In Fiji, which is every bit as beautiful as I hoped it would, but just to make sure that nothing is ever completely perfect, Virgin Blue lost my luggage, so I have nothing with me but dirty shorts and tee shirt I travelled in. Hey ho.. Gallery
Club Fiji Resort, Nadi
Well, this place didn’t cover itself in glory. I have been to Fiji before and so was quite resentful anyway of having to waste time and money going through Fiji both ways in order to get to and from Tuvalu. The timing of the flights was also such that I have to spend a night in a hotel going in each direction. I also stupidly wasted the price of an extra night in a hotel there, because I initially made a non-refundable booking after reading a Trip Advisor recommendation from someone who claimed to have used it for a one-night stopover. Just what I needed-may as well stay somewhere pretty and on the beach, if only for one night. This is a holiday, after all. But then I wrote to arrange my airport transfers. OMG. The hotel said they could book a taxi for me to do the transfers at a cost of $120 each way. When I queried this, I was told that the ride from the hotel to the airport would take at least 1 1/2 hours! How could anyone think that this hotel was suitable for a quick one night layover, when you’d have to waste at least 3 hours and $240 just getting from and back to the airport??
So I canned that, forfeiting the non-refundable cost of the hotel for the night and booked Club Fiji Resort instead. I then emailed them with my flight details and booked my airport transfers. They replied, confirming all arrangements had been made.
I got to the airport in Nadi and couldn’t see anyone waving a sign with my name on. So I waited, and waited. Here we go again. Then I found a very camp and very helpful chap at the airport information desk, who phoned the resort for me. They weren’t expecting me but would send someone soon to collect me!
So I arrived at the hotel and had a blazing row with the duty manager. He said I had not made any arrangements, so of course I showed him my print out of their email confirmation. Free white wine and apologies ensued.
I dumped my stuff in my room and returned to the lounge and dining area to see if I could get some soup for supper. No-the kitchen had closed at 9.00 p.m. -another row. Soup was served. I reminded the manager that I had booked an airport transfer at 5.30 in the morning.
The building itself was all old wood and a thatched roof, open at the sides and right on the beach. Great location. My garden chalet was similarly wood and thatch. It was all rather cheap and shabby though, especially the decor in the room. But it’s redeeming feature was that it was full of frogs. Proper grown up English looking frogs. Hopping around everywhere in the restaurant and lounge and on the grass. Lovely
I noticed that the bar area also seemed quite convivial. A few guys were shooting pool and some were propping up the bar, so I sauntered over when I’d finished my soup.
I soon got chatted up by an English accountant called Andrew, who was touring around the world watching rugby games. For an accountant (apologies Gill-you too are an exception ) he was surprisingly good company and kept persuading me to stay for just one more, even though I had to be up early.
Soon, everyone else had disappeared to bed. This left just the very affable and effeminate barman, with a flower behind his ear, a very overtly gay customer or friend with whom he had been flirting all evening and Andrew and me. The two gays looked like they could hardly contain themselves and were clearly itching for us to leave so that they could get on with some action. The electric and suggestive looks passing between them lit the place up like a laser light show.
Andrew insisted on one more round and I acquiesced, saying that this was definitely the ABF (absolutely bloody final) as I needed to get up early. He then told me, in absolutely explicit and quite graphic terms, what he would like to do to me when we had finished our drinks. Well, it was the first time in a while that that had happened. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t up for a one night stand. Soon we left the two gays to get on with their plans for the evening and Andrew insisted, still hopeful despite my crystal clear rebuffsl, on walking me to my door. And that’s as far as he got. But I must say, a proposition never does a girl’s self-esteem any harm
I had set my alarm for 4.45 in the morning and ordered a wake up knock on the door (no phone in the room) at 5.00. I figured this would give me time to shower and pack my toiletries so I could get the waker-upper to carry my bags over to reception. I had booked my airport ride for 5.30 as my flight was at 7.30.
5.00 came and went and 5.15. At 5.20, I took some of my bags over to reception and demanded to know why I hadn’t received my wake up knock. “He came, but your light was on, so he didn’t need to knock”. “Yes but I was waiting for him.....oh, never mind. Is my airport transport here yet?” “Did you book any airport transfer? There’s nothing in our book about it.” Here we go again. After much ranting and chivvying, a taxi turned up just after 6.00. I had to negotiate the fare and I hadn’t got any local currency, but he agreed to AUD10.00 so that was okay. But I was now worried about missing my flight. He told me not to worry as it was only domestic. But I explained I was connecting in Suva to an international flight to Funafuti. He stepped a little harder on the gas. (I suspect from my vocabulary that I have been reading too many trashy American thrillers). Well I made it anyhow. So, memories of Nadi second time around? Incompetence, frogs and propositions, so I guess the good outweighed the bad by two to one, not a bad score (better than Andrew’s tally from last night anyway ).
Small world! was having supper at a fish restaurant on the marina in Denarau, Fiji, and at the next table were a couple whose house I nearly bought in Bocas del Torro off the east coast of Panama. They sold their house to someone else and moved here! What a coincidence.
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