Facets of Fiji: Paradise in the Blink of an Eye.

Life has this curious, merciless way of creeping up on you from behind, just when you're least expecting it, and punching you right in the gut. As a proverbial road of unforeseen twists and turns, one should always be suspicious of a path that seems to be going too smoothly. And in spite of the many bumps and ruts I've had to traverse to date, Life somehow never ceases to amaze me with new bursts of spontaneity, often leaving me questioning what the fuck just happened. Going from having the ideal job one morning to being laid off and penniless the very next is usually a fate that no one is ever truly prepared for. But the same can similarly be said for waking up one morning in your home, tackling another day of depressing applications and dwindling accounts, only to find yourself waking a couple days later on a remote Pacific island without a care in the world. This is the brief story of an unbelievably impulsive summer, from having plenty of time with few prospects, to suddenly having only a week in paradise. 

It seemed ironic that the last time I found myself exploring the South Pacific was following my father's own lay-off from a job, nearly two decades ago on a jaunt around French Polynesia. It was a trip that completely changed my life, the impetus of my fascination for the culture of the Pacific Islanders, whom I've always believed to be the most underrated explorers and world travelers in human history. For the ancient Melanesians and Polynesians, the sea was a superhighway rather than a setback, sailing off into an unknown horizon on their massive double-hulled outriggers to discover and populate some of the most isolated places on the globe. And one of their very first stops several thousand years ago was a Oceanic gem called Viti -- Fiji.   

Flight times to the Fiji Islands from various Pacific Rim locations

For centuries, the name Fiji has carried two distinct and completely antithetical connotations, the first being a tropical island paradise and the second being a forbidden den of cannibals. Thankfully, the era of the latter has finally passed, allowing visitors to enjoy its stunning landscapes with only the minor threat of sunburns rather than the burns of cooking fires. But in many ways, the relatively recent colonization of Fiji and its growth as a hub for Pacific tourism have caused many beach-goers to forget, or to never care at all, about the island nation's rich culture and native traditions. In addition to the clichéd beach fun, I anticipated using my limited time to sample all of Fiji's natural facets, including the human face of this remote, yet simultaneously touristy region.

Buying a ticket to Fiji three days before departure was already the most random thing I've ever done trip-wise, where under normal circumstances my travels are prefaced by months of research, planning, and budgeting. Nevertheless, the race was on with five days to fit Fiji into my five-fingered grasp. On that note, I decided to break my trip into five domains worthy of exploring: the beach, the village, the city, the market, and the forest. Never one to pass on a novel destination, my father also decided to join the adventure as quickly and unexpectedly as myself.

Arriving in Nadi at 6 AM

The Beach: A Taste of Tourism in the Mamanuca Islands
Monday, 2 July 2018
Tropic of Capricorn Hostel, Wailoaloa

After arriving into Nadi International at 6 AM following a sleepless ten-hour flight, neither of us had time to waste. Dumping our packs upon an unsuspecting receptionist at Tropic Hostel, we rushed to catch a coach to Port Denarau, the main station for departures from the main island of Viti Levu to the cluster of emerald, reef-lined jewels that grace the crown of Fiji's western Mamanuca archipelago. From plane to bus to ferry, I didn't even have a moment to mentally process the realization of my arrival in this equatorial land, which had itself already begun to defy previous expectations. The weather was remarkably cool and refreshingly low in humidity, the sun occasionally piercing through dramatic rolling clouds and mist riding strong western winds from the mountainous interior. From the ferry, one could catch a view of the river flowing through dense foliage of papaya and banana trees out into a palm-lined bay of  Fiji's upscale resort district, passing clusters of multi-million dollar yachts and sailboats gracefully undulating before beach-hugging bungalows. We shared the deck with an overwhelming number of Aussies, Kiwis, and Yankees, anxious to island hop with their families between resorts and take in the typical beach scene. It honestly felt out of character for me to be within this particular group of sunburned "fanny-packers" and a feeling of uneasiness quietly grew in the back of my mind, especially as I observed my exceptionally well-traveled father who, under normal circumstances, likely wouldn't be caught dead mixing with such a crowd. The day was either going to be a delightfully engaging or downright embarrassing for the both of us. Yet part of me eventually came to accept that dealing with the effects of mass tourism was an essential part of obtaining a complete Fiji experience. Plus, don't they always say that the finest travelers are the ones most willing to step out of their comfort zone?

