DevilsWeShouldLove/BlueDevil_Similar3_Ap15A1.jpg


When I swam back to the beach, I noticed the boat was being untethered and Rupi was ushering everyone back to it. As I swam up, he reached out and helped me into the boat and explained the picnic was going to be served on another beach - one that lay closer to White Sandy. This was mostly because of the rain, but also due to time considerations - the Yasawa Flyer was due to stop at the resort later that afternoon to collect all those heading back south (including Emma & I).

After de-camping on the new beach, I noticed one of the Fijian lads was going out spear fishing in order to catch some lunch for the staff (who had cooked our food for us). Not being able to resist, I swam out after him, which was no mean feat believe me! These boys grow up surrounded by the largest mass of water on the planet and are, by and large, natural swimmers.

I ended-up following him around for about an hour. It should've been knackering, but strangely wasn't. The experience of watching a native islander spear fish was incredible, though. I was mesmerised. Aside from his astonishing accuracy with the spear (a long, steel rod propelled from a rubber band in catapult fashion), it was the sheer depth he kept swimming down to that amazed me. Bloody hell! And we are told it's impossible to swim below certain depths without the aid of dive tanks! I know a different truth now.

When he spotted a decent-sized fish, he swam down to about 12 feet (sometimes more), hovered, took aim and fired. He missed a few times, nearly always when trying to spear one of the "very intelligent" black & white fish, but was at least 75% successful. Amazing.

There was a downside to the experience, however. As I followed him about (he checked on me with the universal 'thumbs up' signal now & then), I noticed there was blood trailing out behind him. It came from the holes in the side of the fish he'd caught, which were then skewered on to a long piece of reed that'd been bent round to form a ring of sorts. So simple, yet so clever too. The blood, though, might have been attracting fish of much larger scale and aggression. Yep, you guessed it, sharks. Oh dear...

When we made it back to the beach with our hoard, he admitted there were probably several reef sharks circling around us due to the blood in the water. I'm just thankful they didn't fancy taking our large, looming forms on that afternoon!! That kind of encounter would've been the only think to spoil what was a truly incredible experience - swimming in the deeper shallows, marvelling at the abundance of sealife around me and watching a native islander at work in his natural environment. Brilliant.

I ate a wonderful lunch on my return, of smoked fish, vegetables and potatoes. Whilst doing so, I took great delight in watching all the lads play a game of beach footy - Fijians vs everyone else. After rugby, the Fijians love to play football and from what I saw, they aint half bad either!

That reminds me - Rupi told us his brother had flown in to visit him the day before his birthday, because a Fijian man's 21st is so special. His brother plays rugby professionally for the Sydney Brumbies, so naturally chartered a helicopter to fly him out to the remote Yasawan island Rupi lives on! How the other half live, eh?

Just before we left to motor back to the resort to await the Flyer's arrival, I suddenly realised I didn't have my baseball cap with me. I'd left it on the first beach, along with the rest of my clothes, when I went snorkelling. Rupi said he'd collected everything, but then Peter remembered he'd put my cap on a nearby bush, to stop any crabs scuttling inside it! Oh dear... the cap I'd bought in North Wales about 6 years previously was stranded about 2 miles away, on the other side of the island!

Rupi promised me he'd collect the cap the next day and then give it to the Yasawa Flyer staff with instructions to drop it off at our next port of call - Octopus Resort, on Waya Island. That was good enough for me.

Back at White Sandy, Emma greeted me with a bit more colour in her cheeks, thank goodness. She'd hardly eaten a thing in almost 48 hours and had been hit hard by her stomach problems. Bless her! We sat down and shared a soft drink each and chatted about the last few days whilst waiting for the Flyer to steam into the bay. It wasn't long before we got the call and then made our way out to the beach.

Waiting there were most of the staff, with guitars in hand and voices in fine fettle. Yep, once again we were treated to a wonderful song of farewell, sung by people with the most beautiful voices outside of Ireland. I didn't shed a tear, but it was a close-run thing, believe me! We waved and waved as the little boat took us out to the Flyer, shouting "Moce!" as loudly as we could. White Sandy might not have been the most luxurious, or the food the most hygenic (!), but the people there and the atmosphere and welcome they generated were unrivalled in my opinion.

Just before we boarded the Flyer, I said farewell to my two new buddies - my spear-fishing partner and, of course, Rupi. He gave me a bear-hug, which just about summed the guy up. Top men both.

The journey on the Flyer took us back down south, once again past a variety of beautiful volcanic islands. The weather was a bit on-and-off, with patches of sunlight breaking through the rainclouds. We really hadn't been very lucky in that respect, especially when you consider that October is meant to be one of the best months for visiting the South Pacific! I dunno, the world's weather is in a right old state nowadays... and not just back in Britain!

We received the same lovely greeting on our arrival at Octopus as we had at Oarsmans and White Sandy. You really could get used to it, believe me! Why can't all holiday destinations do the same kind of thing? I don't know.

After checking-in, we were shown to our tent. Thankfully, our fears proved unfounded - the tent was massive! Even I could easily stand up inside and wander about its capacious innards. Brilliant, especially after the crap we had to put up with at Oarsmans earlier that week.

That night, we took it easy (in a drink and food sense), as Emm was still not feeling too bright. Thankfully, there was a pool table in the bar area and what a treat it was too - the floor was covered in sand, which made for a wonderful experience when moving around the table.

