Calm waters at Vatia Slot anchorage
The week's forecasts promised periods of strong winds and heavy rain. We thought that would give us some good, guilt-free hunkering-down weather, but the high terrain to windward kept us from getting much of either. The best we got was a lone night of light drizzle that was inadequate for fulfilling our fantasies of free showers, deck scrubbing while dancing "Singing in the Rain"-style, and copious bucketloads of hand laundry. I know, I know, it doesn't sound very vacation-ey, but sometimes a thorough freshening up is just what is needed to keep morale up for more traditional goofing-off duties.
At the far end of Vitu Levu, on its southwest side, we once again found ourselves in Denerau, bedroom community to the nearby city of Nadi (pronounced Nandi). Our main missions here are to top Begonia back up for the months ahead, and to clear out of Fiji, with the occasional fun, touristy thing wedged into the itinerary for some variety.
Denerau doesn't feel like a part of Fiji so much as a theme park called Fijiland, where every Fijian is in character all of the time, playing the people on the covers of the glossy travel brochures. Think really really big cruise ship. Only the mountains in the distance are a hint that it is not in fact in that part of Florida with all the other heavily curated park experiences.
Maryanne and I are not here for any of that. Mostly we are here to buy food – lots and lots of food, Tourists buy sunscreen and alcohol and expensive souvenirs from the overpriced stores along the waterfront next to the tour boats. We buy enough canned food to fill the bed of a pickup from the stores at the back, behind the far end of the golf course, where hotel staff go to fill the holes in their weekly deliveries.
We filled our collapsible wagon with all that it could hold, the poor thing, and then pulled it the mile or so back to the boat, with much effort. At least Denerau has smooth, wide footpaths that are separate from the roads themselves. That took care of the first quarter or so of our haul. To get the remainder, we would have to go into Nadi.
We started that journey on the bus. There are two types of public busses in Denerau. The first is the Bula Bus, which does continuous circuits of the island (oh yeah, Denerau is technically an island. I think that river is really a moat). For a day fee, it will take you from your resort to the waterfront or to the spa, because it is "too far" to walk (more than a quarter-mile). These busses, with their faux thatched roofs, are almost entirely populated by people in various shades from pink to deep red, depending on how long they have been here and how fastidious (or knowledgeable) they are about the use of sunscreen.
The other public busses in Denerau are the regular ones from Nadi. These would almost universally fail a safety inspection in any first-world country, and seem to be utilized by lots of people in various uniforms, clutching homemade lunches, on their way to or from tiring jobs. Although we understand that it's not true, economically, we feel much more in common with this crowd than all the brats snapping their fingers at the waiters for their next round of daquiris.
The Nadi bus does an interminable tiki tour of every address in Denerau (the marina is the first stop), and then goes through the guard gate and over the bridge into the real Fiji. Ah, it feels good to get out of Denerau. Saccharin smiles are replaced with genuine ones and the lush country that hasn't been tended by an army of gardeners is free to grow wherever it wants.
The bus station in the city center is a bustle of families with school kids and people out running all the daily errands of life. Horns blast, engines roar, street vendors call out for you to look at their wares. We got one of our phones repaired and then a series of very helpful people got us to our connecting bus to the big store at the edge of town.
It wasn't actually that big, but it was the best we were going to get for a few weeks, or even months, in the future. The staff were very helpful. When it became apparent that our two trolleys were about to overflow, they offered to hold them for us while we got two more. At the end, when it became apparent that our four hands weren't cutting it at the checkout they had opened just for us, they pitched in with the unloading. After ringing us up, they even waved some of their colleagues over to marvel at the bill. Our $2,200FJD total (about $1,000 US) seemed to be some sort of record.
Maryanne and I then carefully organized our haul and repacked it into our four trolleys. Outside, we found a cab driver, Justin, who didn't even flinch when I pointed out our train of carts. He cheerfully joined as we transferred armloads of bags to every nook and cranny of his car. He even managed to arrange it so Maryanne and I wouldn't have to follow along in a secA bus to the main town of Nadi, where we fixed our phone, and stocked up on fresh produceond cab.
