One of the first times I ever truly questioned how we live our lives in our modern world was after experiencing a homestay with a local family in Fiji. Being from a big city like Los Angeles, I saw first hand how people can work themselves to death for some dream of a future life of prosperity. That maybe one day, if they worked and sacrificed enough, they could have a beachfront property, eat crab any time they want, fish whenever they felt and sit around doing absolutely nothing the rest of the time, enjoying life. People sign up for long work days with hardly any days off. They trade away their youth, the connection they could have had with their family and even their sanity, all so that one day they could obtain this dream when they finally retire at the ripe age of 70.
And here I was, in a so called, "Third World Country," staying with a local run of the mill family that had a beachfront home with a view much nicer than anything in Manhattan Beach, fresher crab than anything for sale in Monterrey Bay and 24 hours a day to fish, snorkel, be with the family, socialize or do absolutely nothing. Suddenly, all my concepts of how life was supposed to be lived were turned upside down.
The Island
The family I stayed with lived on an island called Qamea, which is a couple kilometers off of the third largest Fijian island, Taveuni. Apart from a resort that was somewhere far away on the other side of the island, this island had no paved roads. It was essentially an entire island with jungle and hills in the center and a few tiny villages of a couple dozen families scattered around the shoreline. Everyone knew everyone. In fact, they were all practically related.
The Fijian islands are a collection of 330 islands, a third of which are inhabited.
The Home
So, while the house was not quite a Manhattan Beach home in terms of build quality, the location was far more beautiful than any beachfront property in all of Los Angeles. It was about a 5 second walk from front door to the water. And the water was crystal clear with colorful coral and tropical fish as soon as you dipped in the water. In every direction were lush, untouched green hills enveloping you with their natural beauty.
Water and electricity only worked a few hours in the evening. I guess that's where the whole "Third World" part comes in, but by day three, that initial intimidating inconvenience felt completely normal.
The view right in front of the house.
Food Everywhere
I remember that first afternoon when our homestay mom asked if we were hungry for lunch. She told us to follow her out back in her garden. As she walked in between heavy jungle growth on both sides of her, she just began reaching out her hands in either direction to pull off leaves from the bushes as she passed. First giant leaves, then tiny herb-like pants. Practically anything green or brown was soup-worthy and thrown into her side pouch.
Then out of nowhere our Fijian mom pulled out a machete, clenched it tightly with her hands and with a power summoning the ferocity of Fijian warriors past, gave a mighty swing towards a palm branch. Down came a massive bundle of about 50 bananas. Pointing a finger at me with an intense but jovial stare, "You!" signaling me to carry the bundle back.
The amazing family I had the fortune to spend a few days with.
Crab Traps
When setting out to go get some crabs with the family for dinner, I pictured clumsily rummaging around through the jungle and coming back with maybe 4 or 5 after an entire day of turning over rocks. I was not expecting for us to fill a sack so huge that I myself could've squeezed inside. The way this family managed to gather so many crabs was by setting up crab traps. These traps weren't metal cages or anything like that. They created the traps by digging a small hole in the ground, throwing in some open coconuts and covering the area with palm leaves. When we arrived at the traps and pulled off the palm leaves, dinner was served. Except, this particular meal was fleeing in every direction with massive pinchers. It was so fun trying to capture all these large land crabs and tossing them into the sack. I think I might have successfully caught one or two, with the Fijian family collecting the other 200.
That night, I had more crab than in the accumulation of all the crab I ever ate in my life before that day. All served with a delicious coconut milk sauce over steamed rice.
Catch of the day.
Spearfishing
Right when I thought my amazing homestay experience couldn't get any better, it did. The Fijian dad arranged an outing to try out spearfishing with his nephew and a few other locals. Spearfishing was something I'd heard other travelers mention but I never thought of it as an experience I'd actually live out. Apart from the amazing opportunity now in front of me to try spearfishing at all; to be able to try it for the first time together with local Fijians? I felt so lucky I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't in a dream.
