Phil Moore's Travel Adventures...

- a real life Silver Fern which is pictured on the New Zealand sports teams jersey, wow!

(Not to be mistaken with the NZ flag which is nothing like this - thanks Jase007 for pointing out my previous error)

Kia Ora and Welcome to New Zealand and another overly verbose travel blog for Phileas Fogg. I'm long overdue an update with over 4 weeks and about $4K of expenditure to account for, so no doubt this is going to be another record breaker for the longest winded account of my latest movements (bowels excluded) so I apologise, I'll do my best to keep it pictorial and less textual. Sugar, I'm off again, get on with it please.

Before I dive in, not good news on the health front - after daily shoulder dislocations snowboarding in Canada, and a whopping 8 or so on the day I surfed in Santa Cruz, my shoulder has finally decided that it wants to liberate my right arm and will attempt to eject said limb at any opportunity - something tells me that it's time to get it fixed. So, I've enlisted with a doctor here (Dr Tyson) who's been an all round legend and has referred me to the best shoulder specialist in the land - Dr Clayton Brown. Over the past 4 weeks I've been poked and prodded by numerous people, injected with a weird mix of contrast medium and air into my shoulder then blasted with x-rays (Arthogram) and finally passed through a huge electro-magnet for the MRI scan - (magnetic resonance imaging). Whilst this has been going on I've battled day and night with the insurance company to pay for the treatment, eventually succumbing with some rather underhand tactics on my part and a beligerent bureaucratic failure on their part, the problem being lack of proof of it isn't a pre-existing condition which is debatable is itself but whatever. I'm currently awaiting the results of the tests, likely it's going to be a tear of the labrum cartilage. Depending on the cost of treatment in NZ vs UK, I may get fixed up here or flown back home, will have to wait and see.

All very exciting I know, but it's been a pain in the backside (and the wallet) to travel and manage getting fixed up as I keep having to return to Auckland every other week. Hence my tale here is hickledy-pickeldy to say the least with trips up, down, here, there and everywhere with apparently no method to choosing a route. I'm not sure how to tell this tale so I'll make it up as I go along in a mix of chronological, north to south, preference and how many pretty pictures I have. Enjoy the tale!

I arrived in New Zealand on 6th May into the delightful city of Auckland. A curious time of year to visit some may say being as the onset of winter is here, truth be told it was a mix of poor planning and keeping the flight cost/time down that led me here at this time yet despite fears of rain drenchings and frost-bitten toes, I'm pleasantly suprised that Kiwiland has a temperate climate with sunshine days a plenty, quite a bit of rain granted, but the shorts are still seeing the light of day so it's all good. Further joys, the hoards of tourists and backpackers that flock to this green and pleasant land in the summer are no where to be seen which makes the wilderness experience all the more real. So whether by accident or a stroke of luck, it's a winner all round!

Some amazing statistics I found:

• The total population of New Zealand is 3.9 million. 1 million of these live in Auckland.
  
• Māori make up about 15% of the population, and are the indigenous people of New Zealand
  
• New Zealand has 13 times as many sheep as people (approximately 47.2 million sheep)
  
• The number of sheep/human relationships has not been estimated
  
• New Zealand is Aotearoa in Māori, which translates as the Land of the Long White Cloud, reputedly referring to the cloud the explorers saw on the horizon as they approached. It rains a lot here needless to say, between 600 and 1600 mm a year
  
• Polynesian settlers arrived in their waka some time between the 13th century and the 15th century to establish the indigenous Māori culture
  
• New Zealanders enjoy a national holiday in celebration of the Queens birthday, the lucky sods. Why does Blighty not have the same?!?!
  

Anyhow, I'm in Auckland. I couldn't manage to get myself motivated here for some time given my stricken health and uncertaintly of what/when is going to happen (even a simple question like 'how long are you here for?' was fraught with difficulty). Anyhow, Auckland caters well for such uncertainty providing many drinking holes to polker-dot your liver and fill your daytimes with fine hangovers. I have a strange re-collection of being in The Fiddlers bar twice in a row as the sun came up tho I cannot be sure.

Once I was arisen from the doldrums by the enigmatic Dr Tyson, I began to explore and found that in truth there's not a lot to do here anyhow. The shopping center district is based around Queens Street which has, well, some shops. There's a new development close by called Sky City which offers modern glitzy conveniences like a casino, cinema and the showcase masterpiece - the Sky Tower. For a mere $20 (ha ha), it offers a great view over the city to get your bearings. There's a also some crazy gravity jump thing where you can clamber outside the tower and descend to the ground on a piece of string. I didn't do it as it seemed rediculous, but set the scene for the home of adventure sports.

