First Stop: FIJI
September 2023
Our annual international journey began in true David and Leah fashion; we were nearly derailed from the start. Leah’s passport expires in months. Knowing that would be an issue, she called the Fijian immigration agency two weeks prior to our departure, and was assured that Fijian Airways would be able to coordinate travel approval. But of course, upon arrival at SFO, Fiji Airways told us they do not make such calls. We had to email an agent in the middle of the night in Fiji and get a response before we’d be allowed to check-in. Seemingly impossible but somehow, this archaic process was efficient. We made it!
We departed at 11pm on a Saturday and after crossing the International Dateline, we arrived at 6am on Monday. After an 11-hour flight that seemed to fly by quickly, we arrived in Nadi, Fiji. In spite of the quick passport expiration date resolution, blissful flight, and painless customs process, we quickly learned a lesson we’d have to remember time and time again in Fiji — pack your patience when you come; there is no purchase or process that is not overly burdensome or very slow. After an hour-long wait for our rental car, I drove us on the one-hour trek to our hotel with a steering wheel on the right side of the car and driving on what we consider to be the wrong side of the road.
The drive was fascinating. The city of Nadi is very reminiscent of West African cities we have visited, with dilapidated retail shops dotting the roadway, numerous people walking up and down the sidewalk-less streets, school children in their colorful uniforms walking to school, and fruit stands on the corners.
The other similarity: the people were all Black. Yes, who knew Fiji is a Black country. And most of the women wear natural Afros.
According to lessons taught in Fijian schools, Africans migrated to the island 50,000–75,000 years ago and were the original inhabitants of the islands. Many thousands of years later, the British would colonize the more than 300 islands that comprise Fiji. With the British came indentured Indian workers. As a result, today, the island nation is mostly Afro-Fijian (Black), with a large Indo-Fijian (Indian) population.
What we observed, as well as learned through internet research, is that the two populations rarely mix. While official statistics show the country is mostly Christian, we saw very few churches but many, many mosques and several Hindu temples.
Fiji gained its independence from Britain after 96 years of colonization in 1970. While we read that the country is considered a mid-income nation, we experienced deep poverty and a severely underdeveloped landscape. One huge caveat is that we never made it to the capital city of Suva, which is a three-hour drive from the main international airport. In the numerous miles we did drive throughout the main island of Viti Levu however, the homes were mostly small, deteriorating, makeshift structures with roofs and sometimes walls made of corrugated tin. The landscape was primarily rural, with many acres of vegetation and jungle, stray dogs everywhere and cows, goats, and chickens on the side of the roads.
We made it to the Intercontinental Hotel in Natadola, a sprawling, very secluded property. Our room was nice, but overall, we were underwhelmed with the facilities. We were early enough to catch breakfast at the buffet. The food was good, but the Aussie and Kiwi children running around everywhere were distracting. Then we relaxed by the pool for hours until the live music started. This would be the first in a string of remarkably talented local singers showcased at the resort.
Exhausted by the travel and extreme time change, we went to bed early. After an early morning workout the next day, we decided to go to a child-free breakfast spot. The scene was much more peaceful, but the food was not as good.
We learned that nearly all tourists never stay on the main island; they transfer in Nadi to a boat to one of the many other Fijian islands that cater entirely to tourists. Viti Levu is the largest of the Fiji Islands, being home to more than three-quarters of Fiji’s total population of 900,000.
We planned a few days in Viti Levu to learn about the people and the culture, and also for me to play golf at a nearby championship golf course (Fijian Vijay Singh was ranked the number one golf player in the world in his prime). Although it had rained through the night and into the morning, the sun was out now, so I took the shuttle to the Natadola Bay Championship Golf Course. Four holes on the front nine were closed due to the rain and so was the driving range for practice. I was renting clubs and I desperately needed to practice, but I had to go without. Even though I’ve been at it a few years, for all intents and purposes, I am still a beginner at golf. But despite all the excuses, including rain, I had one of the best rounds of golf I’ve ever played.
Desperate to get out of the resort, we ventured into a nearby town, Sigatoka, a 30-minute drive from the Intercontinental. More observation of tough times on the tropical island. We stopped at a national park, but it was closing. We then found the small town, drove by the court and the police station, positioned on the same campus as public housing.
