Fiji: Caves, Customs, and Compliments
By: Katie Green, STA Travel Internet Marketing Specialist
I was probably lying motionless on a hammock by the beach in the middle of the South Pacific when another traveler at the resort mentioned a cave expedition the next day. I was immediately interested; I couldn’t complain about the blissful monotony of soaking up sun for 10 days in Fiji, but I had heard these limestone caves in the Yasawa island group were amazing.
My traveling companions and I persuaded the staff at our tiny, beautiful, simple resort on the island Naviti to take seven people on the day trip. They didn’t want to take us; the caves were at least an hour away by their small twin-engine fishing boat, and it would use a ton of fuel, but they finally agreed to charge $300 Fijian dollars (about $180 USD) for all of us (an amazing bargain).
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” we asked Joe, the young Fijian guy who agreed to guide us to our destination. He just smiled. “What time?” we persisted; everything so far on the trip had happened according to “Fiji time”—very laid back—but we wanted to plan this day to the fullest. “Eight o’clock,” he finally answered, and we groaned but got up early the next morning.
We didn’t leave until nearly ten, and we weren’t taking the most direct route to the caves. Joe wanted to stop at the village where he was born and visit some relatives; of course we agreed. After about 30 minutes of shrieking as the small boat slammed into the choppy water nonstop, we arrived at a small resort. Joe explained he had to buy some kava (a root that makes the traditional Fijian drink; numbs your tongue like antiseptic and tastes like dirt) to bring as a gift for his village. But he came back empty-handed; they were all out.
Joe hadn’t been back to this village in two years. He told us we should give a small donation, and unprepared, we managed to scrounge up $10 between the seven of us. But because the kava mission had failed, he could only take one person with him inside, and the rest of us waited at the boat.
Finally, a little after noon our boat approached the cave entrance surrounded by a chain-linked fence and gate. But we didn’t stop; we continued to another village where Joe went to get the gate key. And when we finally thought we had everything, we had to stop at another village to ask a Fijian man permission to enter the cave (which we could have easily hopped). Eventually, we actually made it into the cave.
Inside, the cave began in darkness with steps leading to a small drop-off into a pool that was cooler and less salty than the ocean. We swam until the cave opened up at the top and revealed deep blue water, amazing high walls of green and brown, and even a ledge thirty feet up that you could jump from. Next, Joe turned on a waterproof flashlight and led us to a wall we had to swim under in order to get to the rest of the cave. On the other side of the wall was absolute darkness, and every splash and shout echoed like we were swimming in a cathedral. We spent the next hour swimming around, exploring, and jumping off the ledge about twenty feet up.
We were all in a great mood on the boat ride back to the resort; the long journey had been worth it, the water was calmer now, and we would cruise back quickly to the island (hopefully in time for afternoon tea). But the trip out had been longer than we anticipated and the boat was too low on fuel to get back to the resort. Joe told us we would have to stop at his family’s village again to refuel.
This time we were allowed off the boat; we covered our bare shoulders with towels and sarongs and stood outside the village fence while Joe went inside for the gas. Joe’s relatives—smiling women and grinning toothless men—greeted us, and we chatted with these friendly people. They were talking about the rugby match that Fiji was playing in that night. “Do you have a TV to watch the match in the village?” we asked, and Joe’s uncle laughed. “We have seven TVs!”
Finally Joe returned with the fuel, and we said goodbye to the villagers and got back on the boat. I noticed something odd though; when Joe went into the village he had been wearing the same bright orange t-shirt he had worn all day. But when he returned, he was wearing a gray t-shirt. I figured maybe the orange shirt had gotten too wet from the caves and boat ride. Later, however, I found out that in the village, someone had complimented Joe on his orange shirt, and if you receive a compliment in Fiji, it is customary to give the item you were complimented on to that person.
Because of the extra stop, we missed afternoon tea, but when we got back to the island they had saved some tea and cakes just for us. This kind gesture punctuated a fantastic day where I was able to experience both Fiji’s natural beauty and kind. It was my favorite day in Fiji, and that’s saying a lot when every day in Fiji is paradise.
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