Anyhow, from the top of the tower, I spotted the Auckland Museum (it was good, that's as much as I can muster) and the many extinct volcanoes that surround the city. Climbing Mount Eden at sunset is also worth the jaunt, just make sure you don't get flattened by the hundreds of Japanese Tourists who flock there en mass in a mass exodus of tour buses. I met a lovely girl here called Dushka who I'll be spending the next few weeks with as travel companions.

There's a nice harbour front which has been there since the city was first established back in the 1800's, which served first as a commercial port for trade and the like, then evolving into a base for cruise liners and the like which has kind of died away and you guessed it, it's now home to lots of bars, restaurants and swanky bistro's. One place on the harbour called The Ice Bar which funnily enough is made entirely of ice, charges $25 for entry and you can only stay for half an hour. Nice!

Down the road, there is a more industrial harbour with tonnes of freight ships heading in and out each day and some pretty coloured containers.

Just off the coast of Auckland lies a few pretty islands, one of them is Great Barrier Island which are is no way related to the Great Barrier Reef which is thousands of miles away in northern australia, but nonetheless shares a similar name. You can catch a ferry out the isles from Auckland harbour, handy that as there's some convenient water for the ships to float on that comes all the way up to the harbour. I took a day trip out to one of the other islands called Waiheke Island, hired a moped and booted around at warp speed (30kmph) which was a smashing day out - lots of nice beaches, vineyards, posh restaurants and the like.

So, back to Auckland and in search of a way outta the city to explore. Dushka, Alli (her friends from Hertford) and I decide to hire a car to tour the North Island, I think actually the plan was to do both North and South initially, ha ha, only if the car was jet propelled would that be possible. Alas, we got an automatic Toyota with a top speed equal to my gran's shopping trolley.

First stop north was to collect Dushka from her Aunt's gaff in Whangerei where we stayed for a night. Very nice indeed. There's a lovely walk along the river to see the Whangerei Falls which were huge. I tried to climb around the back of the falls only to soil my pants sliding on some slippy rocks.

Next day, a silly mission to drive up to the most northerly point of New Zealand and back in one day, a mere 500kms, little did we know about NZ's gravel roads. En route we stopped off at the Kawiti Glow Worm Caves where the most insane man who had clearly spent too much time on his own underground told tales of how limestone formations (under a midst of wild mushroom induced hallucinations no doubt) had taken on human, animal and cartoon forms. This is a character from Casper the Friendly Ghost, apparently.

Further up the coast lay the Bay of Islands which is a beautful collection of beaches & coves ideal for sunbathing, swimming, and kayakking and enjoying the diverse wildlife including dolphins and whales. Our experience on the first pass was to take a photo, oops.

At last, the destination of the day, the most northerly point of New Zealand Cape Reinga. The final 30kms of the road were gnarly to say the least, hammering it along at 60kmph on gravel roads with reverse-camber a plenty and powersliding all the way. I loved it but the girls did not agree. Cape Reinga itself was stunning, you really felt exposed gale force windows almost lifting you off your feet with awesome swell and washing machine mishmash of surf pouring in on the beach. Some huge dunes lay around the point testimony to the effects of the exposure to this extreme environment.

A centipede on the footpath down to the lighthouse seemed to like the place tho.

Heading back south another 200kms following the coast line of 90 Mile Beach, we arrived in a rather weird town called Kaitaia. It was Friday night and the police were out in force to catch the local drink-drivers and I seemingly fit the bill accummulating a total of 5 stops in the space of 2 hours - an all time record for me. Each stop required me to say my name and where I'm from each response getting more and more blaazee ending up with 'Phil from England'. Of course, the coppers are transfixed on the booze-meter readings so no doubt you could say anything like 'no cunts on me drugstable' or something equally amusing. Anyhow, shoved a steak in my belly and a beer (oo er) and drove down to the surf town of Ahipara to stop for the night.

The next day, we battled through torential rain along the windiest of windy roads through the greenest of green farmland, catching the smallest of the small car ferries (Kahukaha to Hakianga) as we hammered it down the West Coast. We arrived mid-afternoon amidst the heaviest storm of the day to the Waipoua Forest to see Tane Mahuta - Lord of the Forest. It's a giant Kauri Tree which according to Māori legend gave birth to all life on earth. It is said that you can feel a spiritual presence in this sacred place, but all I could feel was cold rain dripping down my neck, I need to focus more it seems.

