Two weeks of Bula Spirit from Fiji made 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. Still, this was uncharted territory.
For this trip, unlike the first, figuring it out as we went and backpacker accommodation in a basic thatched hut (bure) was not going to cut it. We had to factor in the needs of a 9 month old now with amenities like a crib, basic kitchen facilities, and at the very least a fan at the top of our wish list.
Some homework would be required, so after much diligent research online and phone calls from Bec, it was finally resolved. We would stay 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 big 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 quiet point, and Kaia passed her first test with flying colors. I wish navigating the glacially moving immigration and customs line at Nadi had been half as easy.
But in the end, we managed to get through and find our driver waiting patiently to take us home for the next week. Located a few hundred yards from the island’s main road down a dirt road badly in need of grading, we were pleased to find Club Fiji, the well-kept, oceanfront, palm-fringed oasis as shown in the photos at 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 your hands three times, we were quickly settled in. In our daily grind of a delicious included breakfast, water hour, naps by the water with dad, walks on the beach, open air tour bus rides by local bus, and lots of happy hour drinks before dinner. All interspersed, of course, with feeding Kaia and, more importantly, getting Kaia to boil the endless supply of bottles for her next round of feedings by one member of staff 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 doted on her every morning at breakfast with hugs and kisses and pinches on the cheek and, Dad’s favorite, extra helpings. It was a level of kindness and affection that would follow us throughout our time in Fiji, more so than when we boarded a fast ferry to South Sea Island for 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, hanging out 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 be reunited later this afternoon,” an island employee adorned 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 perfect for a postcard than the tiny pile of coral they punched their weather cards into in the middle of a turquoise South Pacific. It very well may have been ‘just a job’ but it was definitely one that he seemed to enjoy and it was an attitude shared by pretty much all of his co-workers and it helped raise the level of friendly hospitality to a whole other level.
Ultimately, 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 for untrammeled parents.
But then, I should have known better after having been 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.