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Published: March 1st 2009
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The image of Fiji automatically provokes images of paradise beaches, the utopia of relaxation, where James bond would take his Mrs out on a date, there is a certain degree of truth to this imagery - yet I discovered the darker side of Fiji where Mother Nature and violent locals converge on innocent backpackers simply trying to make their way back to their mothers. Yes, there’s alot more to this group of islands stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean than meets the eye...
My current situation: Arrived in Fiji two days before New Years Eve with no where to stay, previously this formula always works out well/interesting. However, I wasn't confident about finding the party of the year; I took a bus to pacific harbour on the south section of the Mainland, surprised at how much the towns reminded me of India. Later I learned that half of Fiji's inhabitants are from India, the other half are the original inhabitants; the two don't get along - this was the first of many contrasts I was soon to realise in Fiji. I stayed at a big 'arts village' that was not as successful as the designers hoped, the place
Amazing waterfall
With friends Hugo and Evey was dead, I was in the dorm myself. Saviours came in the form of a French and Aussie guys that were on a short break. The next couple of nights we partied hard and pissed off the 8 Kiwi girls that were staying the same hostel. Hogmanay consisted of us crashing another hostels better party; reggae band, fireworks and three big bonfires on the beach, turned out it was an above average new year.
Another Fijian 'revelation' was that in structure and culture it was very similar to some south-east Asian countries but more expensive than New Zealand - third world country, first world prices! So after paying my overpriced boat pass I was now prepared to enter the real Fiji, the stretch of islands known as the Yassawa's; no electricity, jungle, beaches and blue water! These islands are very underdeveloped, have names like Naviti and Naclua, you are welcomed on the island by locals singing and playing guitar who hug you and tell you "welcome home". On one specific island we were welcomed at the Sunrise resort by a transsexual called Deborah, who sang us the Fijian national anthem and played bingo with us, I thought I was
Man pushing his fridge home!
Worst floods in Fiji since 1968... lucky to win the massage prize - that was until I discovered Deborah was the in-house masseuse! On my first night in Nadi from the airport I met two really cool Canadian girls, who I luckily enough bumped into on Safe Landing resort, spent three nights in this actual paradise, great staff, great food, clean accommodation and nightly entertainment! I know some traditional Fijian songs off by heart, staff even took us to the local village for church on Sunday, and let me tell you right now Fijians love that Jesus fellow almost as much as they love singing and dancing to him! Also accompanied by the generic shouty preacher, woman shaking and moaning, people crying and talking in tongues - all made possible by the guy who rocked on that casio keyboard. Other great trips were underwater caves where you swim underwater from one cave to another filled with darkness, pretty darn creepy but felt like it was from a movie. What was actually from a movie was a trip to the Blue Lagoon, from the 1980 Brooke Shields epic 'The Blue Lagoon'. I've never seen the movie so I wasn’t that impressed, but the snorkelling was top class
- jellyfish, trumpet fish, another deadly sea snake (black/white ringed) and an adult clown fish that attacked me for getting to close to its kids! There was more bumping into old friends as I met Pete from Byron/Fraser crew so was good to catch up with him and meet his brother. Even met a Scottish girl whose best friend I knew from back home.
So after a good long relaxing week on the islands, it was on the boat back to the mainland where this paradise was lost. I was soon to learn what the phrase 'tropical depression' meant. A cyclone was on its way; a cyclone being the pacific oceans version of a hurricane. This new, long, twin hull catamaran style boat carrying approximately 100 tourists was getting tossed around like an epileptic on the dance floor. It was rough, I’ve never seen so many people being sick simultaneously, girls were lying on the ground crying, guys were walking around like zombies, even your host Kevin was sick; I got it over and done with and was back on form after. The boat was cancelled for the next five days, where I was stranded in a basic resort,
Picturesque Fiji
Photography skills getting better... with not much to do or see. Every day, all day it rained, the roads flooded, airports closed and holiday makers got increasingly frustrated. This was not Fiji as advertised, especially not my visit to McDonalds where I got mugged.
So lets set the scene; 6pm, suns setting, looking for an escape from expensive resort food I decide to make a ten minute jaunt to the local Macca's. I made it there fine and dandy and after a deliciously below average meal I braved the downpour of the cyclone once again. Walking down a fairly busy road, no streetlights, by myself I pass a group of guys eager to get back to the resort, moments later arms appeared round my waist and I was rugby tackled to the ground - I knew instantly what was happening. I had no choice as the five attackers dragged me into the bushes so as the cars couldn’t see the incident. I remained surprisingly calm, and my main goal at the time was to try and keep these five big black guys calm. Easier said than done, but I did convince one of them to not steal my shoes, while my pockets were
well and truly raided. One of the dirty inbred retards threatened to punch me, but he must have been truly stupid to think a smart white boy like myself would try and take on him and his gorilla buddies. After a couple of minutes I was left to my own devices feeling rather soiled lying in the muddy ground. At this point I had two choices, I could go home phone my parents and cry or I could go to the bar and get bevied to try and salvage the day. I went for option B, milked the fact that I got mugged and never paid for a drink the whole night. This experience wasn’t great but I had been lucky; my trousers remained on, I never brought my wallet out, only 20 pounds equivalent of Fiji cash was taken, I never got stabbed or punched (I rely on my good looks to make a living) and I got mugged on a full stomach, which is always preferable!
The last handful of days brought good times with the arrival of friends Hugo and Eva whom I met in Oz and the opening of the island roads. The full extent
of the tropical depression was now evident, homes ruined, a bridge destroyed and a man pushing his fridge through the water! We made it to a secluded hostel called the Beach house. Not only did we get an amazing sunset looking out to the ocean and a great jungle trek to an impressive waterfall, we drank KAVA! Kava is a traditional Fijian drink, made from crushed up roots and water - so basically its muddy water but with the side affect of giving you a high. So we did as the Fijians did and drank Kava, I got the nickname the Kavameister but I may have made this up myself. It was good hanging out with the locals but after a couple of days I couldn’t face anymore muddy water.
The last few days were great with Hugo and Eva, but the weather was far from perfect so I never got to do my Fiji shark dive - gutted. But that was typical of Fiji not giving me everything I want, the paradise is there but it is not the dream destination as advertised. Despite the country throwing everything it had at me in order to deter my journey
The Blue Lagoon
The site where the Brooke Shields movie was filmed. home, I persisted with the final push to the summit. Hugo was joining me for the last hurrah, viva Las Vegas.
Stay tuned for penultimate episode.
Kevin.
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faithur
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about bloody time too!!!