Bula Forumites. For those who don't want to read my Fijian just back hit the back key now please and don't bother to flame because I won't respond. For you guys that have stayed grab a coffee or a glass of plonk and come with me to the South Pacific.
First let me say I have no bloody idea why we went to Fiji as we had every intention of going to the Cook Islands. However, after extensive research and a few of quotes that ‘we couldn't jump over' it was back to Fiji even though it's only 18 months since we were last there.
As usual the old ‘I'm going to die today' feeling kicked in and the day we travelled I felt kak-handed, those that have read my other just back reports know that I'm scared witless of flying and I get very scratchy/just plain nasty on the run up to it. I try to keep calm by running around doing last minute things like cleaning the house from top to bottom, getting the cash for spends and putting the geriatric moggy in the ‘Pussy cat home for the Bewildered'. But as our cat is no more, poor old Esme took her last ride to the Vets recently, most of her senses had gone and she had become increasingly incontinent and chucking up all over the place. The last straw was when our toddler grandson ate the cat's vomit. What's that! Too much information? Your not wrong...we still cringe at the very thought. We didn't dare tell our son because we wanted ‘Ezzer' put down humanely.
Paul and I sang our traditional family song as we pulled away from our house 'Were all going on a Summer Holiday' Never fails when we get to one part of the song it's ‘do de do de dooo' as one line of the song has got us both stuffed. Drove to the airport, parked the car in long term and made a mental note of where we left it this time as on two other occasions we forgot and ended up having a domestic in the car park. Anyway, remember row A.
Melbourne Airport was empty...our 11 30pm flight was the only plane to be leaving. We were the first to check in leaving us heaps of time to buy our duty free. Allowance for Fiji is 4 bottles of spirits. We bought 3 as we intended to get some Fiji Bitter (known locally as Fiji babies) for his nibs at the other end. Just as we boarded for the first time ever we were asked to produce our passports and have them opened on the photo page for inspection.
Hmmm!! Air Pacific what can I say other than it got us there safely full stop. The plane was a ‘double brimmer' and ‘ram jam' full. As per usual we got relegated to the back stalls again (Murphy's Law) No refreshment after take off and absolutely bugger all for 2 hours till they came round with the meal...lamb or chicken sandwich. Paul chose the chicken till he saw it...then we switched (no martyr syndrome here...fact is I enjoy most foods...he's fussy old bugger and he drives me nuts re: food, he's the only person I know that goes to a buffet and says 'there's nowt to eat') so he had the lamb which turned out to be a curry and me the chicken butty which actually was a roll as hard as a cats head. Eventually we were offered our first drink, which sadly I was forced to decline due to the massive dose of Serepax I take so he can get me on a plane. I hate night flights as I can't sleep sitting up...Paul can sleep on a Hills hoist whizzing round in a force 10 gale. I've got all the gear...blow up pillow, eye mask (pretending I'm not there) and ear plugs to cut out the engine noise but no luck and no bloody sleep either as directly behind us and along the whole back section of the cheap seats sat 50 FIGs (Fijian Indian Gentlemen NOT) they never shut up the whole flight... and flaming yakked all night long. There were lots of babies, toddlers and children on board and they were brilliantly behaved (spect they'd been drugged) Just before we landed the crew came round with a bowl of lollies...no doubt they'll say it's for ear pressure or bad breath but methinks they must be cutting costs.
First to arrive at the airport, last out the plane, the VERY last out of the immigration hall, I honestly thought I was going to pass out as it was stifling hot and no air-con. Nadi Airport is undergoing huge renovations in readiness for the South Pacific Games being held in Fiji in July. Just as well I didn't faint as it would have been the first time ever, no doubt his nibs would have been sorely tempted to quickly dig a nice big hole and throw me in before I came round. Actually, I recently had a word with him about the new Mrs B and suggested he doesn't get a Russian bride on account of all that cabbage...he hates that an'all. Last out the grog shop, last through ‘something to declare' (we had taken long life skinny milk...I was surprised the bloke waved us through as I half expected it to be confiscated) last to be met from our ground rep, I got the last shell lai, (Paul missed out) last on the bus for the drive down the Queens Road to ‘The Hideaway Resort' almost a two hour drive.
