Fiji was a British Colony until she gained her independence in the early-to-mid 1960's. Even though Fiji is now her own country, influences from the former motherland remain.
Fiji drives on the wrong side of the road. This takes a great deal of adjustment for a white boy, even though he has been here many times before. Not only is the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car, the gear shift, blinker, and the windshield wiper wand are also opposite to what we're used to in America. This is not a terminal obstacle, but it does get mighty annoying to continually wash the windshield prior to signaling for a turn.
Another DOT British left-over in Fiji are the roundabouts. Traffic signals are sparse. But, the insidious circling, dodging of other cars, and trying to determine who has the right of way are not. An American's blood pressure begins to rise whenever one of these "circles of death" appears on the horizon. More than once did the Fijian drivers behind us let us know in no uncertain terms that we had violated Fijian traffic protocol.
As noted in another post, every piece of paper currency in Fiji has a likeness of the Queen Mother's face on its face. It is a good rendering of the old gal. But, it did cause one to stop and dread the day that the current dictator in the United States will one day conscript his socialistic face on all currency, with the inscription, "In Barack We Trust." May heaven forbid it.
Other facets of British influence that linger in Fiji include electricity doled out in 220 volt outlets, versus the 110 we are accustomed to in the states. Every handheld appliance and other western electronic device has to be operated through an extensive system of adapters. The Union Jack still appears on the Fijian national flag. And, hot tea is the drink of choice in many Fijian homes.
Fiji has been invaded by Indians. People from India, that is. Almost 50% of the population is Indian. Their influence is strongly felt. They own and run most of the businesses, drive most of the cabs, and even hold seats in Fijian Parliament. This is a source of great consternation to the native Fijian. One needs to tread lightly while visiting Fiji, in terms of noting this demographic reality. Coups have occurred through the years, and thousands of Indians have fled the country over time - because they know. They know that the only reason they are in this island paradise is that the Fijians allow them to be there. One wrong move, and mass evictions could occur - even violently. Indians have not forgotten that cannibalism was a part of Fijian history and culture.
If these things were not enough, America has also come to town. In a major way. American brands of clothing, food, cosmetics and toiletries, appliances, sporting goods, and a host of other things are readily available in major retailers in Fijian cities. Coca-Cola and McDonald's have bottling facilities and fast-food locations in major Fijian cities such as Nadi and Suva. Supermarkets carry Colgate, Juicy Fruit, Pringles, M&M's, Mentos, Baby Ruth, Ivory Soap, and scores of other items that a tourist would gravitate to. Selected restaurants serve burgers and fries, pizza, ice cream, and many other entrees that Americans would feel at ease ordering.
American influence can also be seen at the Nadi International Airport - especially in the ways that security is executed. Too, the airlines do their business in ways that have obviously been copied from American aviation.
Please do not misunderstand. "Fijian" is still the dominant brand in Fiji. The farther one gets away from the major metropolitan areas, the more traditional Fijian life becomes. People still live in Fijian villages, drink kava, sit on the floors of their homes with their shoes left at the door out of respect, cook their meals in the lovo ("earth oven"), wear the traditional Fijian dress (e.g., the sulu - male wrap-around skirt), and doggedly hang on to the old ways. If a tourist wants to have this experience, special permission has to be granted from a village chief for an outsider to come in for a visit. There are ways for this to happen, but it is not at all a common occurrence.
One of the great things about Fiji is the music. It is "island" to the core. The Methodist Church came to Fiji many years ago. And when they did, they taught the island people how to sing. And, boy did they learn well! Traditional Fijian music is rich in four part harmony, and choral sounding arrangements. The Polynesian influence is heard as well, with the use of ukuleles and Hawaiian slack-key and steel guitars. Fijians sing to entertain themselves. Other than making babies and playing rugby, singing seems to be one of the most popular past-times in this beautiful place. When you first get off the plane, you are greeted with a Fijian string band performing traditional Fijian music. And, when you leave, they always song their traditional song of farewell, "Isa Lei." It is a very emotional thing, indeed, to have the sweet people of this great country to serenade you on and off their islands.
Fijian Cosmo. I like it.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
Cash Is Queen
If, "cash is king," in America, then, "cash is queen," in Fiji.
American paper currency has the likenesses of former U.S. Presidents. Fijian paper currency has the Queen Mother of England's face on every bill. And, the bills are different denominations and colors. Paper dollars in Fiji come in $2, $5, $10, and $50. They are brownish-green, light blue, deeper blue, and pink in color. Coinage includes the .10 cent piece, .20 cent piece, the .50 cent piece, and the gold $1.00 coin.
While most major stores, filling stations, restaurants, and hotels take plastic, they will also tack on up to a 5% surcharge for accepting it. There is no such fee for using cash. Locals merchants will not take your plastic, so be armed with sufficient cash when shopping and going about town. And, it goes without saying for a tourist to protect the cash that is carried. Thieves and pick-pockets live not only in America, but even in a friendly and seemingly safe environment like Fiji.
Fijian exchange rates for the US dollar vary, but typically range from 1.59 to 1.76. The banks, of which New Zealand's ANZ Bank is the largest, give the best exchange rate. Hotels will also exchange your money, but at a far less percentage. And, when you leave, you can always convert any unused Fijian cash back to USD.
On any purchase made, there is a VAT or, "value added tax," linked to the item or service. And, most hotels and restaurants do not encourage tipping. If you try to tip servers or those who assist you, a strange look washes over their faces like you have just tried to bribe them out of the Fijian Crown Jewels. Don't tip. Just say, "Vinaka, Vaka Levu," which means, "Thank you very much." More about this in a later post.
Closely tied to the cash or plastic discussion is the matter of shopping.
Wal-Mart and Target are not in Fiji as yet. With McDonald's already here, these two retail giants cannot be far behind. In Fiji, there are department stores. Most of them are New Zealand or Australian based. Jack's, Proud's, Harrison's, and Tappoo are the largest department store chains with a presence there. These retailers would remind you of a Kohl's or Macy's, but offer a much more island-oriented merchandise presentation.
Chances are, if you're coming here, you'll wind up shopping mostly at "Mom & Pop" shops. They are everywhere, and they know you're coming.
Westerners need to know that when merchants see the white skin, especially when the merchant is Indian, they also see the cash. Prices immediately go up on unmarked items, and the chance to dicker for a better price goes down. But, dicker you must. It is expected, and can become a bit of a contest to see who is most savvy and willing to hold out to the bitter end. Offering a ridiculously low price for an item will not offend them. But, paying the sticker price for anything will enforce to them that you are one rich sucker.
Fijians counsel tourists to always ask for the, "local price." Evidently, there are two price lists for everything. One is distinctly tourist, the other - distinctly local. And, the local price is always the lower of the two. Stands to reason. Locals have far less money. And, even when there are no tourists around, merchants still need to move merchandise and collect revenue.
Islanders counsel unwitting kevalangi's to shop at either the very opening or closing moments of the business day.
The reasons are simple.
Indian merchants are more open to better pricing with the very first sale of the day, because it sets the tone for a good day of making money. Or, they are even more open to negotiation during the last sale of day, because it is their last opportunity to make a buck before closing their doors and heading home to a miserable evening of bad Indian food and strong tea.