Looking for a place to eat, we settled on Divine Café, a small Muslim restaurant connected to a Mosque. There was an older gentleman sleeping supine at one table, no other customers, but a lot of what appeared to be family members going in and out of the restaurant. We had a pleasant if not particularly tasty meal, then headed back to the hotel for more great music. It was early to bed for us because we had to head back to the airport first thing in the morning to return the rental car and head to the docks for a boat ride to the next phase of our Fijian vacation, a luxury resort on a secluded island!
While we somehow managed to have not gotten lost yet at this point in the trip, Leah did forget her purse at a roadside Indian food mart we stopped at mid-way between the Intercontinental and Nadi airport. Unfortunately, she didn’t figure this out until we were nearly at the airport. Having to double back almost made us miss our boat to the Island of Tokoriki, however, luck was on our side again, and we made it.
The boat transport was terrible, but we’d have a different perspective a few days later. A two-hour ride on a large catamaran, filled to the brim, foul smelling, hot, extremely choppy, seasick inducing, that stopped at several other islands before depositing us at the Tokoriki Island Resort.
This is truly an oasis. Probably the most fabulous place we have ever stayed. A gorgeous, lush jungle island deep in the South Pacific, with beautiful beaches all around, palm trees everywhere, and a small, exclusive resort with incredible amenities. The property is meticulously maintained. Somehow, our travel points from years of international travel covered this entire four-night stay.
A large private villa with a huge deck, our own mini-pool, private walkway to the beach just steps away, along with a hammock, beach chairs, and massage tables. It was hard to leave this place.
There were also many, many insects and birds on the island. Ants in the millions, lizards the thousands, large unique spiders, and always plenty of mosquitoes. None of these were surprising. But as I sat on our deck the first evening to begin writing this blog I was serenaded by the screeching sound of bats. I looked up and saw them everywhere. I’ve seen small fruit bats in the Bay Area before, but these were the real deal. As the night grew darker and the bats swelled in numbers, it got a bit ominous.
No bat attacks that evening, thank goodness. We got dressed and walked to the main restaurant. We were reminded again that nothing happens quickly in Fiji and the obvious would be confirmed by a staff member the next day, who referred to our tabletop automatic fan fly swatter that was petering out as being on Fijian time.
The food was not bad, not great, but just fine. Disappointing given the caliber of the resort and the pretensions of the dining experience. We found that if we stuck to Fijian dishes, which are heavily influenced by Indian cuisine, we had the best culinary experiences possible on the resort.
A brief but very steep and challenging hike the next morning took us to the highest point on the island. After the hike and breakfast it was time for our one and only structured activity of the trip — snorkeling. As usual, I was somewhat hesitant with my lack of swimming abilities, but all went well. This was a very long snorkeling session. There were many colorful and pretty fish, but this is where I share what we had been doing every few hours every day of the trip thus far — comparing Fiji to French Polynesia, better known by the name of its largest island, Tahiti.
Nearly a year ago when we began planning this 50th birthday extravaganza for Leah, we were going to visit French Polynesia for a third time before heading to New Zealand. But I suggested something new — Fiji instead of Tahiti. We are both very happy we made that decision because Fiji is so different, but the comparison is not close. Hands down, French Polynesia is better for so many reasons, principally the beautiful beaches with swimmable water and perfect weather. There was also something off about the staff at Tokoriki Resort. It was not just the slow service, it was something else, something that took us several days to figure out. We decided the entire staff were in the Sunken Place! Straight out of the movie Get Out, the staff were robotic, and overly pleasant, unnecessarily smiling or laughing, and all Black. The manager, a White woman, who looked like the Get Out actress with the teacup.
There were also these weird admonishments in our rooms and on other printed material — “do not offer alcohol to staff”. We wondered why the guests were being directed in this manner. It felt kind of like being told, “do not feed the animals” at a zoo. In a twist or reversal of roles, Leah was actually much more upset about this than me. She kept thinking we were in some minstrel show with all of the singing the staff were doing, and the rules against giving them alcohol or fraternizing with them. But it is very possible we were being overly sensitive and it probably didn’t help that the book she was reading on this trip was 12 Years a Slave.
The next day was designed to be a very chill, lazy day — Villa Day! We’d stay in and around our villa all day. We repeated the morning hike from the day before; knowing what was coming, it was far less challenging.
