The Gates of Heaven - Arriving at Lomalagi Resort, Vanua Levu, Fiji
Tuesday August 21, 2001
10:00 AM – We needed a map of Vanua Levu, or so we thought. So at the suggestion of the Budget Car Rental
Agent we jumped into our Jimny and took off on the wrong side of the
road, (well actually the right side of the road; no, let’s just call it
the correct side of the road, so we all know what I’m talking about).
Now that we have that straight, we took the left side of the right road
over the hill into the bustling little port town of Savusavu. From the sea, you would sail north, around a headland, anchoring inside crescent of a sheltered bay. Cultural
activity revolves around the sheltered marina and the adjacent old
Copra Shed (copra being the flesh of the coconut). Inside there are many
shops and there is a town-market along the shore. At some time,
storms had washed out one lane of the road over Savusavu Hill. Wooden
barriers had been hastily set up so that traffic would not end up the
“new” gorge that had formed there. Upon closer inspection, we notice
that the barriers were so old that the Sun had bleached the unpainted
wood and weeds and brush were growing in the little canyon. The roads
in the area alternated between asphalt and a unique mixture of dirt and
rocks. We would find this pattern in the roadways repeated all over the
island of Vanua Levu.
10:15 AM - We found the Post Office,
where our treasured map was supposed to be, but when we asked to
purchase a map from the young Indian woman behind the counter, she
looked at us as if we were from Mars. Neither she nor anyone else in
the Post Office knew anything about a map of the island. That being
our first experience in Fiji of being treated as if we were from outer
space, we found it a bit disconcerting. Soon enough we would get used
to the gaping jaws of local town and country folk as we whisked across
the landscape in our traveling Budget billboard. After a while, it
became the norm and we actually began to enjoy it.10:30 AM – we had had enough of Savusavu for that day and decided to push on to Lomalagi Resort. It is said that in the U.S., Colorado bound settlers in the wagon trains could see Pike’s Peak from 100 miles away. It stood out so clearly in the nineteenth century air that the travelers mistook its distance. As the mountain stood up against the flat horizon, settlers were sure that it was only a day or two away. Each subsequent morning they would rise and say, “This is the day! Pikes Peak or Bust!”
The following morning and on each morning for nearly a week, they would
awaken and say the same thing. For us, Lomalagi became the spiritual equivalent of a Fijian Pike’s Peak. We knew the resort was out there somewhere, but it always seemed just outside of our reach, never within our version of 3-D time-space reality.
10:45
AM – We retraced our steps over Savusavu Hill and headed east along the
Hibiscus Highway. In those days, there was no Google Earth, let alone a
mobile telephone that would work anywhere on the island.
Telecommunications was then a government monopoly, and the Fijian
government believed that they would make more money by restricting
access and charging more for limited services. While looking at a map
before traveling, Lomalagi had appeared to be twelve or thirteen miles
from the airport. That should be easy, we
thought. The road was good and stretched out before us. If you have
never seen a road stretch before your very eyes, let me assure you that
the Hibiscus Highway stretches all the way to infinity. Once we got going, the
road surface changed every quarter to half a mile. Soon enough, we
arrived at the Construction Zone (which took on many characteristics of
Rod Serling’s old TV show, The Twilight Zone).11:00 AM – The construction zone featured Chinese
engineers, who under-bid this job in order to be allowed to massively
underbid an even larger project on Viti Levu.
Had they too fallen under the spell of the Construction Zone? They
supervised Indians and Fijians who appeared to do the actual
construction. Mounds of rock and dirt did appear on the road from time
to time over the next ten days. Holes were also dug, but rarely filled.
Individual workers could be seen from time to time using the corner
point of their shovel to delicately push individual rocks back into the
roadbed. We saw this enough times to conclude that certain rocks just
didn’t want to be a part of that road and had tried to escape while the
workers were not paying attention. Traffic lane barriers consisted of a
line of slightly larger rocks arranged down the middle of the road.
Detours were common, but each day their locations seemed to change. Was
it us or was it the “CZ”?
11:10 AM – The Kava Ceremony.