Either way, when shopping in Fiji, know what you want, know when to go looking for it, know what the max is that you will pay, and don't budge an inch - just like your daddy counseled you when he went to the dealership with you to buy your first car.
You'll be surprised at how open Indian merchants are to giving you a deal, especially if you show the resolve to begin walking out the door without having agreed to the purchase. So, don't take the process personally, and don't be offended if they display a somewhat obstinate demeanor at the opening of the negotiation. Once you have shown them that you, too, are good at the game, they will soon be all smiles at having, at the very least, sold you something when the process is done.
And know, too, that the female Indian merchants are far less willing to deal with you than their male counterparts. They are edgy, hard-nosed and no-nonsense. Even if you try to charm a female Indian store owner or clerk, they will see right through it and not budge an inch on the deal. Avoid them like the plague.
In Fiji, just like any other place on earth, money drives the car. So, be smart, be wise, and carry plenty of the clacker when you go to "Bula-land."
You'll need it.
An average week of life for a tourist in Fiji, including hotel, rental car, eats, and incidentals will cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $800-$900 USD. This sounds great! But, just remember, you've already spent about $1,500 in airfare, hotel and eats just to get here.
Sing it again...
Cash is queen.
American paper currency has the likenesses of former U.S. Presidents. Fijian paper currency has the Queen Mother of England's face on every bill. And, the bills are different denominations and colors. Paper dollars in Fiji come in $2, $5, $10, and $50. They are brownish-green, light blue, deeper blue, and pink in color. Coinage includes the .10 cent piece, .20 cent piece, the .50 cent piece, and the gold $1.00 coin.
While most major stores, filling stations, restaurants, and hotels take plastic, they will also tack on up to a 5% surcharge for accepting it. There is no such fee for using cash. Locals merchants will not take your plastic, so be armed with sufficient cash when shopping and going about town. And, it goes without saying for a tourist to protect the cash that is carried. Thieves and pick-pockets live not only in America, but even in a friendly and seemingly safe environment like Fiji.
Fijian exchange rates for the US dollar vary, but typically range from 1.59 to 1.76. The banks, of which New Zealand's ANZ Bank is the largest, give the best exchange rate. Hotels will also exchange your money, but at a far less percentage. And, when you leave, you can always convert any unused Fijian cash back to USD.
On any purchase made, there is a VAT or, "value added tax," linked to the item or service. And, most hotels and restaurants do not encourage tipping. If you try to tip servers or those who assist you, a strange look washes over their faces like you have just tried to bribe them out of the Fijian Crown Jewels. Don't tip. Just say, "Vinaka, Vaka Levu," which means, "Thank you very much." More about this in a later post.
Closely tied to the cash or plastic discussion is the matter of shopping.
Wal-Mart and Target are not in Fiji as yet. With McDonald's already here, these two retail giants cannot be far behind. In Fiji, there are department stores. Most of them are New Zealand or Australian based. Jack's, Proud's, Harrison's, and Tappoo are the largest department store chains with a presence there. These retailers would remind you of a Kohl's or Macy's, but offer a much more island-oriented merchandise presentation.
Chances are, if you're coming here, you'll wind up shopping mostly at "Mom & Pop" shops. They are everywhere, and they know you're coming.
Westerners need to know that when merchants see the white skin, especially when the merchant is Indian, they also see the cash. Prices immediately go up on unmarked items, and the chance to dicker for a better price goes down. But, dicker you must. It is expected, and can become a bit of a contest to see who is most savvy and willing to hold out to the bitter end. Offering a ridiculously low price for an item will not offend them. But, paying the sticker price for anything will enforce to them that you are one rich sucker.
Fijians counsel tourists to always ask for the, "local price." Evidently, there are two price lists for everything. One is distinctly tourist, the other - distinctly local. And, the local price is always the lower of the two. Stands to reason. Locals have far less money. And, even when there are no tourists around, merchants still need to move merchandise and collect revenue.
Islanders counsel unwitting kevalangi's to shop at either the very opening or closing moments of the business day.
The reasons are simple.
Indian merchants are more open to better pricing with the very first sale of the day, because it sets the tone for a good day of making money. Or, they are even more open to negotiation during the last sale of day, because it is their last opportunity to make a buck before closing their doors and heading home to a miserable evening of bad Indian food and strong tea.
Either way, when shopping in Fiji, know what you want, know when to go looking for it, know what the max is that you will pay, and don't budge an inch - just like your daddy counseled you when he went to the dealership with you to buy your first car.
You'll be surprised at how open Indian merchants are to giving you a deal, especially if you show the resolve to begin walking out the door without having agreed to the purchase. So, don't take the process personally, and don't be offended if they display a somewhat obstinate demeanor at the opening of the negotiation. Once you have shown them that you, too, are good at the game, they will soon be all smiles at having, at the very least, sold you something when the process is done.
And know, too, that the female Indian merchants are far less willing to deal with you than their male counterparts. They are edgy, hard-nosed and no-nonsense. Even if you try to charm a female Indian store owner or clerk, they will see right through it and not budge an inch on the deal. Avoid them like the plague.
In Fiji, just like any other place on earth, money drives the car. So, be smart, be wise, and carry plenty of the clacker when you go to "Bula-land."
You'll need it.
An average week of life for a tourist in Fiji, including hotel, rental car, eats, and incidentals will cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $800-$900 USD. This sounds great! But, just remember, you've already spent about $1,500 in airfare, hotel and eats just to get here.
Sing it again...
Cash is queen.
Ya Gotta Eat
Fijian cuisine is all over the place.
Where else in the world can a traveler eat traditional Fijian, Curry, Indian, Chinese, British, Chicken Burgers, Pizza and McDonald's all in the same town? And, these dishes are available in places that are not even the capitol, nor largest city, of this island country.
As I begin this particular chapter of the blog, I should make the following admission. Cracker Barrel and Waffle House are still a few years away from hanging their shingles in this far-away land. So, if you're looking for an Uncle Hershel's Breakfast entree, or something "Scattered and Smothered," you won't find it here. What you will find might, indeed, be scattered or smothered, but in a MUCH different fashion than you are prepared for.
A trip to Fiji should always include in your carry-on or checked luggage plenty of Immodium or Lomotil. You WILL get some version or degree of, "running stomach," either while you are there - or shortly thereafter. Plan on it. Begin taking some sort of intestinal regulator after your very first meal.
Trust me, you will thank me for this advice. Repeatedly.
Fijians and Indians have cast iron in their digestive systems. They would have to in order to eat what they eat. Genuine Indian Curry is some of the spiciest stuff on earth. And, Fijian "Rockete" Peppers are hotter than any Cayenne or Jalapenos that ever came out of Tijuana.
But, you didn't come seven thousand miles to play it safe. Go ahead and test the waters of the local food chain, but by wading in slowly versus diving in head first. But, before taking this plunge, a few observations might be helpful - as I sit here at my computer battling an after-the-fact case of some of the worst barnyard trots one could ever imagine.
