Fiji is very, very hot. And humid. This, obviously, is no surprise -- the archipelago of about 322 islands sits south of Hawaii and east of Australia in the company of other well-known tropical destinations such as Tonga and Samoa.
However, intellectually knowing a place is hot and humid is different from experiencing it.
Jesse Tuesday takes in the misty view at the open-air bar in Colo-i Suva's Raintree Lodge.
Fiji is hot in a way that the noonday sun makes it feel as if the hairs on your arms are going to burst into flame. It is humid in a way that laughs in the face of straightening irons. It is heat and humidity combined in a way that makes synthetic fabrics pure folly.
All this is to say that if you are planning to shop for souvenirs in an outdoor market in Fiji, it is best to do it early in the morning. And preferably sans hangover.
That said, the artisans' market in Nadi is a bargain-hunters delight, though it's not for those who find the hard sell off-putting. Each stall offers similar wares -- beaded bracelets, shell necklaces, wooden carvings, grass skirts, woven purses and fans -- and the vendors are very aggressive, each promising better prices than the last. It's rewarding because you'll pay bubkes for an armload of stuff, but it's also sweaty and a bit stressful.
However, if you can't stand the heat, get into the kitchen. After you're done haggling, head to the teeming main street for a snack from one of the little Indian takeaway restaurants that exude the aromas of curry and tamarind, offering dishes that are both remarkably cheap and delicious.
Nadi is the place to be on Viti Levu -- the city's airport is where international flights arrive, so there is no shortage of backpacker and budget accommodations around town, and the airport itself is plastered with hotel and hostel flyers.
Fiji Bitter in tapa cosies.
But the big tourist push for the well-heeled traveller and families is Denarau Island, Fiji's answer to Waikiki. The well-groomed private island of reclaimed land is home to hotels from all the big names -- Hilton, Sheraton, Westin and more -- among which you can travel by Bula Bus, a free shuttle that will also take you to the golf course and Port Denarau -- the harbour and upscale shopping complex.
It's a nice development, but a bit removed from the Fiji you're leaving behind. On the cab ride there, the incongruity is driven home by a billboard advertising a luxury condo development on Denarau, showing a serene-looking woman sitting cross-legged in a pool of blue water, while the farmer's field directly below it is being plowed by a team of oxen.
The Radisson Fiji is a relatively new hotel catering mostly to families and it's lovely, with a lagoon-style pool offering plenty of shade, a waterslide and an adults-only area. The staff are friendly even by Fiji standards, which is saying something; after two days, you feel like an old friend.
It offers a wide variety of ocean water sports -- my sister and I zipped around on a jet ski, as it was too windy to take a kayak out -- but the beach itself, a narrow stretch of grey, grainy sand, is not particularly appealing, and there's no snorkelling. However, the hotel has a swim-up bar and I'm a total sucker for any place that combines the pleasures of booze and pools in one happy location.
There's less of a tourism boost for the capital city of Suva, probably because of a travel advisory that was issued after a 2006 military coup that saw the removal of the prime minster from power. (About half of Fiji's population is descended from Indian indentured labourers, who were brought to the islands during British colonization. There is some unrest between this group and the indigenous Fijians at the governmental level, with questions over equality for Indo-Fijians.)
It might have been our bad timing, or the soft but insistent rain, but of all our stops in Fiji, Suva was the least welcoming. Which is to say it's still far friendlier than most big-ish cities (the population is about 80,000), but the sing-song greetings of "bula" are fewer and farther between, and the smiles aren't as pervasive.
Our visit, unfortunately, was on a Sunday. Most indigenous Fijians are devout Christians -- the first thing you see when flying into Suva at night is a giant neon sign reading "Jesus Is Lord" -- and shops and services are closed on Sunday, including museums and galleries. The only activity was in the parking garage next to the hotel, which had been turned into a makeshift place of worship -- a large group had set up chairs and was singing gospel songs to a keyboard accompaniment. When we returned hours later, the service was still going strong.
It was hard to get a feel for the city, as we wandered almost empty streets, but locals we met at our hotel, J.J's on the Park, were a bit down on the place. "Everyone here is grumpy all the time," said a Suva resident, having a post-work beer in the lounge with his friends. "They work all the time, morning to night; they have no time to enjoy life."
Suva is the most developed, urban area in Fiji, but as we travelled outside the city centre to Colo-i-Suva (pronounced Tholo-ee-Suva) we saw clothing hanging from lines in almost every yard.
Raintree Lodge, the country's first fully designed eco-resort, sits on the edge of Colo-i-Suva Forest Park, a lowland rainforest that has been interplanted with mahogany. The budget lodge leads daily treks into the forest, or you can make your own way. The area is also a prime birdwatching area, and guests can fish in either of the lakes on the site -- there are bamboo rafts called bilibilis available for use.
The restaurant bar, which focuses on local ingredients, sits overlooking a pretty little lake, where fish wait for guests to throw crumbs -- toss in a scrap and they turn into a whirling black turbine as they fight for the food.
Before leaving Suva Monday morning, we managed to pop over to the nearby aristans' market, a warren of stalls offering tourist knick-knacks at incredibly cheap prices -- so cheap, you feel like a heel for bartering. A pretty beaded bracelet set me back just FJD$2 (about $1.20). Worth breaking a sweat for, certainly.
Jill Wilson is a Free Press copy editor. She travelled to Fiji courtesy of the Fiji Visitors Bureau.
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