#taveuni

Qamea Island Beach - Alastair Pollock

I started my Fiji adventure with a minor offense. Entry required a proof of return or onward trip. As I wanted to stay flexible I put my photoshop skills to the test and forged an outbound flight confirmation. It worked like a charm and I was ready for some nice sandy beaches. Everyone recommended booking an island hopping trip across the Yasawa islands and that’s what I wanted to do. Until I checked the price tag which was outrageously outside of my budget or frankly anyone else’s who wasn’t the CEO of an international company with their shares listed on the New York Stock Exchange. In hindsight that was great which let me explore places off the beaten path. I had to adjust my plans and opted to go to the minuscule Beachcomber island just a stone’s throw from the airport and then known as Fiji’s party island. The gorgeous islet’s only resort featured a comfy one hundred man dorm (no joke), which was open air! Thank god it was low season and the dorm was “only” a quarter full. Given the limited space, very quickly a family atmosphere arose among the backpackers. There were common dinners, card games and in the evening also debauched parties. One highlight was certainly the hermit crab race, where you could choose a crab that represented your country.

There I also met Raj, a young, very shy local guy, who worked on the piping system. We chatted every day and once his job on the island was done, he invited me to his home. He stayed with his family in Ba, a small town in the northwest of the main island. I actually had no plans to travel to this area, but an opportunity like this doesn't come along every day, so I accepted the invitation, albeit cautiously. 

Before that, however, I decided to explore Mana island just a short but expensive boat ride to the west. The island was considerably bigger than Beachcomber and even featured an airstrip but again there was only one place to stay which was thankfully relatively affordable, three meals per day included. It’s been eight years and somehow I remember the especially tasty homemade bread rolls. I spent my days enjoying the pristine white beach, crystal clear blue waters and accompanying locals for a spearfishing session to a nearby sandbank. Did I mention the most spectacular sunsets ever? I didn't have a romantic date at hand. However meeting Nicolas, a very friendly Swiss dude from my hometown on the other side of the world on this remote island, was more than a worthy replacement. To this day I have three framed pictures hanging on my bedroom wall, one of which is from that paradise beach. 

Back on the main island, Viti Levu, I hopped on the overcrowded bus and arrived in Ba in “no” time. Bus rides in Fiji are something else. First of all, there’s always loud music blasting throughout the vehicle. Thank God, it mostly matched my music taste (unlike the dull, unoriginal, lazy, sloppy, repetitive, reductive (to quote Madonne here: “look it up”) and unbelievably enervating Reaggaton nonsense I have to endure right now here in Latin America). I mean, I was delighted to hear such masterpieces like “Gotta Go” by your very own local matador and Swiss Eurovision sensation Dj Bobo, then still untattooed teen heartthrob lesbian Justin Bieber or the actually lovely song called Kuchi Kuchi by Nigerian gospel artiste J’odie. While on stayed a couple of nights at a super remote hostel where the bus to reach said hostel had its final destination and it was always the same driver and in those places a bus arriving is a major event during the day. Back in those days the music was played from a USB stick, so I had a little conversation with the bus driver and what can I say, I am the proud owner of THE hottest February 2014 Fiji public transport music collection, period! Second, the bus seats are plastized so you either stick like glue to them or slide around in a pool of your own ass-sweat. Grandma Yetta from the Nanny highly approves though! IN addition, some of them don’t (or can’t?) switch their headlights on at night and are as fast as Usain Bolt with diarrhea spotting a toilet. I once got almost run over by one of them but the driver was kind enough to stop and give me a lift. It’s not everyday you run amok in a bus with breakneck speed at night while “Like, Baby, baby, baby, no” is ripping your eardrums apart.