On arrival at the Hideaway we had to wait to get into our Sea View Bure and we were shown to the dining room for breakfast. We then sat around the pool area until someone remembered we was there (the perils of arriving at 5 30am) The Hideaway is a 31/2 star award winning property and we enjoyed our 7night stay there very much. Our Bure was nice enough with welcoming fruit and flowers, however, my side of the bed was very soft...I had to grab hold of the mattress to stop myself from falling out, anyway Paul said he'd change sides with me as his side was firmer (I have the side nearest the loo) At Hideaway you can be as active or as lazy as you like...I plumbed for the bone idle option. No problem getting a sun bed though it could do with some more brollies around the place. There are poolside activities including a ‘Sundance' dancing lesson (to chase all those clouds back to New Zealand) plus lots of sight seeing to the local village, tours, snorkelling, horse riding and island hopping. We did venture out to Sigatoka to buy his nibs a slab of ‘Fiji Babies' (F$30) and a cask of Château Cardboard (F$30) for Moi...to take with us to Plantation Island for our happy hours.
Hideaway is great though I did get bitten to shreds around the pool...I was just starting to feel sorry for a woman on the next sun bed who was full of huge red blotches...and I noticed later we had the same ‘wallpaper' so that was o.k. At 6pm they have the traditional torch lighting ceremony and then it's happy hour at the bar. (we were generally happy before we got there) Every night is different, they have quiz's that are great fun and real icebreakers for new guests, and it doesn't take long before everyone's making new friends. Prizes were either a voucher for a free cocktail or a free day trip (for one) to an island. After happy hour it was time for dinner then at 9 pm they put on a show for nearly an hour. At first I thought the show ‘corny' but then I thought back to other places we had stayed at in Fiji and there was nothing except frog and crab races and sometimes very costly ones...like our first visit his lordship put $25 on a slimy frog with one back leg. Again every night was different and the shows were great fun usually ending up with the hotel guests on stage doing the ‘Sundance' that they had learned around the pool. We made friends with a young honeymoon couple from Ireland (they had been in Australia for 3 weeks). We often hook up with the young –uns and have no idea why this happens. Sadly, I did make a bit of an enemy and I still have a chuckle over it. I spied this bloke at the bar and started to tell him he looks like a bloke off the telly...I couldn't remember his name but he advertised insurance...he twigged and walked away. I think he was mortified that I thought he looked like Wallace Fairweather (or maybe it was the fact that I was pished) WELL! Wallace if you didn't have the same bloody hair, glasses and beard you wouldn't look like two peas in a pod. I did try to make amends but he wouldn't have a bar of me. But, I do sympathise with the man as I'd recently had a 'you remind me of someone off the telly' scare. I naturally thought they MUST be referring to Catherine Zita Jones...No! He said 'Her from Prisoner' It was Queen Bea Smith Grrrrr.
Fiji is great for weddings and the Hideaway is particularly good at it. The Warrior goes to get the bride and takes her to the ceremony, also they include a Cava ceremony which is very special so long as you don't spill the murky brown water down the posh new frock. I managed to catch a couple of weddings which I thoroughly enjoy as I love to see the brides in all their finery. I was also impressed with the way the Hideaway was run...the owners/directors gave a cocktail party once a week and appeared very approachable. They ate dinner in the restaurant along with the guests each evening (So would I if I owned a resort...saves bloody cooking...his nibs could have steak n'chips every night and no complaints) also, their room documents stated that although they removed the coconuts from the trees, please be aware and be careful. After hearing many a coconut fall with a huge velocity you wouldn't want one smashing on your head now...would you?.
