Sigatoka

Sigatoka

Apart from the Activities arranged on site there is also plenty to do in and around the surrounding area. Following the departure of Casey, Elaine and I decided to venture into Sigatoka or a spot of window shopping and exploration.

Elizabeth had kindly taken me into town at the beginning of my stay and I was eager to return to pick up a few things I had seen. The bus into town is caught from the main road and luckily Elaine and I got a lift to the top of the hill upon a minibus that had just brought some guests to the resort.

We (I) had dawdled too long at reception chatting away and by the time the mini bus dropped us at the main road we had the strangest feeling that the bus was gone! We waited for a good fifteen minutes chatting away as clouds gathered overhead. I was inclined to stick out my thumb and hitch but was afraid of the reaction I would get from Elaine.

Five minutes later the first of the fine rain began to fall, Elaine announced that SHE was going to stick her thumb out at the next car that passed. Surprised and revealed I enthusiastically joined her and we were soon in the back seat of a black car racing towards our destination.

Sigatoka is a 45 minute drive by Express bus from Mango Bay, a drive that is both scenic and enjoyable. The fact that we made into town within 30 minutes that day will give you some idea of our ride in!

Double white lines, as Elaine remarked, seemed to have a different meaning to our driver than to other road users. More than a dozen times he had to swerve sharply back onto his side of the road (usually on a blind bend) as he came face to face with a car or lorry coming in the opposite direction.

We flew through a herd of cows ambling along the road, a quick backward glance by Elaine confirming that no-one, luckily, would be eating road kill beef that night. I grasped the handle above the door as Elaine braced herself against the back of the seats in front of her and all conversation stopped.

At Sigatoka we handed over our donation to the fuel and shakily walked the last 30m into town nervously laughing at our escape and deciding firmly on the BUS back to the Bay.

Sigatoka is a wonderful collection of shops and stores that contain just about everything a household would need.

On my first visit with Elizabeth I had discovered Big Bear, a great Indian shop that would put the £1 shop back home to shame. There is a large Indian community in Fiji and their shops although five times the size of the tiny garage style openings of India are no less packed with stock. Shelves rise up to the ceiling, stock is spread along the floor, cooking pots and flowers hang from the roof space.

Exceedingly harp knives from $1 (there are three Fiji dollars to the pound) lie in baskets at child height. Beautiful stainless steel bowls lie stacked in tall towers, large, small, shallow, deep. There were six small shiny bowls of fractionally different sizes, together they made an exquisite set of six, a set of six that were NEEDED by me!!

I bought more knives and another three sets of six bowls to add to my already purchased three sets of six! I bought more pegs, a garland for Peter to hang in the Taxi, a bag of wash powder, all the usual tourist things!!

From there Elaine and I entered the one of the two big department style shops designed for the tourist and fashion conscious clientèle.

Beautiful carvings, gifts, clothes, souvenirs, locally made Ice-creams, Black pearls (that they swear come from Fiji but I was later told are probably Polynesian) Gold pearls (that do come from here) gold and silver fill the halls while live musicians serenade you as you browse.

There are people to open the doors for you, people to reach and assist, people to hover four steps behind you in just case you will need help in the future, people to explain, guide, direct and advise.

Never has shopping been so pampered!

There is no hard sell, there is not in fact, any sell at all. These people seem to have received staff training to genuinely help and care for the guests who enter into the air-conditioned (to a comfortable warm temperature rather that the freeze chill of the bus) halls of their realm.

Elaine and I delighted in the attention, pointing and picking things up as assistants explained their use and meaning. I admired the intricate workings in the clubs and spears that hung on the wall and picked up a strange four pronged stick bound with string and symbols.

A delightful guide, smiling so broadly with the sweetest smile imaginable, launched into a very visually descriptive narration as to the meaning and use of all the implements before us. She graphically explained the way the disembowelling spade worked. Her words giving meaningful power as she went on to explain how the neck breaker, skull crusher, gut gouger and throwing hammer could kill a person with ease. She calmly and still smiling sweetly told us how the eating of the brains of ones foe was said to bring knowledge and power to the conqueror, as I gently replaced the Brain Fork in my hand back into the basket on the shelf!

Fully enlightened I led Elaine to the large open market hall past shops of fabric, thundering music, hard ware and shoes. Here we entered the hustle and bustle of the sellers, their rented space filled with the crops from their gardens and plots.

