Although many places fit the idea of a “melting pot,” Fiji is an especially great example. In such a small space, you can see tourist destinations, slums, homes of millionaires, and common areas all in the same afternoon. On a trip a group of friends and I made to Fiji, I decided it would be cool to showcase how differently people in such a small area can live.
At the hostel we stayed in, we received a great deal of advice on where to go from a travel agent employed there. The hostel itself was a good example of class difference in the city. Within the walls of the confine, we had access to an open air lounge, palm trees, pools, and cable television. Walking outside of the hostel, a group of “Fiji Born Indians,” or FBI, yelled at us from across the street. They were waiting outside the hostel in the hopes of getting a taxi customer.
One day we decided to spend walking to and around Nadi Town. The first thing we encountered was a McDonalds. The drive through sign proclaimed, “bula,” the Fijian word for “hello,” or, “welcome.” Further in, we got to the downtown area. There were equal parts tourists and locals along the streets that day. It was easy to tell which stores were directed at whom. There were giant souvenir shops and there were tiny electronic stores and cafes. Further in, we found a bazaar, selling local souvenirs. The selections at each little stall were largely the same. Without a doubt, this little shopping place was meant to attract tourists, rather than say anything about the welfare of the stall keepers there.
At the end of Nadi Town, we saw a building that looked like it belonged in the Kremlin. When we got back to the hostel, we asked our tour guide about it, and she told us it was the new capitol building, and had been there for seven years or so. So I went back later and took a picture of it. I don’t know much about Fijian culture, but I get the feeling its’ design was indeed inspired by the Kremlin.
We had one big tourist outing on our trip: Robinson Crusoe Island. Our local tour guide strongly urged us to go on this trip. Her excitement was almost palpable. A shuttle picked us up and whisked us off to the docks where we would take a metal boat to the island. The staff was fully Fijian, and may have been the first I had seen on our trip. With all the Fiji Born Indians, it was hard to tell who was who, but these men were larger and more muscular than the men I had seen in Nadi Town. The island itself was a ways out, and as we got closer, it turned into the picturesque example of Fiji. A sand beach that gave way to a grove of palm trees, and water so clear you could see to the bottom. For the day, we were lead around and entertained by the same man who had picked us up from the hostel. He drove the bus, directed the boat, guided us while snorkeling, climbed a palm tree and cut down coconuts, walked on burning hot stones, and participated in an “island show,” where the entire staff danced. To work for a large tourist operation like that, I assume you must be expected to be incredibly hard working, but it was impressive nonetheless. I had wanted to ask him what he thought about life in Fiji, but no chance presented itself.
The next day we were planning on going to a beach another hostel was right on top of. Luckily, we ran into a taxi driver named “Paul.” He convinced us to let him take us to a beach resort called Natadola. He toted the scenery along the way was worth it, and that the beach itself was one of the top ten beaches in the entire world. The price per person was reasonable, and we were captivated by his pitch, so we agreed to it. Along the way, we saw examples of local villages and houses. Our hostel in Nadi had been surrounded by houses that seemed pretty run down, but the homes we were now passing made the ones around the hostel seem like manors. Palm trees and a clear, blue sky surrounded these homes, and did help to make them appear to be nicer than what they really were.
The Natadola Resort was luxurious. According to Paul, Tiger Woods loved to go there. He told us bluntly, that we weren’t “rich enough to stay there.” On the way in, he had to lie to the gatekeeper, saying we were just going to go in and grab something to eat, and then leave. The walkways were swept clean, and the grass was trimmed to perfection. It went from lawn to beachfront in one step. We were offered horse rides along the beach for a price we could probably not afford.
It was amazing to see how life can differ so much in such a small place. We were never more than an hour or so away from our hostel, and yet I feel as though I saw the entire welfare spectrum. I would have liked to have gone into a Fijian village and take a few pictures of life there, but it was ill-advised for a tourist to do so. We were warned away from straying off the beaten path, or venturing too far outside tourist populated areas. I tried to capture what I could of local life, but in my experience as a Hawaiian local, you can’t see the real island life unless you actually live there. So I can imagine what it might look like, but I can also guess it isn’t at all welcoming to outsiders.
