Gregory and Me

If you were to attempt to unravel all the threads of your life and see all the happenstance decisions that lead you to a certain place you would probably go stark raving mad with “what if” possibilities. Luckily life works all that out for you and you don’t have to think about it too much. All you need to do is set the events in motion by a single act. The beauty is most of the time you don’t know you are setting anything in motion. You just go about your life and hope that the decisions you make don’t land you in jail or as the next guest on Jerry Springer.

Take the Kiwi owner of Octopus Resort for example. My stay at Octopus was greatly colored by this man. In his late forties (I would guess), recently divorced, and filled to the brim with money, Nick was the embodiment of a midlife crisis playboy. With thirteen properties his presence at the resort was seldom, but to our luck, he was spending the next three weeks “hanging out” there. When you just own and not manage what better way to see how your property is operating than by using the facilities. But really I think he had nothing better to do and loved to entertain people. For example upon hearing that a large group of us were going to dive the same dive, he arranged another boat to join us and then take all of us to a secluded beach afterward for a little post dive soiree. Just because he thought it would be fun. He even had his people put together a cooler full of drinks. Or the time that I actually got myself to sit down next to the pool to enjoy a bit of the sun. I made some stupid sarcastic comment about how much life there sucks and it could be all that much better if I was doing the same thing but with a Margarita in my hand. Rick-who was sunbathing behind me-immediately sprang to life and said, “Coming right up!”. A few minutes later my universe was complete with Margarita in hand, and I didn’t even have to move. "Compliments of Nick" or that was at least what the waiter said. Now that’s a great example of setting a set of events into motion.

Each decision you make starts a snowball rolling and it would take a super computer to track them all. Who has time to think about all that when the next sand volley game against the Fijians is about to start and you need to get your serve on? All kidding aside decision making was a bit hard at Octopus. This was mainly due to the wonderful list of activities that you could sign up for each day. I ended up diving a total five dives over the course of five days. Luckily they have three chances to do so a day so you could work around other activities. So each day was centered around a dive, some beach time, some snorkeling, an afternoon activity, dinner and then a night activity. One morning we walked to the Fijian Village nearby and talked to the villagers and took photos of all the kids. Another day I went line fishing off one of the boats, and actually caught six different fish. The kitchen the next day cooked one of them up for me for lunch. There was also a sunset boat cruise. But it was the night events that really made the day. We had a movie night next to the pool. A traditional Fijian song and dance night, hermit crab racing (of which my two crabs seemed to disappear), a sand volleyball game where you got a free shot every time you did something good, and a game/bonfire night where I stupidly entered a game where you had to eat a whole candy bar and chuck down an entire beer before the other team does. I turned white and nearly puked. And most importantly sundown was always an activity to stop for no matter what. Obviously then what activities you do then effects who you hang out with. (Or in this case bond with after nearly puking)

Like an extended trip as a whole, Octopus Resort was a microcosm of all the missed opportunities to get to know someone and a concentrated example of the dynamics of how people end up hanging out together in happenstance circumstances. Since visitors to the island came only by the resort boat daily, Octopus had a strange flux of people coming and going. One day one person would be gone replaced by another person and sometimes a person would be there a couple of days before an opportunity to notice them arrived. Almost from the begging boat ride I had groups to hang out with and we were all staying the exact amount of time. This was the three British girls-Jo, Katie and Kirran and the three Montana boys-Jonathon, Dan & Jackson. We came on the same boat and in the end left on the same boat. Then there was Katie & Sam from Britain and Stephan from Germany. We met because one day I happened to take a swim in the pool and they were having a hard time doing that squeeze thing with your hands that makes a stream of water shoot out of your clasped hands. (don't ask). Then there was Ingrid and Louise both from the UK. We met on our walk over to the village. We bonded over pigs, taking pictures of little kids, snorkeling, and generally making fun of other people. I also met Josina from Australia on that same walk. She and I would dive one of our best dives together where we saw a white tipped reef shark and a giant moray eel. I met Alina from Minnesota because I had walked into the office and over heard she was American. She was later influential in my decision to go to the Rugby game and in the end would be my travel partner on the plane back to the States. As happenstance as these meetings may be depending on whether I made a decision to go here or there, I can't help but think that in the end they are not so much random. I was to stay at Octopus Resort five nights and out of all the people I became close to not a single one of them was staying any longer than I was. To stay any longer would have overstayed the experience, to leave on the downward spiral and not on top. This was influential in my decision to come home when I did. It was a wonderful way to end-knowing that it was time to go. Maybe I am just sentimental but it was as if we were all meant to gather at this place at this time. And knowing that some of us not only were leaving at the same time but on the same plane made it easier to leave. Some decisions as it were are obviously made for you.