We took a small boat out to a reef that looked like a ginormous underwater cabbage patch. Each cabbage shaped coral was about the size of an award winning pumpkin. The area was teeming with fish and it didn't take long to spot a few reef sharks passing along.
On the boat ride out, the locals aboard just had to tell all their stories about encountering sharks. It was really interesting to hear all of them, but by the time I jumped into the water I was kind of a nervous wreck. Plus, I was also without the freediving knowledge or experience I was able to pick up later on in my travels, so I was pretty much an all-around lost case out there. I would watch every now and then a local coming to the surface with great catches. I wanted that to be me.
My first couple shots were so off target that I was starting to feel pretty discouraged. So, when I set my sights on a particularly good looking fish, took aim, and actually struck a perfect bullseye in the gills, I was lost for words. In complete disbelief, I had no idea what to do next. Perhaps the locals didn’t even instruct us on what to do after a successful shot because they weren't expecting that to even happen. I wouldn't have blamed them. It was at that moment after I made the perfect strike, that all I could think about was sharks. All I could do was picture the bloodthirsty creatures and their razor sharp teeth, and the knowledge that they sense the vibration of a fish in distress. I had to get back to the boat.
So in a massive panic, I quickly swam back to the boat like a clumsy dog throwing limbs around in every direction to generate movement. I climbed aboard the boat white in the face as if I had seen some underwater ghost. Realizing how amateur I likely appeared in front of all the blank and confused faces on the boat, I thought to myself, "At least I've got a fish to show off." So I swung the spear in front of my face with the fish securely attached. Except, there was no fish; only my unmistakable incompetence showing.
When I look back on it all now I feel a bit embarrassed how it all went down. But I remember how alive I felt through it all. It was one of those moments where I felt like I was really living. And having a learning experience like that, it was really helpful for me later in my travels to dive into waters filled with way more sharks and not be as phased.
Life in a Fijian village is simple, but beautiful.
Kava
No Fijian experience is complete without Kava, a traditional drink made from a root that is enjoyed socially in the evenings, usually gathered in a circle with a guitar being passed around. The drink gives you a bit of a numb, high feeling. It is so much a part of the culture that when I was in a taxi ride, it didn't even matter to the driver that we were in a hurry to escape the flooding waters of an approaching cyclone. While driving at a very fast speed, all of a sudden the taxi driver pulled over at a clearing. Thinking that we were probably having car problems, I intently listened as the driver spoke the words, "Now, we drink Kava," and started passing around a kava-filled coconut bowl to everyone in the vehicle. Unsure as I was about the timing of it all, I eventually caught on and began to understand it had a lot to do with where I was. I was on "Fiji Time."
On the last evening staying together with the Fijian family, the Fijian dad pulled out a giant bowl of Kava to share. Which was a very nice gesture, but it had been after a very long day and everyone I was with was completely exhausted. Not wanting to be rude, we thought it would be the right thing to go along. The first hour or two was really enjoyable despite how tired we all were. But by about the third or fourth hour it was becoming a bit much.
Our homestay mom was clearly affected by this magical drink and kept on saying the same stories over and over again and the giggling was becoming more intense with each story told. To make matters worse, the kava level of the bowl was lowering at a painfully slow rate. No one except me was really pulling their weight and I knew that somehow we had to get to the bottom of this bowl if we ever hoped to get some shut eye. Maybe somewhere around the fifth hour, the last cup full was handed out, to the relief of everyone. But our moment of solace was short lived as the Fijian dad walked off to the kitchen and returned with a second bowl just as gigantic as the first. Every non Fijian looked at one another instantly, eyes wide in horror. Wasn't very funny at the time, but it's a moment I really cherish and like to look back on.
I really think everyone should have the experience of spending a few days with a family in a third world country. Not only was it a lot of fun and very memorable, but I felt it changed the way I view life and see the world. There is so much we can learn and understand by getting a glimpse into different cultures and ways of life.
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