Less than an hour passed and the incessant rain storm had decided to stand aside and let the sun have a go. We stumbled across a lookout point which commanded impressive views over the forest. It felt quite magical to watch the clouds sink into the valley as the forest came to life after the big storm. We could have been intrepid explorers in Africa , gazing from our hideout over the vast jungle, but we weren't, we were in New Zealand, I have to keep reminding myself.

Heading further south, we chance upon a collection of lakes called the Kai Iwi Lakes, relishing in the freedom of having the hire car and being able to go where you want to went you want, not trapped on one of the nasty Stray/Kiwi Experience shag fest buses like the majoprity of the other hapless travellers. Down a dusty track we stop at Lake Waikare which is the most pristine lake I've seen, completely sheltered by the sounding hills and just crying out to be wakeboarded on. (Hmmm, the environmental impact might be a bit devastating tho, fun vs destruction of habit, who will win?). So lacking on the X-Star and wakeboard kit, we settle for a paddle, it was a tad cold.

From here, we headed across to the west coast to Pakiri where we bunked down for the night in holiday camp in the middle of nowhere. No-one was around being out of season so we had the 16 bed dormitory to ourselves with luxuries like a tv to enjoy and a plate each to eat our dinner from, wow! In the morning we awoke to find the most pristine beaches on our doorstep, and the weather was on our side delving out some delicious warming rays, warm enough even to brave a dip in the pounding surf, whilst the girls enjoyed a morning stroll.

A short drive further down the coast led us to Goat Island Marine Reserve near the town of Leith, established in 1975 and world renowned for its abundant marine life. From the shore line you can clamber across a rocky outcrop and gaze into the water to find the water teeming with bright turquoisey blue Snapper. Despite the signs warning of biting snapper (yeah right) I headed into the water to get some underwater shots, none of which turned out alas but atleast I amused the tourists somewhat with my lips turning an acute pneumonic blue to match the snapper.

Right on cue, the heavens darkened and sudden rainstorm swept in chasing us back to the safety of the Toyota so we headed off south wards. Stumbling across Ascension Vineyards, the girls sampled their specialities in a wine tasting extravaganza, alas the short straw of being driver for the day meant none passed my lips but a bottle was secured to enjoy that evening and the girls accompanied this with some Tawny Port.

With further desire to swim, we headed down to the hot springs at Waiwera where we bathed in 40 degree waters in a variety of pools, one of which featured a huge projector screen showing classic Disney movies, a nice concept indeed. Our final destination of the day was Hamilton where we stopped in a dodgy road-side motel.

Oh, Mr Frodo, you is in Baggins Land my precious, yup we were on the hunt for the famous Lord of the Rings film location for the village of Hobbiton. We headed down MataMata which is down in the guidebooks as the launch pad such trips.

Holy Sauron! $50 for a 2 hour tour of a stripped down film set, stuff that for a game of hobbits, out of our budgets I'm afraid so we attempted a stealth mission to seek out Hobbitton ourselves. With some good guessing, directions from farmers and more than a little luck we found the entrance to the site. Unfortunately the set was well hidden from the road and the entrance guarded by some rather butch female tour guides with a predominant upper lid shadow - we decided not to risk an entanglement. Still, the landscape ringed true of The Shire and we felt the journey worthwhile. No doubt it also inspired the home of the Telly Tubbies too.

With time a pressing and a doctors appointment looming the next day, we headed north again back towards Auckland stopping off at Mount Manganui. A stroll along yet another stunning beach, followed by a climb up a mountain commanding amazing views of the Coromandel Peninsula. Topped off the day with a slap up meal of fish & chips - splendid!

Thankfully driving duties were handed over to Ali which left me in the backseat to get nicely sozzled on the finest Acension red wine "The Steep Bit" - a delicious Matakana Malbec from 2004 with hints of plum and raspberries. Quite the experience supping from a wine glass in amoving car,not sure the vineyard proprietors would approve. Arriving back in Auckland and already well on the way to a stupor, we followed this great start with yet more beers finishing in (shock, horror) Fiddlers Irish Bar for yet another dawn session then back home to polish off the Tawny Port, tasty but what a waste! I have no idea how I made it up for the doctors the next day at 8am, and as my first meeting no doubt Clayton was not amused with me smelling like a brewery. Perhaps it helped though as he quickly sent me packing with an appointment at the Auckland Radiology Group the next week. Ooh what fun to come!

