It must be the karma…..

It was a short flight from Nadi to Suvasuva on a small, ~20 seat, propeller driven plane. They weigh you and your carry-on first, then assign seats to properly balance the load. They also keep the cockpit curtain open, which I don’t know if it is a good idea or bad idea since you can see the pilots in action and out the windshield. I noted that on takeoff, the pilot and co-pilot hold hands together on the throttle; how sweet. This is not unusual for the pilots, but it is for others as many of the people I met at the resort commented on the procedure. It’s not that the pilots like each other so much, apparently it is a safety issue should the pilot have a heart attack or stroke on takeoff. A heart attack is more likely on landing, at least from the passengers, because you come in over a mountaintop and nose dive along the downslope towards the runway before pulling up at the last moment to land. I’m sure the angle is not as steep as it seems while sitting in the plane, but since all you can see out the windshield is the ground rushing towards you it gets your attention. I was met at the “terminal” by JJ, who was disappointed that he failed to pick me out of the 6 arriving passengers (there was another old white guy on the plane) because he takes pride in being able to do so. JJ is a charming gent, originally from the UK, with a stint in South Africa, before coming to Fiji. He’s kind of cross between Dudley Moore; short, British and funny, and George Hamilton; old and very tan. JJ told a story of actually working with Dudley Moore in commercials and he works hard on his tan, if you consider lying in front of your cottage or floating on a raft in the pool, as the tropical sun turns your skin a nice leathery brown, work.  You can do that when you own a resort in Fiji. JJ and his wife Delia are the owners of the Daku Resort, a small resort quite different (in a good way) from Wananavu and most other resorts on the islands. More an intellectual retreat than resort, Daku hosts many workshops throughout the year. The week I was staying there was a yoga workshop being held, the following week would be the botanic painters and they had just finished one on marine biology. The resort is also much more personal. JJ shuttles you to and from the airport and will give you a ride to other places if his schedule allows; and Delia will take you on snorkeling trips or hikes to the waterfall and participate with you in those activities. The number of staff is small and have been with JJ and Delia for years, so you see the same smiling faces every day; Kenni coordinating meals and assuring you have a cold drink if desired, Raj managing reservations, billing and IT support, and the 75 year old cleaning lady that JJ would never have the heart to let go. Then there are the dinners, my favorite part of the experience. Every evening it was like coming to Thanksgiving dinner and meeting your cousins for the first time, or being invited to a dinner party at JJ and Delia’s home, which Daku really is, and getting a chance to meet new people make new friends. You don’t get that other resorts. Dinners are a set menu if you choose to dine at the resort, sometimes a buffet, other times individual servings, but always communal. Everyone, including JJ and Delia, sit at a long table, eat together and converse with each other. One night you might be sitting next to Kristy who works for the Australian High Commission in Lombassa, the next night it might be Rachel the banker; self-deprecating, with a dry sense of humor and dead pan delivery so funny she doesn’t even know it. Or Jim, a guy I briefly met on the first on the first night, but unfortunately did not have much time to talk to because he was leaving the following morning for a 7 day live aboard dive trip. I needn’t worry though, for I will see Jim again. Jim was sitting a few people away from me at dinner when I overheard him sharing his story that he too was travelling around the world, only he’s taking one year; how cool is that! As he’s recounting his itinerary I hear him mention China. I say, hey I’m going to China too, when are you going to be there? He says starting September 9^th. Wow, what a coincidence that’s when I start my tour in China. Now there are only 9 people on my China tour and it turns out that Jim is one of those people. So here we are, two guys independently travelling around the world, who wind up at the same, small, out of the way resort in Fiji and have booked the same tour in China. What are the odds of that! It must be the karma of Daku.

