It is late afternoon on the streets of Nadi, Fiji’s third largest town, and horns are blaring. A long line of traffic waits impatiently as a barefoot boy in a Nike shirt leads a skinny cow by a rope through an intersection. Bizarre? To a visitor, perhaps, but to the Indian taxi drivers tapping their fingers against the sides of their cabs, to the grimy street kids laughing as they dodge cars to watch the action, and to the stout black women in brightly colored skirts rolling their eyes as they patrol the sidewalks beckoning people to eat at their restaurants, the scene is not out of the average.
One of the vehicles stopped is a bright yellow tour bus, transporting international visitors from the airport to their ritzy hotels in the gated resort paradise of Denarau Island. Looming up above the frenzied scene, the oversized coach seems far more out of place than the boy and his cow. So do the tourists. Sun-hats and floral-print shirts in place, the newly arrived visitors crane their necks out the windows, sticking skinny white arms and expensive cameras out of the air-conditioned sanctuary in order to snap a quick picture of the poverty surrounding them.
Below, colorfully dressed Indo-Fijian and indigenous locals shout and wave as they go by, urging the newcomers to return later and visit their shops and eateries. Some will. Most, however, will not leave their all-inclusive island resorts until it is time to return to the airport again. As soon as the bus crosses the gate into Denarau, the perfectly manicured palm trees and glittering pools will win them over, and even the most well-meaning and adventurous vacationers are likely to find themselves stuck firmly to a cushioned chaise-lounge with an ice-cold Mai Tai or Pina Colada.
In one of the world’s most exotic beach destinations, anyone can be forgiven for wanting to experience a little luxury. After all, it’s the white sandy beaches and crystal clear waters that attract most tourists to Fiji in the first place. But there is more to this small South Pacific country than deserted island paradises. Fiji has a fascinating history – the effects of which can still be seen in the everyday life of its diverse ethnic groups. For those who want to experience the “real” Fiji and truly see what this culturally dynamic place has to offer, here is a tip: you won't find it in Nadi. (And don’t even think about Denarau.)
Just a few hours up into the highlands, the scenery changes dramatically. The drab square houses and obnoxious billboards soon fade, and the towns grow smaller and smaller until finally it’s just you, a breathtaking panorama, and the open road. After passing ruggedly beautiful vistas of nothing but bright-green mountains and sweeping palm trees, the endless expanses of sugar cane fields eventually give way to a tiny enclave of neatly organized thatched-roof bures. Welcome to Navala Village.
One of the last rigidly preserved vestiges of indigenous Fijian culture, Navala Village is the only place left on the whole of the island where everyone still lives as their ancestors did. Years ago, a chief with excellent foresight mandated that no new houses be built unless they were in the traditional bure style. Today, thanks to his planning, the village is a picturesque, one-of-a-kind experience treasured by locals and visitors alike.
Best accessed by a bumpy, sweaty ride on the local bus – an open-air Leyland classic which looks as if it hasn't been updated since the 70s – the journey to Navala Village is half the fun. First, you will pass through the majority Indo-Fijian city Lautoka, also known as "sugar city" for its gargantuan sugar mill, the city’s biggest employer. Stop for lunch at Singh's Fast Food for some cheap but exquisite Indian cuisine.
Around the corner, do some quick shopping free of the throngs of tourists and hocking vendors below in Nadi, then get back on the road and head toward the town of Ba. There, you’ll need to stop at the open-air market. This stop is on business: you’re expected to bring at least a half-kilo of the mildly narcotic kava root (locally known as yaqona) for the sevusevu, the traditional welcoming ceremony when you arrive at the village.
Ambitious travelers beware: from here, the trip can only be made in the dry season. If it rains, the bridges are too low to cross. But if your timing is right, you won’t be sorry. Once out of Ba, nature takes over – you’ll likely encounter more goats than people. If you do happen to come across anyone, be it a woman beating out the laundry or a child kicking pebbles on the road, rest assured that they will be as happy to see you as you are to see them. Up here, expect a genuinely friendly wave and a shout “bula” (“hello”) whenever you pass.
About a mile from the village, the trademark thatched roofs of Navala come into sight. This is a perfect place to stop for a photo. As you get nearer, you’ll need to refrain from taking pictures until you have paid a $25 fee to the village headman and presented your kava. If you go to the village alone, ask to be presented to the headman as soon as you arrive. One of the villagers will likely offer to be your guide, and he will walk around the village with you answering questions and perhaps introducing you to the people you pass. For this service, he’ll expect a $10-15 tip at the conclusion of your tour. Cutting cane sugar pays less than $15 a day, so the villagers are all business when it comes to these rules. They know you have money, and they want it. Once you’ve paid, however, they are all smiles and hospitality – you are free to photograph to your heart’s content.
To be sure, you'll get your money's worth. The geometrically organized, strictly bure village looks as if it came straight out of National Geographic. Naked children run around laughing, and their shouts and giggles are the only sound other than buzzing flies and maybe some rustling leaves if you're lucky enough to get a breeze. It’s hot year-round, so village life unfolds and a steadily languid pace. Even the children play slowly; it’s too hot to run. Indeed, the slower you walk, the better – you’ll want plenty of time to firmly burn the image of this tranquil, isolated mountain paradise into your memory.
The walking portion of the tour ends where it began – inside the headman’s bure. Stepping into the well-designed, one-room house is a welcome relief from the stifling heat outside. As the headman and any other curious villagers that care to drop in enthusiastically guide you through the ritual kava drinking, take a moment to notice the bure’s decorations. The walls may be adorned with pictures, newspaper clippings, and tapestries. Perhaps one corner will have a lady’s touch, draped in a pink cloth, with cheap plastic purses hanging from the ceiling. Don’t look too long, however – your full participation is needed in the sevusevu ceremony.
Though the effects of kava are mild, the villagers drink it religiously. Preparation is fairly simple: after crushing the kava root with a mortar and pestle, the powder is wrapped in a muslin cloth and submerged in a large bowl of water (sometimes a plastic bucket if that’s all that’s handy) until the mixture begins to resemble a dirty puddle of mud. A coconut bowl is then dipped into the pot, and ta-da! You are ready to try your first serving. Say “bula” (this time it means “cheers”) and get it down in one gulp, then wipe the dribbles off your chin as the villagers clap three times and refill the bowl.
If an hour or so isn't enough for you to feel like you have truly experienced village life, staying at nearby Bulou's Lodge is a great option. Bulou and his wife are fabulous people, full of stories and hearty laughs, and they will be sure to show you a good time. If you’re lucky, activities might include hiking, horseback riding, and maybe even bilibili river rafting.
No two ways about it, Navala Village is no Hilton or Sofitel. But if you’ve read this far, perhaps that type of vacation isn’t really what you’re after. Perhaps a coconut bowl of kava whets your appetite more than a Mai Tai. Perhaps, for you, a visit to an exotic island paradise doesn’t have to take place solely on the beach.