Shell fish sellers clustered together sorting out 'lots' for sale.

No-body sold individual items, everything was arranged into groups of three, five and six, a price in dollars for the pile propped against them.

Local shoppers rearranged the 'lots' swapping one lettuce for another, changing an under-ripe tomato in one pile with a rich red one in another as they talked and bought.

We entered an area dedicated to the Kava plant, their roots lying in rows, their scent filling the air with throat catching ferocity.

Kava root can be bought whole or pre ground into its fine powder state and sold in small packets. The powder is soaked and kneaded within a cloth to infuse a large bowl of water that is then drunk by the local people at all social gatherings. It has slight numbing properties, making the mouth numb after one or two cups, the legs numb after three or four and the whole body inactive after ten!

Kava root is grown for three to five years before it is harvested. The older the plant the stronger the Kava. Alcohol, although not banned, is expensive to buy and an imported introduction to the Islands All social events, and there are many within the Islands as chiefs and families from different areas and valleys negotiate, gather and join together to achieve benefits for all, are dominated by the Kava Ceremony.

During our boat trip to the Island on my first day in Fiji, the group had gathered to drink Kava. At the time I had declined but during the past two weeks I had joined and enjoyed the Kava ceremony at the resort.

I looked up at the Temple on the hill and wondered if I had time to visit but the heat was rising, our shopping grew heavy and the bus was waiting at the main stop.

I entered the supermarket for my last purchase of the day, a crate of beer for Kris. The sales assistant took my details – a wholesale cash purchase for Mango Bay Resort!- and just as I had finished my transaction I turned to find Danny standing behind me shopping list in hand. No bus would be needed for our return to the bay, no struggle would be had as I tried to climb aboard the refrigerated ice trap with my case of stubbies. Elaine and I smiled broadly as Danny pointed to where the Jeep was parked.

Even in the supermarkets a work force stands ready to assist and despite my protests that I could manage, my case of Fiji Gold was carried to Dannys Jeep and deposited on the back seat.

Elaine and I retired to one of the street side cafés to watch the world pass by as Danny finished the last of his shopping and I once again looked up at the Temple.

The next cloudy day I told myself, the next day that was not filled with activities and plans arranged by Kris, the next day I was free I would return to Sigatoka simply to visit the temple.

With that thought still firmly in my head Danny beeped his horn to get our attention and we climbed aboard for the 50 minute trip back to Mango Bay!

Activities and Crab Races - Fiji Style

Life at Mango Bay can be as relaxing as you desire or as action packed as you can manage!

Each day the Activities board is filled with ideas for your pleasure and indulgence.

The spar offers amazing massages, facials, pedicures, manicures, braids and specialised treatments for days of self indulgent luxury.

Warmth and aromas fill the air as you lie on the table, smooth strong hands teasing away the stresses and strains of life.

Deft fingers draw scented oils through your hair soothing, relaxing, releasing strains you had not even been aware of until their departure.

Jewellery making classes take place beneath a thatched roof next to the Dive Shop.

Coconuts are de-husked by Wise, one of the many gifted multi-talented staff, before being sawn, drilled and shaped into delicate pieces to adorn newly bronzed bodies.

For those feeling more active there is volley ball, touch rugby, egg tossing, pine-apple bashing.

All are team building events bringing strangers together, forming friendships between lone travellers, bringing groups into contact with other groups, until the entire resort becomes a family, ever changing, ever growing, always evolving as people depart and new faces take their place.

Some guests come with gifts of their own. The arrival of Dedrrie and Brock saw our coconut jewellery class leap into a new dimension.

Simple shapes were first turned into simple waves before morphing into exquisitely balanced and designed sharks, eagle rays and the sweetest turtle ever carved with a blunt hack saw.

Inspired I began to carve my own shapes from the discarded coconut shells that lay scattered around the grounds as people, having sampled the smooth fresh insides each day, opened more and more of the fallen coconuts beneath the palms.

Coconuts are a joy to work with as they not only give you a refreshing drink at the end of the vigorous de-husking process but also provide you with creamy white nourishing flesh to eat as you cut, sand and smooth the shell into a beautiful piece of jewellery with nothing more than a piece of sand paper and a blunt saw or lie prone upon the golden sands watching the waves trickle along the shore.

