SPEAK
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FIJIAN ADVENTURES
How I learned to stop worrying and love adventure
// ZACH GETZ
On the Yasawa Flyer, the boat that takes tourists to the distant islands, I meet a few Americans and other tourists and quick friendships are made. Studying abroad in Australia has already given me some amazing experiences, but I want to take my sense of adventure to the next level by island-hopping in Fiji.
No one knows what to expect, but we talk about lying in hammocks, watching picturesque sunsets and partying on the beach into the wee hours. But when we get to our island, my travel buddy and I are the only ones who get off.
To get to the island we need to jump into a leaky dinghy that feels like it might sink at any time. There's no dock, so we have to carry our heavy luggage above our heads and wade through the last 100 feet because the water is too shallow for boats.
a few hours, and I already feel stranded.
We are the only tourists in the village of about 100 people. Most of the villagers keep their distance as if they have never seen a white-skinned person before. Our accommodation is a small thatch hut 150 feet off the beach with no locking doors.
We are now trapped on Waya, a small island on the Yasawa Islands chain 100 miles off the coast of Fiji. The closest Internet terminal/hospital/messenger pigeon is on the mainland four hours away via the Yasawa Flyer, which comes once a day. I've been in this tropical wonderland for just
The island has no televisions, no phones and as far as I can tell, no publications. The school is 15 feet from where I'm to sleep and is composed of nothing more than scrap metal on wooden poles. It may be the most beautiful place I've ever seen,
Contributed photo
Getting away and letting go: Winter Zach Getz found himself on the other side of an uncomfortable situation on a remote tropical island near Fiji. He felt vulnerable and stranded as two men approached him but later came to realize the situation helped him learn to relax around new people.
with palm trees lining the beaches, crystal-clear sapphire water and mountains to our backs, but I cannot get out of my head how I'm in the middle of nowhere.
On our first night, we're sitting on a beach watching the tide slowly roll in on our feet while I dig my toes into the sand. Even the tide seems to be relaxed, but I am still nervous about our surroundings.
Two large men in their 20s approach us as the sun is setting and the island is starting to succumb to darkness. I start to panic. What do these men want? I think of my wallet — with more than 600 Fijian dollars in it — sitting in the hut. My camera; I can lose the camera if I can negotiate for the memory card. My passport, oh good lord please leave me my passport.
I'm very cautious and untrusting by nature especially when I'm in a strange place with no way to call for help. What's worse, my friend is the opposite and wants to talk to these strangers. I have visions of being strung up in the palm trees around me and my family not knowing what became of their oldest child. They know I'm in Fiji, but the only people who know where I am were on the boat that took me to Waya.
I think about possible escape routes, but I know there are none. Being the only two tourists in the village, who would come to our rescue? Is this the reason there are no other tourists? Were they all robbed, captured or killed?
The two men sit down and start to talk to us. They seem very curious about our lives as Americans. They're nice — way too nice for comfort. This just deepens my suspicion that they are looking for an easy target. Why are they gathering this info? What is their motive?
To my surprise, there is none. They genuinely want to know and learn about me and my life They are fascinated about American culture and even ask about Obama and the presidential election coming up in a month.
I never saw the men again after our encounter but I enjoyed the two hours we talked with them The experience allowed me to open up and be more trusting to locals on the trip. I was able to stop worrying about being in the middle of nowhere, and start enjoying being in the middle of nowhere.
It takes a lot for me to open up to someone especially someone I see as a possible threat While I'm still not completely trusting to others I don't know, I think back to my time on the islands when approached by strangers now and know I shouldn't judge on my perception alone. Jp
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