tropical island therapy

the day before we embarked upon the yasawa islands, we got a taxi into nadi town centre. this place makes you feel rich as a king, the taxi being only $4 (about one pound thirty) between four of us, although it was a beat up car from 1970-odd with a falling off gearbox and exhaust. the place seems to be a lot like i imagine india would be like. small children, dogs and even cows populated the side of the road. it's great driving on the left hand side - feels more like home - although we've gotten used to looking left first when crossing the road, now, so we're just thoroughly confused and risking life and limb every time we step out.

nadi town centre looks a bit like armley town street in that it's a longish road of low-rise shops. everything is really dusty and there are petrol fumes all over. there doesn't seem to be as many homeless people as in america (!). we walked down the road to where the indian market is. they were small huts on a small grass/mud opening and the people were desperate for us to buy things. there is a strange divide between the 'native' fijians and the indians here. they both make up about half of the population each but it seems that the indian people are not seen as 'proper' fijians here. it's really prominent as people in the street told us not to go to the indian market because 'it's not fijian'. strange that there should be these racist problems in a place like this. i didn't expect it.

there is one big department store called 'proud's'. it is really incongruous to the rest of the street. we wandered in and found proper chocolate and rach and i also treated ourselves to some impulse spray. it was only about a quid but we felt we were proper indulging ourselves. we've not had any perfume now for months. it's funny how you really miss it.

we decided earlier that the dev would do the fijian experience party boat tour of the islands with leah. rach and i just wanted to visit a couple of islands and not travel about so much. the three months in america has left us feeling quite tired of lugging our backpacks about seemingly every other day so we thought we would just go to two resorts and spend 5 nights on each. we went to the travel centre in our resort and booked the first place. we decided to spoil ourselves in fiji for ten nights by booking private rooms rather than dorms. we got a 'treehouse bure' (pronounced 'burray') booked on mantaray island resort and got rather ridiculously giddy about it. it was going to be on the beachfront and it was going to be our private little heaven. bliss.

we had to get up at 6am the next day to catch the 7.30am bus to the big boat (the 'awesome adventures' boat, dad). it was a beautiful sunny morning and we were looking forward to it all so much. the bus that transferred us to the boat was a knackered old thing that didn't have any windows, just canvas curtain type things that roll down when it rains. it felt great to have the breeze in my hair, especially at that time of morning. we drove past fields of long grass with small children playing in them. there were lots of children on their way to school - the boys wearing sarongs as part of their uniform. there were so many people out walking! everyone waved and shouted 'bula!' (hello) to this ridiculous bright yellow tourist bus packed with rich backpackers.

the boat crossing was traumatic. it was a giant yellow catamaran that simply bounced along the water for three hours, rather than cutting a smooth line. i got seasick for the first time ever. plus, we spoke to the travel centre on the boat and there was no room at oarsman's bay, the second place we wanted to stay. but the views were amazing. tiny little islands cutting into the ocean with white white sandy beaches. scenery exactly like that in the film 'castaway'.

a small boat came out to meet the big boat once you got to your destination. you had to jump across and then when you reached the shore you just had to jump out into the shallow water's edge, just like kevin costner does in 'prince of thieves', though the water was a little clearer than in dover. our island had a bright turquoise lagoon filled with coral, exactly like all those travel agent pictures. it was amazing. our 'treehouse bure' turned out to be a small beach hut rather than a hut in a tree but never mind. we still had the most amazing view from our double doors. we had a couple of hammocks right outside and some shade from a couple of trees. and then there was a small beach and then the blue blue ocean. we had to keep pinching ourselves, it was so pretty. i spent most of the time in a hammock reading the books i'd bought at l.a.airport, with the occasional foray into the sea. the water was so clear and there were these black and silver tropical fish that, suicidally, swam right to the edge of the water as the waves lapped onto the beach.

mealtimes were indicated by the beating of a drum up at the main bure up the hill. we had traditional fijian fare one night but it was all rather too sweet for me. even the bread and potatoes tasted like they had sugar on them - coconuty, really. mealtimes were a bit traumatic for us as it brought us into contact with the other people on the island. i was feeling particularly antisocial anyway but most people there pissed even rachael off. they were mainly just other backpackers but they all had their billabong and o'neills uniforms on and looked so goddamn cool. how do these people manage to maintain such perfect hair?! anyway, they were all there getting giddy and giggly and rach and i just sat there and fumed, feeling like right scruffy gets. but surely the fact that we look so shite makes us more hardcore..? surely... the bastards. they held a kind of kava ceremony that night (the traditional fijian drink that contains just a teensy weensy bit of opium). we held back until the billabong lot had finished their giddiness and buggered off before we sat down on the mat. you clap once, say 'bula', down the small bowlful and then hand it back, clapping three times. it does make your tongue go slightly numb. rach had trouble drinking hers because it does taste like, basically, dirty dishwater. like a runny plaster of paris mixed with water. nice.