The Fijian diet is heavy in starch and sugar. This is why diabetes is an epidemic among islanders. The Fijian dalo is the island equivalent of the American potato. But, with two significant differences. The dalo has a purple tinge to it, in contrast to the brown appearance of our potato. The second difference is the taste. Your first bite of dalo will remind you of the time your mother washed out your mouth with Ivory soap. Dalo has the same consistency as Ivory, and the taste is also in the same family.
Eat it anyway. They do. And, it doesn't kill them.
Next on the Fijian menu is the seafood.
Their fish comes in several varieties, including eel. Most of it cooks up, when they do cook it, with a sort of "dead" gray look to it. They slit the fish down his back, and lay him open on the plate. Careful, careful. Them Fijian fish is just chock full of tiny little bones. And, them bones is brittle. They will get inside your mouth before you can say, "scat." Chew the fish an extra few times before swallowing. Fish bones don't do well once inside the colon.
The other thing to watch out for when eating Fijian fish is that much of it is served raw. And, please don't confuse Fijian raw with the Sushi you eat down at your local Chinese restaurant. This raw smells to the high heavens, and it has a sticky consistency to it. If you dare to tread in these culinary waters, hold your nose and take small bites at first. And, be sure to wash the raw fish down with a healthy swig of Pepto Bismol (which you also remembered to pack in your checked bag, didn't you?).
Truthfully, you will find fried fish in Fiji, but only in restaurants that serve Chinese food, or in places that offer the staple of all Brits - fish & chips. When you find one of these places, eat hearty with little or no fear.
In the cities of Nadi and Suva, on the main island of Viti Levu, McDonald's has come to town. The food tastes very similar to Mickey D's in America, but the ambiance of being served by an all Indian staff of cooks and workers is just a little different. The menu is mostly the same basic fare as in America, but without the wide array of choices. Ketchup packets cost .10 cents each. And, there are no free refills on soft drinks, gringo.
Just be glad you are not drinking Fijian Kool-Aid with your meal.
Which brings me to a final word of caution for the traveler's tummy.
As they say, "don't drink the water."
Unless the following is true...
The water has been heated and/or boiled - as in the brewed coffee that hotel restaurants serve. The coffee, as mentioned earlier, is excellent. It will not hurt you. If you have a bit of a British bone in you, hot tea is also a common menu item.
The water is in a square shaped bottled and it says, "FIJI," on the outside. Fiji brand water is available here in the states, and it is excellent. It is the same there. I have been to the bottling plant for this water. The source truly is an Artesian well located just outside of Suva. It is some of the purest water on earth. Fiji water is not quite as expensive in Fiji as it is here in the states, but whatever the price - pay it.
And, if you are served a glass of ice cubes in a restaurant along with your soft drink, go ahead and pass on the ice. Drink your Coke or whatever straight out of the bottle or can (through a straw). The ice carries and preserves the same parasite that lives in their normal water supply. Consume the ice, and the parasite will consume you.
Trust me. It is a fact.
Other than these precautions, embrace and enjoy the local food.
The fruit is garden fresh and the purest and sweetest on the planet. The Chinese restaurants are authentic and usually excellent, but remember that cat is a delicacy in China. We saw few cats in Fiji. My fellow travelers observed that this might be a bad sign - just as we were chowing down on the, "Cashew Chicken," in a local Chinese restaurant.
Again, just close your eyes and trust that it really is chicken that you're eating.
And, if all of this gets to be too much for your spoiled American palate, drive down to one of the local grocery stores or supermarkets (as they call them). Chances are they will have cans of Pringles Potato Chips on the shelf, or "fmf" brand cookies from New Zealand. Either of these will tide a tummy over just fine until a tolerable meal can be found.
Livin' on Fiji time will both challenge and reward the hearty, but cautious, eater. And, if you do get, "running stomach," just chalk it up as part of the experience. Immodium and Lomotil are great remedies for what ails you.
Just don't get too far from a toilet until they kick in.
Ni sa Moce.
Where else in the world can a traveler eat traditional Fijian, Curry, Indian, Chinese, British, Chicken Burgers, Pizza and McDonald's all in the same town? And, these dishes are available in places that are not even the capitol, nor largest city, of this island country.
As I begin this particular chapter of the blog, I should make the following admission. Cracker Barrel and Waffle House are still a few years away from hanging their shingles in this far-away land. So, if you're looking for an Uncle Hershel's Breakfast entree, or something "Scattered and Smothered," you won't find it here. What you will find might, indeed, be scattered or smothered, but in a MUCH different fashion than you are prepared for.
A trip to Fiji should always include in your carry-on or checked luggage plenty of Immodium or Lomotil. You WILL get some version or degree of, "running stomach," either while you are there - or shortly thereafter. Plan on it. Begin taking some sort of intestinal regulator after your very first meal.
Trust me, you will thank me for this advice. Repeatedly.
Fijians and Indians have cast iron in their digestive systems. They would have to in order to eat what they eat. Genuine Indian Curry is some of the spiciest stuff on earth. And, Fijian "Rockete" Peppers are hotter than any Cayenne or Jalapenos that ever came out of Tijuana.
But, you didn't come seven thousand miles to play it safe. Go ahead and test the waters of the local food chain, but by wading in slowly versus diving in head first. But, before taking this plunge, a few observations might be helpful - as I sit here at my computer battling an after-the-fact case of some of the worst barnyard trots one could ever imagine.
The Fijian diet is heavy in starch and sugar. This is why diabetes is an epidemic among islanders. The Fijian dalo is the island equivalent of the American potato. But, with two significant differences. The dalo has a purple tinge to it, in contrast to the brown appearance of our potato. The second difference is the taste. Your first bite of dalo will remind you of the time your mother washed out your mouth with Ivory soap. Dalo has the same consistency as Ivory, and the taste is also in the same family.
Eat it anyway. They do. And, it doesn't kill them.
Next on the Fijian menu is the seafood.
Their fish comes in several varieties, including eel. Most of it cooks up, when they do cook it, with a sort of "dead" gray look to it. They slit the fish down his back, and lay him open on the plate. Careful, careful. Them Fijian fish is just chock full of tiny little bones. And, them bones is brittle. They will get inside your mouth before you can say, "scat." Chew the fish an extra few times before swallowing. Fish bones don't do well once inside the colon.
The other thing to watch out for when eating Fijian fish is that much of it is served raw. And, please don't confuse Fijian raw with the Sushi you eat down at your local Chinese restaurant. This raw smells to the high heavens, and it has a sticky consistency to it. If you dare to tread in these culinary waters, hold your nose and take small bites at first. And, be sure to wash the raw fish down with a healthy swig of Pepto Bismol (which you also remembered to pack in your checked bag, didn't you?).
Truthfully, you will find fried fish in Fiji, but only in restaurants that serve Chinese food, or in places that offer the staple of all Brits - fish & chips. When you find one of these places, eat hearty with little or no fear.
In the cities of Nadi and Suva, on the main island of Viti Levu, McDonald's has come to town. The food tastes very similar to Mickey D's in America, but the ambiance of being served by an all Indian staff of cooks and workers is just a little different. The menu is mostly the same basic fare as in America, but without the wide array of choices. Ketchup packets cost .10 cents each. And, there are no free refills on soft drinks, gringo.
