My flight left Kiritimati Island about 4:30pm. A couple of timezones later I landed in Fiji. That's right. Suspicious single guy lands in a remarkably romantic place. Ew... Never fear, though. Mrs. Moosefish was due to land early the next morning. I found my shuttle to my bargain hotel and was soon fast asleep.
Did I mention she arrived early in the morning? Or maybe it was late for her. Perhaps even the day before? Or a day later. I give up. She landed at about 5am local time. I had my mocha (the first espresso since Hawaii) and waited. And waited. And apparently a week apart and we forgot what each other looked like. Did she walk right past me? Did I miss her? Dunno. I finally caught up with her at the domestic terminal.
A quick kiss and a selfie and we hustled to our plane. I'm pretty sure it was made of paper with one of those rubberband engines. Regardless, it took us up into the sky above Viti Levu and got us safely to Taveuni. We saw the rugged mountains and so much green. (Now I know what people visiting Washington must feel like.) The airport (also legitimately described as a couple of closet sized offices and a covered waiting area) was tiny, but that served to let our ride find us.
That's right. We're so fancy we have a car waiting at the airport. Sunny drove us to the pier where we boarded a boat. That's right. We're so fancy we have a boat waiting to take us to the resort. As the boat neared the jetty for the resort we were treated to a warm welcome as one of the staff played a guitar and sang to us. That's right. We're so fancy we're in way over our heads.
Our bags magically disappeared. In their place we found drinks and an invitation to share kava. What's kava? Only the official drink of Fiji. We were taught the basics of the kava ceremony. Clap. BULA! Gulp. Clap. Clap. Clap. Maca! We were warned of tingling around our mouth and a little bit of a high, but no such luck. We did feel welcomed, though. And that was better.
We'd arrived early so we settled into the main building to relax. The Remote Resort only opened in 2014 and has a total of eight villas on an old 64 acre coconut plantation. Truly a boutique experience. (I ask again: WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?) More drinks and lunch arrived. What did we eat? Nothing but awesomeness wrapped in wonder and sprinkled with just a touch of magic.
Our villa was at the far end of the beach. The path curved up to the private deck complete with outdoor shower and plunge pool. The hillside behind the villa was overrun with exotic (to me) plants as the jungle pushed down. Inside the air-conditioned suite a king sized bed welcomed us again with flowers and leaves spelling out, Bula.
At this point, I think we were both in shock. Remember, the nicest place we usually visit is the grandparents' house. And they've never had a turndown service with hibiscus messaging. We lounged around the villa until it was time for dinner. Back to the main lodge we went only to be turned back toward our villa. Wha?
Oh. I see. As the newbies at the resort they had set us up in the thatched-roof hut on the jetty. The way was lit by kerosene lanterns and a huge fire roared. And five feet below was the ocean full of fanciful fish and coral. Another amazing meal and we melted back to the villa at the end of our first day in paradise.
I'll spare you the blow-by-blow of the next week. Each morning I'd wake before Mrs. Moosefish to wander up to Peak. It was a short hike, but enough to get the blood pumping and the sweat... uh... sweating. (Though, honestly, in this heat it didn't take more than me breathing to break a sweat.) Coffee looking out to the sea and then I'd walk back to the villa with breakfast. One of the amazing staff would insist on carrying the breakfast basket at what can only be described as "Island Pace" while we chatted.
After breakfast, we'd take advantage of a pre-arranged outing like hiking to waterfalls in Bouma National Heritage Park or snorkeling the world-famous Rainbow Reef or opt for something less structured around the resort. We found all the cool things on the beach, waded around the fish trap at low tide, snorkeled the "house reef" just off the jetty, and tried to kayak into the back bay. (Boy do I suck at kayaking.)
If we had left the resort, lunch would have been packed for us. Otherwise we'd roll up to the lodge for whatever we had picked from the menu at breakfast. Food in my belly would put me to sleep or mellow me out to the point I'd float in the plunge pool reading a book and drinking whatever was in those tasty drinks Mrs. Moosefish made me. We had purchased the "Ultimate Spa" package so there was a 50 minute spa treatment for one of us each day. (No, I didn't buy any of them for myself, though I was conned into a deep tissue massage. I think Mrs. Moosefish felt bad so she gave me another of her days for a sugar scrub that was like an hour long back scratch.)
Snack was usually around 4pm and consisted of a selection of local foods made tastily. Do I remember the names of these foods? Hardly. To be fair, I don't know that I ever learned what the root was that they fried up to be better than potato or the crisps or the poppers or... The hardest part was not spoiling our appetites for dinner. Because, of course, dinner was fabulous.
Of the seven nights we were at the resort, we only ate in the lodge four times. There was the first night on the jetty, a night on the beach, and a night in another hut on the point. Each of these made us feel like we were the only people around being treated well in excess of how we should be. On one of the nights in the lodge, everyone else was distributed around the resort and the staff played At Last.
We didn't activate our cell phones and only had internet access at the main lodge. It was incredibly freeing. Plus, I'd been explicitly prohibited from working by my boss. Instead, we lounged and relaxed and just hung out together. It was the first time we'd had an extended vacation since New Zealand in 2002.
By the end of our time at the Remote Resort I still didn't feel like I deserved to be in such a wonderful place, but I didn't feel like I didn't fit in. While a lot of the other guests were obviously well-heeled (at least one couple said they were coming back for another week in summer and they thought it was better than the Maldives and the Seychelles) we never felt like anyone looked down on us poor working stiffs.
The only thing that is negative from this experience is that every other vacation is going to be compared to this. I can't imagine how any of them will be able to compete. So now we're on the lookout for similar places we can visit the next time we can justify such a splurge. Sure, we could wait until our 50th anniversary, but something tells me we might consider a random Tuesday in February to be important enough.