Tropic Hostel and Smuggler's Cove on Wailoaloa Beach

Private sailboats and catamarans in upscale Port Denarau

Private resort bungalows

 

After 30 minutes on the water, the ferry began to approach the first of the islands, one of which I chose to explore due to time constraints and its proximity to Viti Levu. South Sea Island was a literal speck of green in a sea of azure blue, a palm-sprouting sand bank whose circumference I later calculated could be circumambulated in just under four minutes. A wooden backpackers hostel decorated with snorkeling gear stood at its center, coconut palms and pandan trees dispersed between thatched umbrellas and poolside recliners graced with snoring white bodies. The ivory shores were lapped by warm turquoise waves that concealed a reef of prickly corals, colorful fish, and sea slugs. With my return ferry not scheduled to arrive for another eight hours, my first hour of pure Fijian leisure commenced with an exciting frolic in the sea followed by a brief attempt at snorkeling with a pair of googles. Limited only by the inability to hold my breath for more than five seconds at a time, I was rather successful in viewing a decent selection of fish, starfish, and sea cucumbers that hid among the brain and fire corals cluttering the sea floor. Though not as colorful and healthy as the reefs in Tahiti and greater French Polynesia, there was still an exciting array of creatures to behold beneath the surface. For my father, who never learned to swim, the sea's mysteries were still within reach as a little yellow "submarine" off the island's northern shore sat waiting and ready to take us dry snorkeling around the outer reef. Pilot fish of neon yellow and aquamarine scurried curiously alongside the vessel's glass bottom as rainbow parrot fish hovered around lapis blue starfish and sparkling anemones. In the distance, small yet menacing reef sharks cruised through schools of minnows, essentially killing any hopes of me getting back into the water later. 

Approaching South Sea Island. A motorboat is needed to prevent the ferry from crashing on the reef

Colorful little crabs

Neon yellow striped pilot fish

Large fin angelfish

An attempt at trying to capture some of the unique coral life, with tiny neon blue fish

Thanks for the goggles, Matt Brand!

Much to the anticipation of the whole island (literally), the friendly hostel staff announced the arrival of lunch, which consisted of a lavish buffet spread featuring a medley of tropical salads, fried rice dishes, and grilled meats. Any skepticism my father may have had about mass tourism briefly disappeared alongside his second helping of mahi-mahi fish steaks. To accompany the mass gorging, a jolly performance of Fijian folkloric choral melodies and harmonized chants filled the fresh ocean air. Needless to say, napping on the beach was a mandatory part of the whole package, which peacefully broke my personal taboo of sleeping in public. With a cool wind and the sound of waves a skip away, catching up on two full days without real sleep was practically inevitable.

Fijians are so comical and expressive, especially when music is involved

Folkloric singing by the beach hostel staff

By hour five, I was gradually growing tired of paradise. The winds had picked up as we walked around the tiny island for a fourth time. It donned on me that, despite having a great recreational excursion, lounging and sunbathing on a beach is still not my primary choice for spending a vacation. I personally thrive off of people and culture, along with their by-products, food and music. I realized I had flown half-way across the world and into the southern hemisphere only to spend my first day in Fiji with other foreigners in the sanitized absence of genuine local people. After nine hours at the beach, we returned to our chill beach-side hostel in Wailoaloa, contemplating over a coconut tumeric fish curry and the evening chatter of parrots, about ways to get away from the influx of rambunctious surfers and become more in touch with the original people who call these islands home.

South Sea Island at dusk

Looking out towards Malolo Island

Delectable fish coconut curry with taro leaves

The Village: Cruising with Candid Cannibals

Tuesday, 3 July 2018

Sikituru Village, Nadi

Beneath the shelter of two massive bamboo groves, I sat in silence, a dozen piercing eyes staring directly back at me from behind dark ferocious faces. To rhythmic war-like chants, muscular arms gracefully swished in wide circular orbits around a giant wooden bowl that sat between us, caressing the murky waters contained within. Performed with precision and focus, the ritualized squeezing of a fibrous root began to release its magic powers into the bowl, along with thousands of years of Melanesian history. I occupied the esteemed spot typically reserved for visiting chiefs and other tribal dignitaries, the first to receive a coconut half-shell containing the sacred liquid of yagona, a drink of pressed kava. Essentially the foundation of native Pacific tradition, kava permeates nearly every aspect of social life from Papua New Guinea to Hawaii, though particularly in the Fiji islands where consuming it had long since developed into a highly ritualized function. Drinking the mildly sedative infusion humbly welcomes visitors into the community, imparting a relaxed, sometimes tingling, feeling to all who imbibe it. Despite tasting simply like earthy water and rather incapable of quelling my already growing excitement, I nevertheless felt shamelessly honored to have participated in the age-old kava ceremony within a beautiful jungled village backdrop beside the Nadi River.

