We take Visa, Mastercard, Cash, or Coconuts

Fiji was our first stop where we had absolutely no plans going in. And so, after clearing customs, we walked out into the arrivals area, raised our hands, and waited for someone to save us from having to spend the next 5 days in the airport. The person that helped us was not an angelic savior like we imagined, but rather she was a 5 foot tall, round Fijian woman with poofy hair who could only open her eyes to a half squint. Her name was Margaret and she carried the honorific title of “Auntie” meaning that she was either an old crazy woman who knew the ropes or Fijian royalty. We soon found that she was both. 

Auntie Margaret walked us up to her office and immediately whipped out the books to plan our trip. Brian and I we skeptical when she started describing the package deals which were described in terms of coconuts. A 1 Coconut Pass let you do certain things, a 2 Coconut Pass let you do more, and so on and so forth. She then started to talk about Bula Passes (“Bula” being the Fijian greeting word) and this was an entirely different animal. All coconuts aside, eventually we got down to business and determined that we would visit two islands: Beachcomber and Mana. Auntie Margaret then started to do the math for our cost and this is when her half squint closed shut and she was typing on the calculator blindly. Then, coconuts made their way back into the deal and the calculator had a melt down. Once we finally got the coconuts and all other tropical fruits out of the arithmetic, we had a great trip planned and Auntie Margaret made the necessary calls to get it rolling.

As it was late in the day, the managers of the hostel on Beachcomber Island did not want to send a boat to get us, but rather wanted us to spend the night on the main land and go out to Beachcomber in the morning. 

We weren’t having that and neither was Auntie Margaret. They sent us a small boat that arrived just as the sun went down. The boat was manned by two Fijian guys who spoke no English and they were to guide us to Beachcomber in the pitch black. Waves were crashing over the bow of the pathetic boat and there were times when all seemed lost. Despite the near drowning, all four of us were laughing the entire time and drinking the free beer given to us at port. This was perhaps the best part of the trip thus far.  

As we got closer to Beachcomber we heard the music coming from the bar and knew that we had made the right choice for accommodations. Beachcomber was small, maybe only a quarter mile in diameter, but they packed a lot into this small space including a dinning area, private rooms, a bar, 70 bed dorms that were to be our home, and of course one of the most beautiful beaches we have ever seen.  

As soon as we checked in and got our designated bunk beds, Brian and I immediately assessed the crowd on the island.  We decided that the best way to make new friends was to post up at the bar and make friends with the staff. That was when I first saw her. Her name was Louisa. They said we would meet women on Beachcomber, but this had to be destiny. She was funny, charismatic, friendly, and she looked like a younger version of Auntie Margaret. She was the bartender. We’re not sure if she was high all the time or if she was just crazy, but she was the gateway to the awesome time we had on Beachcomber.

As the night rolled on and Louisa took care of us, we made friends with some Swiss guys who invited us to their table. This turned into an all night affair and as the beach bar died down we were all still standing on our table attracting the stragglers to our party. Brian and I awoke early the next morning and made our way to the beach. 

 Around 3pm we realized we hadn’t seen our Swiss friends yet. It turns out our night with them hit them pretty hard and they slept through their ferry ride to the mainland, forcing them to stay an extra night. 

These Swiss guys turned out to be great friends. We even formed a team for a beer-drinking contest the next night which we unjustly lost because the winning team had attractive girls on it. It was over before it started. We spent our nights this way - meeting new people from all over the world, having a few beers, and getting down and dirty with Louisa on the dance floor every time she came to our table.

 By day, we rolled out of bed and right onto the beach. It was the most exhausting laziness we’ve ever experienced: applying sunscreen, going in the water, laying on the beach, lifting our heads to seen if attractive women came in on the ferry. Just exhausting. Beachcomber also offered free daily snorkeling trips. 

 

To our surprise, Louisa was on the boat one day. She had on fins and maybe 5 life jackets and clearly had no intention of snorkeling. While in the water, we heard someone screaming and looked under water to see Louisa standing on the reef, stomping off pieces of coral. Above the surface, she was screaming, “Come to Mama!” at the waves breaking on the reef which pummeled her in the face one after the other. She decided to swim all the way back to the island and miraculously made it in time to serve us happy hour drinks. Actually, it really wasn’t a miracle because Louisa declared Happy Hour about 5 times per day. We’re not sure if the drinks were actually cheaper or if this was just a time of the day she suggested you be happy. What a woman.

We left Beachcomber after three days and went to Ratu Kini’s Backpacker Hostel on Mana for one night. Mana was not the party island that Beachcomber was but it was just as beautiful.

 The hostel was in a beach village with stray dogs everywhere. On one walk we took two dogs followed Brian right at his heals for almost a mile. 

We weren’t sure whether they liked Brian or whether they were stalking him, waiting to ambush him for a meal. They did turn out to be friendly and even took naps with us on the beach. When we returned one of the staff members had hacked open some coconuts for us to drink, but more importantly we also accomplished a life long goal of drinking Fiji water in Fiji.  

 

On our boat ride back to the mainland, we stopped to watch a fisherman battle what turned out to be an enormous Jackfish. We pulled up to the side of his boat and noticed that he was with men from the hostel who said they would cook the fish for dinner for everyone. 

The fisherman then threw down the monster fish and the hostess on our boat handed him checks to sign. As he sat there signing away with fish guts all over him, we realized that this was THE Ratu Kini – the owner of the hostel. 

We are off now heading for Japan, but, despite our best efforts, Louisa did not fit into our carry-on luggage so we had to leave her behind in Fiji.