Just be glad you are not drinking Fijian Kool-Aid with your meal.
Which brings me to a final word of caution for the traveler's tummy.
As they say, "don't drink the water."
Unless the following is true...
The water has been heated and/or boiled - as in the brewed coffee that hotel restaurants serve. The coffee, as mentioned earlier, is excellent. It will not hurt you. If you have a bit of a British bone in you, hot tea is also a common menu item.
The water is in a square shaped bottled and it says, "FIJI," on the outside. Fiji brand water is available here in the states, and it is excellent. It is the same there. I have been to the bottling plant for this water. The source truly is an Artesian well located just outside of Suva. It is some of the purest water on earth. Fiji water is not quite as expensive in Fiji as it is here in the states, but whatever the price - pay it.
And, if you are served a glass of ice cubes in a restaurant along with your soft drink, go ahead and pass on the ice. Drink your Coke or whatever straight out of the bottle or can (through a straw). The ice carries and preserves the same parasite that lives in their normal water supply. Consume the ice, and the parasite will consume you.
Trust me. It is a fact.
Other than these precautions, embrace and enjoy the local food.
The fruit is garden fresh and the purest and sweetest on the planet. The Chinese restaurants are authentic and usually excellent, but remember that cat is a delicacy in China. We saw few cats in Fiji. My fellow travelers observed that this might be a bad sign - just as we were chowing down on the, "Cashew Chicken," in a local Chinese restaurant.
Again, just close your eyes and trust that it really is chicken that you're eating.
And, if all of this gets to be too much for your spoiled American palate, drive down to one of the local grocery stores or supermarkets (as they call them). Chances are they will have cans of Pringles Potato Chips on the shelf, or "fmf" brand cookies from New Zealand. Either of these will tide a tummy over just fine until a tolerable meal can be found.
Livin' on Fiji time will both challenge and reward the hearty, but cautious, eater. And, if you do get, "running stomach," just chalk it up as part of the experience. Immodium and Lomotil are great remedies for what ails you.
Just don't get too far from a toilet until they kick in.
Ni sa Moce.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
The Smells Of Paradise
To begin this post, I wish to dismiss a rumor.
Fiji is a beautiful, gorgeous, and scenic place. No one would deny that. Whenever someone who has not been to Fiji hears that you are going to Fiji, they most certainly and consistently react with the envious, "ooooh's" and "aaaaah's." Their image of the country is what they see and hear from the travel brochures and television.
But, Fiji is no idillic paradise. It is a very real country - with extremely good things, extremely bad things, and a whole lot of things in-between. One of the many, could-be-good, could-be-bad, but certain-to-be-memorable things about Fiji are the smells. They are one of the first things that greets newcomers at the Nadi International Airport.
Flowers, trees, and flowering shrubs bloom year round in Fiji. Their aroma fills the air with a sweetness that is heavenly. This lushly green environment is a gardener's dream. Walter Reeves would have a field day in Fiji.
In addition, the freshness of the trade winds makes the air virtually free of the pollutants and smog that are common in the states. The skies are not hazy, and with there being little if any ozone, there is a brightness that seems to accentuate even the smells of this greatly unique place.
To complete the bouquet of the pleasant smells, the salty breezes from off the Pacific give the island a, well, truly island smell. It is different from anything I have ever experienced at home. The air is similar in Florida, on the California coast, and certainly in the Carribbean. But still, there is a difference.
These things combined create a package aroma that stays in your head (or perhaps, more accurately, the nostrils) long after you've left the island. It is the thing that pops first into your memory whenever even a remotely similar smell comes along.
Now, for the other side of the nose.
Fiji is a third world country. Hygiene is not an item found on every corner. A LOT of the population doesn't bathe regularly. And, perfume is used, but not in every bedroom and bathroom. B.O. is a common quality, especially among Fijian men. I have written elsewhere about the, "Fijian Funk." It is real. And, it is really bad. Some have claimed that the more "ripe" a Fijian man smells, the greater his masculinity (and thus, his esteem among others in his circle of friends, family, and other associates). If that is true, then I have personally been in the presence of some of the most revered men in all of the Fiji Islands.
Neither Indians nor Fijians are known for being the cleanest people on the planet. Some streets in Fiji are dirty, some sidewalks and store fronts are too. There is dust from the gravel pot hole patches on the roads. And, there are stray dogs everywhere. In the villages, neighborhoods, and other areas of housing, there is no Fijian H.O.A. Code enforcement regarding the things that people keep, grow, or do in their yards is non-existent.
And then, there are the Indians.
The Hindi (or Hindu) religion teaches reincarnation. But, not just any form of reincarnation. Cows are sacred to Indians because they believe that their dead relatives come back as cows. And so, there are cows everywhere. Especially where Indian families live. They will have a cow tied in the front or back yard somewhere near the house. This is their way of allowing the dearly departed to come back home again. And, just in case you haven't been out in the country in a while, cows reek. I have wondered about the reasons why Indians smell so bad. Could it be that they practice regular group hugs with their dead relatives. Heaven forbid that it might go even farther than that.
Too, butcher shops in Fiji do not refrigerate their meat. You can walk by a butcher shop in Fiji and be instantly overcome with the pungent odor of a pig's head lying on the front counter. The flies love it. And, no one seems to want to stand in the way of the flies getting their fair share of the pig. And, since fish are plentiful, any average Fijian Joe can go down to the wharf, catch a string full of salt-water fish, and find a place on the side of the road to "peddle" them to passers-by. As the heat of the day increases, so does the smell of the fish on the stringer. The peddler will fan them to keep them cool, and occasionally douse them with sea water. But, nothing makes them ripen like the hot Fijian sun. Mmmmmm. Smell those stinky fish.
In any case, once you have smelled Fiji, you never forget Fiji. You don't go there strictly for the smells, and Fiji is not a scratch and sniff experience. But again, there are few other places like it.
Hold on to your nostrils, o ye faint of heart.
Fiji is a beautiful, gorgeous, and scenic place. No one would deny that. Whenever someone who has not been to Fiji hears that you are going to Fiji, they most certainly and consistently react with the envious, "ooooh's" and "aaaaah's." Their image of the country is what they see and hear from the travel brochures and television.
But, Fiji is no idillic paradise. It is a very real country - with extremely good things, extremely bad things, and a whole lot of things in-between. One of the many, could-be-good, could-be-bad, but certain-to-be-memorable things about Fiji are the smells. They are one of the first things that greets newcomers at the Nadi International Airport.
Flowers, trees, and flowering shrubs bloom year round in Fiji. Their aroma fills the air with a sweetness that is heavenly. This lushly green environment is a gardener's dream. Walter Reeves would have a field day in Fiji.
In addition, the freshness of the trade winds makes the air virtually free of the pollutants and smog that are common in the states. The skies are not hazy, and with there being little if any ozone, there is a brightness that seems to accentuate even the smells of this greatly unique place.
To complete the bouquet of the pleasant smells, the salty breezes from off the Pacific give the island a, well, truly island smell. It is different from anything I have ever experienced at home. The air is similar in Florida, on the California coast, and certainly in the Carribbean. But still, there is a difference.
