... and then goes to Fiji...

I reckon if I took a survey of most Americans, they would describe Fiji as a place of beautiful beaches, clear water, and perfect weather.  And it may be that... at the super-duper, gated, and completely Americanized resort hotels, which are undoubtedly secluded on some remote stretch of beach on the islands of this nation.  But the part that we saw was not the pictures in the brochure.

We landed in one of the two main towns, Nadi.  (Suva, the capital, is the other.)  The airport is sans air conditioning.  Remember, Fiji is a tropical island.  You get the picture... and probably the smell.  But we perservered through customs (which, curiously, prominently featured advertising for liquor and beer), and made our way to a taxi.

Ravin.  God bless Ravin.  Ravin was our taxi drive.  A native he was not; apparently he emigrated from India to Fiji.  But he knew the island.  And he was obviously on commission from several local restaurants, tour companies, and other businesses, because he kept passing up pamphlets and recommending places for our patronage.  Aside from being a hawker, though, he was a wealth of information and safely navigated us though the streets of and rural countryside surrounding Nadi.

Fiji starkly resembles a Third World country, although I don't like that term.  The island rakes in thousands of dollars through tourism, which makes you wonder why its economy is still a weak, developing one.  The rural roads were lined with shanties, barefoot children, and field after field of sugar cane.  Each of us felt a bit uneasy and awkward on the main street of the city, primarily because we were so obviously American tourists and not a member of the indigenous population. 

Our visit, thus, was a short one and not a glamorous one... but it certainly opened our eyes to the real Fiji and not the one the Travel Channel features.

-Chris