Two weeks of Fiji’s Bula Spirit left an impression on me in 1999.
Now with a child in tow, Bua’s party of 3 was destined for a memorable week-long family getaway, the first Christmas. Even so, this was uncharted territory.
For this trip, unlike the first, discovering it as we went along and backpacking accommodation in a basic thatched bure was not going to cut it. We had to factor in the needs of a 9 month old baby now with amenities like a cot, basic kitchen facilities and at the very least a fan at the top of our wish list.
It would require some homework, so after much diligent research online and phone calls from Bec, it was finally resolved. We would be staying just 4 kilometers from Nadi International Airport at the Club Fiji Resort.
Now we just needed to get there, I told myself, secretly dreading the great unknown of having to fly with a child. But a combination of well-timed bottles and a small dose of Phenergan turned our initial fears of EQ issues and potential tantrums into a point of silence and Kaia passed her first test with flying colors. I wish navigating the glacially moving customs and immigration line in Nadi would have been half as easy.
But in the end, we made it through and found our driver patiently waiting for us to take us home for the next week. Located a few hundred meters from the island’s main road down a dirt road in desperate need of grading, we were happy to find Club Fiji, the manicured, oceanfront, palm-fringed oasis as shown in the photos on Trip Advisor. .
All it took was sorting out our gear, and in less time than it takes to down a full cup of kava and clap three times, we were quickly set up. In our daily routine of a delicious breakfast included, water hour, naps by the water with dad, walks on the beach, open air hop-on hop-off tours on the local bus, and plenty of pre-dinner happy hour drinks. All interspersed, of course, with Kaia being fed, and more importantly, getting Kaia to boil the endless supply of baby bottles for her next round of feedings by one staff member in particular, who couldn’t do enough. to help.
Annie’s smile was as big as it was genuine and she took a special interest in Kaia and adored her every morning at breakfast with hugs and kisses and cheek nips and, Daddy’s favorite, extra helpings. It was a level of kindness and affection that would follow us throughout our time in Fiji, longer than when we boarded a fast ferry to South Sea Island to spend Christmas Day.
I’ve worked in tourism long enough to know that no matter how unique and exotic your office is, there are times when it’s still just that: a job. Especially at big parties where, truth be told, being with friends and family would be your first choice. It is in these moments when maintaining that sincere smile is more difficult.
But apparently, the South Sea Island crew did not receive that memo. “My family will meet up later this afternoon,” an island employee decked out in a Bula shirt assured me with a big nonchalant smile that suggested he was happy where he was, thank you very much.
And why not? There really was nothing more postcard-perfect than the tiny pile of coral into which they punched their time cards amidst a turquoise South Pacific. It very well may have been ‘just a job’, but it was definitely one he seemed to enjoy and it was an attitude shared by virtually all of his co-workers and one that helped raise the level of friendly hospitality to a whole other level.
In the end, Fiji with Kaia opened my eyes to the fact that traveling with a young child has its own unique set of rewards. Rewards in the form of an ‘open heart’ policy that makes travel rewarding in ways unimaginable to unencumbered parents.
But then, I should have known better after being there once. It’s called the Bula Spirit for a reason.
And that spirit, along with Kaia at the helm, probably ruined me…although, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that we intend to test the theory.