I flew into this tropical paradise without any reservations, hoping to just wing-it and get a discount for rocking up unannounced. The travel books warn of the touts you’ll face at the airport, hocking their cousin’s accommodation (one of the custom’s officials was even doing it) — but the travel guides recommend taking refuge from them in the Fiji Visitor’s Bureau at the airport.
As luck would have it, the old FVB shut down and has allegedly moved somewhere between the airport and the town of Nadi, but I haven’t been able to find it yet. Maybe it never really existed. I ended up in a small hotel half way been the airport and city with questionable security (it looks like the door has been kicked down a few times), cleanliness (which is what my pre-trip travel immunizations were for), and no air conditioning. It has a ceiling fan instead of air conditioning, but it was cool enough to shut off the fan by 8PM last night. They have nicer places, but they’re a lot more expensive than what I am willing to pay.
I wandered into the town of Nadi (pronounced “Nandi”) this morning, and found that there really isn’t much to it. It’s basically one main street that runs for about 4 or 5 blocks. All traffic was stopped when a small-gauged sugar cane train roared through town towards the sugar mill. The town itself is full of little Indian merchant shops, much like Little India in Singapore — all hawking their wares to the visitors (which gets annoying). One of my first impressions of the town was a long line of school students, both boys and girls, all wearing skirts. Yes, the guys often where a “sulu” here, which is essentially a skirt for men.
Within my first hour of strolling around town, I was continually pitched products and finally succumbed to my first Kava ceremony on the pretense of a shop owner just wanting to be friendly to the visitors. Kava is a drink made from the roots of a pepper plant that is supposed to have medicinal qualities. It’s an ancient Fijian custom. I can’t say it tastes great (sort of like ground wood), but I survived okay. A few other tourists were dragged in while I was there. We were welcomed, but warned off buying anything from the big-business Indians. Oddly, the shop owner seemed Indian. Seems like those coup tensions from a few years ago still haven’t warn off. Sure enough I was given a hard sales pitch afterwords for buying their hand carved trinkets to help their poor indigenous Fijian village. I later met other tourists who had been lured to the same selling scheme. We concluded that they probably had no ties to the village, and only used it because it was mentioned in a Lonely Planet guide they knew we were all carrying. I decided to walk back to my hotel, only to have every taxi driver and bus toot at me to see if I wanted a ride.
I have booked a catamaran ride to a small neighboring island tomorrow where the nice part of Fiji is supposed to be. It’s in the string of islands where Tom Hank’s “Castaway” and Brooke Shield’s “Blue Lagoon” were filmed. Lots of white sandy beaches, great snorkeling, huts on the beach, and good hiking trails. I’m not expecting them to have Internet access, so it might be 3-4 days before I write again.
After my west island jaunt, I will probably take a bus to Suva (the capital city), a traditional village, and visit some other recommended islands to the north and east of the main island.
