Fiji: Enter the Turtle

A Fijian resort is naturally a very controlled environment. There's plenty of nature on show, but it's present in the form of neatly tended tropical vegetation, or a postcard-perfect ocean view from a beachside restaurant.

But sometimes, nature in its wild form wanders in unannounced.

I was chatting on my recent Fiji visit to Talei Tora, communications manager at the Outrigger on the Lagoon, when she mentioned a remarkable thing which had happened at the Coral Coast resort earlier in the year.

On 11 April, guests looking out to sea could see a greenback turtle within the lagoon that sits in front of the resort, sheltered by a coral reef. The sea turtle was a big specimen, about 1.5 metres long, and had somehow found its way over the reef and was looking distressed.

These green turtles are remarkable creatures. They live in oceans across the world, migrating up to 2500 kilometres to spawn; can live up to 150 years; and weigh up to 300 kilograms. Despite international treaties protecting them, they're also endangered, mostly due to human practices such as hunting.

So it was heartening to hear of the human response on this occasion. Resort staff contacted fisheries officers, and together they nutted out the problem of how to get such a large creature back to deep water.

The solution was an everyday garden object: a wheelbarrow. The 80 kilogram turtle was eased onto it, then wheeled to a waiting ute. It was then driven to the nearby Shangri-La resort, where staff from the onsite dive shop helped the creature back into the sea off the resort's marina.

Fittingly, the spot they chose to release the greenback is known as Turtles' Wall.

For all the luxury and organisation of the Outrigger, I'll bet the strongest holiday memory of the resort's guests that day was of this unscheduled intrusion by the wild; a reminder that we're all part of the same green, interconnected world, no matter how much we might try to keep nature under control.

Disclosure time... On this trip I was hosted by the Outrigger on the Lagoon resort.

Fiji & the Palm Tree

I'm in Fiji for a few days, staying at the Outrigger on the Lagoon resort on the island nation's Coral Coast.

It's an easily likeable place to stay, spread over numerous levels from the hilltop spa treatment centre and bar, down through the main building to the numerous bures (the Fijian word for bungalows) across the grounds.

Right by the ocean's edge are very posh bures with butler service and views directly onto the Pacific. Not for the likes of you and I, possibly, but very nice indeed.

Connecting all this together is the greenery. Swathes of it. Vast amounts of beautiful tropical plant life everywhere you go, and very evident in the view from my balcony (see photo above).

A key element of this foliage is, of course, the palm tree.

The "of course" in that sentence started me thinking about the iconic place the humble palm holds in Western minds. When thinking of the word "travel", the silhouette of a palm tree is one of the few images that we agree sums the concept up.

Why is it so? It was possibly Gauguin who started it all, with his romantic paintings of winsome bare-chested Polynesian women placed against colourful backgrounds of palm trees.

Palms are found in many parts of the world, of course, not least the Middle East. But I think it's their Pacific incarnations which most strongly pluck the strings of our Occidental hearts.

For Pacific palm trees have an extra special quality: they're found on islands. And not everyday vacation isles such as the Isle of Wight, Long Island or Phillip Island. These are islands dotted within the vastness of the world's greatest ocean, mere specks in that vast expanse of water.

When we think of the phrase "getting away from it all", a place like Fiji - with its numerous islands of varying sizes, down to uninhabited beach-ringed atolls - is what we have in mind. That tiny speck-like size feels human-scale, something we can cope with when overwhelmed with the stresses of work and big-city life.

And the palm tree is another layer of reassurance on top of that: its unmistakable shape signifying that here lie balmy evening breezes, lazy afternoons by the pool, relaxing massages and comforting buffet dinners.

It's a nice illusion to live within, for a week or so. The "real world" is still there of course, but the palm fronds help obscure it. For just long enough.

Disclosure time... On this trip I was hosted by the Outrigger on the Lagoon resort.

Dateline Taveuni

This is a trimmed-down version of a piece I had published about my visit to Taveuni, part of Fiji, some years ago...

When I arrived on the Fijian island of Taveuni, I heard a lot about ‘Fiji time’. “Fine,” I thought. “I know about this. It’s the same as Bali time, or Egypt time: a flexible approach to deadlines.”

Well, yes and no. It’s more than being unbothered about arriving late. It’s a relaxed approach to everyday life, a way of pacing your day so there’s still time to smell the tropical flowers. Sounds familiar? It may be the elusive work/life balance everyone talks about in the West, flourishing in the Pacific.

But you have to draw the line somewhere. And in the 19th century, needing to establish an International Dateline to distinguish one day from another for navigators, the dominant powers drew that line right through the middle of Taveuni, Fiji’s third-largest island, bisected by the 180th meridian of longitude.

By geographical chance, the island was divided into two days: on the east it was today, and on the west tomorrow. Or the other way round, if you prefer.

An apocryphal story claims that the owners of Taveuni’s plantation managed to work their farms every day of the week, by moving workers to whichever field wasn’t encountering a Sunday. Even Fiji has limits to time flexibility, however, and in 1879 the line was relocated, to bring the whole island into the same day.

However, Taveuni stills offers a sensation of fluid time. It may not be covered with five-star hotel towers, but it’s strikingly green, even for the Fijian chain of islands. Never heavily farmed, Taveuni features lush rainforest, particularly on its eastern windward side. Within this foliage are dramatic waterfalls and striking flowers.

The island also has a fine array of tropical bird life. A large variety of species long-vanished from other islands still thrive here. You’ll see and hear the green-blue Taveuni Parrot all over the island, or hear its distinctive squawk.

Nature’s attractions extend into the sea, where Taveuni’s reefs create plenty of interest for divers. In the millennium hype of 1999, dive companies were selling tours which (incorrectly) promised dives across the International Dateline as the calendar switched to 2000. But Taveuni’s diving sites are world class, whether invisible lines are your thing or not.

But if they are... on a road near Waiyevo village is a nondescript sign, which marks the location of the 180th meridian of longitude. Another marker, more precisely placed, can be found beyond the end of the Waiyevo village football field, overlooking the sea.

It’s possible to take a look at the traditional life of local villages, but it’s important to follow etiquette and ask permission from one of the village chiefs before entering. He will usually assign a local to show you around and explain things. Visitors should dress modestly, and make a donation toward the village school or church fund.

There’s a range of accommodation options across Taveuni, though few in the budget price range. But no matter how much you pay, you’re not going to find jumping nightlife in a place like Taveuni. Instead, the island offers an abundance of natural beauty, a measured pace, and a chance to catch your breath and relax. If you’re trapped in the 9 to 5 grind, that can sound like a gift from heaven.

Fiji time? Whatever. Who cares what time it is, if you can throw the watch in a drawer, lie on a tropical beach and let the day flow by? Whichever side of the dateline you’re on.

Note: As this article is based on personal experience from some years ago, the author takes no responsibility for readers' reliance on the information within.