These things combined create a package aroma that stays in your head (or perhaps, more accurately, the nostrils) long after you've left the island. It is the thing that pops first into your memory whenever even a remotely similar smell comes along.
Now, for the other side of the nose.
Fiji is a third world country. Hygiene is not an item found on every corner. A LOT of the population doesn't bathe regularly. And, perfume is used, but not in every bedroom and bathroom. B.O. is a common quality, especially among Fijian men. I have written elsewhere about the, "Fijian Funk." It is real. And, it is really bad. Some have claimed that the more "ripe" a Fijian man smells, the greater his masculinity (and thus, his esteem among others in his circle of friends, family, and other associates). If that is true, then I have personally been in the presence of some of the most revered men in all of the Fiji Islands.
Neither Indians nor Fijians are known for being the cleanest people on the planet. Some streets in Fiji are dirty, some sidewalks and store fronts are too. There is dust from the gravel pot hole patches on the roads. And, there are stray dogs everywhere. In the villages, neighborhoods, and other areas of housing, there is no Fijian H.O.A. Code enforcement regarding the things that people keep, grow, or do in their yards is non-existent.
And then, there are the Indians.
The Hindi (or Hindu) religion teaches reincarnation. But, not just any form of reincarnation. Cows are sacred to Indians because they believe that their dead relatives come back as cows. And so, there are cows everywhere. Especially where Indian families live. They will have a cow tied in the front or back yard somewhere near the house. This is their way of allowing the dearly departed to come back home again. And, just in case you haven't been out in the country in a while, cows reek. I have wondered about the reasons why Indians smell so bad. Could it be that they practice regular group hugs with their dead relatives. Heaven forbid that it might go even farther than that.
Too, butcher shops in Fiji do not refrigerate their meat. You can walk by a butcher shop in Fiji and be instantly overcome with the pungent odor of a pig's head lying on the front counter. The flies love it. And, no one seems to want to stand in the way of the flies getting their fair share of the pig. And, since fish are plentiful, any average Fijian Joe can go down to the wharf, catch a string full of salt-water fish, and find a place on the side of the road to "peddle" them to passers-by. As the heat of the day increases, so does the smell of the fish on the stringer. The peddler will fan them to keep them cool, and occasionally douse them with sea water. But, nothing makes them ripen like the hot Fijian sun. Mmmmmm. Smell those stinky fish.
In any case, once you have smelled Fiji, you never forget Fiji. You don't go there strictly for the smells, and Fiji is not a scratch and sniff experience. But again, there are few other places like it.
Hold on to your nostrils, o ye faint of heart.
A Bure By The Sea
One of the nicest things for a westerner visiting Fiji is the wide array of available and affordable temporary living accommodations. Tourists have been visiting Fiji long enough for the locals to really "get it" in terms of their knowing what Aussies, Kiwis, Asians, and Americans will tolerate as living conditions.
The wide array of Fiji accommodations begins on the low end with "rat hole" hotels run by Indians - seemingly for Indians. These places are infested with insects of all kinds - including bedbugs, and are greatly substandard in things like sufficient (and clean) bath and bed linens, lighting, comfortable bedding, room security, restaurant facilities, telephone, and internet access. Why a westerner would ever willingly stay in one of these dumps is beyond this kevalangi's understanding.
The missionary who helped organize the trip we were on initially had us booked into one of these tenements. Each of the aforementioned issues was encountered during our one night's stay in this hotel from Hades. The straw that broke the kevalangi's back was when one of the ministers traveling with us had to endure the knocking, panting, moaning and screaming of a wild sexual night from the room adjacent to his. Yes, the walls were that thin and porous.
The minister got no sleep that night, and consequently led a charge by the rest of us on the next afternoon to find a better place to be. We found it in short order, and spent the rest of the three weeks in a great resort hotel that wound up being everything we could have asked for - and was actually less expensive than the original Hindi nightmare we encountered.
If you ever go to Fiji, be flexible, but be thorough in your investigation of hotels and other accommodations. You'll be really surprised at what is available, affordable, and accessible to all the things you want to do. Sorry for sounding like a travel brochure, but it really is true.
While we found a great resort hotel, in our travels around the island, we also found several other resorts. Some were mountainside, and some seaside. The most notable of these were full bures (houses) with multiple bedrooms (with queen size beds), air conditioning, full kitchen and living room facilities, a large bath with a great shower, and back porches overlooking spectacular views of the island foliage, beaches and the deepest blue pacific ocean-scapes one could imagine. There were also resorts featuring traditional hotel rooms and suites, with great pools, restaurants, and private beaches - all at affordable prices per American dollars.
Our hotel had a great restaurant, with an adjacent swimming pool that was the largest this white boy has ever seen. At one end of the pool was a water slide and waterfall. One side was a long, olympic style lap pool, and the other was fashioned like the cliffs of an oceanside cove. The deepest end of the entire pool was just over six feet. The water was always clean, and cold as ice. Part of the pool was covered with a large awning, which blocked the water from the mid-day sun. Too, June is the beginning of their winter. The temperature each day was in the 80's, with night temperatures ranging from the low to middle 60's.
Now, back to the restaurant. The nightly rate for our villa (which would sleep four) was approximately $95 USD. This was inclusive of an outstanding continental breakfast for two. The continental included the following: a choice of cereal, wheat or white toast, a plate of island fruit, freshly brewed Fijian coffee (which was to die for), pineapple or orange juice, milk, water, and granulated cane sugar (which was so much purer and tolerable in its sweetness than the white, processed sugar that we eat here in America).
Enjoying this filling breakfast by the peaceful stillness of the pool, while watching the prettiest sunrises you could imagine, cooled by the gentle trade winds that almost always blew in from the ocean, was one of the great blessings of every day. This alone made coming back to the states less than a pleasurable thing to face.
The hotel staff was always responsive when we had a request for pool towels, extra linens in the room, or other amenities. There was a local laundry service that picked up and delivered to the room. While not exactly cheap, the clothes were clean, had a fresh smell, and were ironed as good as anyone could have ever asked for.
And so, again, do not fear the Fijian hotel experience. It can truly be one of the best things about livin' on Fiji time.
The wide array of Fiji accommodations begins on the low end with "rat hole" hotels run by Indians - seemingly for Indians. These places are infested with insects of all kinds - including bedbugs, and are greatly substandard in things like sufficient (and clean) bath and bed linens, lighting, comfortable bedding, room security, restaurant facilities, telephone, and internet access. Why a westerner would ever willingly stay in one of these dumps is beyond this kevalangi's understanding.
The missionary who helped organize the trip we were on initially had us booked into one of these tenements. Each of the aforementioned issues was encountered during our one night's stay in this hotel from Hades. The straw that broke the kevalangi's back was when one of the ministers traveling with us had to endure the knocking, panting, moaning and screaming of a wild sexual night from the room adjacent to his. Yes, the walls were that thin and porous.
The minister got no sleep that night, and consequently led a charge by the rest of us on the next afternoon to find a better place to be. We found it in short order, and spent the rest of the three weeks in a great resort hotel that wound up being everything we could have asked for - and was actually less expensive than the original Hindi nightmare we encountered.