Of course I had to do some diving while there. Daku doesn’t have much of a beach. They do have a strip of land next to the water which contains a small reef, but it’s not a nice sandy beach like you might expect for Fiji. They don’t have a dive shop either, but they do have a close relationship with the Jean Michel Cousteau resort, just a short 70 minute walk down at the end of the gravel, pot-holed covered road; they seem to have a lot of these in Fiji. I dove for 3 days, the last two with Matt, an Aussie sailor who was also staying at Daku. The diving we did at the nearby reefs was okay, but we really wanted to dive a site farther out in the open ocean called Namenu, which is supposed to be one of the best sites in Fiji. Every day we asked to dive Namenu, but the dive master said not today, maybe tomorrow, because the weather is too bad; so we always dove within the protection of the bay. It was hard for us to believe because it always looked so sunny and beautiful where we were. Although Matt had to leave and my scheduled diving was done, I told them that if there were going to go to Namena before I left on Sunday, to let me know. On Friday night I received the call to say we would be going to Namena on Saturday. Even though I was leaving on Sunday, I couldn’t pass the opportunity so 7:30 am Saturday morning I was on the boat heading out to Namena about an hour and half away. After 20 minutes or so, we passed the protection of the bay and moved into the open water. The waves were a little larger out here and it wasn’t long before the boat started to rock and roll like a stoner at a KISS concert. When the waves became higher than the boat, I began to second guess my decision to dive Namena. The boat wasn’t that big, maybe 25 feet long, but like chief Brody I thought we needed a bigger boat; and the waves were running at least 8-10 feet high. I was standing, because it was easier than sitting, holding on for dear life and looking out the windshield as the wipers pointlessly struggled to do their job. As we were coming down off one wave, the next wave came up over the bow completely covering the front of the boat and almost bringing us to a dead stop. All I could see through the windshield was water, and water was pouring into the boat through some front vents. I assume the boat is designed and built to do that, but being a landlubber it’s not comforting to see your boat filling with water. Mentally I was checking for life preservers and thinking what I would do should the boat capsize or start to sink. Shortly thereafter the dive master announced that we would not be going to Namena today because we still had quite a ways to go, the tide would be coming in so it would only get worse, and it was just too dangerous to continue.  He asked if we were okay with his decision. While I think everyone, including myself, agreed, we were all like “Well, okay if you think so”, no one wanted to admit he was right. If this was a good day to try and go out I can’t imagine what it would have been like earlier in the week. On our way back we saw a sailboat that had crashed on a reef the night before. It was lying on its side with a gaping hole in the bottom. I tried to get a good picture of it but our boat was bobbing more than Ali in fight with Joe Frazier. Despite not seeing Namena, I did learn a valuable lesson while diving this week, one that I understood conceptually but came to fully appreciate after the experience. Having completed a back roll entry, I was breathing through my snorkel waiting for the other divers. When you’re floating on the surface, you use your snorkel to conserve the air in your tank; this is especially useful for an air hog like me. Once everyone was in the water, it was time to descend. Let me make it perfectly clear, you cannot breathe underwater with a snorkel in your mouth. After a moment of terror and the thought that I would drown because of stupidity, my training kicked in and I replaced the snorkel with my regulator. Compressed air never tasted so good.  Yes I can hear all you divers, S.O.R.T.E.D. and where was your buddy; believe me it will not happen again.

