The perfect opportunity presented itself when my friends Ap and John decided to visit in August. Ap came to Sydney for about a week before the two of us left (on separate flights) to meet John in Fiji. Arriving at the Nadi (pronounced Nandi) airport, I am pleased to discover that customs are as laid back as you might expect in a place like Fiji. From the time I touch down to the moment I step out into the warm Fijian sun is literally ten minutes. That even includes a stop at the ATM, where I happily receive two Fijian dollars for each U.S. one. As instructed by my handy guide book, I haggle briefly with the cabbie, and I’m quickly on my way to the Rendezvous Surf Dive Resort. Keep in mind the word resort is used rather loosely in Fiji (and, at times, in Australia for that matter). Within two minutes of leaving the airport, we are on a small two-lane highway that feels more like a country road. No big city to drive through and no airport traffic. I love Fiji already.
Driving south of Nadi, we pass a colorful Hindu temple and a few local buses apparently shipped via time machine from the 1960s.
Excluding the windshield, bus windows in Fiji are completely removed to cool off the locals crammed into the seats. I imagine this to be quite inconvenient when driving down one of Fiji’s many dust-clouded dirt roads, or even worse, on a rainy day; however, the Fijians don’t seem to mind. After 20 minutes in the cab, we turn down a rocky, dirt road and wind our way for miles through sugarcane fields until we make a stop at an unmarked gate, presumably my destination. Either that, or the field where they take unsuspecting tourists to play a game of give me your wallet. Fortunately, after a minute or two, the gate is opened by a worker, whom I’m pretty sure had been sleeping in a truck, and I am happy to find myself in the right place. The Rendezvous is an interesting resort to say the least. For starters, nearly everyone-myself excluded-who stays there falls into one of two categories; surfers from all over the world looking for cheap accommodation near the legendary reef breaks, and Japanese students/families who live there temporarily while learning English. The Rendezvous, which feels more like summer camp than a resort, is centered around an open air, rustic dining room/lounge and deck overlooking the water. The resort is run by a friendly and laid-back Fijian (I’m not sure there is any other kind) named Nico, who is also more than happy to hand out beat downs over at the Ping Pong table. After several games of Ping Pong and as many local brews, we are introduced to an age old Fijian tradition, the Kava circle. A large rectangular mat made from Pandanus leaves is laid on the deck, and we all gather round to watch the preparation of the Kava. A fine powder ground from the root of the Kava plant is mixed with cold water in a large wooden bowl and strained with a silk cloth. The result is a brownish liquid with mild sedative properties. If by some chance, you have missed the memo to kick back and relax and you still have shoes on, they must be removed while sitting in the Kava Circle.
There is; however, no age limit as evidenced by the four Japanese kids across from me. After the preparation is completed, a halved coconut used as a communal cup is dipped into the Kava and the drinking begins. For several individuals-John included-this is not the first time at the Kava circle, and I quickly learn that before each person takes a drink I am to loudly say “Bula” (the Fijian equivalent to Aloha) in unison with the others in the circle, and clap three times in a slow rhythmic fashion. As John finishes his cup of Kava-which is to be done in one large drink-we say Maca and clap twice. This process is repeated for everyone, staff included, at the circle, and as my turn comes, I get my first taste of the Kava. The earthy flavor and at times gritty texture of the Kava is followed by a slight numbing sensation on the lips, and although not exactly tasty is not as bad as it sounds. Of much greater concern, is the fact that all 15 of us are sharing the same cup, and that same cup is being used to stir the remaining Kava. Not exactly sanitary, but if ever there is a time to let your worries (and germophobia) go, it is now. After everyone has a drink of Kava, we relax and talk for awhile, and then at no specific time it is decided to start another round. And then another one. This goes on until the big bowl of Kava is gone leaving behind a feeling of relaxation, which-in all fairness-has as much to do with spending an evening amongst old friends enjoying the hospitality and traditions of the Fijian people as it does with the Kava itself. As I make my way back to the room on a warm evening beneath a thousand stars and beside the seas of the South Pacific, I find myself slipping into that wonderfully peaceful frame of mind…Fiji time.