Anyway, my stay with Raj’s family was something to be remembered. They are Indo-Fijians and were extremely welcoming. I had my own room and Raj’s mother would go to great lengths to prepare great meals for me. However and obviously, my eating habits got in the way. They couldn’t believe I didn't eat chicken (let’s be honest, whoever reads this doesn’t either). I was asked a thousand times if I might eat it prepared in this or that way. My pitiful attempts to point out that I “was” a veggie didn’t help either. Raj’s father was a serious man and visibly proud of their property. They grew their own passion fruits, starapples, coconuts, lime and sugarcane, all of which I was offered to taste. They knew Switzerland from various Bollywood movies and said it’s what paradise must be like. Sort of what we think when we hear “Fiji”. In the evenings Raj and his friends introduced me to Kava, Fiji’s national drink. Basically it's a mildly narcotic and sedative drink made from the crushed root of the yaqona strained with water. It is served in a large communal bowl as part of the traditional kava ceremony. When drunk, it creates a numb feeling around the mouth, lips and tongue, as well as a sense of calm and relaxation. The taste is unpleasant to say the least. Also it aptly resembles sewage water. But hey, when in Rome. 

After a couple of days it was time to move on. I decided to get Padi certified in advanced diving and Fiji was obviously the place to be. The rather remote island Taveuni to be precise. A quick 18 hour overnight ferry ride would do the trick of getting there. An excellent choice of transportation if it wasn’t for my stingy attitude. No way I would be paying for an expensive first class seat or god forbid a 20 Dollar mattress. Sleeping on the actual floor it is. The fact that the entire Fiji population has a serious snoring problem didn’t help either. Fiji’s “Garden” island didn’t disappoint. The diving was spectacular, yes. The adrenaline-inducing natural Waitavala water slides and the Lavena coastal walk featuring spectacular double-waterfalls and natural pools at Bouma National Park however were no less fascinating (thanks Udo for bringing the GoPro along). That was also the only time I hitchhiked, which involved asking some guards for directions, who were standing at the side of the road and supervising prisoners doing push-ups. At the hostel I was yet again invited for an evening kava session by three elderly locals, who decided that bad-ass synthesizer sound would be the perfect music backdrop. Obviously I ended up being the last man standing, or rather sitting. As a result I was offered beer (perfect, more alcohol) and “abducted” to the beach. Speaking of the beach, in a moment of insanity, and because the hostel provided amateur fishing rods, I somehow decided to try fishing by myself during low-tide, on razor-sharp rocks with nothing but bread crumbs which immediately dissolved once submerged. Needless to say that I almost strangled myself with the fishing line. And no fish were even close to being harmed in that pathetic process. 

My last stop in Fiji was tiny Caqalai island. I have no recollection of how Katja, a girl I met on the infamous ferry back to the capital Suva, and I decided to check this gem out, but I am glad we did. Google doesn’t even show it on their maps service and getting there was no easy task. The island hosts just one resort consisting of a restaurant and four simple yet charming huts with straw roofs. Electricity was exclusively provided through a mobile solar panel and battery, just enough to charge our phones. The weather was rather unstable so we mostly spent our days reading. On the rare sunnier days we snorkeled around the beautiful intact reef and I practiced climbing palm trees and picking fresh coconuts. One day I helped the entire island population of men (like four-ish) salvaging a half-sunken boat, another I decided to swim to a sandbank, all by myself. Katja was worried for me so she made me tie a buoy to my waist. One always underestimates distances when swimming. It took a whopping 30 minutes to reach the bank, so I was glad she insisted.

After a month of Fijian paradise it was time to cross the date line and fly back in time to Los Angeles. My Fiji adventure ended as it had started; with a thrill. Getting to the airport meant a private boat transfer to the main island and a public bus (again). Once on the bus I believed myself to be safe but at some point it halted and wouldn’t move for ages. Due to the persistent rainy weather the main road was partially washed away! Gone, adios, see you never. Unfortunately Sandra Bullock was unavailable to get behind the steering wheel, accelerate over 50 miles an hour and drive over the huge gap. A considerable detour later and several near-nervous breakdowns, I just about managed to catch my flight to L.A. where I met up with relatives and had the most bizarre Hollywood Boulevard experience.

Taveuni Dateline Handicraft Market Opening

The Taveuni Tourism Association (TTA) is delighted to announce the opening of a new handicraft market in Taveuni. The Taveuni Dateline Handicraft Market has been established by Susanne Neli and her family with the help of the TTA and is located at the International Dateline in Waiyevo. The new handicraft market was officially launched on Wednesday, 27th April by Susanne Neli, Mere Marama and…