Ah, it feels good to be back in Denerau, with its wide, manicured paths and its conspicuous lack of road dust. Justin dropped us off as close as humanly possible to our dinghy, which was still way on the other side of the pedestrianized restaurant area, and then helped me spread out our bags in a line along the walkway, as if they were tone-deaf swag bags for the well-heeled new arrivals. Maryanne then got SUPER lucky and managed to snag the lone, secret, giant dock cart from the mega yacht dock. With some careful balancing, we managed to get everything we had in a single teetering load, to the clear amusement of the al fresco dining crowds.
A careful scientific measurement of our dinghy revealed it to be neither as voluminous as Justin's car, nor the mega yacht trolley. One of us was going to have to run the first half to Begonia while the other stood guard with the rest. Maryanne graciously agreed to do the hard part of standing in the tropical sun at the dinghy dock, while I got to take a break by going back to Begonia and unburdening our dinghy. When I returned, almost an hour later, I found her guarding our stuff from a table with an umbrella at the railing above. She had just started in on the first of an ice-filled bucket of beers. How long did she think I was going to be gone?
"No, Honey. Most of these are for you."
Suuuuure they are...
Since our day had been so taxing and since our boat was still in a bit of a state, Maryanne suggested we treat ourselves to a meal out, instead of eating at home surrounded by the constant reminder of the dreaded stowage job that lay ahead of us. Denerau has lots of good restaurants. After our dinner, we agreed that we were definitely hoping to find one of them soon.
We eventually did. The Cantina did a pretty passable job of seeming like a real Mexican restaurant. The Indian food at Indigo borders on amazing. We should have eaten there all week. As a bonus, several nights a week, Denerau has a dance and fire show, which made a nice finale to the meals.
The only hitch was when Maryanne walked into an extremely clean glass door, thinking it was just air. She had gone in search of a restroom, while I cluelessly waited for her four tables away with my back to the drama. She returned carrying a handful of bloody paper towels and a waning look of shock. My brand-new concern was completely out of sync with events. I wanted to jump to the rescue, but the whole affair was already over and done. Oh, dear. Now she knows how those birds must feel when they do it.
We did a couple more provisioning runs to the big market at the back of Denerau before topping it all off with one last run to Nadi for lots and lots of fresh produce at their giant market. This gave us another pass through the conflicting feelings of being glad to leave Denerau, and then being glad to be back later, away from the chaos of the city.
A bus to the main town of Nadi, where we fixed our phone, and stocked up on fresh produce
We took a long walk about the island, to explore some of the resort parts of the Denerau complex
We connected with packages (thanks Portland Pudgy of Maine), and dined out, exploring the waterfront
We enjoyed the complementary fire shows on weekend evenings
As I was sitting on a bench, waiting for Maryanne with a month's worth of produce at my feet, I got to witness the arrival of a very obviously well-to-do couple. They were dressed in brand-new, carefully pressed safari gear. One effusively submissive guide after another led them to the waiting area for their resort's launch, and then begged forgiveness while they went to check that everything was waiting and ready for their arrival. It was clear to me from the couple's manner that they were expecting to not have to lift a finger for anything. Everything was done by remote control through whispers, preferably without eye contact. Oh, what they must have thought of me with my big, well-worn bag of self-ported celery.
"Must be staff..."
Presumably, they were driven from the airport while blindfolded.
It's a shame, really. Fiji is a beautiful country, and it's full of really nice people. Denerau sanitizes it practically out of existence.
Begonia's mooring was on the departure path for all the ferries and tour boats headed to the nearby islands. The first thing every single one of them does upon leaving the dock, every one, is get all of the passengers to yell "BULA!!!", so that they know they are in Fiji (as opposed to "ALOHA!!!" for Hawai'i, etc.). A little-known fact, at least among those who don't live on a mooring in Denerau, is that no group of passengers has ever yelled "BULA!!!" loudly enough the first time for one or more increasingly enthusiastic repeats not to be mandated.
Then there is the kava situation. Kava has historically been a rural/island thing in Fiji, but is becoming increasingly more common in the cities. I like kava, but - Wait, that's too strong... I don't dislike kava, but – No, also too strong... I can tolerate kava (there it is), but it is meant to be consumed while sitting on the floor or the ground, between your new brothers and sisters, who have proffered it as a gift of friendship and acceptance. The Ni-Vanuatu gulp it down where it is served at their nakamals, but then retreat to a quiet location to enjoy its effect in the company of their new brothers and sisters.