the mornings were great at mantaray. that first time you opened the doors and got a rush of sea air as you were waking up. brilliant. really ultra refreshing. the first morning we joined a bloke called lulu (meaning 'owl') on his small boat as he was doing a trip out to his village. it was the comedy water crossing of the year. it was quite a windy day and, at one point, we had to go out into almost the proper ocean to get round some rocks and the boat was really tipping wildly and going up and down and side to side. rach didn't like it at all so the guy just kept shouting 'no worries!' at her, which helped a lot. we all got completely drenched. but we rounded the rocks and saw soso village in the cove, with all its campfires rising up into the large hill in the background. lulu took us to the local school where the boys all came running out, demanding we take photos of them. it felt like we were in some kind of film for comic relief. the boys did the new zealand haka (sp?) dance for us, which was great. we then saw the church and the ladies of the village had set up a little market for us with all their jewellery so we bought some things, including the obligatory backpacker shell anklet. when in rome...

we saw mantarays on the boat journey back. they were these huge black shadows just under the surface. wing spans metres long. apparently, we were really lucky to see them.

we then spent most of the time on mantaray walking on the two beaches, reading in hammocks and paddling in the sea. it was even sunny one morning. there were lots of hermit crabs scurrying over one of the beaches. they put you in a very thoughtful contemplative mood.

we chatted to a few couples at mealtimes, mainly to avoid the billabong lot. we also met two lasses from lancashire/yorkshire who also hated the billabong set so we could sit and bitch together. it was great. made us feel a bit more normal, at least. one of the girls had a snorkel set so she attempted to teach rach and i how to do it. it was such a bizarre feeling, breathing underwater. you hear your own breaths and have to force yourself to remain calm. we kind of got the hang of it and i'm sure the practice will come in handy for the great barrier reef.

we got ourselves booked into a resort called bayside for the second half of the trip and it was the best thing we could have ever done. it was a tiny resort with only two bures and right by the sea. it ended up being just rach and i there with nancy, who did the cooking, and ulu, who was kind of the 'entertainment' person, i suppose. they were related in some way and to the owner bloke, manassa, though it seems that everyone in fiji is somehow related, with people having 'cousins' all over the place, even when they're not 'proper' cousins. it was such a fantastic place. we, more or less, became part of the family. there was no hot running water or electricity at the resort, everything smelt really damp, and there were giant creepy crawlies all over the place - but we had such a fab time. evenings were spent just chatting by kerosene lamplight and ulu taught us her favourite cardgame, 'shithead'. it was so funny to hear her say it. ulu was great. she took us to the local village one day and introduced us to the local people. everyone came to their doors as you walked past to say 'bula'. they were so welcoming. we saw the church and the local health centre and spoke to the nurse about her job. we also bought more jewellery and a sarong that i lived in for the next week. it was great. we didn't wear shoes for days and didn't really wash properly, though don't tell anyone. it was a freezing cold shower so all you could really do is run in and run out. but we just didn't care. ulu taught us how to make bracelets made from banana plant leaves. it was like being in therapy, we did that much handicraft. ulu also took us to her home village which ended up being a massive island trek over hills and rivers that almost killed rach. but it was so worth it. we met ulu's mum and her brothers and sisters. ulu's mum, mary, sent a small child up a coconut tree in order to knock some down for us to drink from and eat. it was so humbling. they lived in a shack with obviously not very much but they were so ready to share everything with you. it was amazing. we saw a 'fijian laundry' which looked like that soap powder ad - lots of women sitting on rocks under a waterfall, rubbing soap on the clothes and then beating them with a stick.

nancy got one of the blokes (how fit are fijian men?!) in the village to come round on the last night and they made kava for us. it seems only the men prepare it. it was altogether a more authentic affair, unlike mantaray where there was the red hot chili peppers playing in the background as we drank. we just played shithead and kept stopping to 'stir the poison'. i actually got used to the taste and could drink more of it. rach and i shared our malibu and gin duty free so it felt like an equal exchange. we all got a bit giddy that night.

sunday was our last day and we went to church with ulu - a 30 minute walk through woods and along the beach. it was a methodist church and, even though is was in fijian, it was strikingly similar to church services at home. one lady got up and spoke in english to welcome us there. i nearly cried, it was so touching. and the choir singing was just amazing. they proper go for it! people remembered us from our village visit a few days ago and they were all shouting hello at us as we walked back. we called in at baby maria's house. we'd met her auntie the earlier time and maria had laughed at us, which made a change as we usually made the baby's cry, them not knowing what white skin was. her auntie had immediately handed maria over to us to hold. that just wouldn't happen at home. so, anyway, we called in at maria's house to meet her mum and dad. we felt so welcomed into that community. it has just been such a fantastic experience. rather than the usual resort experience, we felt so involved with the people and saw true fijian life. it was just so amazing how lovely the people were to us. we all cried when we had to leave!

and it was a right culture shock when we got back to nadi. this place is by no means skyscraper city but just seeing the concrete buildings and the electric street lights made me feel how strange it all was. we were glad to be able to get a proper shower but we'll miss life at bayside.

we spent yesterday bezzing about nadi as we met this lady from manchester in our dorm and this bloke from new zealand who was working our here and had a van. he took us to the local steakhouse and we drank many a beer. excitingly, they have 'top gear' in new zealand so we all discussed the recent trauma with richard hammond. even an aussie bloke heard what we were talking about and came over too. such is the universal language of 'top gear'. but doug the kiwi has got us really giddy about new zealand now so i'm now raring to fly out and start the whole backpacking thing off again. auckland, here we come....