Island Life

It may be only a few hours away from Auckland but life on Fiji, well Malolo Island to be more precise, couldn't be more different. And, whilst five days on an island resort may seem like an ideal holiday to some, it was a world apart from our usual kind of break. For the first time in fifteen years we decided to swap hiking boots for espadrilles and kick-back rather than clamber up. At least that was the plan - we were entering uncharted waters and didn't quite know what to expect. At just under 6kg, it was certainly the lightest suitcase I have ever had as shorts and t-shirts don't weight a great deal and the heaviest item was a pair of running shoes. Well some habits are too hard to break!

Within minutes of touching down into Nadi, the international hub for the mainland, it became clear that the hour difference in time zone was more of a concept than reality and that time was a bit more elastic than specific. Although we had chartered a seaplane to take us to our island resort, and did indeed had a departure time, this was clearly more of a guideline as no one really knew when it might depart. But it was all good, we were in no rush and quite enjoying taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the bustling airport. Finally we were directed to the domestic terminal (shed) and told to report to check-in desk 6. This came as a bit of a surprise as we weren't expecting to check-in for our fifteen minute flight across the pacific. It was even more of a surprise that we, as well as our luggage, had to stand on the scales to be weighed. I did wonder, as the digital readout settled on a weight that was higher then I would've liked, whether they added a few pounds for the return journey. I was sure that a few days of doing very little would have an inflating effect. If you catch my drift.

Once checked-in we went through airport security, which was actually an X-Ray machine and not a bloke who rifled through your bags like I was expecting, and settled in the departure lounge. Well I say lounge, it was actually a couple of rows of chairs in a side room. We didn't have long to wait, and we were soon escorted across the aprointroduced to our pilot and helped up the steps into the plane.

It was the first time that i have been so close to the pilot that I could, if I had wanted to, actually tap him on the shoulder and point at stuff. But I didn't. I figured that he had more important things to do, like keeping the plane in the air, than answer my idiotic questions. I'm sure anyone else would've had the same questions; what does that dial tell you, how can you tell how high we are and why are you yanking that lever so hard? It was over all too quickly as we banked and started our descent into the bay of Malolo Island.

"Err guys", our pilot said, "I can't actually take you all the way to the resort". I was nervously wondering to myself that I may have inadvertently booked the economy flight and maybe we were expected to swim the final few hundred metres when he added "It's low tide and my wings would clip the jetty - the resort will be sending a boat to pick you up in a few minutes". Phew, disaster averted as was my gaze towards Sarah who I knew, from experience, would've been glaring at me.

The resort did indeed send a boat and we were soon on the aforementioned jetty, and shaking hands with the welcoming party who had turned up to sing us a Fijian greeting. It was a lovely welcome and quite a surprise to a couple who are used to dumping their luggage in the back office of a hostel reception whilst they went in search for some food for breakfast the following morning. I can only begin to wonder what they were thinking as two grubby northerners turned up having arrived by seaplane. Maybe they were expecting a celebrity; a pop star, rugby player or a minor member of the royal family. I can't help but think that we were a disappointment!

It's a commonly held opinion that island life runs at a different pace to normal life and within a few hours I became to accept this as a cast iron hard truth. For the first time in a long while we weren't on any timetable, didn't have any obligations to meet and could do as little as we wanted over the next five days. Then it hit me. Five days. Five. Days. Five days doing nothing, what on earth was I going to fill my time with? There was no mountain to climb, no road to run down and no sight to see. This wasn't working, I wasn't relaxing and instead I had managed to convince myself that I was very likely to go slowly mad. It took until later that evening to finally unwind and start to accept my fate. This was helped no doubt by the beautiful weather, the lovely staff and the fact that is was Happy Hour at the bar and I was part-way through my second cocktail of the evening.

So what does doing nothing feel like? Actually it's quite relaxing, once you get the hang of it. It does take a bit of effort doing nothing but it's worth it. After a day or two, it no longer matters what day it is, or what time it is for that matter, as bit by bit the mechanical nature of city life ebbs away and is replaced by island time. At around the third day in, time becomes a concept that other people need to worry about and the day is marked by other events, such as the twice-daily arrival of a passenger ferry, rather than the ticking of a clock. Oh, and Happy Hour of course!

I know this is going to be short lived and pretty soon I'm going to have to get back in the game. But I'm determined to enjoy it while it lasts.  On which note, I'm going to have to leave you, there is a cocktail at the bar with my name on it.