Denerau has a kava kiosk – a food truck-style trailer. I immediately dubbed it Tourist Kava. There, you can buy kava at an obscene markup from a hipster with a topknot, who dispenses it with a flourish from the vicinity of a loud, steamy machine with lots of shiny valves. Kava does not require steaming, so the whole thing is probably a ruse for the rubes. It's possible no actual kava is being served, because your typical rube might not have any basis for comparison. Throw some instant coffee crystals in a cup of strong tea, that could pass.
Tourist Kava is really there because there is a market for it from influencers who want to make stupid videos about how they went to Fiji, bro, drank kava, and got to yell "BULA!!!!!" on a boat.
Dude, you haven't been to Fiji. You have been to Fijiland. You could have saved yourself the four-hour plane ride and stayed on the Gold Coast, in Queensland. Wait, maybe I'm confusing that with the place where all the Fijians go so they can eat at Outback Steakhouse.
Denerau is full all the time, so we when the weather forced a slight delay to departure, we had to leave our mooring before we could clear out of the country and leave Fiji. That put is in the distant anchorage on the outside of the harbor. There, we were spared the BULA!!! chorus, but those boats made up for it by flooring it at the end of the no wake zone, keeping Begonia's hulls dancing around all day like a firewalker's feet. It makes me kinda look forward to the ocean, where the waves are at least from the same general direction.
We had to return to the marina basin to clear out of Fiji. This is because Immigration needs to see us each in person and, at their discretion, Customs officials may need to come to see the yacht as well. The last time we left here in 2019, Begonia was on a mooring in the basin, so I was able to collect the officers after only a few strokes of the oars. Being anchored way out past the channel entrance is not too much of a problem for the fast dinghy crowd, but we would be looking at thirty minutes each way using the electric motor in the Pudgy. Then, when we were done, I would still have to put the dinghy in lifeboat mode.
Thus, our plan was to spend our spare day in the anchorage converting our dinghy into a lifeboat. Then we would bring Begonia in the next morning for the formalities. Since the marina was insisting that they were full that day, our plan was to go to the fuel/water dock. I would then run in to Immigration to complete the paperwork, while Maryanne took her time replacing eight liters of air in the top of our last jerry can with diesel. Then she would do the same with our water tanks and every water container we could find. The hope was that I would be back well before then and then we could switch duties as necessary to finish dealing with any inspectors. In the event other boats were waiting for the dock, we planned to cast off and complete the necessary formalities while loitering nearby. Then we would find an unoccupied tour boat dock or something to drop the officials off.
The first hitch in our plan came when, at our appointed time, I arrived at the Customs/Immigration office to find it closed and locked from what appeared to be the night before. I spent several minutes bouncing back and forth between Begonia, where Maryanne was quickly running out of ways to kill time, and the offices, before someone showed up. The officer explained to me that she was not the Denerau officer I had been waiting for. That person had apparently called in sick. She drove in from the Vuda office as a replacement, and would get to me as soon as she was settled into her temporary desk for the day. At any rate, there was no particular rush, because the Customs guy was still at least half an hour away.
Ooookay... Plan B was for me to get my passport stamped, then switch off with Maryanne so she could do the same. Then she would wait in the office while I stayed at the boat, hopefully close enough that I would be able to see her and the Customs guy waving me over to an adjacent unattended space.
Then a bunch of boats appeared who were clearly waiting for fuel. I prepared to cast off Begonia's lines and the attendant told me not to worry, all those boats wanted unleaded gasoline. The fuel dock had run out yesterday and the fuel truck was just now arriving to refill the tank. It was going to be a while. That made me feel a little better, although I could still see agitation from those at the back of the queue, who had not yet received the news, at my conspicuous lack of animation. Then Maryanne arrived a few minutes later with the news that Customs had decided an inspection would NOT be necessary. Everything was done. We were free to go. No loitering needed. Next stop: Vanuatu
Vatia Slot, Vitu Levu Island (north side) >> Vatia Slot
Vitago Bay, Vitu Levu Island (NW side) >> Vitago Bay
Denerau Marina (Moorings), Denerau Island >> Denerau Marina (Moorings)
Port Denerau anchorage (outside the entrance to the port)>> Denerau anchorage
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