After an unfulfilling day sat avoiding gangsters in LA, I arrived at LA International airport and with an 11 hour flight to ahead I accepted a my last dosing of water-like beer to sedate myself for the flight. Arriving in Nadi International airport at the ungodly hour of 3.30am, I was welcomed first by a wall of heat much akin to walking into a greenhouse, glad of my summer attire. Along the walkway a flock of green parrots chirped their merry welcome accompanied by a band of Fijian musicians donned in brightly coloured shirts who brushed aside their tired eyes and gave a great rendition of the traditional Fijian welcome song. As my first ever adventure south of the equator and all these experiences were new to me and as the reality hit home of being on the other side of the globe, a smile spread across my face with the exciting adventures to come.

On clearing arrivals, more Fijians were ready in wait to greet me this time with Fijian Dollar sign burning deep within their eyes (you know the look) as I met head to head the Fijian tourist officials. A cunning question posed to all passengers ‘which resort are staying at?’ - a yes results in an easy taxi sale, else a no opens a whole world of opportunities. In the latter category and quite willing to be sold a ’resort deal’ (all island retreats whether backpacker cheap or luxury 5* are classed as resorts) and given it was 4am having had little-to-no sleep in the past 24 hours I succumbed to their salesmanship skills and purchased a 4 day trip to Ratu Kini resort on Mana Island in the Mamanuca group west of Vitu Levu.

Whilst awaiting the transfer, I met a nice New Zealand chap Owen who too had booked the same trip, on his way back home after a season ski instructing in Colorado, all round top bloke and we became good mates for the next few days. Good entertainment too watching the same bewildered looking travellers falling for the same ‘trap’ as us - it’s all too easy to take the first opportunity and must learn to step back from a situation before diving in as you can‘t always rely on good fortune although it seems to follow me around.

A 10 minute taxi ride with an unrequested shop stop at the drivers preferred supermarket, we arrived at our departure point Travellers Beach near Denarau. After a quick chin wag with other travellers we trudged across the muddy, black sand beach (not quite the Fiji I expected) to our awaiting boat and were on our way to Mana Island. As we bounced our merry away in a rickety speed boat by our slightly erratic Indo-Fijian driver across crystal blue waters, any fears of the white sand beaches being a fictional tale were quickly dispelled as we passed by countless idyllic desert islands.

Arriving at Mana Island we were greeted by the Ratu Kini staff with the traditional Fiji welcome song which I was beginning to feel a little bit plastic. A throng of travellers awaited on the beach front bar decking, I felt almost like cattle being herded into market with the buyers eyeing me up and down, but none the less in subsequent days I too found myself adopting the same regime. “Fresh meat has arrived” was one quote I heard, how classy.

Mana Island was a superb introduction to paradise island life with it’s grassy hills, gorgeous white sand beaches and a perimeter 30m wide coral reef - it was a struggle to do anything but relax. The setup was a collection of Burres, bungalows, tents and a 20 bed dormitory (where I stayed) nestled amongst a thriving Fijian village where the majority of the staff for the resorts lived, plus an eatery with beach front bar close by. The inclusive food ranged from basic with salad sandwiches for lunch being a favourite, to delicious particularly the traditional Fijian food night with a meze of sausage, barracuda, Tora and Drauniuto leaves with coconut baked in the ground over super hot stones. The rain water used for drinking began to taste like hairspray so I’d splash out on their chosen mineral water ‘Bom 911’. Please someone send this to FHM or other trashy magazine to claim their funny photo prize.

The main beach close to the resorts (4 others in total) was excellent with mass shoals of small fish congregating near the shoreline and leaping out of the water en mass in a frenzy of activity (I never figured exactly why they did this perhaps to escape a predator of some sort). The beach was a little crowded at times so not the place for solitude but with an array of hammocks to laze in, a nice swim-to platform plus a seemingly endless supply of Scandinavian beauties basking in the sun it was an easy choice for the day. If you could brave the midday heat of 35 degrees plus, a short trek is rewarded with the pick of the beaches ‘Sunset Beach’ offering peace and quiet, the finest white sand and easy access to a stunning section of the reef.

Activity for most involved lazing on the beach, splashing around in the water then lazing around some more which is fun for a while but my metabolism or something just doesn’t agree so I made the most of the water sports on offer. Owen and I checked out the reef break that lay 200m offshore in a rather leaky sea kayak, managing to catch some nice waves riding back in and coming terrifyingly close to capsizing which could have been disastrous with only 1m of water to cushion the blow before you‘d plough head first into razor sharp coral - I have no idea how surfers do this, balls of steel they must have.