Alan, a retired Londoner living in Scotland and travelling with a long term friend of his sister who now lives in Australia became the expert de-husker of our family while he was here. Each day coconuts were gathered by family members from outside their rooms and deposited by the husking stick until Alan rose for breakfast.

I hung my hammock outside the Dive Shop, swinging gently in the shade, sanding and crafting shapes of my own as Alan wandered back and forth with new people to demonstrate, teach and open coconuts by the score.

By mid morning Brock would drift over to help someone with a shape or to cut a new design of his own and so an impromptu gathering would form. His finished creations adorned Derdrie's wrists, ankles and neck as she performed her daily yoga routine on the beach. A woman of magnificent enthusiasm and flexibility she soon had more members of our family reaching, bending, stretching along side her, patiently explaining and guiding us as she worked her routine.

Caseys arrival into the Resort brought a wave of energy that infected us all. Travelling alone from the US she had come to Fiji to see her father who lived aboard his boat in Suva. Having lived for a week or so in the compact quarters of the boat she had ventured further down the coast for a week of sun and relaxation. A masseuse by trade she quickly added her gifts to our collective, rubbing out peoples little aches over a beer by the pool.

Casey turned out to be the same age as myself by a week, both our fathers were also the same age and both had sailed the Pacific at the same time. We compared notes, swapped e-mails, wrote down boat names and laughed about the way the world had led us so perfectly through our lives.

Elaine, the best friend of Alan's sister, became our companion as we discussed life, children and dreams. The days drifted by, the sun shone down and a quiet energy settled over Mango Bay.

In the evenings we gathered in the large restaurant to discuss the day, our individual adventures and our plans. Beer flowed as did the Bounty Rum, laughter and excitement infusing those around us with the merry mood of hospitality and joy.

Evening Activities were as varied as the days events. Ping-pong competitions, Killer pool, Team trivia, Frog races and Crab races were organised by our smiling team builders.

Crab races drew everyone together as Hermit crabs, gathered from the beach 20m from the restaurant were placed under a bucket for safe keeping, each shell now bearing a number in glossy felt tip, each crab hidden from view from the expectant crowd.

Names and countries were allocated to each of the crabs and placed upon a large board, a quick look at the guest passport origin tending to guide the country selection, a wicked sense of humour, directed usually at patriotic trait’s, gave them their names.

At the designated hour our family gathered together in the large Race Hall ready for the moment the crabs would be auctioned off. As each crab was introduced on the board and offered to the highest bidder our family of universal travellers disintegrated into individualistic territorial possessors, the room becoming a frenzy of excitement and laughter as people out-bid each other by a dollar at a time, usually as the cry “Going Three Times …..?” was called from our enthusiastic Auctioneer, Oni.

All moneys collected from the now 'Sold' Crabs was put into a kitty which was used to form First and Second Prizes. The more people paid for their crabs, the more there was in the kitty and the higher the prize money became!

Once all the 'bets' had been collected, the Kitty divided, the race began.

In Crab Racing the course was circular, starting point is at the centre and the first crab to cross the line is deemed the winner. No physical interference is allowed, no crowding of the race course is permitted as the upturned bucket covering the so far unseen contestants is removed following a tumultuous crowd chanted count down.

Crabs scuttle here and there racing off in all directions. The Fijian crab was always placed No 10 upon the board and during my time at mango Bay always seemed to be the largest of the selection hidden beneath the bucket yet crabs, I have learnt, are unpredictable and a thick white chalk line on a smooth painted floor tended to confuse even the biggest of our race contestants as crabs veered to the left and the right along its way. Others would cross the line without a backward glance only to be swooped up in the comforting hand of our referee as the remaining race-crabs were returned to the bucket.

Winners were held aloft for all to see, Prize money was paid and all race contestants were returned to the wild as our international family reformed to partake in the celebratory drinks!

Celebration drinks changed to social drinks as the crowd thinned allowing those of us who needed it to sleep while those who didn't talked late into the night reducing the Resorts stock of beer and rum to dangerously low levels!

Fiji - Boat Trip

Day 1 Fiji

I awoke at 5am my body clock still not quite in line with Fiji time and lay in my bed listening to the sounds of insects and morning as the sun rose over the hill behind us.

Breakfast was taken in the large open dinning room where I shared a table with Elizabeth, enjoying some of her private stash of soft brown bread. Fresh mango, watermelon, sliced mandarin and bananas lay displayed on the breakfast table, cereal, milk, juice, water, coffee, jam and toast were there for the taking plus a menu of Breakfast Extras such as beans on toast or omelet was also available.

