BULA!

The capital of Fiji is Nadi (pronounced Nan-di). We decided to only spend a day or two either side of island hopping on the mainland. So armed with our Bula passes, we boarded the ferry and headed off to Beachcomber, dubbed the “party” island, wet weather and a lack of funds meant we attempted to have a quiet night of cards. Obviously that is not how it ended. We joined a group that had been on the islands for a while and I was introduced to the drinking game 'F*** the Dealer'. I won’t say much more, but the one thing I learnt from that night is to steer well clear of Fijian rum.

Considering there wasn’t much to do on the island, we left the next day, hopped back on the ferry and headed north to Kuata. A very authentic island, the dorms were pretty basic. Considering the previous nights’ antics, I spent most of the day lying on the beach in the shade passing in and out of various states of consciousness. HT was far more productive and went on a village trip to a neighbouring island. That night we witnessed our first of many “Bula Experiences” which consisted of semi-naked men coated in oil dancing about in straw skirts throwing fire about. Interesting to say the least!

Poi, Fiji

The following day we made a move over to the opposite island of Wayalailai. The water was pretty choppy and the boats pretty small. Once we’d made the crossing, we had to turn back as another boat had broken down. We then had to attempt some sort of rescue mission of manoeuvering the passengers on the other boat into our rickety one. A little perilous, it was touch and go for a while.

Island Hopping, Fiji

Island Hopping, Fiji

After Wayalailai our next stop was Octopus. Considering we’d been homeless backpacking bums for the past three something months, to us, it was a vision of paradise. Luxuries included, a pool, sunbeds, proper dorms, towels … (the list was endless). That night we experienced out first Kava ceremony. We all sat round in a circle – girls with their legs to the side, boys cross-legged. A surprisingly complicated ritual as it required lots of shouting and clapping.

Skydiving, Fiji

Arriving back in Nadi after our final island, Korovou, I made a decision. After my failed attempt at skydiving in New Zealand, I massively manned up and jumped out of a plane (for a second time) at 14,000ft in Fiji. A lot higher than my first jump in Slovenia a few years ago, but quite frankly I don’t think it makes much of a difference in terms of scariness – 9,000 or 14,000, doesn’t really matter when you’re perched on the edge of a plane with your feet dangling into thin air! The most frightening part of the experience was when the pilot attempted a mini nosedive to scare us. It worked. As my butt lifted off the floor of the tiny plane, my heart dropped into my stomach. Little words can describe the feeling of freefalling through the air, so I won’t even try. What I will say is that the one regret I have from my travelling experience is that I didn’t skydive in New Zealand.

After spending two glorious weeks in Fiji, we headed off to our last and final stop in LA.