Scuba diving in the area was according to the guide books excellent with favourites like Supermarket famed for it’s abundance of Reef Sharks, though the word on the street was the visibility was pretty poor being so close to the end of the turbulent wet season and shark sightings were few and far between, so parked that idea. Snorkelling on the surrounding reef however was excellent particularly off Sunset Beach with an abundance of pristine hard corals and a mass of sea life including groupers, wrasse, clown fish, mermaids and even a leatherback turtle sighted on one memorable trip, sorry no picture of the turtle.

The underwater photography skills were getting better actually managing to get the target somewhere in frame, and snorkelling skills greatly improved now able to dive down to 10 metres or so with time to compose which I was well chuffed with - really it negated the need to scuba at all. The reef terrain was excellent fun with a consistent 10 metre wall leading to a sandy bottom, with an array of crevices, tunnels and canyons to explore and swim throughs which held great silhouette photo potential.

The resort arranged a variety of excursions, if they could cope with the stress of organising such a feat and squeeze cram it in before sundown - their laid back approach termed ‘Fiji Time’ makes it hard to get anything done here. One day was spent island hopping to the now famous Castaway Island and a number of luxury resorts, climaxing with an hours snorkelling off a superb reef in the centre of the bay. Much the same sea life as Sunset Beach until I had my first ever shark encounter with a White Tip Reef Shark - terrifying at first but in fact he paid no attention to me at all as he passed by only 2 feet away, clearly not enough meat on me to bother with. Not at all, I’d heard sharks have a bad reputation thanks to Spielberg’s Jaws and bad media press but this really confirmed it for me that they’re not all cold blooded killers at all, granted if it was a Tiger or Bull shark the experience could have been a whole lot different but Reef sharks are clearly no danger at all. I felt privileged and look forward to my next encounter.

Where would you be in the world without beer?!? The chosen vintage of this blessed land is an interesting brew imaginatively named called Fiji Bitter. Many of these litre bottles would be supped down as the sun set and on a good night, the sun rise.

A weird flavour it had but after a few it goes down real easy. Many a night was spent drinking with the locals Fiji style called ‘Taki’ where a single glass is used for all people at the table, continually passed around and downed until all the beer in the bar had been drunk, the goal being all people get drunk at the same time to the same degree. A nice idea and only a problem when you’ve had enough as ’no’ isn’t an acceptable response. The nights were heavy going as the stack of empties shows.

The people on the island were great fun and met some real characters, particularly the locals or to be pedantic Samoans, but nonetheless were very welcoming and friendly. The guests were a mixture of all nationalities predominantly English but also from Sweden, Norway, Germany, Israel (I actually met a nice Israeli!!), Brazil and Italy. One English girl I met had a fantastic story in that she arrived on the island for a 4 day stay, ended up falling in love with a villager and has stayed for a whole month with plans for a long term relationship and possible move for them both back to Blighty, how romantic! I have to say I was a little disappointed with some of ‘travellers’ I met here (particularly the English ones) and I fear they will become the norm in this leg of the trip - for some it seems travelling consists of organised tour after tour, getting leathered & laid every night, staying in commercial hostels and generally following their Lonely Planet bible. It’s easy to do granted and I’m no experienced traveller myself so in no position to preach really, but I can’t see the challenge or appeal and they might as well save some cash and go to Magaluf instead and get their trophies elsewhere. Bah humbug, I’m such a cynic I know and perhaps it highlights that I’m looking for other things so there in the conflict lies, I’ll stop there and write something positive instead.

After 4 days resting and getting restless, I headed back to the mainland to explore the mainland Vitu Levu. With only a single nights stopover, I explored the town to find that the spectacular Hindi temple was hidden behind bamboo scaffold and palm leaves being renovated for the annual festival. Elsewhere a vibrant produce market was in full swing selling all manner of Fijian grown fruits, vegetables, kava (grog) and sea food, not so sure about the sea grapes.

Here I met a rather unscrupulous guy who ripped me off some for negotiating some local produce but am glad to say that this was the only bad incident in my entire 2 weeks here and was none too heavy. All things happen for a reason as I’m quickly finding out - I headed back to the hotel a little dismayed and settled in at the hotel bar with some peeps I met on Mana. A rough looking chap attempted to steal a handbag and bolt for the door and as I blocked his escape route an outstretched leg tripped the guy who lost his footing and stacked it arse over tit, the bag’s contents scattered across the floor and he bolted out the door. The very grateful owner of the bag was overwhelmed with my heroics and insisted that in return I stay with her family in Lalati Village on Beqa Island. The lady wrote me a letter in Fijian (which I had no real idea what it said) and I was instructed to find a chap called Wame who would treat me as his own, and so the next episode of my trip began.