If you ever go to Fiji, be flexible, but be thorough in your investigation of hotels and other accommodations. You'll be really surprised at what is available, affordable, and accessible to all the things you want to do. Sorry for sounding like a travel brochure, but it really is true.
While we found a great resort hotel, in our travels around the island, we also found several other resorts. Some were mountainside, and some seaside. The most notable of these were full bures (houses) with multiple bedrooms (with queen size beds), air conditioning, full kitchen and living room facilities, a large bath with a great shower, and back porches overlooking spectacular views of the island foliage, beaches and the deepest blue pacific ocean-scapes one could imagine. There were also resorts featuring traditional hotel rooms and suites, with great pools, restaurants, and private beaches - all at affordable prices per American dollars.
Our hotel had a great restaurant, with an adjacent swimming pool that was the largest this white boy has ever seen. At one end of the pool was a water slide and waterfall. One side was a long, olympic style lap pool, and the other was fashioned like the cliffs of an oceanside cove. The deepest end of the entire pool was just over six feet. The water was always clean, and cold as ice. Part of the pool was covered with a large awning, which blocked the water from the mid-day sun. Too, June is the beginning of their winter. The temperature each day was in the 80's, with night temperatures ranging from the low to middle 60's.
Now, back to the restaurant. The nightly rate for our villa (which would sleep four) was approximately $95 USD. This was inclusive of an outstanding continental breakfast for two. The continental included the following: a choice of cereal, wheat or white toast, a plate of island fruit, freshly brewed Fijian coffee (which was to die for), pineapple or orange juice, milk, water, and granulated cane sugar (which was so much purer and tolerable in its sweetness than the white, processed sugar that we eat here in America).
Enjoying this filling breakfast by the peaceful stillness of the pool, while watching the prettiest sunrises you could imagine, cooled by the gentle trade winds that almost always blew in from the ocean, was one of the great blessings of every day. This alone made coming back to the states less than a pleasurable thing to face.
The hotel staff was always responsive when we had a request for pool towels, extra linens in the room, or other amenities. There was a local laundry service that picked up and delivered to the room. While not exactly cheap, the clothes were clean, had a fresh smell, and were ironed as good as anyone could have ever asked for.
And so, again, do not fear the Fijian hotel experience. It can truly be one of the best things about livin' on Fiji time.
Fijian Rush Hour
Once you are off the plane, through customs, have your luggage in hand, and are through the Nadi airport (which is a VERY interesting place), your next challenge awaits. "Transport", as they call it in Fiji-land, is a very different thing than it is in America.
First, you will be riding in something decidedly smaller, most likely with front wheel drive and a manual straight-stick transmission, and with the look of something both inside and out that has been through a war. Toyota, Nissan, Kia, and just about any other Asian made car will dominate the choices when using a taxi, rental car, or cab. We saw only one or two American made vehicles the whole time we were there.
Second, they drive on the wrong side of the road in Fiji. So, the steering wheel and driver's seat is on the right versus the left side of the vehicle. With Fiji having been a British colony until the 1960's, this is not surprising. Also not surprising is the presence of round-abouts. We saw very few traffic signals, and none of those were operational. The country was just recovering from massive flooding brought about by typhoons that pounded their nation in January, March and April of this year. So, the few traffic lights and street lamps that did exist were not working.
This brought yet another aspect of "fun" to the "transport" experience. Specifically, negotiating roads that the devil himself would not attempt.
The roads in Fiji are beyond incredibly bad. The substandard tar-seal they use is rough, and is applied with little care for creating a smooth driving surface. With the aforementioned flooding in the country just prior to our arrival, the top level of tar seal had been stripped away, and the under surface was riddled with G-I-A-N-T potholes. The biggest potholes any driver will ever experience anywhere.
And they are everywhere!
Dodging these monstrous craters becomes a daily challenge, much like avoiding the dreaded IED's of the wars our troops have endured in the Middle East. Our rental van's suspension took one royal beating after another as we racked up hundreds of miles (or kilometers) over the three weeks we drove those roads.
Most of the roads are two lane. There was only one stretch of the "Queen's Highway," which is the main thoroughfare that rings the large island of Viti Levu, which was a truly divided highway with passing lanes on each side. The two lanes are more narrow than US highways, mainly because the cars are all the smaller, compact, Asian variety. The word, "Pig Trail," comes to mind as a way of describing the width and appearance of the majority of Fijian streets, roads, and highways.
Fourth, public transport is preeminent. Most Fijians are not financially able to own a car. That privilege is largely controlled by the Indian population of the country. So, most of the natives get from Point A to Point B on large open-air buses, in smaller rented vans, and in taxis. Public transport is both cheap and somewhat plentiful. A 60 kilometer round-trip lease of an eight passenger van and driver costs about $30 USD. We paid for this service repeatedly during the three week stay, in order to bring church members from other towns to a centrally-located campus for classes, meetings, and worship services.
With tourism being one of the foremost industries in the country, taxis are everywhere. Most of the drivers are Indian, and they are fearless. I am convinced that they would make excellent NASCAR drivers. Passing on blind curves, changing lanes and turning with no advanced warning, and driving with the most blinding, piercing, little bright headlights in the "on" position are standard driving practice with these hired road warriors. They don't talk much, and you, as a passenger, are glad. I learned that it is a very difficult thing to hold a meaningful conversation when you are gripped by sheer terror. A taxi ride in Fiji can be FAR more hair-raising than any thrill ride at Six Flags or Disney World.
Fifth, Fijian authorities are beginning to try and control the recklessness their drivers are famous for. Speed limits are posted in HUGE black numbers on round, white signs that are ringed with a blood-red stripe. They are unmistakable. You can see them from almost a mile away. Too, the Fijian police have discovered radar guns. They hide by the roadside and clock your speed. There is no five-mile-per-hour grace window with these officers. They will cite you for even one mile over the limit, and will also fine everyone in the car if only one passenger's seat belt is unbuckled. The fine for not being buckled is $80 FJD per passenger. This practice came about largely because of the Fijian penchant from cramming people into vehicles in numbers far outstretching the vehicle's stated passenger capacity. I have personally ridden with as many as ten or twelve Fijians packed in a seven passenger vehicle.
What fun!
Livin' on Fiji time is a driver's nightmare. Take plenty of courage with you as you brave the Fijian road.
It's not your father's transport.
First, you will be riding in something decidedly smaller, most likely with front wheel drive and a manual straight-stick transmission, and with the look of something both inside and out that has been through a war. Toyota, Nissan, Kia, and just about any other Asian made car will dominate the choices when using a taxi, rental car, or cab. We saw only one or two American made vehicles the whole time we were there.
Second, they drive on the wrong side of the road in Fiji. So, the steering wheel and driver's seat is on the right versus the left side of the vehicle. With Fiji having been a British colony until the 1960's, this is not surprising. Also not surprising is the presence of round-abouts. We saw very few traffic signals, and none of those were operational. The country was just recovering from massive flooding brought about by typhoons that pounded their nation in January, March and April of this year. So, the few traffic lights and street lamps that did exist were not working.