The last time in Fiji we were disappointed we didn't get to eat at Visesites, an outdoor restaurant between the Hideaway and the Naviti. It came recommended in the Lonely Planet guidebook and talks about a dish of 16 king prawns Mmmm. This prawn dish came in a set meal with soup and desert. The soup was lovely ‘Now where's me prawns I've been waiting 18 months for them' Well...the prawns came Oh! Yea! all 16 of them and not one bigger than an inch long.... just for a moment I imagined we was at the ‘Ulu watu Café' at Jimbaran Bay during the ‘Great Rip Off of 2002' (see old JBR) I asked the young waitress 'are these king prawns?' ‘Wide eyed' she replied that they were, so I said nothing and started to eat. Silly me was expecting KING prawns, you know the ones that fit the size of my hand. Anyway, I have to report that the meal was very nice, Paul's curried prawns was really curried shrimps...but still a nice tasty meal. They also have a shop attached to the restaurant where I bought yet another sulu (sarong) whilst waiting for our taxi. During this time, a bloke kept popping his head up over a bush saying if our driver didn't to show up he'd take us back to our hotel. We had no worries about our taxi driver, we hadn't paid him to bring us to the restaurant so why wouldn't he show up for the return journey? He arrived on the dot, we got in and the kitchen staff gave him a huge plastic bag full of food...I just hope it wasn't my king prawns.
All this eating does terrible things to my digestion and by the end of a night I'm full of ‘it' so it's a relief to leave the restaurant and ‘let rip' This one night I was particularly bad and I farted the whole way out the restaurant and along the sea path to our bure (blessed relief). Normally the path was deserted but as we approached the sun beds, my eyes got used to the dark and I could see a few pairs of knees...I WAS NOT ALONE. I started to laugh and couldn't stop...legs crossed (as you have to) not sure if they had heard me, I couldn't tell them why I was laughing so much. I was bent double and I promised to tell them tomorrow (I never did) I roared laughing all the way to bure, prrrrrrt, up the steps prrrrrt prrrrrt and safely ‘home' pprrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt.
The Hideaway staff are very playful and we met two guys who had been asked to take part in a hotel survey, only to look down later at their feet to find their toenails had been painted bright red. All the staff was wonderful (with the exception of one receptionist who had a face on her like a collapsed lung). Activities, the egg chef, the gardeners, security and the house keeping staff were all fabulous. There is a lovely Australian lady that works there...she reminded me of ‘Shirley Valentine' working in the restaurant and the guests gravitating towards her because she was ‘bright, friendly' and easy to communicate with...I'm sure she'd have organized egg and chips for us had we wanted them J
Our last night brought tremendous winds (not mine) like you wouldn't believe...if this wasn't a cyclone then I wouldn't want to ever witness one...the palm trees were bent over almost touching the ground and I was very worried that we had to travel by catamaran to Plantation Island. Luckily I had changed our original booking from the morning to the 2pm launch so the sea had calmed down a bit but not as calm as I'd have liked, still we got there with the contents of Paul's stomach intact as he normally disgraces himself on a boat.
It's been our family policy never to return to the same place twice...Slap me now because I should have stuck to it (Oooh! Not that hard Geri...that hurt) I was so excited when Plantation Island came into view, we transferred into a small boat for the few final metres to the shore. I'd read somewhere they meet and greet new guests with their wonderful singers...but not for our boat. Shell Lai's were given out but not to us (I had to ask for ours) We were given a lovely cold welcome drink and 10 seconds to down it as the lady wanted to show us and others to our bures NOW. I was pleasantly surprised as it was really very nice. The bure we had was a semi-detached (no inter-connecting door as requested) with the patio overlooking the beach it was magic spot and so we settled down to island life.
The last time we stayed there was in 1991 and we had a wonderful time making everlasting friends that we still hear from, the young ones still write through Christmas cards with their news of new babes and family goings on. We searched out our old bure which had been done up ‘big style' as when we stayed in it... it was in poor condition.
Talk about living on your memories...it was no contest where we were going for our first night which was the Indian restaurant by the airstrip. This is the place where I discovered Dhal soup with lots of coriander Oh! Heaven in a bowl, but when we got there it had all changed as a new restaurant and bar had been built, although very nice it wasn't how we remembered it. The good news is Dhal was still on the menu, the bad news was there was no coriander...the good news is the soup is still beautiful, the bad news was the small bowl was less than a third full...