Arising early next morning, I headed off to the local bus station (no more tourist transfers for me, all too easy) to catch my bus to Navua, the ‘ferry’ port to Beqa Island. Buses are notoriously unreliable and the timetables are not worth the paper they aren’t written on so I had a bit of a wait on my hands, also some confusion with the meaning of ‘when is the next bus?’ as in Fiji this apparently means the one after the next so I watched the first come and go without blinking an eye, why I’d be asking for this I don’t know especially as I stood talking to the guy, ho hum. After a brief stop en route at Natadola Beach as apparently amazing but I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about, I arrived in Navua which as it turned out wasn’t a glitzy ferry port at all - the ferry terminal was a rickety wooden jetty, the only boats in sight were flat-bottomed 40hp river boats and there was no sign of another white person let alone another tourist. As the bus pulled away in a cloud of dust, for the first time in my life I felt truly away from the western world as people stared with intrigue, children passed by waving and giggling as this lost traveller attempted to make sense of this madness before the sunset in less than ½ hour. At the jetty I attempted to charter a boat for the 15km journey out to Beqa Island but it seemed I’d missed the last village boat of the day and the locals were looking forward to the evening grog session so no chance of making the journey today. Everyone was so helpful even sharing a smoke with the boat driver in commiseration, passers by would ask me where I’m from and all told tales of their love of the Mother Land (England), topped off with some grog shared with Joe who worked in the market besides the jetty whilst I waited for the bus back to Pacific Harbour. Joe promised to see me again in 2 days for the next boat sailing and his son insisted on carrying my bags to the waiting bus, absolutely overwhelming, I love these people.

The only budget place to stay in Pacific Harbour was Safari Lodge so this would have to do, owned by a slightly eccentric Kiwi who actually turned out to be a raving pervert as the next morning my South African room mate awoke to find him inspecting his nether regions from under his sheet, worrying stuff. The lodge was conveniently located next to a 5 star luxury resort called Pearl who seemingly didn’t mind an impoverished traveller to use all of it’s facilities including swimming pool and private beach.

The diving in Beqa Lagoon was reputed to be one of the best in Fiji (again), famed for it’s soft corals and abundance of Reef, Bull and Tiger Sharks that patrol the reef lagoon so who was I to refuse the opportunity. With my almost mute Japanese room mate, I headed out with Beqa Divers to explore on the lagoon. 2 dive sites were hit, the first a steep wall and overhang outside of the lagoon behind Storm Island, which also made a stunning spot to rest for lunch.

The second was a drift dive between Seven Sisters and Blow Hole. The second was my favourite as probably the strongest current I’ve ever been in covering well over 100m in a 42 minute dive, and some superb Gorgonian Fans more than 2 metres across. Heaven!

On the way back across the lagoon we stopped at the gnarliest surf break I’d ever seen called Frigates Passage which was an almost 45 degree peeled reef break with ridiculously large waves, the biggest I’d ever seen close up. How these guys surf these breaks I have no idea as you’re fish food if you stack it.

On returning to Safari Lodge, I found a new arrival awaiting who became a good friend, Cris and 19 year old girl from Winnipeg. Together we planned to head out to Beqa Island the next day to pursue the village island dream, so the next morning we set off early back to Navua.

Arriving at Navua, we discovered that the boat to Lalati Village had already left but with some negotiation and haggling with a driver destined for another village we commandeered a boat. Crossing the lagoon was spectacular with dolphins racing alongside the boat as we chatted to the other villagers en route home from market, yet nervous with anticipation unknown as to what lay ahead.

Arriving on the shores of Lalati Village we were greeted by a lady (Grace) fishing off the makeshift dock, I thrust the magic letter into her hand and summoned for Wame. After what seemed like an age Wame appeared at first coldly instructing us to not move from the boat, but after reading the letter he smiled from ear to ear as he welcomed us with open arms to his village.

My stay in this very real and traditional Fijian village was by far the greatest experience of my trip to Fiji. I did not see much of Cris for the whole time as we each adopted the role we would follow if we lived in the village - myself working (cakacaka) on the hillside Jungle farm collecting Taro/Dalo (a white/bluey potato), Casava (a white potato with a large brown stem), Vudi (a banana which tastes like potato), Snake Bean (like runner beans) and Kava (the good stuff) battling the extreme heat, mosquitoes and wood ants, then after lunch resting and talking with the other men. The women on the other hand cooked, cleaned, made mats, looked after the children etc. Needless to say, male superiority seems deeply embedded in all aspects of life for example the male bathe in the stream (wow) is upstream from the women’s, only men sit around the kava bowl at night with the women on the periphery, little emotion is shown between husband and wife so very hard to identify relationships, and it would be unthinkable for women to join in with nightly touch rugby game. Totally misogynous I know but all at least at the surface seemed happy with the setup and this was the chosen life for all given the opportunity was open to leave and many women had chosen to do so, although childbirth and the resulting financial dependency seemed a common trap. Hmm.