Traditional yagona kava ceremony for welcoming guests to the village

Across the river from Sikituru village on the quiet outskirts of Nadi town, traditional wood and thatch bures housed Fijian artisans perfecting their skills of wood-carving, paddle pottery, and palm frond weaving, all in a setting and attire harking back to the days predating colonization and Christianity. With the guidance of Max, a hefty Fijian passionate and eager to share his indigenous Itaukei heritage, we meandered around the village to observe the ways of the original inhabitants. Naturally, I fell in love with the traditional Fijian open air kitchen, where a woman sat on the earthen floor patiently tending to a wood fire whose smoke cloaked the forest in a mystical aura. A carved wooden food storage hanger was suspended from the bamboo rafters, it's wobbling top plate ingeniously designed to make any conniving rodent slip right off and out of reach of a palm basket filled with morsels below. Much of the native architecture, diet, and general village environment were unsurprisingly not too different from villages I've observed throughout Southeast Asia, testimony to the general spreading of related lifestyles as primordial ancestral communities migrated east out of Asia to populate the islands of Oceania. My father was invited to help start a fire using the Fijian method of scraping dried wood and igniting shredded coconut husk, though he embarrassingly tired out without as much as a spark, momentarily making me question how greatly we've lost touch with the ways of our common Pacific ancestors. The woodcarver slowly applied his skills to the handle of a large war club, one of several different types used by the native Fijians for breaking necks, splitting skulls, and dismembering warriors from rival tribes, particularly prior to consuming them. Cannibalism has long been rooted in Papuan and Melanesian history for both ritualistic and political purposes, with the gruesome act occurring within Fiji alone up until as recently as the turn of the 20th century. For centuries prior to colonization, terrified European ships initially went out of their way to avoid stopping in the archipelago. Today, it is almost incomprehensible to imagine jovial Fijians as descending from bloodthirsty man-eaters, however, they never hesitate to reference or crack unnerving jokes about their dark past with foreign guests. "Dark meat tastes better because White meat is stinkier and saltier in the tropic sun". Or so I've been told.

Chief's bure in the peaceful forest

Traditional Itaukei men's clothing

Village cooking hut

Carving a sali war club

Pottery via paddle method

 

Bamboo raft lashing

Weaving leaf mats

Attempting to ignite a fire using dry wood and shredded coconut husk

Upon reaching the chief's elevated bure, Max called out in Fijian to seek permission for entering the sacred compound, to which a low single-word response emanated from behind the woven reed walls. As we entered the hut and took our seats on the matted floor, the chief sat before a large curtain of hand-painted masi cloth with complex tribal patterns, he himself clothed in ornate bark fiber shawls and wielding a coconut fiber fly whisk. After receiving his greeting, Max told us how Fijian society and government are still currently run by the head chieftains of the largest clans occupying the nation's many island regions. While their dress and lifestyle has conformed to modern times, they are still viewed and treated with the utmost reference by the average Fijian. After being granted permission to sit with the chief for a photograph, even I was required to approach him on hands and knees before taking a spot to his left. Max joked that typically the left was reserved for the head wife of a chief's harem, who was usually the unfortunate victim to either be buried alive or sacrificed via bludgeoning upon the chief's death. We spent a few minutes in his company before seeking permission to leave and walking to the tallest structure in the village, the bure katou, or old style temple. While the old ancestor and animist religion of the Itaukei is no longer practiced, the temple is one of only two remaining in Fiji for culturally demonstrative purposes. A remarkable work of indigenous engineering, the temple's cathedral-like roof sported a long white masi cloth that descended from the ceiling to the floor, an archaic "telephone" line used for communication between the priest and the various gods. And as expected, no temple construction could be initiated without the placement of four or more sacrificial victims beneath the structure's foundation posts. 