That night, we also sat down for a welcome ceremony with some villagers - three men dressed in Bula shirts and sulu skirts. The most senior of them explained the various protocols associated with kava ceremonies, which included naming a 'chief' and a 'spokesman'. That night, the chief was an English guy from the Midlands and the spokesman was, in fact, a woman (also from England - the old colonies are popular, what what!). At first, she refused to drink the kava offered to her, but in the end she wisely decided not to offend the local men and swigged it down. Good girl! Nowt like a bit of British spirit!

Emma, even though she still felt rough, didn't hesitate and knocked back each bowl of kava she was offered! You've gotta admire the lass. I also swigged 'em back that night and once again ended up with a numb mouth and the cheesiest grin on my face. Cracking stuff, Kava...


Our first full day at Octopus was an incredibly active one. Not. We spent virtually the entire day lounging by the pool or on the beach, soaking up the suns' rays whilst we could. I had intended snorkelling out in the wonderful Likuliku Bay (once voted one of the Top 10 beaches on earth by Condé Nast), but although the sun had made an appearance, the wind was incredible. Therefore, snorkelling would've been a real bastard, so I gave it a miss.

In the end, I was glad to as I'd done an awful lot of swimming during the past week and my muscles probably appreciated the rest. It was also nice to just lounge about, chatting and reading all day long. This, after all, was one of the reasons we'd chosen to visit Fiji in the first place, so why not!

That night, Emma felt a bit better, which was good for two reasons. The main one goes without saying and the other was because we met a lovely couple from England. In fact, Dave was the 'chief' from the previous nights' kava ceremony! He and Debs were great fun to talk to and before we knew it, time had flown and it was time to retire to our mansion (!)

Oh, no sign of my cap on the incoming water taxi...


The following morning, we re-packed our rucksacks in readiness for our return to the mainland. Oh, I forgot to mention the toilet block we had. Wow! It was wonderful. The base of each shower was made from several slats of native wood, which was so nice to stand on. Also, the ceiling was, well, not quite there! This was deliberate and allowed the guests to gaze up at the stars at night, or the blue (sometimes!) sky during the day. What a fantastic idea.

Before the Yasawa Flyer arrived, we had time for both a final breakfast and lunch. The lunch was eaten in the company of Dave & Debs once again, which made it all the more memorable. I've not mentioned it before, but I have to tell you now - Dave was the spitting image of Neil Morrissey! Well, almost, but he was damn close! Especially when he pushed his fringe over his forehead, a la his character Tony in 'Men Behaving Badly'. Brilliant! I did, of course, keep laughing at this. For hours. Yep, I admit it, I'm sad.

A little later on, Emma & I went for a wander along the stunning beach, taking in the many sights on offer. I snapped away with my trusty Sony CyberShot and then we headed back to the resort. Whilst waiting for the Flyer to make its appearance, we mucked about with a volleyball and then watched in amazement as an American couple trashed not one, but two hammocks in quick succession! They noticed us after climbing into the second one and uttered the immortal words "I bet we break this one now...". Classic stuff.

Before leaving Octopus behind, the staff kindly let me book our next mainland accommodation using their phone (not something Oarsmans would've done, I bet). I tried to get us back into Smugglers Cove, but to no avail - they were full. Horizons, their sister hostel next door were also full. I can only imagine a plane-load of travellers had arrived or were just about to. In the end, I got us a room in a hostel a little further down the same road as Smugglers, which was actually cheaper, too. Sorted.

We waved our farewells to the lovely staff of Octopus and Dave & Debs too. I'm still in contact with them now, as I write this and he is now planning a similar year-off himself - they just need to get away from Britain for a while and believe me, I know exactly how they feel...

The Flyer whisked us away from Likuliku Bay, across the choppy sea and then south back to the Viti Levu, the mainland. En route, we had a lovely surprise however - Barbara & Peter were onboard! Joining them were three of the lovely young girls from White Sandy - it's a small world. The girls were heading to the mainland to see their families and "do some shopping", of course. It was nice to be greeted once again by those big, white smiles and a "Jamesa" and "Eeema" from each of them. God how I loved Fiji.

Poor old Barbara - she was suffering from a bout of seasickness. I couldn't blame her, though, as the wind was whipping the sea into a frenzy (she wasn't alone in feeling a bit green, judging by the faces nearby). She gamely tried to make conversation with us, which just about summed her up. They really were a lovely couple and another example of the kind of people we met all over this wonderful world of ours.

After grabbing our backpacks on arrival at the harbour, we then jumped on to another incredibly packed bus. This whisked us to our hostel, where we de-camped and almost crashed out we were that tired. However, our stomachs decided otherwise (Emma's very empty one especially!), so we mosied on over to Smugglers for some food. Once there, we had a nice meal, some drinks and then went in search of my old mate Waqa.

We were told he was over at Horizons with several guests, because Tai & The Kavaholics were performing that night. Get in!! I half-ran, half-walked over there and could barely contain my excitement. We grabbed a few drinks from their bar and then walked into the canopied area where they were all gathered. It didn't take long...

"SUPERMAN!!" Waqa jumped to his feet and greeted me like a long-lost brother. What a legend the man is. Tai was singing at the time, so merely smiled, winked and nodded his head in greeting. We both sat down on the mat to join them all around the kava bowl and were soon jigging away and downing lots of their native drink. Happy days.

At the end of the evening, I bought a CD from Tai and then made the whole band sign it. Oh, and Waqa too of course (how could I not?!). I'm listening to it right now, as I type these memoirs and my legs are jigging up 'n down as much as they did that night in Nadi. Oh the music. Oh, the brilliance of everything about Fiji.