The people on the island survived on subsistence farming and an endless supply of fresh fish caught daily from the reef making them entirely self sufficient. For income for electricity, boat fuel etc villagers would sell their wares at market, with Wame our host taking care of Kava business for the village which made him The Man to know. (Kava is the root of a plant which grows in the wilds of Fiji, which when uprooted, chopped, dried in the sun and ground into a powder in a giant pestle and mortar and mixed with water makes an intoxicating drink quite different from alcohol. A vial flavour and has the appearance of dirty washing up water, after 4 or so bowls you begin to feel relaxed and more talkative, another 4 and the grogginess sets in, anymore and you start to lose the ability to sit up and limbs become heavy. Good stuff!)

My friend and companion for my stay was 28 year old Eroni, father of Marika and soon to be husband of Rigi. We became good friends exchanging stories of growing up, life in our respective countries and tales of entanglements with women, a common language. I’ll truly miss him and have promised that if I ever return to Fiji to visit him and his family. Kavura on that smoke son :o)

It was with sadness that I said goodbye to Eroni, Nau (mother), Tata (father), Pau, Wame, Rigi, Ebenese, John (uncle) and the children Wame junior, Marika, and Lemeki. The most honest and welcoming people I’ve ever met, and I promise to return their hospitality whenever I can. But my time in Fiji is coming to an end so it was time to head off back to the mainland with practically all of the village in tow (our treat in return for their kindness) and off on the local bus to Suva the nations capital. As Cris was also bound by terms of the Fiji Experience bus, it was time to say goodbye to her too, see you next year maybe for your snowboard lesson and keep up the juggling practice.

With only a single night and day here, it was back to the Lonely Planet’s trusty guide to explore Suva. I shared the journey with Grace and met her friends and family at the market. Around town, the main sights included the government buildings whose halls of corruption keep this beautiful nation in an impoverished state, and the Fiji museum was depicts in graphic detail the history of the island for Fijians and Indo-Fijians alike, and it’s cannibalistic past.

So with only 2 days left in Fiji, I retreated to the island of Nanuna-I-Ra to Nanuna Lodge to relax before heading to New Zealand, involving a sketchy 3 hour bus journey along the Kings Road (one section of which is not yet complete and is really only a dusty track - a bus load of locals recently plummeted to it’s peril from the same road). Before Raki Raki, I jumped off early to save the taxi fare only to be picked up by another kind local who whisked me to my awaiting ferry - such kind people!

Only 15 minutes from the mainland, Nanuna-I-Ra is a stunning island retreat, the lodge owns 50% of the island which unfortunately has just been sold to a Kiwi developer to build 4 luxury resorts in it’s place. For the now, $20 a night gives you the most idyllic setting in comfortable burre-style dwellings. Yet again, the dive shop promised the best diving in Fiji, this time backed up by Jack Cousteu himself as this was listed in his top 10. A dive in the morning to Golden Dreams showed why with stunning soft corals some of which changed colour as the polyps retracted, the largest Lunar Coral I’ve ever seen at over 8 metres high and amazing swim throughs.

In the evening and after digesting an interesting home-made fish curry (I’ve no idea how to disect a fish), a climb to the peak of the hill behind the lodge was rewarded with the most amazing sunset and even a blind man with a pinhole camera couldn’t fail to capture an award winning photo.

The following afternoon further delights, a 45 minutes to the back of the island lies the most pristine white sand beach I saw in Fiji - amazing. I hiked down here on my last afternoon to share the beach with only 3 young Swedish girls, had I landed in heaven I couldn’t be sure but if it’s like this I must start to go to church.

Forcing myself to leave my hammock, I was jetted back to the mainland to return to Nadi for the next mornings flight to New Zealand. Another helpful chap gave me a ride to Raki Raki to catch the bus but I’d miscalculated the timings so had 3 hours to wait. Attempting to negotiate a taxi ride back to Nadi, I was offered by the taxi driver a much more favourable opportunity to stay with his family and make the journey in the morning. Since when does this happen?? So, with my new friend Mahendra I headed into the depths of Raki Raki to stay with his family. They again made me feel so welcome with the eldest son Ravindra taking the lead, giving up his own bed for the night and keen to learn about England we chatted till the early hours. Kanchan cooked the most delightful meal in my honour polished off with the last grog session of the tour. So welcoming and super nice people. Thank you Mahendra, Ravindra, Varunda, Gayendra, Shalen, Ajay and little Vishada for your kindness.