Meeting the village chief

A brief collection of traditional folk dances and warrior chants were performed for us in the village's central courtyard, ranging from the graceful hand-gestures of the womens' seated vakamalolo dance to the rhythmic and acrobatic meke wasi spear dance of the men. Aside from vocal melodies, the only accompanying instruments were log drums tapped with sticks and bamboo tubes of various lengths that were beaten on the ground. Watching the dances not only gave me an insight into their performance arts, but also the physical attributes of the Fijian people, who are quite comical and seemingly always in good spirits. Possessing mixed phenotypes linked to migrations of both Melanesian and Polynesian ethnic groups, Fijians are a people of colossal stature, typically with darker complexion and curly hair. Many of the women sport flawlessly sculpted afros, to my delight somewhat reminiscent of black motorcycle helmets gracing their wide toothy grins. The men are tall and built, with physiques similar in many respects to that of the neighboring Samoans.

Men's meke dance with palm fan

Women's vakamalolo dance

Also like their Polynesian neighbors, the Fijians have a traditional method of cooking meats in an underground lovo oven. After the performances, Max took us through the plantation to a small hut sheltering a giant dug out pit. Having cooked for two hours, the lovo master and my father both jumped in to remove the layers of jute and banana leaves that covered a steamy smorgasbord of foil-wrapped chickens, whole fish, taro, and sweet potatoes that had been cooking over hot volcanic stones. On an open air deck near the river bank, where fishermen were just starting to retrieve their afternoon catch, we filled ourselves with the feast from the lovo, along with sides of raw fish kokoda, steamed taro leaf rourou, and a refreshing salad of wild bush ferns. It was a magical experience that granted me a more intimate encounter with Fiji's fascinating people, arts, music, and cuisine, all facets of this exotic nation that unfortunately don't always make it into the average tourist itinerary.

Inside an underground lovo oven

Removing the banana leaves

Whole chickens, fish, and tubers cooked over stones

The City: Mixing It Up in Fiji's Mini Capital   

Wednesday, 4 July 2018

Town House Apartments, Suva

While Fiji's international airport is located in Nadi on the western side of Viti Levu, the nation's capital of Suva is in fact 120 miles away on the southeastern coast, a relatively decent distance that takes upwards of four hours, factoring in a two-lane island road and typical "island time". Though Nadi has long been the tourism hub, with its airport and seaport serving as the center for departures to Fiji's Mamanuca and Yasawa island resorts, little Suva on the "dark side" doesn't usually see its fair share of foreign visitors, making it a perfect place to see Fiji from the perspective of the average Fijian. Traveling by local bus along the Coral Coast, we witnessed impressive scenes of island countryside and contemporary village life. Palm-lined sandy beaches ran along the coastline, periodically broken up by lagoons filled with the labyrinthine roots of dense mangrove forests. A shallow and tranquil turquoise reef filled with dark coral patches stretched along the island's perimeter, with white-capped ocean waves breaking a quarter-mile out to sea. Villages of wood and corrugated tin filled the gaps between dense vine-covered rainforest and banana plantations. Occasionally, one could come across the tall thatch roofs of traditional bures, however, most of modern Fiji's structures are now built out of unaesthetic, though certainly sturdier and less labor intensive materials. As Queen's Road reached higher elevations away from the coast, the terrain unexpectedly became less tropical, turning into large sprawls of rolling grasslands, sugarcane fields, and even alpine forests.

