Fiji

10 April 2010

I noticed two things as soon as we arrived in Fiji. Firstly, that the Fijians have a great sense of humour - the guy at passport control took one look at my passport photo, laughed in my face and congratulated me on having lost weight since it was taken. That's the first customs official to acknowledge the fact that I look like a chipmunk with a full mouth on my passport aloud. A very brave man indeed! The second thing I noticed was that there really is such a thing as "Fiji time". Everyone is so relaxed, it's amazing anything gets done at all.

We emerged from the arrivals gate looking like pack horses and were immediately directed outside to await our free transfer to the hostel. And wait we did. For over an hour. I get the impression this is a nothing out of the ordinary. As we sat waiting, the sarong-clad airport staff kept ambling past, repeating "Skylodge Hostel, yeah?", smiling and nodding knowledgably, then retreating with a conspiratorial wink as if the driver who has yet to make it from the hostel less than ten minutes down the road is a mischievous, but impossibly cute, child whose shortcomings must be tolerated. But really, what is the rush? Most of us spend our lives rushing about; there always seems to be somewhere we have to go and something we have to do. We live in a society where tipping up an hour late with no explanation just won't do. We are about to have two weeks in paradise living by Fijian rules and I think I can definitely live with that.