On the days that I didn’t dive, I participated in the yoga workshop. When I first suggested that I wanted to join their class, the ladies were a bit skeptical of my ability since I told them I had never formally taken yoga and they said this was not a workshop for beginners. I did explain to them that we use similar postures and movements in the weekly aerial conditioning class I take at Aloft Loft (www.aloftloft.com), but they still had their doubts. If you’re ever in Chicago, you should stop by the studio and drop into the conditioning class, it’s awesome; or you can try one of their other circus classes like silks or trapeze. The yoga class at Daku was led by a gal named Lotus (of course). Her original name was Tokie (sp), she was raised on a commune and I’m guessing her parents were children of the 60’s. She now lives with her husband and four children on the small Fijian island of Koro where the ferry stops by twice a week and the plane only once. They try to be self-sufficient using wind and solar power, raising their own food and home schooling the kids. For the first 15 minutes of the yoga class, if I closed my eyes, which we were supposed to do, I could easily imagine myself in aerial conditioning since the movements were the same ones we use for warm up.  In fact about 75% of the movements we did in yoga class we do in conditioning, the difference being that in conditioning we do them faster, we concentrate on the physical movements more than the spiritual component, and not once have I been asked to “breathe in the light”. Sure I didn’t place my palms in the proper upward facing position and maybe I did fall asleep for a moment during the breathing and relaxation segment, but conditioning had trained me well because by the end of the sessions I had completely changed their minds on my sincerity and ability for yoga. Namaste!

On Friday we were joined at Daku by AJ and Julie, a couple from New Zealand. Julie is a life coach who had come with her husband to assess the resort for a workshop she is planning for November.  It must be the karma, for there is another famous life coach who has a resort, spa and “mastery university” on the island, Tony Robbins. You can learn to walk on fire there, but I bet Tony won’t pick you up at the airport or dine with you while telling non-PC jokes and regaling you with stories of scuba diving with Sandra Bullock. There was a big “footie” (rugby) game being held on Saturday night; the final match of the Tri-Nation (Australia, New Zealand, South Africa) series to determine the overall champion. The Australian Wallabies were playing the New Zealand All Blacks and it was a game AJ, an avid sports fan, could not miss. Daku has no TV and the only place in town showing the game was the yacht club. Not knowing much about footie and wanting to see more of Fiji life, I joined AJ and Julie for a night out. The club was nothing more than a room with a small bar and a large TV and wide doors open to the hall and out to the marina. At one point a large gecko came out from behind the set and scurried across the wall. There were only about 7 of us in the bar with a dozen or so sitting out in the hall. I thought they were there because the room was so small, but it turns out the hall was not part of the club and they were sitting there just to watch the game and drink their own beer. We arrived in time to see the “haka”, a traditional Maori war dance performed by the All Blacks to intimidate their opponents. Unfortunately it didn’t work as they were trounced in the first half and wound up losing the game.  I felt sorry for AJ and Julie, they were the only ones cheering for New Zealand in a sea of Aussie loving Fijians; reminded me of Packer fans at Soldier Field, pathetic losers.  I asked AJ a lot of questions about the game which he politely answered along with occasional input by an Aussie seated near us. At one point I jokingly asked the guy if he owned the 65 foot yacht parked outside, turns out he did. After the game Julie commented that AJ was remarkably patient and actually listening to me during the game and answering all my questions in detail, something he apparently doesn’t always do with her. Maybe he felt sorry for the guy who has to watch the poor substitute for real footie, American football or maybe he just wanted to keep his mind off the game since his team played so poorly. Either way I learned a lot about the game and a little bit about Fiji as well. By the way, the World Cup of Rugby starts September 9 and the USA does have a team in it.

Doing his best Jacques Cousteau.

On Sunday it was time for me to leave. At the airport I caught up with Bev, her sister Katrina, and their 90 year old mother; both girls were born in Fiji. Katrina and her mom still live on the islands and Bev owns a cottage at Daku, but she did the unthinkable. Bev moved from Fiji to Australia and on top of that she married an Aussie too; sacrilegious.  When saying their goodbyes and how much they would miss each other, mom couldn’t help but throw in a little guilt reminding Bev that she was the one who left Fiji behind. We boarded the plane while Katrina and her mom drove down to the end of the runway so that they could wave goodbye. As we watched them from the plane I could see tears welling in Bev’s eyes; it was a heartfelt moment.  I was leaving just an island, she had left her family and a way of life.

Ni Sa Moce

Norb-Added by Emelia

Unbelievably this marks the half way point of my odyssey. Next stop Japan and the challenge of Mt. Fuji.