Bula Bula Fiji!

Coming over on the plane to Fiji, I sat next to a woman who was coming because a family member was sick. On the second plane, the person sitting next to me wife’s father was dying. And when I arrived, there had been a poor older woman with a cane who had a lot of trouble walking and a man with her as well, both broke down sobbing when greeted by some family at the airport. Fiji is suppose to be a happy place, not a place full of sad people! When I arrived at the first airport, I had already filled out my customs card and I noticed on it that it said no one was allowed to conduct research in the country without the approval of the immigration department, or something of that. I got a bit worried. I prefer to say I’m coming for business because I don’t like to lie, but sometimes it’s just better to. The lady sitting next to me told me that I would be fine, so I trusted her and kept it. Luckily it turned out fine, I altered my real story a little bit and basically said that I was meeting with a client and helping them with rental budgets. The immigration guy thought I was an agent, so I said sure, something like that. And that got me the stamp. Phew!

I was greeted at the hotel by a man wearing a skirt. I later realized that most of the men here wear skirts. It’s fascinating to see these people, many of whom have ancestors that are indigenous Fijians. They look just like they came off a South Pacific postcard; except they’re not totally in costume. And, they are much larger people than I expected. On the way to the airport, my taxi driver filled me in that Fijians ate people until the late 1920’s/30’s. The idea was that once you captured your enemy, you would eat them. Fascinating, and disgusting at the same time.