A lovely young couple with a 12-month-old baby arrived in the adjoining bure...the baby cried and I didn't get a wink of sleep. So I went first thing and asked for a bure change, 'Come back at 8 30' 'Come back at 10' 'Come back later' so I told them that I wasn't spending my whole holiday keep coming back to reception. They cracked on they didn't know who was moving out till they'd gone...BULL, I suggested it would be in the computer, after a while when she could see I wasn't going away she condescended to look and at the press of a button she told me we could move into the next bure at midday. This day Paul had decided to circumnavigate Malolo Lai Lai Island, in Aussie speak he'd gone walkabout. But it was of no surprise to him when he turned up knackered after his long walk to find me dragging the case and hand luggage full of his precious ‘Fiji babies' He soon ran over to help...ran in and turned the fridge up to the max (as blokes do) so high he froze the milk. Have to say this bure was nowhere near as nice as the last one; it was in dire need of painting, cracked floor tiles and some of the furniture was broken. A queen size mattress on a double base, but at least I could sleep providing I don't fall out. To be honest I was a little embarrassed with the young couple with crying baby and I'd have hated for them to know they was the reason why we had moved, so I was unusually ‘quiet' towards them (no eye contact...that sought of thing) But it wasn't long before the baby, mum and dad were smiling and waving at me and I'm responding with appropriate granny like gestures...sucker for the bairns so long as they don't keep me awake on me holidays.
First morning in our new bure with it's glassless ‘windows' facing a different direction and Ye Gods I was transported back in time...It sounded like ‘Camp Crusty caravan park in Merimbula NSW with ‘millions' of kids running around at first light. Mums and Dads sitting outside with their first cuppa of the day, washing hanging around on washing lines strung up under the verandahs of the bures and the kids SHOUTING with excitement. The breakfast dining room was like ‘Coles Café in the rush hour and we had to stand in line for a table no matter what time we got there. We decided not to buy meal packages as we didn't want to restrict ourselves to just eating at Camp Crusty...Oh! sorry Plantation Island. First morning I forgot my reading goggles so couldn't see the menu and prices. Also, I just couldn't understand the difference between a hot buffet and an American breakfast (no eggs and bacon with the hot buffet...go figure) The waitress was clearly loosing her patience with us and it was beginning to show as she slowly looked at her watch and then stared at the ceiling (I thought any minute she's going to bloody whistle) Then she took me by the hand and lead me to the food, at one stage I took my hand away but she grabbed it back and she explained it all again...I said in my defence, in a pathetic weak voice 'it's awful being blind you know' but never the less I was a tad annoyed at the watch looking episode as it wasn't warranted. So next morning I deliberately asked her name and I introduced myself. I reckon she understood why I'd done that and immediately her attitude changed...she even smiled one day and practiced saying my full name even though Geri would have been so much easier and quicker. In fairness to this lady she worked archaic split shifts, she is there for the madness at breakfast time and was there in the evening for the same madness. I met a young Kiwi mum who sang her praises as this same lady ‘baby sat' her young daughter on her day off for $3 an hour.
Plantation Island was running at 100% full house and is heavily marketed in Australia and New Zealand. Kids can fly for $299, stay, eat and play for nicks so the place is really geared up for young families and that's great for them because they really do have the most wonderful holiday. I can remember that far back if your kids are happy then so are you, BUT the kids took over the place and the bar area in the early evening was like a kiddie playground. I love kids and could never imagine going on holiday and there not being children running around, but this place was a bit too much for me. There were only a very small handful of guests our age and they appeared to travelling with their kids and grandkids (we could do that too but my lot would expect us to pay LoL) I have to say our age group was socially isolated though we did have few cracking good happy hours at the bar.
