Bula Bula! Life in Fiji

When we stepped off our flight at Nadi, Fiji, we were greeted first by the sticky sweet air of the island, and then by the charming melody of three Fijiian men on ukulele and guitars who shouted “Bula!” to us. 

We picked up our rental car and headed down south to the town of Korolevu. The countryside was beyond brilliant- completely unlike anything I had ever seen before. The distant mountains boasted dark green foliage and tall pine trees. The roadside landscape was dotted with papaya, mango, and banana trees.  Like a true island paradise, the lushness of the scenery exceeded my expectations. The moist air warned us not only of the humidity, but of the fate of the thunder clouds crouching above our heads. As we continued down the “highway,” which was more like one of our back-roads, the animated and barefooted Fijiians smiled and shouted, “Bula! Bula!” from their porches or fruit stands. 

The word, “Bula!” is the word for “hello” or “welcome” and is the iconic greeting anywhere you travel in Fiji. Little children browned by the sun paused from their muddy rugby games to make silly faces for the white people driving by. It was quite a warm welcome.

Our hotel was absolutely delightful. Situated about ten meters from the Pacific Ocean’s rolling waves, Tambua Sands resort is comprised of 25 little burres (like bungalows) and a main lounge/restaurant. 

We strolled through the lounge area and were once again greeted by joyful Fijian musicians in floral Hawaiian-print shirts and the traditional sulas, or skirts. Their smiling faces and boisterous, “Bula!” shouts made us feel right at home. It was a picturesque landscape: a little wooden hut framed by lush tropical trees and palms overlooking the clear blue water laden with coral. Although this part of the coast wasn’t exactly well known for being a great snorkeling site, I was very impressed by the marine life existing practically on our doorstep. Armed with our snorkel gear, we paddled out a few kayaks during high tide just in the little bay that was now our front yard. With the sun nearing the horizon, I slid into the water with one hand on my kayak so it wouldn’t float away and one hand free to touch and play with all the little ocean critters. Even though we went at high tide, the coral was still pretty shallow. 

I crawled between colonies and watched as brilliantly colored fish darted from the safety of the coral branches. One particular group of fish fascinated me and held my attention for several minutes of play time. Hanging around a massive yellow coral, hundreds of tiny blue-green Chromises seemed to be magnetized to their coral shelter. They were evenly dispersed in all directions when I first approached, but quickly retreated to the crevices of the coral and popped out the side opposite me. I swam to the other side and they did the same thing. Sitting quietly, I waited for them to come out of the top again and then I continued to move my right hand and then my left hand to the sides of the coral watching them swim out the opposite side. It was as if my hand and the fish opposed each other, never existing on the same side. It was such a fun little game we had conjured up together.  I was also able to find one of my favorite animals of all time, a nudibranch! And if that wasn’t good enough, I was shocked when I saw my first ever crown-of-thorns starfish, a rare echinoderm that can eat an entire coral by letting out its stomach spilling digestive juices over it.

Since we had a limited amount of time on the beautiful island of Fiji, my parents and I booked a guided tour, not something we normally do, but it ended up being well worth it. Skelly, Ross, and our driver took us all over the island in their beater van (which had to be stopped frequently to pour water over the engine to prevent overheating) to their favorite cultural spots.    

Our first stop was to the sand dunes. Tall peaks of blackened sand bordered the ocean. After the tough little hike through the nearly vertical layer of sand to get to the top of the dunes, we were treated to a spectacular view of the beach and ocean below. Though the skies were a bit cloudy (this being their rainy season) the water remained a beautiful blue-turquoise. Racing down the sandy hills, we returned to the van where we were transported to Tavuni Hill Fort, the ancient residence of the tribal chief of Fiji. Here, a jolly woman entertained us with an oral history of the area. Initially settled by travelling Tongans, the fort sat atop a hill overlooking the “Salad Bowl,” Fiji’s great agricultural area where essentially anything you would find in a salad was cultivated. The view of the valley reminded us of the lushness of the tropical paradise. Everywhere the eye could see was a beautiful shade of green- there simply were no dry areas. We could clearly understand why anyone would want to settle here. 

Our friendly tour guide explained how the initial Fijians worshipped pagan gods and even practiced cannibalism- she even showed us the killing rock! “But,” she said smiling, “we are not cannibals anymore. Not at all. That was long ago. Now we one big happy family. We serve one God and we love one another.” It seemed as though there was a church every 100 meters in Fiji, remnants of the many missionaries that have visited the area. There were also a few Hindu temples as Indians make up a significant amount of the population. I must say, it would not be a bad place to be a missionary- the stunning sunsets over the water and the incredibly welcoming people make life in Fiji quite easy.

The final and best part of our day-long tour was the trip to a pottery village. We had learned that Fiji is made up of many tiny villages, each with a chief and a common meeting area. Each week, the chief summons everyone in the village for a meeting and to discuss upcoming events. It seems to be a very democratic system. Although their homes appear to be nothing more than a few wooden boards and corrugated metal sheets strung up together, the Fijians seem to quite enjoy their village lives and will often live their entire lives in the same tiny little home. As we entered the pottery village, one of the female elders sounded the drum (lali) to alert the fellow villagers that guests had entered.  Kitty and another woman welcomed us to the village and explained their livelihood. All of the men in the village are farmers, harvesting all sorts of fruits from the surrounding land to feed their families. The food they harvest is not sold in the market unless they are really short for money- the food must provide for all of the families in the village. The women travel to the nearby river to collect the beautiful red clay soil which they then turn into pottery as their ancestors have been doing for generations. Pottery is the only source of income for the village. 

They don’t bring it into town to sell, it is only sold in the community room where tourists like us could purchase it. Without pottery, these families would not be able to send their children to school or obtain building necessities. After a quick tour through the tiny little village, they brought us into their community room for the remaining activities. They showed us how they molded a lump of clay into vases or wall décor using old tools made from bamboo and shells. In about five minutes, one of the elders had crafted a perfectly symmetrical and delicately decorated vase using nothing but her hands and a stick. Next, the women showed us their tribal dance and songs. Two women danced in front of us with palm fronds while the rest harmonized in the background. For the last dance, they grabbed us by the hand and led us through a sort of conga line through the room. It was so fun to be able to be a part of this cultural treasure. Finally, they introduced to a true Fijian tradition: the kava. Made from ground tree roots, kava powder is said to have medicinal powers when mixed with water. To take the kava, we had to greet the women with a loud, “Bula,” clap once, drink, say “Vinaka” (thank you), and then clap three times. 

If we forgot any part of this ritual, we were quickly reminded by the elders discerning looks. According to them, anyone who has not had kava has not truly travelled to Fiji. The bitter taste and numbing sensation left on my tongue was proof that I had experienced this wealthy tradition.

Back on the bus, Ross told us a bit more about life in Fiji. Drugs are completely illegal. There are no guns on the island. When we asked him about crime he said, “oh yes, there is crime in the cities. Lots of drunk and disorderly.” So there you have it… Fiji: a land of plentiful fruit, palm trees, coral reefs and brightly colored fishes, smiling faces, bare feet, and a few drunk people. Not bad. Not bad at all. I think I may just have to travel to Fiji again.