After a mammoth journey over three continents and including three international airports, I had arrived on Fijian soil. Stepping out of the airport I had been met by a blast of hot, humid air, my first breath of Southern Hempisphere air as I sety watch to late afternoon.
I was taken by shuttle taxi to where I would be staying first. The plan was to stay on the mainland, 15 minutes from Nadi Airport in a resort next to the beach. I hoped that it would go some way in destroying my flight lag.
The “Smugglers Cove” resort turned out to be a great cure with good food, lovely staff and a well conditioned dormitory where I spent a fair few hours sleeping when I arrived. Sleeping from 8pm to 7am on my first night there.
This meant that I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Although I was quickly reminded when I wondered out onto the beach that these temperatures would take some getting used to. With the mercury nearing 30 degrees by mid morning.
I decided to go for a short wonder along the road but quickly found out this wasn’t really the thing for a tourist to do. Was stopped by many taxi drivers and drivers who wondered where I was going and whether they could give me a lift.
It was the second night at the resort that I met the most Australian man in the world called Ash. Nothing was off the table with this “bloke” and he delighted in telling me about every personal detail of his travels, not leaving much to spate. He didn’t seem impressed when I told him I didn’t think much of Australian Football.
It was during this chat that one of the resort staff, Rita, asked me whether I was travelling alone. On finding out I was, she insisted on giving me her bus e-card to travel into town (Nadi) and then onwards to the Port Denaru marina. Giving it toe the warning that if I lost it should would kill me.
With this in mind, I spent my last day before travelling to the Yaswa Islands, riding the local buses. Rita had given me strict instructions to follow and I had wondered up to the nearest bus stop with no idea about when the next bus would arrive.
20 minutes passed before I was joined by a local who explained she was also headed for Port Denaru, telling me to follow her. This had come from her ability to make conversation with a stranger at a bus stop. A skill which Fijians seem much better at than us Scots.
The first bus to Nadi was loud and had little windows, but gave a good insight into rural Fiji. It didn’t take long to get to town and when we did we were met by a huge queue of buses revving their engines at the bus terminal.
A short walk later I was on the “Yellow Bus” to the marina, thanking the kind lady who helped me as she got off to work at the “Hilton”. Port Denaru would be where I would get the boat out to remote Fiji the next day, though after buying some new sunglasses there didn’t seem too much else to do in the many shops and I headed back, looking forward to the next adventure.
That night we were treated to traditional dancing and fire throwing. Which looked no less dangerous than amazing.
The next morning I rose early, packing everything and getting on the “Awesome Adventures” coach with a huge school class from Norway. A long way for a school trip to go!
After a short journey to the marina I had visited yesterday, I met with the volunteer leader and was suprised to find out that I would be working alongside one other volunteer called Alex. After being provided with our tickets for the “Yaswa Flyer” and a t-shirt to be worn in the school, we boarded the boat for paradise.
Some Very Scottish Adventures 