I ate my fill as Kris, slightly blurry eyed, joined us handing me a mask and fins.

The boat trip was due to leave soon and in a state of mild shock I found myself ten minutes later bouncing across the huge swells outside the lagoon heading for an Island somewhere along the coast!

The sun was bright, the sea was blue, I was back in the Pacific and life was good as I settled down to enjoy the ride soaking up the warm salty air.

Spray bounced up from the sea, huge powerful rolling waves rocked us despite the power from engines as the Island came into sight.

A tiny cove cut naturally into a cliff face formed a tiny hideaway reachable only by boat.

Huge vines and trees reached up towards the heavens,

rich and dark green against the stunning blue sky.

Crystal clear water lapped golden sand covered shores,

the shallow water warm to the touch as it brushed over the sun baked fine grains.

Shells and coral were washed up in drawn out piles at either end of the beach.

Shapes and colours blending together to form a jigsaw of intense magnitude and complexity.

Hermit crabs of all sizes scuttled here and there,

meeting each other, squabbling over new homes,

scavenging food as the sea brought fresh nutrients within their reach.

At one end of the cove an overhang formed ground level caves for the sea to rush against, blow holes blasting out the trapped water with a whoosh of spray.

A lone white bird perched on the rocks, watching, waiting as the tiny fish flitted here and there.

The boat took those who wished to fish for our dinner far out to sea while those who wished to snorkel and swim rested in the bay.

The sun was hot, the breeze slight and refreshing while the sea reflected a sky of the most amazing pale blue.

I walked the shore collecting shells that could be transformed into crafts of some description.

I swam in crystal touched waters as fish darted around my toes and fingertips.

I lay on the soft grass of the clearing in front of the tiny shack where our food would be served and marvelled at the wonder of my life.

Yet again I had found a little piece of heaven, once more I was on the receiving end of the universes gifts as luxuries and adventures I could never afford were placed in my path for the taking.

I relaxed in the sea once more soaking up the caresses of the waves, blissfully absorbing the penetrating heat from the sun until it was time to leave this little hide away in paradise.

As part of the trip our boat took us to the far side of the Island where a tiny community lives.

Open plan buildings lay scattered in the far bay, lean-to kitchens full of pots and pans nestled at the back of each house.

The villages water supply comes from what they manage to collect on their roof space. Rain water, when it falls, runs via a net work of pipework into large holding tanks. No rain, no water!

We walked up the hill to the school as I drank in the immaculate lawns, smiling faces and beautiful gardens along the way.

School was finished for the day but we were shown the class rooms reminiscent from my early school years.

Wooden desks were gathered in a circle at the centre of the room, a blackboard was covered with the days work, pictures, displays and art work adorned the walls.

The smell of chalk and wood filled the rooms and brought memories of my primary school days flooding back.

Classes are taught through the medium of English despite the fact that the Fijians have a language of their own. It reminded me of how the Welsh were taught in English back home, until the powers that be were crushed by the demands of the people and Welsh speaking schools were once more allowed.

We looked, we wandered, we were informed and educated about the way things worked, we each gave a donation that was given to the chief of the village to help pay for school books and other things the village desperately needed and we left, inspired and humbled by what we had seen.

The ride back to Mango Bay was exhilarating to say the least. Fishing lines were thrown out but no fish were caught. (I sort of felt guilty as I had prayed we would not catch anything!)

Dolphins were spotted just outside the lagoon, huge powerful beasts that glided beneath us with a grace that belies their size. Effortlessly they rose and sank as the boat headed into the pass and back to Mango Bay.

I had been in Fiji for barely a day and yet I had been welcomed and absorbed within the family atmosphere of the Island and Resort until it already felt like home. Strangers had embraced me, islanders had fed me and worried about me, my son stood waiting for me as I stepped down from the boat.

I walked our beach as the sun set in the most dramatic show of colour. I showered in piping hot water before changing into the silk trousers and top I had bought in India and I dined on fresh vegetables sprinkled with cheese.

That evening as I sat by the bar with Kris, Danny and Liz, slowly sipping a cold Fiji Gold stubby I gave thanks to the universe for my blessed life, sank a second beer and began to tell the tales from Kris's childhood that sometimes are better left unsaid!!

Two beers is definitely my limit lol xxx