Fiji has Stripey Fish...and Coral

For anyone who hasn’t been to the Octopus Resort on Waya Island, Fiji for a five day getaway during New Year’s Eve – here’s a dramatization. The names, awesomeness, and level of relaxation have not been changed to protect their identities.
	The heavy Fiji sun pours down from a cloudless blue sky on two sleepy figures strewn haphazardly across a hammock. His right leg droops off the side, toes nearly touching the sand. Her left arm dangles, fingertips twiddling a weathered bit of driftwood. The skin on the tip of their noses and tops of their shoulders are bright pink, like salt water taffy. An ocean breeze glides up the white sandy shore and contemplates rocking the hammock a bit, but then thinks of something better to do and wafts toward the tiki bar for a banana smoothie. The slightly pinker one speaks first. “Hey Care?” He can’t see through her red sunglasses, but he knows she hasn’t opened her eyes as she mumbles, “Yeah?” “Whadda ya wanna do today?” he drawls. The ocean breeze returns from the tiki bar bringing scents of banana and crushed ice as it pushes their hammock from side to side before racing down the beach to flip a woman’s straw hat off her head. The girl shrugs – more a suggestion of eyebrows arching, than shoulders actually moving – “We could eat again.” His stomach groans. It can’t handle anymore beer battered fish and chips and cheesy pasta. “Nah, I’m still pretty full from breakfast and lunch. What about snorkeling again?” She levers herself up and turns toward him, her face in the shade. He can see her eyes behind the smoky lenses. They’re open. “Yeah…but we’ve already seen all the stripey fish, and the coral.” He nods. “True." "We could kayak, hike, stroll down to the shipwreck, swim in the pool, or make shell necklaces again,” he suggests. “I’m still pretty tired from listening to Black Rose – Fiji’s number one band – last night. That was the best beach bonfire/volleyball party ever.” He nods his agreement. “New Year’s Eve was pretty sweet,” he says as he scratches the fresh scab on his left knee. No one told him how hard it was to limbo in a grass skirt. His eyes scan the sand around the hammock. Discarded palm fronds and broken shells liter the area underneath the checker patterned shade their hammock makes on the wavy dunes. That’s when he sees four small coconuts piled at the base of a tree near a lava stone the size of a golf ball. “We could play coconut bocce ball again,” he suggests. A hint of a smile crosses her lips and she turns back to face the sun. “Ok,” she murmurs. “But not right this second. I’m busy.” “Ok,” he agrees. They close their eyes and swing from side to side as the afternoon sun paints them a brighter shade of pink.
Carolyn and I loved our resort. Great people, great New Year’s Eve, great food, great fun, and it only cost us a few hundred bucks for five days in paradise.

Travel Tip: On any flight headed west - scratch that - any flight headed anywhere, demand a layover in Fiji. I’m pretty sure transferring in Fiji is faster than flying through Atlanta.

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