Bula Bula and Broken Hearts

20 12 2007

They say only time can heal a broken heart- obviously “they” have never been to Fiji. It is impossible to be sad on these islands as the air drips with the smell of tropical flora, the fresh seafood is served with handpicked flowers, and the musical Fijian hello, Bula Bula, floats through the air along with songs of hello and goodbye. I tried crying into my Mai Tai on the white sand beach, which was almost as hard as sulking in my stone-lined private pool. Pouting while snorkeling really didn’t work, as the incredible house-sized fluorescent orange brain coral makes you automatically say “WOW” which forces the bottom lip down, not out. Hiking through the jungles of Taveuni across streams up to hidden waterfalls takes your breath away as well as your anger, and getting lost in the mangrove swamps is so much better than getting lost in emotion. Why be morose when you can be massaged?

Like most tropical destinations, the farther you go and the smaller the island (and the more you spend), the more you will be able to remove yourself from “civilization.” In Fiji some hotels are on their own private isles, some hammocks have views to the island where the movie Castaway was filmed, some have neon purple jellyfish washed up on white sands for a couple of hours every afternoon. But everywhere you will find warm, friendly, smiling faces- not just in the uber-resorts for rich honeymooners, but in the taro fields, walking along gravel roads, and riding to school in bright blue dingies. You can’t miss the infectious warmth of the Fijians, anymore that you can’t miss…what was his name, anyway?


Shilo Urban




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