A Backpackers Credo

Sometimes when you travel you are given a great gift. These gifts are rare and usually last only but a moment. But once you experience one you realise why you travel in the first place. It usually involves the right combination of timing mixed with a bit of spontaneity, the right people, some far off place, and one last element that only the world can afford to show you once in a great while. All of these elements play in front of you, like a symphony, for you to appreciate. You know that moment, somehow from deep inside, as perfection. I wouldn't have known such a thing existed had it not been for Octopus Resort on the small Fiji Island of Maya.

Octopus Resort itself was in fact a gift. This was because I wasn't supposed to go there at all. Fiji was never on my itinerary, but as all travelers should do, I had left my heart open to what came my way. The best things in life are often not planned. Twice was Octopus Resort recommended to me by two totally different groups of people at two totally different times on my journey. Not just recommended but raved. I knew if I were to go to Fiji this was the only place that I would spend my time. When I think back it was almost as if I was led there. So I worked it out and I came.

Octopus is paradise. I know that word means many different things to many different people. But for the rest of my life I now have an actual mental picture for what paradise is. For me it will always be this little secluded resort next to a beach on the west side of Maya Island in the middle of the south pacific. It reeked of paradise. I don't know if it was the traditional Bula band that welcomed us as we approached the beach for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that it felt so secluded -1.5 hours by boat to get there. Or maybe it was the teal blue and green color of the water and the giant choral reef teaming with life underneath it just a few feet off the beach. It could have been the 26 dive sites at our disposal, or the pool, or the three fantastic meals a day served in a sand floored outdoor dining room. The sunsets, the hammocks, the palm trees, the sand volleyball court, or a bar that didn't close until we told it to all played a hand. It could have been its association with the local Fijian village and its fantastic Fijian people as it's employees. It could have been all the wonderful activities and programs at our disposal and the nightly kava drinking ceremony and music. It could have been the fact that nothing else was on this island but this place and a handful of small Fijian villages. Or that your time there was yours to do what you wish of it. It might have been all the other soles that had wondered upon this place at the same time. But I think it was paradise because it afforded me the perfect travel moment.

It happened on my fourth day. The second to my last and on an activity I wasn't supposed to do. I had in mind that it would be good for me to sit still on the beach for a day as I had filled the previous three days with activities. But as our relationship grew to the native people of the island the longer we stayed, the more compelling they were to me. So when we were invited to a Rugby match between the local villages I was easily persuaded. Its seems, as it were, I can't sit still when I am out in the world. So we headed out by rickety old wooden boat to a smaller island just south of ours. There we sat on the grass and I watched in spectacle the art of Rugby contrasted by the simple Fijian life. The end goals were made of bamboo and the players often had to share jerseys when rotated. There were no grand stands, only the grass to sit on. The announcer sat behind us with a small wooden table and a megaphone. Kids played their own games off to the side. It was the marvel of simplicity. The rugby team associated with the village next to Octopus was named Bomballi. We cheered them on and eventually they won and many happy moments were shared between my new found Fijian friends.

The day had wained and the sun was readily approaching its hiding place beyond the horizon. There was a small sand bar between the two islands and it was here that we loaded our old boat for the journey back. The players had paraded with us down the beach, laughing and celebrating the win. Some of them came back with us on the boat and the others lined up on the sand bar to await their own boat. When I climbed aboard I immediately climbed to the roof for the journey back yelling to the players on the sand bar "Go Bomballi". They would yell "Bula!" back. They had no idea who I was really. I was just a visitor to their place and yet for a them I was one of them. Fijians have an openness that I have never experienced before. It's the kind of connectedness that only comes from living in such a simple and beautiful place. They are as much connected to their environment as the environment is connected to them. They were very much a big part of what made Fiji beautiful. A few of them sat on top of the boat with me as we motored our way over the glass of the ocean. A smaller open topped boat chased us from the side. I sat atop the bow flying over the water with the green of the island to my right and the reddish hues of the setting sun to my left. Our bodies were crashing hard into the wind. The light was the kind of light that only comes from the waining waves of the setting sun. It was a light that makes everything come alive. One of the Fijian players behind me commented that their team name- "Bomballi" -means Dolphin, and that every time they win they see dolphins. What struck me about that comment was how matter affectedly he said it. As almost to say "of course we see dolphin every time we win." If I were in any ordinary place, and someone said that to me I would fall into the cynicism of the non romantic. Ya right. But this was an extraordinary place full of romantics. No more than a few long moments later the largest pod of dolphins I had ever seen surfaced from deep below and proceeded to play, jump, and chase our two tiny craft. Some getting so close that the Fijian children in the open topped boat were able to reach down and touch them, laughing as if this was the most natural thing on earth. I don't know which prompted the other to come. The Fijians or the dolphins. But there was a connection there like no other, an understanding that comes from only accepting the way things happen.

I took it all in with one look around me. This place is magical. This moment is a gift. The backpackers credo: Whatever happens-happens. You are in the right place at the right time. Otherwise you wouldn't be there. It's one thing to understand this statement but another to fully except it. I have no pictures or video of this moment. Just the memory and feeling etched into me that will last longer than any picture.

When a man who lives in a place that is so far removed from natural things-moments like these seem like the greatest miracles on earth. Maybe they are, but maybe that is just how the world works when left alone. And we have just all forgotten that.