Students wearing traditional sulu wraps waiting for the bus to class

View overlooking Nadi valley grasslands and farms

Suva harbor with approaching rainstorm

Reaching Suva became apparent once we hit traffic on the only road leading into the city. Situated on a small peninsula, downtown Suva was a vibrant and eclectic mix of architectural sights and peoples from Fiji's mixed populace. British colonial buildings clashed with retro 1950's facades bearing hand-painted signage and modern glass high-rises, all intermixed with tall trees and flowering vegetation that gave the city a tropically dilapidated quality. We got off into the mayhem of the central transport station, a medley of different peoples weaving in and out between weather-beaten, windowless buses. Indigenous Fijians wearing brightly colored Pacific-print textiles intermingled with South Asians in saris and turbans, alongside tattooed Polynesians in tank-tops with shorts and businessmen donning the formal sulu, a sarong-like garment. Nearly all of the businesses and restaurants are Indian-owned, with Indo-Fijians comprising nearly half of the national population as a result of being brought over by the British as indentured laborers for the sugarcane industry. The walk to our accommodation guided us past a number of curry houses, as well as plenty of Cantonese restaurants, dive bars, and janky fried chicken joints. Our residence in Suva proved to be a decaying apartment complex perched on a hill near one of the large churches. We grabbed a quick pre-made lunch from the nearby outdoor market, massive fried yellow fin tuna steaks and cassava for only $1.75, and ate in our room sporting a lovely view of laundry hanging from the neighboring building. That afternoon, we strolled along the main road through town towards Thurston Gardens, a small albeit well-maintained tropical botanical park near the end of the peninsula that contains the Fiji National Museum. Despite being dark and dusty, the museum completely captivated me for containing one of the best collections of South Pacific artifacts in the region. The main "warehouse" sported life-size antique double-hulled outriggers and druas, the remarkable vessels that allowed island peoples to reach nearly every corner of the Pacific. Other exhibits contained 3000 year-old pottery from the proto-Polynesian Lapita culture, lovely collections of Tongan war clubs, pieces from the ill-fortuned HMS Bounty, and carved cannibal utensils used to eat Reverend Thomas Baker. On the return back to town from the museum, we took a refreshing blended mocktail at the 5-star The Grand Pacific Hotel, a turn of the century national landmark of the colonial era that had seen the likes of many notable people, including a young Queen Elizabeth. Aside from a handful of shady drinking establishments blasting reggae and popular island jams, Fijian nightlife is somewhat mellow and uneventful outside of the tourist zones, with many locals simply returning home after the workday. We concluded our evening with a cruise around Suva's miniature mall complexes, the BSP Life Centre and Tappoo City. Each only about three floors with mostly clothing and Chinese-made products, we spent the bulk of our time at the top floor's fast food court eating braised fish and a coconut cheesecake to die for. 

Window-less buses in warm downtown Suva

Tarps for the buses when it downpours

An eclectic mix of building styles

An antique Fijian drua, or double-hulled outrigger canoe, in the Fiji National Museum

Main gallery of the National Museum

Traditional cannibal fork used to eat a British missionary

The colonial Grand Pacific Hotel after restoration

The Market: Where Fiji's True Colors Shine   

Thursday, 5 July 2018

Municipal Market, Suva

No matter where I travel in the world, one place consistently remains at the top of every itinerary - the local market. As an experienced foodie, I've witnessed more markets than I can possibly remember, however, the unifying commonality among all of them is their ability to showcase the most genuine of people and products. "Bula!", the most ubiquitous Fijian greeting, was shouted in copious quantities as we entered a zone void of tourists. The open-air municipal market in Suva was a wonderful place to meander along friendly stalls hawking a vibrant variety of tropical fruits and vegetables, as well as massive bundles of tied tubers including cassava, sweet potato, and taro, each meticulously arranged in elaborate piles. Though none of the produce were particularly foreign to me, the highlight of our market excursion was eating fresh cacao, whose thick orange outer shell was sliced on the spot to reveal a thick stalk of tangy white flesh-coated seeds. I made the mistake of chewing one of the seeds and releasing a burst of bitter nutty flavor, to which the locals chuckled at my brief displeasure. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe the 72% cacao, dark chocolate bars back home aren't quite as unpleasant compared to consuming 100% raw cacao. Our culinary sampling continued on towards the main entrance to the market, where lines of older Fijian women sat on the ground behind large spreads of traditional baked sweets, all familiarly wrapped in banana leaves like throughout Southeast Asia. Both excited and hungry, I went on a mini spree, purchasing from the friendly group of women a variety of different snacks including bila (traditional chewy cassava bread), tavioka yaca (a dense gooey cassava cake), and roti filled with curried potato and tuna. A coconut woman was also conveniently situated beside the snacks, supplying us with the sweet thirst-quenching juice of a classic tropical fruit that's been, quite surprisingly, somewhat difficult to track down during the course of our trip despite visibly growing on every palm tree.

Suva Municipal Market

Kava roots

Fresh cacao

Finally found the coconut merchant for a refreshing drink

Colorful parrot fish for sale

Buckets of mystery fish

 

Piles of freshly caught clams

Our street food experience continued on past the snacks and back towards the pre-made "lunch" stalls stocked with mini set meals of fried fish, chicken, sausage, or boiled eggs atop slices of cooked cassava with chili, as well as meat-filled Fijian style samosas and custard pies. The size of the fish slices were remarkable for the price, massive chunks of either yellow fin tuna, mackerel, or kanace mullet, with a side starch and cucumber for under $2 per plate. Some friendly men cleared and cleaned a table for us and we ate right in the bustle of the market, surrounded by the sounds of merchant chatter mixed with Bollywood remixes and pedestrian traffic. It was both a filling and relaxing lunch prior to catching a bus for the 4-hour return journey to Nadi, perfect in timing as the wet season's sporadic downpours had just begun to fall.