All things said, it wouldn't be proper to end this trip with out mentioning one more thing. That is the single handed act that started the chain of events that led to my adventures in both the South Pacific and many other wonderful places. It started on a cool spring day in 2001 when I walked into an REI in Oakbrook, IL with my friend Kate and purchased my Gregory backpack. For nearly nine years that pack has taken me to far off places and it is the single greatest reason why I am able to travel in the manor that I do. I spent $300 dollars on this purchase but what it has afforded me is without price. God had I only known back then the places "Gregory" would take me and the perspective I would gain. However, no matter how many people I would meet along the way, in the end it always came down to my pack and me.

What if I hadn't walked into the REI store that day? Doesn't matter. I did. And my life is rich for it. Where it will take me again is unknown, but it most certainly will. Life has a way of working that out and all you have to do is make the decision to start the chain of events.

Whether you are aware of it or not.

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.

Fiji to a Tee

I knew Fiji would be great. I knew it from the moment I stepped off the plane, felt that first rush of humid tropical air, and heard the Fiji welcome band play as I stepped through customs. It had to be good. Fiji would be what it is, and that excepting attitude comes only from the tediousness of traveling. It is a state of mind that comes with the most practiced traveler. Fiji for me was an unplanned add-on so there would be no subtracting from my experience. The fact that I found myself standing in the Nadi Airport in Fiji was already a plus. That is until I stepped onto the Smugglers Cove Golf course.

Don't get me wrong. The fact that I played a game of golf next to the ocean in Fiji is not a negative at all. In fact, I rather enjoyed my little adventure. But quite honestly..it was probably the worse golf course I have ever seen. But that is Fiji for you. It's is a place where the people make the best of what they have right down to their ritual "Bula!" (hello in Fijian). It was free through the resort hostel I was staying at in Nadi and I had a day to kill before I was to be picked up to go to Maya Island to spend my last days at a resort. So why not? And besides, I got to walk down the beach with my golf clubs to get to the course. I don't think I have ever done that before.

When I was younger my father taught me everything I know about golf. He isn't the greatest of players (neither am I), but one thing he did teach me is that golf is a game that shouldn't be taken too seriously and its the togetherness of playing it that counts. After experiencing Smugglers Cove Golf Course he couldn't be more right.

Smugglers Cove Golf Course was home to some pro Fijian golfer (who's name escapes me) so... it couldn't be that bad?

Right?

My first clue should have been the fact that it was included with my stay. All I had to do was rent some clubs from the hostel and I was on my way.

The second clue should have been the fact that they didn't take reservations for tee times.

The third should have been the fact that when I showed up at the "club house" (which by the way was nothing more than a garage with a pool table) it had looked as though tumble weeds had moved in. I had the entire golf course to myself with the exception of a lone Fiji man who was sat cross- legged line fishing in the water hazard on hole #3.

But hey... I was going to play golf next to the ocean. I bought five balls and told myself that once I loose all five I am done. I set off toward a large tree that the lady in the club house pointed out was the beginning of the first hole. What lay before me was a comedy of errors.

The fairways were littered with dirt paths, and the greens were thick enough to mow. The tee boxes were marked with painted coconuts. On hole #2 I actually lost two balls no more than a few feet from edge of the tee-off boxes because the rough was so thick it swallowed anything that dared to enter it. After helplessly searching for twenty minutes on completion of hole #3, I surpassed hole #4 because the course was so haphazardly laid out I couldn't even find it-even with the map. One time I played the green for hole #7 thinking it was the green for hole #6. I literally got my foot stuck in the mud while walking down one of the fairways. Hole #7's tee box was lovingly decorated with an old rusting refrigerator laying on its side. It was quite beautiful. And holes #8 & #9 I had the added bonus of dodging low flying aircraft as they were taking off and landing at the Nadi Airport. My favorite Hole was #11 when upon finally discovering where it was located (nowhere near hole #10), I was pleased to discover a lovely Fijian threesome (who had nothing to do with golf-mind you ) that had decided to enjoy this great land of theirs and have a blanket picnic directly on the tee box. When I approached they were not only startled to see another human being, but annoyed at the fact that I had interrupted their tranquil setting. They watched me tee off as if they had never seen a man hit a ball with a stick before. My fifth ball landed in the ocean on that drive and I decided to call it a game.

The Lady at the club house was all smiles upon my return. "How was your game"?

"Great!". I lied.

But can you blame me? She was so happy and proud that I was just there. I did play golf near the ocean.

That evening (after an amazing sunset) my hotel had a traditional Fiji fire dance show. In the course of dancing afterward I met a couple of Fijian women. They invited me into their circle and we spent the rest of the night talking and laughing over many bottles of Fijian beer. They were amazingly honest about everything. They told me all about the recent military coup that ceased the government and how the Fijian dollar just lost 20% percent of its value. And how boring it was living there sometimes. But they were happy and proud to share what it was to be Fijian with me. It struck me. Fijian's may not have many fancy things that our first world society affords us-things like a stable government or a decent golf course. But they do have something which is far more valuable. State of mind. Like my recent attitude toward arriving in this country they are aware that they have what they have and that makes them happy. Anything more is just a plus.

We closed the bar down and continued to laugh and drink into the night.

I knew I was going to love this place.