If you have ever heard about the islands of Fiji, then you have
probably heard about the Kava Ceremony. It consists of all the males of
a tribe getting together and sitting in a close-knit array. A slightly
intoxicating root of a pepper plant is mixed with water and scooped up
with a burnished piece of coconut shell. It is offered to each of the
men in turn and is drunk down in one big gulp. Having later
participated in two such ceremonies during our stay, I do not make light
of the importance of Kava and the ceremony to the social, political and
religious life of the Fijians. So, you might have been as amazed as we
were when we came across approximately twelve of the construction
workers sitting in the middle of the road looking for all intents and
purposes as if they were engaged in a Kava ceremony. We slowed to a
crawl so as not to disturb them in their ritual observance. It was then
that we noticed that they too were using some form of hand tool to push
individual recalcitrant rocks back into the road.11:15 AM – Jesus drives a road grader. I would not
have believed it either, if I had not seen him. There is an ancient
Chinese saying that “if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him”. It sounds rather drastic, but I think the idea is that it cannot be the “real” Buddha
and an imposter Buddha should not be tolerated. As we slowed at
another choke point (in more ways than one) on the road, we passed
several pieces of large equipment. One is what we commonly call a
steamroller, although they haven’t been powered by steam in my
lifetime. We were already getting into the other national pastime in
Fiji, which is to slow down, smile and say “Bula” (Fijian for “Hello,
nice to see you”) to everyone with whom you cross-eyes. To my great
surprise, a man with long flowing hair and eyes with a depth and clarity
not seen in Western lands smiled down on us from his earth-rolling
machine. His light shone brightly and time stood still for one brief
moment. We had received the blessings necessary to negotiate any Fijian
road with safety (if not serenity). This would come in handy during
our road rally on the island of Viti Levu, but that is for another day.
11:20 AM – The "Bridge over the River Kwai", as
we called it. Actually, it was a new concrete bridge being built over a
stream that came down from the mountains. For no apparent reason, it
it had about forty Fijians sitting, hanging, walking on and around it.
They had enough time to stop (or were they already stopped?) and to
wave to us and smile. There I saw the Construction Worker character and
I think I saw the Indian character from the pop group “Village People”.
They appeared to be doing a bit of their “YMCA” arm signals as we
passed. The Fijians have an incredible way of not working, or working,
as the case may be.11:30 AM – We came to a fork in the road before the
large bridge, which is where we were supposed to turn off the highway,
heading for Lomalagi. We were long past the Construction Zone and the
highway and, at its wider parts, it had become a
three-track dirt road. That means that two cars cannot fit on the road
going in opposite directions. Did I tell you about the Fijian buses?
The Indians own them and I am sure that they wait until they hear a car
coming around a curve or up a hill (or both) and then they accelerate so
as to arrive at the narrowest spot on a tight curve exactly when
you do. We gladly turned up the side road (which was clearly unmarked
by any sign, just as our written instructions said) and took a two-mile
detour into the bush, ultimately arriving at the local agricultural
experimentation station. Later we learned 
that they were creating coconut trees that never grew tall.
It sounds like a plot to grow everything the wrong size on the islands,
but I guess coconuts are easier to pick when you do not have to climb
up high to get them.
that they were creating coconut trees that never grew tall.
It sounds like a plot to grow everything the wrong size on the islands,
but I guess coconuts are easier to pick when you do not have to climb
up high to get them.11:45 AM – Once we determined
that we were on the wrong road, we retraced our steps to try to get it
right (again). We shot up the road at fifteen to twenty miles per hour
and found the nearly identical unmarked road that forked off just before
a nearly identical bridge. This had to be the right one! The perfect
symmetry of our trip was that each time we blew it; our real course was
just waiting for us to find it. Approaching or destination, we were
willing to accept the path and so we took it.
Immediately we found ourselves on the roughest approximation of a road imaginable. The sharp rocks
were the size of baseballs. We rattled and clanked up this road;
occasionally coming to a halt to allow the funny noise that Jimny tended
to make when he was upset (that’s Jimny the car, not Jimmy the me).
Finally we approached a meadow. Then we saw a 
profusion
of coconut palms. Just when we believed that our little car was making
progress, it almost slid off a turn of the road. Then we got to a
steep part that I was not sure the car could climb. We looked at each
other and mumbled some things like, “Do you think this is really worth
it?” and “Do you think we made a big mistake?”
profusion
of coconut palms. Just when we believed that our little car was making
progress, it almost slid off a turn of the road. Then we got to a
steep part that I was not sure the car could climb. We looked at each
other and mumbled some things like, “Do you think this is really worth
it?” and “Do you think we made a big mistake?”All my Fiji stories have a happy ending and this is
no exception. As Jimny lurched up the last steep hill to a rock wall and
a green arch over an entrance way, our moment of despair passed. A
quaint sign on the archway read, “Welcome to Heaven”.
As usual, a picture tells one thousand words.
By James McGillis at 05:47 PM | Travel | Comments (1) | Link
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