Homemade cassava cakes, stuffed rotis, and sandwiches

Quick lunches of fried fish and chicken with cassava. Price in US dollars is half of what's marked.

I love the coconut woman!

A vendor treats us to a mini kava ceremony

The Forest: Natural Beauty of the Island Interior   

Friday, 6 July 2018

Tu's Place, Martintar

Imagine waking up in the Garden of Eden and you'll have an idea of what it felt like for the two of us to spend our last early morning wandering trails through Fiji's scenic landscape. Refusing to be ripped off by a $40 taxi ride, we flagged down a local bus for $2 and took our place among the locals on a bouncing northbound ride towards Lautoka. After nearly missing the split in the road leading towards the island's interior, we set off on a 2.5 mile walk along a dirt road lined with elephant grass that weaved its way through quaint villages and farms, always greeted with a warm and boisterous "bula!" whenever we happened to run into an unsuspecting resident. The Garden of the Sleeping Giant, a large orchid repository straddling the base of Mt. Batilamu, was a beautiful botanical extravaganza to witness, as we strolled along many winding trails in the cool shade of a dense rainforest canopy. The well-manicured gardens boasted a dazzling array of orchid species, many in shapes and colors I'd never seen before, as well as innumerable other tropical flora spread over a large acreage that eventually gave way to dense vine-choked jungles. Having spent time in jungles from South America to Southeast Asia, many of the large lianas and banyans were welcoming and a rather nostalgic sight, in addition to the less-preferred mosquitoes and orb spiders dangling silently from invisible webs. The trail of flowering bromeliads and fruitful bananas eventually led to the top of an open lookout point baking in the unprotected sun, where the coastline and Nadi valley could be seen for miles. 

Village house on the walk to the Garden of the Sleeping Giant

A fraction of the hundreds of orchid species kept in the garden's repository

Moths feeding on tropical flowers

Strolling through the orchid repository

 

Chilling in the rainforest

View from the top of the hill of the fertile valley around Nadi

Early morning walking paved the way for intense afternoon hunger, which was whole-heartedly satiated by one stop at Tu's Place, a popular eatery off the road to Nadi Town that serves some of Fiji's finest local fare. While traditional Fijian cuisine is not as varied in terms of ingredients or dishes, the meals that they do cook are delectably rich, flavorful, and healthy. Yet aside from the homemade snacks and quick lunches in the outdoor markets, it's ironically not easily to find classic Fijian food even on the island itself, as locals typically cook their native recipes at home. Hence, going out to eat typically limits one to foreign cuisines such as Indian curries, Chinese stir-fry, or British-inspired fried chicken and fish-n-chips. Thankfully, Tu's Place was a locally-sourced gem that gave us a chance to finish our trip with authentic indigenous flavors: a large bowl of kokoda, Fijian raw fish ceviche using coconut milk and fresh herbs, as well as a large plate of ika vaka lolo, grilled fish steaks topped with a lemon-infused coconut cream sauce accompanied with fried cassava and minced "meatballs" of melting taro leaves. The final room in our filled stomachs was granted to Tu's take on the classic vakalavalava dessert, a fluffy grated cassava cake mixed with grilled sweet banana and doused in a light coconut caramel sauce. If I failed to find paradise at the beach, then I certainly found it on the end of my fork.

Kokoda and Ika Vaka Lolo

The divine Vakalavalava dessert

My ramble through Fiji may have been shorter than that of the average visitor, but it was certainly no less fulfilling and rewarding. For such a brief time, I felt that it was a very well-rounded attempt to understand and experience some aspects of life in this geographically remote area of the globe. And in many ways, it felt more empowering to defy the typical Fiji itinerary and delve into areas far from the sanitized beaches and deluxe resorts that subtly erase the genuine local presence. But more significantly, this spontaneous trip was the perfect way to break from the usual pattern, particularly as I prepare to return and set sail into a newer chapter of my life and career. For the ancient Pacific Islanders, the vast and scary ocean proved to be more of a route rather than a roadblock. But before undertaking any new journey, one always needs to keep a little courage. Maybe getting laid off wasn't the end after all, but the sign of a new beginning. We'll see where this new path takes me.