Back to Island life...reading, sunbaking, lots of 'Hey! Mum watch me' SPLASH!! eating, happy hours and BOOM there goes another coconut. We soon noticed the amount of coconuts in the trees over the walkways (thousands). We were chatting to one guy and not 2 minutes after he left a dirty great coconut fell out the Heavens to where he was standing. Another bloke told us someone had been carted off to the mainland hospital the week before having been hit by one. Young Dads were walking around with small children on their shoulders (new type of hard hat) and especially coming away from the Hideaway where they took a responsible attitude we started to be more aware of the situation... bures, patio roofs and the resort gardens were littered with them. Plantation Island room literature claim they are not responsible for ‘Acts of God', also stating that if you have anything to say they will only respond to comments made during your stay and not after. So, I sat by the pool and wrote a letter saying I believe they had a ‘Duty of Care' to protect it's guests etc etc and bugger me before I'd finished it, a flaming great coconut hurtled down besides me and narrowly missed a young family of 4...the coconut smashed a hole in the wooden pool deck. So I quickly finished my letter, shoved the coconut under my arm (pointy end sticking out with the intention of inserting it somewhere) and marched to the orifice oops! office. The manager was away and wouldn't be back until after we had left so I spoke to the second in command. There was also an older guy there sitting on the settee arms sprawled out like he owned the place (apparently he did) he butted in saying 'I've been here for 40 years and no-ones ever been hit on the head with a coconut' also saying everyone always says 'it JUST missed them' Hell! Just being missed is pretty scary I can tell you. Anyway the under manager met us the next day and apologized. That same day the staff was madly clearing up the coconuts and a plastic chair was placed over the damaged deck. I have since received an email from Patrick Wong, General Manager of Plantation Island and I quote < 'Bula Gerry Thank you for your note and the 'constructive' comment on 'denuttings our coconut trees' I'm sorry that I was not on the resort at the time of your stay. We have a policy denutting the trees at a timing the coconuts are ready to be harvested for use in our kitchen. Thank you again for your 'constructive' comment. > In other words folks GET NICKED!!! My old travel agent girlfriend calls this ‘village mentality' if it's good enough for them, then it's good enough for us...
Coincedently it was our Wedding Anniversary (I was a June bride) so we decided to eat at ‘Musket Cove Resort' so we meandered up, only to find the yachties had taken it over for the night. It was the big presentation night of the New Zealand to Fiji yacht race. We are allergic to yachties as the ones we know are up themselves (that's a medical term, I know that because our Dr. uses it regards to neurosurgeons) and so we ended back at Maplins Holiday Camp... If money wasn't an issue we would have moved to Musket Cove, which would have been more suitable for us old farts.
It's time to go Geri...Ah! No singers (they must be on strike) the catamaran schedules are such that we get to the airport with a 4 hour wait so we wasn't best pleased to find out our flight had been rescheduled which meant we now had 6 hours to wait and we had no local money for drinks and snacks. I tried to ‘con' the guy in the snack bar saying, 'Qantas said it's all on the house' but he wanted that ever important voucher we didn't have :-) They took credit cards so we didn't starve. I was chuffed to see the plane was now a proper Qantas one with the lovely white kangaroo on its tail. Air Pacific crew, but the service was totally different to going, mind you it probably helped as I reckon there were no more than 120 on the plane. Lots of spare seats to stretch out on...I was far too scared to move.
The pills wore off half an hour before we landed, couldn't say whether it was a good one or a bad one. Arrived back11 55pm...Taxied up the runway and looked out the window, nudged his nibs and said 'That's our plane' A Thai Airways plane was sitting on the tarmac loading up her cargo and passengers...it seemed ironic that we are already booked on that same flight to Bangkok then over to Phuket on a ‘cheap and cheerful' (providing I save up in time) We topped up our duty free as we brought 2 bottles back, one had been opened and only about a swig out so we were able to buy 3 more (buy 3 get one free deal) We even remembered where we left the car LoL...called in at 24hr Coles Fountain Gate for supplies and didn't hang round the freezer section too long, home at 2 30am. As late as it was I couldn't resist jumping on the computer for a few minutes to pick up my emails and 'whose Kim and Jamie?' Big Brother's been adding to the house and Ah!!! Bens' got the flick (Now there's a surprise). Would you believe I had 90 emails about enlarging my penis and porn stuff, I tell you that stuff drives me WILD.
Brrrr I was bone cold, right through to the marrow, I had never been so cold in all my life (except for the big freeze in England in 1963). This menopausal old bag normally has the hot flushes and hardly ever cold, but I jumped out of bed, put on my bogan flannelette shirt over the old nightie, some Bali sports socks, chucked a blanket over the doona and turned the heating on. Next morning I stuck my head through the door to check the daffodils, I was worried I'd miss them flower while I was away (they hadn't and still haven't) the Magpies in the trees were singing their magic songs, the other birds hanging around an empty bird feed table twittering 'Where the bloody hell have you been?'.
Here endeth my just back...7 pages of sitting on my arse for two weeks doing nothing. Cheers Geri