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Published: February 25th 2010
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I’m writing this while sat here outside our Bure by the sea, with salty skin and a peeling nose. I’m on my 3rd book and still have 2 weeks left! This place is paradise. By the time I eventually get around to posting this, I’ll probably have popped across the Pacific to the States for the final few weeks of mine and mum’s journey.
But for now, I’m here, and it’s bliss. It’s taken until now to submit to such relaxation - For me it’s easier said than done. Apart from the obvious ‘bumming about on a beach’ part of Fiji, which you can do on one of the many, many beaches, we decided to follow a more responsible route, and opted for a ‘resort’ owned by the local Chief and one which supports the islands’ local communities and villages. The Fijians that I’ve met have such a gentle temperament. Visiting the village on Nacula makes you look at how very fragile the way of life is here, a cyclone hit the Yasawas in December of last year, and with a Tsunami alert to boot, you start to look at the hills which rise up from the centre
of the islands separating the villages from the resorts in a very different light. Aside from this though, the simplicity and spirit of the local communities here - as in other Countries where religion and kindness are a staple diet of society - is a good reminder that on home ground, you can get easily swept up in a superfluous tide of overcomplicated ideals and bad habits. We didn’t really want to leave Nacula for the first 2 weeks, and we kind of became part of the family at Oarsman’s Bay, so we stayed for a few extra days, meaning a couple more nights of Kava drinking, stargazing and beach bonfires, and a few more mornings of the idyllic scenery we woke up too every morning
The last few day’s at Oarsman’s made leaving even more difficult. Then on the last night, we were invited to Evening Mass held in Nacula Village in honour of the kids there. Religion, especially that other than my own is something I’m still learning about. I’m no Catholic, but sitting there witnessing a community celebrate their faith really made me feel like I’m missing out on something. The
service, held in Fijian, lasted for about an hour, and the second time I’d stepped foot inside a church within a week. When it finished, we headed to the local community hall, and took part in a Kava ceremony welcoming the Priest into the village. Having already being initiated into Kava by Oni and the gang, it needed no explaining before bowls of muddy looking water were being offered around the circle, starting with the Priest, followed by the Heads of the village and then the village Elders. One of the school teachers who we’d met on a few previous occasions talked us through the Ceremony however, explaining how to behave - as westerners, it matters that Girls and Boys follow the correct protocol when visiting the local village areas in Fiji - loafing about in vest tops and a sarong just won’t do! After a few rounds of Kava, we politely backed away from the tongue numbing juice, and headed for the main area, where the most of the women were sat eating some pretty tasty looking scran.. I plonked
myself with Suly, who I knew from Oarsman’s Bay, Soon I was introduced to the surrounding family members, and it wasn’t long before I was being adopted by her auntie and supping a cuppa with Grandma Maria .
A day later, after setting half the staff up on Facebook Mom and I were escorted to our next destination in the Yasawa’s by an entourage of ladies from Oarsman’s, Oni ,Laite and the resident Kava dealer jumped on the boat with us and we headed off to Otto and Fanny’s, as our descent down the string of the pretty little islands began in earnest, 15 days after we arrived on Nacula. We were really sad to leave Oarsman’s, and there was an emotional goodbye after a cuppa and some banana cake with the guys...
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