Peaking in Fiji

See the full Fiji gallery here

If there is one piece of advice I could offer when planning your travels, it is choose your accommodation wisely. The place you stay will have a profound effect on the people you meet, adventures you tackle, and the depth at which you immerse yourself in the local culture. Nowhere did this become more apparent than in the islands of Fiji.

If you ask the average American to describe a vacation to Fiji, they would probably conjure up images of high-end resorts on private islands, where guests drink expensive cocktails beside a white sand beach. And if someone described Fiji in this way, they would not be wrong. On a quick boat tour Frances and I took of our surrounding area, we passed many stunning islands that we were not allowed to go near. We did get to watch from a distance as lucky guests anchored their mega yachts and partied beside some incredibly extravagant pools.

Without some deeper reflection, it was hard to not be envious of the so-called lucky ones. While I was supplementing my one serving of vegetable fried rice with canned beans and leftover nature valley bars I carried from Kyrgyzstan, these guests were dining on mouth-watering buffets at every meal. And instead of having to scavenge for coconuts, the resort folk had waiters and waitresses bringing them pina coladas at will. They were in their own little bubble, with everything one would want on a trip to paradise.

I’ve been fortunate enough to exist in this bubble before, while working as a medic and surf guide at Kandui Villas. I have to say, it is wonderful having filling food delivered at predictable intervals, and the ease of knowing staff members are always ready and willing to help minimizes the stresses of being away from home.

Although resort vacations provide the rest and relaxation we all occasionally need, there are some serious drawbacks to having everything catered. For one, the cost prohibits many people from spending long periods of time abroad. I can honestly say if Andrew and I had not been scavenging for food, sleeping on beaches and mountains, and bargaining for transportation, we would have blown through our budgets in under a month. Instead, by being willing to rough it and find our own way, we stretched our savings to last a year.

Finances and luxury aside, another major consideration when choosing a place to stay is the demographic of travelers it attracts. While the prices at resorts tend to limit the guest population to successful middle-aged couples and families, hostels and home-stays are accessible to people from all walks of life.

For instance, in the surf hostel I stay at in Fiji, I met two friends who travelled all the way from Spain. One of them was ending his second gap year, so he was filled with stories of worldly adventure. When I brought up the idea of renting a car to explore local villages on the island, the two of them instantly were enthusiastic about the idea—something that would be hard-pressed to find in people living in the safety of a resort.

Another couple had negotiated a deal with the owner to sleep in a tent on the hostel’s lawn. By doing so, they had spent five months in Fiji and gladly shared tales and wisdom from their time on the islands. On the whole, I’ve found that people in hostels tend to be more open to meeting others, and if you take the time to dig, they usually have some very intriguing life experiences.

In addition to meeting other travelers, hostels and home-stays give the opportunity to interact with locals. In Fiji, one boat driver named Suji turned a surf trip into a powerful cultural experience. I started spending time with Suji because he was the only boat driver who felt comfortable launching and landing the kite from a boat. Thus, Suji and I spent multiple afternoons together cruising the outer reefs, and when Frances arrived, Suji took the both of us to some of the most beautiful sandbars and lagoons we had ever kited.

On the way back from one kiting session, Suji asked the two of us if we would come to a party his village was throwing. He explained that it was an annual fundraiser, where each family in the village was expected to contribute one month’s income to a communal fund that was used to feed and house orphan children and elderly people. He said that the members of his village gladly donate to the fund because there has never once been an instance of embezzlement or misuse of funds.

It is customary to invite guests from other villages, or other countries in our case, to join for a night of singing, dancing, and eating. In exchange for the guest’s donations, the host family cooks a local meal. From our time on the boat together, Suji recognized that both Frances and I are vegetarians. However, the meaning of vegetarian seemed to get bent in translation.

“Suji told me you don’t eat meat” his sister said. “So I cooked up a few fish my husband caught. Are you sure you don’t want any chicken?”. These were the questions Frances and I awkwardly had to answer, while Suji and his two sisters were laying out a feast of four whole fish, 6 chicken legs, roasted taro root, caramelized onions, and Fijian chilis.

In addition to not particularly enjoying the taste, for moral, environmental, and health reasons, Frances and I both stopped eating animals from both the land and the sea. But, in this particular situation, we both set aside our convictions to not risk offending a gracious host. With our mouths tingling from the surprisingly spicy homegrown chilis, the chicken and fish went down just fine, and the taro was quite delicious.

The only thing I wish I did different was save room for the next course. The dessert was not what you may expect. To end the night, Suji prepared a traditional Fijian drink, kava. Kava is made from an extract of a local plant. The extract is mixed with water and served in coconut bowls. In a traditional ceremony, guests gather in a circle while one person brews the kava and serves.

As Frances and I sat on Suji’s porch, slowly feeling the inebriating effects of the kava, we were lucky enough to meet a few of Suji’s friends. One was a professional surfer who was selected to compete on Fiji’s olympic team. He told me of his struggles to gain sponsorship and support from the Western surf companies and graciously offered to take me surfing with him if I came back.

Another was an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) for the Fijian Army. When he learned I too was an EMT, he asked me many questions about the treatment protocols we followed in America. He said once his training concluded, someone in the Army gave him access to a closet full of medicine. The only problem was there was nobody on the island to teach him when to give the medicines, or how much to administer. He very clearly wanted to learn because he said the people he was responsible for helping desperately needed care. Sadly, I was not able to answer many of his questions because EMTs in America are not taught to administer most medications.

I told him that I hope to one day return, with more medical training, to give him the guidance he needed. It was disheartening watching someone who had so much selfless drive not have access to the education necessary to help others. I can’t imagine Fiji was the only place I travelled this year that had this issue.

That aside, all of us thoroughly enjoyed our night drinking kava in Suji’s village, even if Frances and I couldn’t keep up with the liters of kava everyone else was able to consume. “What happens if you drink too much kava,” I cautiously asked. “You will be on Fiji time in the morning!” they all shouted. And yes, I was indeed on Fiji time the next morning, but sometimes it is okay to slow down and enjoy one’s surroundings, especially in the South Pacific.

Luckily, my body supercharged from a little bit of relaxation, and I got to enjoy a four-hour surf session at flawless Cloudbreak. After motoring out during a psychedelic sunrise that turned the whole ocean pink, making it out of over 10 barrels, and nearly getting decapitated by a stand up paddle board, I came in from my last session before going home to Los Angeles. One could say things peaked at just the right time.

I thought this was going to be my last time in international waters for a long time, but with South swells building, cheap tacos calling, and our big red Suburban possibly on its last leg, we may be ending this year’s travels just how they started.

Stay tuned…

-Chris Buchanan