Wanting the Real Fiji
I didn’t come to Fiji with many expectations. In fact, I barely knew much about it until a few months before I actually went. Like a lot of people, I knew Fiji had a big tourist image attached to it, but I also had a feeling there was much more to it than resorts, postcards, and the usual names people throw around.
Thanks to a library membership during my time living in New Zealand, I picked up a couple of books that helped me understand Fiji a little better before arriving. That gave me enough direction to know one thing for sure: I wanted to steer away from the more tourist-heavy side of the country as much as I could. I knew I wouldn’t see everything, but what I really wanted was something cultural and personal. I didn’t know exactly how that would happen, but I hoped it would unfold naturally.
Arriving in Fiji by Sail
One thing I definitely never expected was to arrive in Fiji by sail.
My first sailing experience had taken me from Vavaʻu, Tonga, across open ocean, past the southern Lau Islands, into Suva Harbour, and later across places like Beqa and the Mamanucas. The original sailing plans changed, and instead of continuing farther the way we had imagined, the trip came to an end in Lautoka. The captain continued onward by boat toward home, and I was suddenly back on foot again.
At that point, after being stuck on a boat for so long, I knew I needed a very different kind of transition back into land life. My instinct was to try finding a homestay or a local connection instead of just drifting straight into hotels or hostels. Thankfully, I managed to find a host who allowed me to stay with her family on the outskirts of Lautoka.
My First Local Stay Near Lautoka
That first stay near Lautoka was short, only two days, and while I was welcomed in, it still felt a little more like I was an extra task added onto family life than fully part of it. That’s no knock on them — they were kind, and I was grateful. But it didn’t quite become the deeper experience I was looking for. Still, it helped ease the transition from life at sea back into everyday Fiji, and that mattered.
The real heart of my Fiji experience came next.
Through an old friend from years earlier back home, I connected with a new friend in Fiji who picked me up in Nadi. A few hours later, I was being welcomed into his home and village like I was already part of the family. That welcome is something I’ll never forget. It was one of the most heartfelt arrivals I’ve ever had anywhere.
We arrived at night, and almost immediately I was welcomed with smiles, warmth, and a proper little kava night to help me relax and settle in. The village came alive around that welcome. People stepped out of their homes to wave, greet me, and smile. News spread fast — not only was a vulagi staying in the village, but somehow everyone seemed to know my name too. Hearing “Bula Tony” called out to me as I walked around is still something that touches me deeply to this day.
Welcomed Into Village Life
I had arrived dealing with a stomach virus, which made things awkward right away since I was using the toilet way more than I wanted to. But even that became part of the care I received. People kept checking in on me, asking how I was doing, and making sure I was alright. One woman even sat me down and prayed for me.
That kind of love and hospitality says a lot.
It wasn’t performative. It was just how people treated me there.
I also knew I couldn’t pass through a Fijian village on a Sunday and skip church. So I was dressed properly in a nice blue bula shirt and a sulu, and joined one of the local church services. Even though I tried to sit on the floor with everyone else, the pastor strongly insisted I sit in the only chair there. I felt awkward, because I was perfectly fine just blending in and sitting like everyone else, but to them it mattered that I was comfortable as a guest. That kind of hospitality was constant.
On my second-to-last day, some of the younger guys walked me to their nearby Golden River for a swim. And yes, they even brought soap so we could have a bath there too. That’s the kind of detail that sticks with you because it says everything about how naturally life moved there. Even when I joined another family just to watch soccer on TV, I still ended up being offered lunch and juice to help settle my still half-sick stomach.
You Can’t Do Fiji Without Kava
One of the other big highlights was linking back up with my host after he got off work at nearby Yatule Resort. After a refreshing swim in the sea, he went into the water, speared fish, set up a fire, and smoked them right there. Sitting by that fire, squeezing as much lime as possible, mixing it with chili, water, and the smoked fish to make wai tom-tom — that was one of those simple meals that felt perfect. So basic, so local, and ridiculously good.
And of course, there was kava.
A lot of kava.
One night I contributed 20 FJD toward the village kava session and was shown how to enter respectfully. I was told to walk in, sit at the back, and once a round was over, move forward saying “chilou” repeatedly — basically excusing myself — before introducing myself to the elders. At first I did exactly that, quietly and a little nervously. But as the night went on, I was invited to move closer. Eventually I ended up sitting where I was told a chief would normally sit, as an honored guest for the evening.
For someone who couldn’t speak Fijian and had walked in a little intimidated, that was a hell of an honor.
By the end of the night, I had gone from feeling nervous and out of place to being completely comfortable, laughing, telling stories about my life and travels, and joking with everyone in the room. Somewhere around 20+ bowls of kava, I was definitely feeling it — mostly in the form of fatigue and a real desire to sleep — but it was one of those nights that felt like Fiji at its best.
Wai tomtom
Lasting Impressions of the REAL Fiji
My departure came too fast.
Because of how I had arrived in Fiji off the sailboat, I had to book onward travel quickly to Tuvalu, and I gave myself only about a week. At the time, that seemed like enough. It wasn’t. Not even close.
The villagers kept asking when I was leaving because they wanted to make sure they could say goodbye properly. And the real farewell came with fresh coconuts, cut open after climbing the tree, and little coconut snacks shared at the edge of the village. Then when my ride to Sigatoka arrived, the kids stood there waving and shouting “Bye Tony” until the car disappeared down the road.
It had only been a few days, but I already missed my Fijian family and that home away from home.
And honestly, I think a part of me still does.
The warmth, the care, and the way I was received there is something I won’t forget. It gave me the Fiji I had hoped existed beyond the tourist image. A Fiji of people, spirit, laughter, prayer, river swims, village kava, smoked fish, and being known by name in a place that had every reason to treat me as just another outsider.
That’s why this experience stayed with me as the root of my cultural voyage across the entirety of the Pacific islands. And that’s why, years later, returning to Fiji has carried even more meaning.
April 2026: I just wanted to come back with thrill and excitement that I will be returning to Fiji as I knew I would, this time with more island experiences on my shoulders and a world of storytelling immersion to come with it. Be sure to read about my voyage back to Fiji.
