Our porter, an enormous man wearing a traditional sulu, pointed to the right and said “your room is that direction”. We headed off at our normal, harried, city pace and rounded two corners before we realized we’d left him, and our bags, in the dust. Not knowing where our room was, we backtracked to find him sauntering down the path with a smile on his face that indicated he was familiar with westerners needing to take a bit to adapt to the (very) slow pace of Fijian life.
Frazzled? Yes, we were. Continue reading