After briefly walking over to the Sheraton property next door, which made us more appreciative of where we were staying, we headed back to our villa. We intended to take a dip in our personal pool, but the sun never quite made it out of the clouds. Several staff in Tokoriki and on the main island commented on how very strange the weather had been during our stay — windy, rainy, and sometimes cool, and the obvious impact of climate change.
Before heading out to play tennis for our workout, Leah watched one of her shows and I worked on this blog. The last words I typed were about the Sunken Place, then we headed out when I had to almost eat those words.
We were going to play tennis but stopped first at the life-size chess board we had been making moves on all day. We saw that a couple was already on the tennis court with another couple waiting. We decided to try our hand at beach volleyball instead of tennis. After messing around in the sand poorly chasing after the volleyball, we were suddenly joined by one, then two, then 10 Fijian staff. We ended up with a full-blown six-on-six series of seven games. How the hell did this happen! It was fun, they were great, and it contested our earlier thoughts about the staff. But as thrilling and physically fulfilling as playing with them was, there was still no meaningful discussion or engagement. I was not ready to hit delete on the Get Out paragraph.
It is great when your last day is your best day. On the final day on the Island of Tokoriki, the weather was perfect — warm, sunny, and no wind.
We wanted a little more adventure and exercise, so we took a hike on a path back over at the Sheraton next door to Hideaway Beach on the opposite side of the island. The hike was much shorter than we expected but the hills did require some physical exertion and the hot sun provided a heavy sweat.
Quite to our surprise and dismay, at the end of the path, steps away from the beach, were the homes of two local families. On one side was a one-room, shanty tin shack with a mother and children; the other side was a large tent and a wooden slab with two women, one a grandmother, and several children. The beach was beautiful, and these families had the most fantastic ocean views, along with some good-looking crops they were growing. But to our standards, the quality of life was heartbreaking, with no running water and no meaningful shelter. It was depressing. To pass the time, the grandmother was laying on the bare wooden slab, one boy was playing peek-a-boo with himself with a broken mirror, another child played with a stick in the dirt. There were four or five other nearby homes in this beachfront, makeshift community. All the homes were small and made of temporary material.
They were certainly living much better than thousands of homeless in Oakland encampments. But our discussion on the hike back to our luxury villa was about how to solve global inequality, international structured racism, and the legacy of colonialism and slavery. When we have that figured out, I’ll write another blog about it.
Despite all of our uppity and progressive whining, we were able to get to a state of relaxed bliss after the disquieting hike. Heat, drinks, pool, lounging — it was perfect. Then to top it off, we had couples’ massages before dinner. No, it was not the best massage I’ve ever had, but I still loved it. Leah . . . not so much. She says it injured her. And ok, yes, the massage table did put a crick in my neck that Leah had to give me a massage to resolve, but I still found it very relaxing.
After dinner, our time at Tokoriki and in Fiji has come to an end. We needed to take an early morning boat ride back to Nadi to make our flight to Auckland.
They should have warned us. We would have never imagined this would happen. And why do these things happen to us?
A 10am flight required a 6am boat ride back to the main island. The personal speed boat was supposed to take no longer than 50 minutes. But the ocean was raucous, so it took much longer. I will try to describe our experience but there are no words that can explain what we went through — it was INSANE!
This was a torturous ride. Jumping in the air and slamming back into the ocean so hard we thought the boat would break in two — over, and over, again. Leah belted out a scream during one of the early crashes. It would be one of more than a hundred life-threatening encounters.
I love to ride jet skis and have an exciting ocean ride, but this adrenaline-rushing, terrifying sea journey was even too much for me. Airborne, then crash into the ocean, rinse — as in sea salt waters in your mouth and all over — and repeat. Leah and I held onto the guard rails with our lives, hearts pounding, bodies jerked in every direction. Just when we thought the up and down were hard to withstand, the side-to-side, near-capsizing jolts came upon us, worse than what we had experienced previously.
We thought, we hoped, we literally prayed that the rough seas would calm during our journey. This did not happen. Two straight traumatic hours of the most harrowing travel. Rocking, shaking, jumping, being slapped with water right until the bitter end.
Dizzy, drenched, beleaguered, and bodies sore, we made it to shore now needing to run quickly to the airport so as not to miss our flight. It would take hours for the trauma to subside. But we made it.
Next stop: New Zealand
