Fiji is a culturally-rich nation which has evolved over the years supported, in large part, by the power of stories and the talanoa (communication). With so much negativity out there right now, I sat thinking last night about what is good and specifically, what brought me to live in this country six years ago. It's a positive story, I think, so for no other reason than that, I wanted to write it out.
"I've never heard of such a thing," I remember saying. "I've never ever seen anything like that."
"No, of course you wouldn't have because you can't photograph them. Your pictures will come out blank!"
This was one of the conversations I had with George over the course of about three weeks. It was February, 1993 and I had been traveling in Fiji for about a month. I met George on an island in the Mamanucas where I had gone to get my scuba certification. As I remember it, we spent a great deal of time doing very little but sitting around partying and talking.
My time in Fiji listening to George relay these stories rank among my top travel memories of all time. It solidified Fiji in my journal as different from any other place I had every been to. Prior to Fiji, I had been in Tahiti and Bora Bora and although I felt the aesthetics of French Polynesia might always earn it top honors, there was a completely different vibration from the Fijian people and the air in this country. It felt as if every person I met was deeply engaged in the conversations we had and that, in itself, was a pretty unusual and special feeling. My conversations with George reinforced that.
Every one of these stories was awesome and coming from the east coast of the US where we don't have pregnant caves and spitting caves and invisible red shrimp, it ramped up the paradise to a whole new level. One particular evening, George and I sat on the sea wall looking out upon the ocean. We were just sitting there, chilling out, not doing very much in particular. It was one of those gorgeous and slightly breezy island evenings with tons of stars in the sky, the lapping of waves on the sand and the quiet scattering of crabs as they run across the grains under the silent gliding of giant fruit bats above our heads. Unmistakably south pacific.
Suddenly, George turned to me and said "Ya know, Jon, when we were cannibals...".
I had to interrupt at that moment. I couldn't let him finish the sentence. In my entire life, no one had ever started a conversation with those words. I was in heaven.
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