We take a room at the Novotel (thanks to Expedia and its cheap rates) outside the Nadi airport. The hotel is fine - convenient and inexpensive. I think the room smells like mould and Jenn is shocked that I am only noticing this now. "The ENTIRE country is musty and moldy at this time of year, it's the rainy season here!" she reminds me.
Half of me wants to make a fuss about the smell of the room - the other half says "suck it up", it's one night and no big deal.
We go for a swim in the pool and navigate a pack of wild Asian students who seem to have taken over the shallow end. Afterwards, we walk around smelling other rooms - I seek out the maid trolley outside a room and casually poke my head inside explaining to the housekeeper that, "I'm just checking out the rooms. Do you mind? Oh, this is nice!"...sniff sniff...
We discover that the rooms on the other side of the hotel are smaller, not as nice, but they do smell better. I complete a smell check in a room just down from ours. Even from the doorway, I can smell it.
Moldy.
"I think it is the air conditioning," I tell Jenn, who refuses to unpack her bag in case decide to make a "stink" with reception and move to a new room. We switch off the AC unit and open the patio doors to air out the room. Sure enough, this is better. So, the AC stays off and the ceiling fan gets cranked up. Jenn still thinks everything smells musty and can't wait until we get to New Zealand when we can do a load of laundry and "dry out".
Me, I can't smell anything anymore.
For dinner tonight, we go to an awesome Japanese teppanyaki place... in Nadi!! We find it in our guide book and, although we're skeptical, we give it a try. We decide it is the best Japanese restaurant in Fiji (we've only tried one Japanese restaurant in Fiji, but that's inconsequential!). I've never had a teppanyaki experience before, so why not start here, in Fiji, on our final night?
We have tuna maki that is melt-in-your-mouth buttery soft and scrum-trellescent, followed by shrimp, veggies and rice all cooked in front of us at our table. Both of us agree it is our favourite meal in Nadi (actually, it was our ONLY meal in Nadi!!!).
We meet Adelaite from the town of Ba who is our waitress. So very sweet. She gives us a free Fijian Bitter (and we think it is because we complemented her on her beautiful name and smile, as well as how passionately we spoke about her country).
Adelaite is just one of many wonderful people that we meet today. There is our taxi driver who drives us home from dinner. Rakesh organizes Fiji golf tours and has caddied for Fijian golf star, Vijay Singh. Rakesh's brother plays in the Japanese PGA. Rakesh wants to set me up for a round at Natadola Bay golf course (designed by Vijay himself). There is also the Nadi airport course where Vijay learned to play. I tell Rakesh that I am leaving tomorrow for New Zealand. He passes over his card and tells me to call him before I land when (if) I come back and he will set it all up - tee times, clubs, balls, etc. Bring him some Canadian whiskey from the duty free and he will throw in dinner at his house with his family afterwards.
Just another example of the Fijian hospitality and openness we experience while here. We have realized that 10 days is only a "taster". Because, during your visit so many opportunities and invites emerge and you need a couple of months or more to do everything and see everyone. We've realized that a mark of a good country is that it leaves you "wanting more".
This morning on our taxi ride from the cottage to the Savusavu airport (landing strip with grazing goats) we spend five minutes again apologizing to Hussein for not being able to join him and his family for dinner the night before. We can tell he is disappointed that we did not come and instead chose to meet up with "Jeff and Sue and the ex-pat crew". The worst part is that it was his daughter Zakia's birthday the day before and when we inquire how the celebration went, Hussein says, "We did not celebrate anything as we thought you were coming for dinner".
Ouch, or, "Oh, sheet..." (as Hussein would say). There is just not enough time to be with everyone. Who knew we were in such demand?!?!
Jenn confesses to feeling a bit misty eyed when we say goodbye to Hussein at the landing strip and I understand what she means. Again, the openness and hospitality shown by this little man and his family, who invited us Canucks to his home for tea and then a meal. Hussein is a good man. Kind. He works hard to support his family. He complains about his chronic back pain and I'm sure that it is because he is always worried about money. I consider sharing this diagnosis with him, but then decide he is sure to think I am crazy. Instead, we'll aim to find a back belt/support in New Zealand and send it to him in Fiji.
We also meet Mike from New Zealand and his Fijian girlfriend Farisha. We are the first people to arrive at the landing strip, and after our bags are checked and weighed (as are we) we sit outside in the heat and watch the Cousteau resort vans pull up and Aussie families tumble out. What is with the Aussies and their giant multi-kid families? Jenn and I cringe at the thought of being packed into a 12 seater plane with crying toddlers. Luckily, the noise of the small prop plane is so loud, we can't hear them wail. By the way, I help land the plane:
It is while all the Aussies are being checked and weighed for our flight that we get to chatting with Mike. He's just purchased land down by Lomalangi where his mate owns a lodge by the salt lake. Mike looks like he played bass guitar in The Faces, with Ronnie Wood disheveled hair and a craggy rock star mug. His partner Farisha is a pretty Fijian girl who remains silent while we chat with Mike and then gives us exuberant hugs and kisses when we leave.
When Mike hears that we are headed to New Zealand, out comes a slip of paper with his contact information on Waiheke island, a 20 minute ferry ride from Auckland. He'd love to take us for a tour around. Will we look him up?
Umm.... Yes, please!
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