This brought yet another aspect of "fun" to the "transport" experience. Specifically, negotiating roads that the devil himself would not attempt.
The roads in Fiji are beyond incredibly bad. The substandard tar-seal they use is rough, and is applied with little care for creating a smooth driving surface. With the aforementioned flooding in the country just prior to our arrival, the top level of tar seal had been stripped away, and the under surface was riddled with G-I-A-N-T potholes. The biggest potholes any driver will ever experience anywhere.
And they are everywhere!
Dodging these monstrous craters becomes a daily challenge, much like avoiding the dreaded IED's of the wars our troops have endured in the Middle East. Our rental van's suspension took one royal beating after another as we racked up hundreds of miles (or kilometers) over the three weeks we drove those roads.
Most of the roads are two lane. There was only one stretch of the "Queen's Highway," which is the main thoroughfare that rings the large island of Viti Levu, which was a truly divided highway with passing lanes on each side. The two lanes are more narrow than US highways, mainly because the cars are all the smaller, compact, Asian variety. The word, "Pig Trail," comes to mind as a way of describing the width and appearance of the majority of Fijian streets, roads, and highways.
Fourth, public transport is preeminent. Most Fijians are not financially able to own a car. That privilege is largely controlled by the Indian population of the country. So, most of the natives get from Point A to Point B on large open-air buses, in smaller rented vans, and in taxis. Public transport is both cheap and somewhat plentiful. A 60 kilometer round-trip lease of an eight passenger van and driver costs about $30 USD. We paid for this service repeatedly during the three week stay, in order to bring church members from other towns to a centrally-located campus for classes, meetings, and worship services.
With tourism being one of the foremost industries in the country, taxis are everywhere. Most of the drivers are Indian, and they are fearless. I am convinced that they would make excellent NASCAR drivers. Passing on blind curves, changing lanes and turning with no advanced warning, and driving with the most blinding, piercing, little bright headlights in the "on" position are standard driving practice with these hired road warriors. They don't talk much, and you, as a passenger, are glad. I learned that it is a very difficult thing to hold a meaningful conversation when you are gripped by sheer terror. A taxi ride in Fiji can be FAR more hair-raising than any thrill ride at Six Flags or Disney World.
Fifth, Fijian authorities are beginning to try and control the recklessness their drivers are famous for. Speed limits are posted in HUGE black numbers on round, white signs that are ringed with a blood-red stripe. They are unmistakable. You can see them from almost a mile away. Too, the Fijian police have discovered radar guns. They hide by the roadside and clock your speed. There is no five-mile-per-hour grace window with these officers. They will cite you for even one mile over the limit, and will also fine everyone in the car if only one passenger's seat belt is unbuckled. The fine for not being buckled is $80 FJD per passenger. This practice came about largely because of the Fijian penchant from cramming people into vehicles in numbers far outstretching the vehicle's stated passenger capacity. I have personally ridden with as many as ten or twelve Fijians packed in a seven passenger vehicle.
What fun!
Livin' on Fiji time is a driver's nightmare. Take plenty of courage with you as you brave the Fijian road.
It's not your father's transport.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Dee Plane, Dee Plane
Livin' on Fiji time is a 7,000 mile journey. You could drive it, but you wouldn't want to. At least 4,000 of those miles would test a car's buoyancy for sure.
Air travel is a cursed thing. But, no one seems to have a better alternative. Being in a pressurized tube, crammed like chickens on a Semi on their way to give their lives for Truett Cathy, is not a fun ride. Flying to Fiji over the fifteen to sixteen hours it takes to get there requires some determination and a high tolerance for discomfort. Your feet and hands swell like balloons, your back aches from the narrow curvature of the seats, and your bladder is always hyper-active at 37,000 feet.
Finally landing in Nadi was a lot like being let out of prison. The air was fresh, the sun was bright and intense (the ozone is non-existent there), and the people were as friendly as ever. Making it through customs took all of ten minutes. Soon, we were in the van and on our way to the hotel.
Rewind... Back to the air travel.
Over the course of the four major plane changes we made, I met lots of interesting folks.
There was "Steve the yankee." Steve is a Vietnam vet who has blood cancer as a result of Agent Orange exposure. Steve and his family were on their way to Maui for two weeks of scuba diving. This trip to Maui was just one of the things on his bucket list, he said, before he dies - which is supposed to happen sometime in the next year, according to his doctors. I also saw a criminal in handcuffs being transported to Samoa with Sky Marshall escort. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. I sat behind the Prime Minister of the Solomon Islands, who was being escorted to Honolulu by his top commander of the Solomon Islands police force.
I sat next to a young couple with a two-week old baby. They were going to their ancestral island home for an annual family reunion. I, unfortunately, sat very near to a young Jamaican man who had Rasti deadlocks, and an obvious intestinal malady (that he was freely and frequently sharing with all his fellow passengers). They should have locked him in the toilet for most of the flight. Finally, I met a great guy named James in the Honolulu airport who is a veterinarian. James said that he works primarily with exotic sea animals. He had been in Hawaii on a contract job for a few days. This poor fellow-traveler of mine had a broken leg and was on crutches. I helped him board the plane with his heavy backpack.
The flights, as always, were long, the food was underwhelming, and the conditions were not always as cool and relaxing as the commercials say. But, the airline crews were as hard-working and accommodating as ever. I have great respect for what they do. Few other people in life can make the claim of doing their jobs while traveling through the air at 400-500 miles per hour, walking a narrow aisle pushing a heavy drink cart, fighting just to stand up during sudden bursts of turbulence, and dealing with sometimes impossible-to-please, grumpy passengers. Whenever I see these folks at work, I always think of the old book on flight attendants (or "stewardesses" as they once were known) entitled, "Coffee, Tea or Me?" Not one of the flight attendants on this Fiji run were typical of the hot-to-trot image portrayed in that book.
The most pleasant surprise of the plane rides was on the Atlanta to Honolulu leg of the trip. They now offer a choice of movies and television shows, individually selected by each passenger. No longer is everyone subjected to the same boring movie that nobody ever heard of. I had at my fingertips the choice of sixteen movies and television shows. At least a couple of these movies I had wanted to make it to the theater to see. It was great to have something to watch that I actually wanted to see. This helped tremendously in passing the long nine hours spent in the air.
Livin' on Fiji time is worth every mile of the agony of the air travel it takes get there. Plan on two full days of flying. If you plot the course just right, one of the stops along the way is a little island called Oahu.
And, that ain't a bad layover at all - I don't care who you are.
Air travel is a cursed thing. But, no one seems to have a better alternative. Being in a pressurized tube, crammed like chickens on a Semi on their way to give their lives for Truett Cathy, is not a fun ride. Flying to Fiji over the fifteen to sixteen hours it takes to get there requires some determination and a high tolerance for discomfort. Your feet and hands swell like balloons, your back aches from the narrow curvature of the seats, and your bladder is always hyper-active at 37,000 feet.
Finally landing in Nadi was a lot like being let out of prison. The air was fresh, the sun was bright and intense (the ozone is non-existent there), and the people were as friendly as ever. Making it through customs took all of ten minutes. Soon, we were in the van and on our way to the hotel.