At 6am the next morning, I arose to find a freshly cooked fish curry awaiting as my breakfast treat courtesy of Kanchan, then headed off on the 3 hour drive back to Nadi airport. It was the first day of the week long elections which the whole country was eagerly awaiting, another opportunity to oust the somewhat corrupt SDL and it looked likely that Labour would gain their first term this century. Worryingly, the only times they’ve had the majority vote (1988, 1967) were followed in the next year by a coup so I was quite glad to be leaving as perhaps instability is again on the horizon for this beautiful nation. I hope not as the people deserve to live like kings.

It was a painful journey as I discovered Mahendra’s taxi could not exceed 50km/ph so we crawled along at a snail’s pace. Still, I arrived in time at the airport for my flight, Fiji time it seems does actually work if you just go with the flow. So with gratitude I tipped handsomely and said good bye to this magical land. Next stop, New Zealand.

Reflections:

A debate raged in my mind throughout the trip what is the best thing to do as a visitor for the people of Fiji - to stay at a resort or stay with the locals. Really the only off-the-shelf option for a tourist is to stay in a resort - budget, flash packer, luxury or otherwise. The Fijian tourist board push the resort packages so heavily it almost sends a message that they don’t want you to meet the real people of Fiji on their terms which I found confusing as my encounters with the local people were easily my fondest memories. (Incidentally the tactic is working as most of the ‘travellers’ I met and 99% of the package deal tourists only stay in the isolated resorts and are safely chaperoned from airport to resort without having to meet a local at all.)

Next, I discovered that over 80% of the resorts in Fiji are owned by foreign investors and the extortionate amounts (average luxury resort price USD $200 per night) being charged for stays at such places never even reach the shores of Fiji as are paid for in advance in the country of origin. So how does Fiji make the money - surely they can’t be giving it away for free?!

The biggest windfall for the country is the initial money laid down to buy the land from the Fijian government. The Fijians are smart enough to only lease the land, albeit for 99 years which based on a lease price of $20 million (Fijian) for a good size luxury resort would take about 5 years to pay for itself and 94 years to collect obscene profits. Surely it would be much smarter for the Fiji government to develop the resort themselves rather than make some quick cash from the initial lease, but as a developing country it apparently does not have the resource (or the foresight) to take this approach, some attempt is made but they are often run down and are poorly promoted. Surely $1 million of the revenue from the sale of one lot could be skimmed to pay for development of another resort with adequate marketing so at least the country would move forward a little, but from talking to local businessmen where the money goes post-sale is a mystery - I suspect some highly corrupt government officials are getting very rich as they sell off their own country and watch the poor get poorer.

On a brighter note, a standard agreement is in place for all resorts that they must employ local Fijians to run the resort (cooks, cleaners, bar tenders etc) so the locals benefit in this sense. However, wages are determined by the local economy not the investors home country which in practice sadly means a subsistence income for those with a family to support. Outside of this, local businesses benefit providing leisure activities at resorts such as diving, fishing, island excursions etc, but again bigger operations are monopolising not surprisingly owned by overseas companies.

I’m sure this is a common problem that any country faces where tourism is it’s main income, particulary in the developing world. In order for Fiji to over forwards, it needs to help itself and get financial control over the resorts itself and ensure that profits are actually invested in infrastructure, education, health etc . In addition, the International Community has a responsibility to enable developing countries to help themselves - so rather than providing aid relief when disasters like Tsunamis strike, how about providing $20 million dollars now to build their own resorts etc and gain self-sufficiency. In an ideal world, perhaps it will be so, in this world it’s hard to see.

The Final Word

The greatest memory I’ll take away is of the people, a cliché it sounds but they are totally amazing, give unconditionally and to my delight adore the English which they call the Mother Land. (It seems our colonials did a good job here bringing education, public transport, sewerage, religion, social order and an end to cannibalism.) It takes a lot to drop the guard that has been built up over the years living in a country where open generosity is rarely extended beyond family and friends, but once you do and embrace it with all your heart you discover what makes Fiji such a magical place. I almost cried with surprise and joy at the friendliness of all the people here and their willingness to share. These people deserve the greatest in life yet have so little. Sob sob, I’ll miss this place so much. Moce Fiji, until the next time…..