Rewind... Back to the air travel.
Over the course of the four major plane changes we made, I met lots of interesting folks.
There was "Steve the yankee." Steve is a Vietnam vet who has blood cancer as a result of Agent Orange exposure. Steve and his family were on their way to Maui for two weeks of scuba diving. This trip to Maui was just one of the things on his bucket list, he said, before he dies - which is supposed to happen sometime in the next year, according to his doctors. I also saw a criminal in handcuffs being transported to Samoa with Sky Marshall escort. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. I sat behind the Prime Minister of the Solomon Islands, who was being escorted to Honolulu by his top commander of the Solomon Islands police force.
I sat next to a young couple with a two-week old baby. They were going to their ancestral island home for an annual family reunion. I, unfortunately, sat very near to a young Jamaican man who had Rasti deadlocks, and an obvious intestinal malady (that he was freely and frequently sharing with all his fellow passengers). They should have locked him in the toilet for most of the flight. Finally, I met a great guy named James in the Honolulu airport who is a veterinarian. James said that he works primarily with exotic sea animals. He had been in Hawaii on a contract job for a few days. This poor fellow-traveler of mine had a broken leg and was on crutches. I helped him board the plane with his heavy backpack.
The flights, as always, were long, the food was underwhelming, and the conditions were not always as cool and relaxing as the commercials say. But, the airline crews were as hard-working and accommodating as ever. I have great respect for what they do. Few other people in life can make the claim of doing their jobs while traveling through the air at 400-500 miles per hour, walking a narrow aisle pushing a heavy drink cart, fighting just to stand up during sudden bursts of turbulence, and dealing with sometimes impossible-to-please, grumpy passengers. Whenever I see these folks at work, I always think of the old book on flight attendants (or "stewardesses" as they once were known) entitled, "Coffee, Tea or Me?" Not one of the flight attendants on this Fiji run were typical of the hot-to-trot image portrayed in that book.
The most pleasant surprise of the plane rides was on the Atlanta to Honolulu leg of the trip. They now offer a choice of movies and television shows, individually selected by each passenger. No longer is everyone subjected to the same boring movie that nobody ever heard of. I had at my fingertips the choice of sixteen movies and television shows. At least a couple of these movies I had wanted to make it to the theater to see. It was great to have something to watch that I actually wanted to see. This helped tremendously in passing the long nine hours spent in the air.
Livin' on Fiji time is worth every mile of the agony of the air travel it takes get there. Plan on two full days of flying. If you plot the course just right, one of the stops along the way is a little island called Oahu.
And, that ain't a bad layover at all - I don't care who you are.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Ni Sa Bula
Twenty six years ago a young man left his little children and heavy-hearted wife to travel seven thousand miles away. He wasn't going to a foreign combat zone to do battle with a mortal enemy nation. His father had already done that tour of duty a lifetime earlier in 1942. This time, the mission was to go for a three week attempt to assist a missionary in his work in the South Pacific.
When that inaugural trip was done, so great was the homesickness of those agonizing days of separation that he swore he would never do it a second time. Little did he know that his journeys here would span a lifetime.
As I sit here in a hotel room in Honolulu, having just completed a ninth mission trip to what has become my, "beloved Pacific," I look back over the years and see God's purposeful and merciful hand. He sent me here. Every single time. Of that, I am certain.
My mind and heart are now so full. So many unique experiences, and countless faces that I have come to know and love. My father came here all those years ago to fight and defeat the hated Japanese. My missions here have been so different than his. And yet, I am still fighting an even greater enemy than he did.
This blog will be my feeble effort to put in words what this latest trip has accomplished, and the indelible memories it has produced. Thank you for sitting here with me as I look back over the last twenty days of livin' on Fiji time.
Before signing off on this initial post, a short introduction to Fijian greetings and salutations.
"Ni Sa Bula," is the Fijian greeting. Sometimes shortened to, "Bula," the former is a more courteous hello. The full greeting is actually, "Ni Sa Bula Vinaka." "Vinaka," is a versatile word that can also mean, "thank you." When a tourist enunciates the full greeting with the proper vocal inflection, the Fijian will smile and quickly respond with the same greeting. In essence, by including "Vinaka," in the return greeting, they are recognizing and thanking you for your courteous hello.
One of the most precious qualities of the Fijian people is their kind-heartedness. While they are not a forward and brash people, Fijians are not as backward and bashful as the peoples of other Pacific Island nations, such as the Solomon Islands. Fijians respect and respond well to kindness, courtesy, and speech that conveys a regard for them as human beings.
Many of the white-skinned ("Keva-Langi") tourists they encounter, especially the Aussies, are not at all cordial and conversant with them. So, when one does reach out to them - with even the simplest expression of human regard, they warmly respond. Even a connection involving only eye-contact and a smile produces a sudden brightening to their countenance.
Just one of the many things that makes coming to their world such a joy.
"Ni Sa Moce (pronounced, "Moy-They")... Another expression of courtesy and regard.
We would say it as...
"See y'all later..."
When that inaugural trip was done, so great was the homesickness of those agonizing days of separation that he swore he would never do it a second time. Little did he know that his journeys here would span a lifetime.
As I sit here in a hotel room in Honolulu, having just completed a ninth mission trip to what has become my, "beloved Pacific," I look back over the years and see God's purposeful and merciful hand. He sent me here. Every single time. Of that, I am certain.
My mind and heart are now so full. So many unique experiences, and countless faces that I have come to know and love. My father came here all those years ago to fight and defeat the hated Japanese. My missions here have been so different than his. And yet, I am still fighting an even greater enemy than he did.
This blog will be my feeble effort to put in words what this latest trip has accomplished, and the indelible memories it has produced. Thank you for sitting here with me as I look back over the last twenty days of livin' on Fiji time.
Before signing off on this initial post, a short introduction to Fijian greetings and salutations.
"Ni Sa Bula," is the Fijian greeting. Sometimes shortened to, "Bula," the former is a more courteous hello. The full greeting is actually, "Ni Sa Bula Vinaka." "Vinaka," is a versatile word that can also mean, "thank you." When a tourist enunciates the full greeting with the proper vocal inflection, the Fijian will smile and quickly respond with the same greeting. In essence, by including "Vinaka," in the return greeting, they are recognizing and thanking you for your courteous hello.
One of the most precious qualities of the Fijian people is their kind-heartedness. While they are not a forward and brash people, Fijians are not as backward and bashful as the peoples of other Pacific Island nations, such as the Solomon Islands. Fijians respect and respond well to kindness, courtesy, and speech that conveys a regard for them as human beings.
Many of the white-skinned ("Keva-Langi") tourists they encounter, especially the Aussies, are not at all cordial and conversant with them. So, when one does reach out to them - with even the simplest expression of human regard, they warmly respond. Even a connection involving only eye-contact and a smile produces a sudden brightening to their countenance.
Just one of the many things that makes coming to their world such a joy.
"Ni Sa Moce (pronounced, "Moy-They")... Another expression of courtesy and regard.
We would say it as...
"See y'all later..."
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