Fabulous Fiji...But First...Getting there is Half the Fun?

This trip grew like topsy.  It started out as a brief jaunt to see Justin in LA and to attend a family wedding.  Then we added a visit to friends who moved to Ensenada.  Then, (why not) we added Fiji.  So...we are off again.

 First Stop:  Ensenada

Our good friends Wes and Ron traded one piece of paradise for another by moving from Lake Chapala to Ensenada and they were anxious to show us their new digs.  So we started our trip by flying into Tijuana.  All was smooth until we landed and 4 Guardia National blokes entered the plane, stared with laser intensity at the plane's denizens and then left.  No explanation was given.  Then we deplaned...very, very slowly. Ten at a time.  Why?  Why?  Because at the foot of the stairs our same Guardia National blokes were detaining every man under 50 and rigorously searching them and their luggage.  Why? Why?  You never get an explanation in Mexico so you just shrug, be glad it isn't you and move on.  

We were told it was a simple luxury bus ride from Tijuana to Ensenada.  After much dialogue in my broken Spanish we hopped in a cab and drove (and drove) to the ABC bus station in downtown Tijuana.  Only to discover that we were at the wrong station and that there was a station RIGHT AT the airport.  Due to my ability to look truly pathetic and confused the station master took pity on us and we boarded a bus which did, indeed, get us to Ensenada.  This part of our journey was emblematic of the travel obstacles we would encounter as we moved forward on the trip.

Ensenada is an attractive city of approximately 350,000 people right on the  Pacific Ocean.  It is booming for a number of reasons but the most interesting one has to do with water.  Ensenada is about to bring online a desalinization plant.  This increased capability for providing fresh water will allow the city to double in size without suffering from the type of water scarcity that most of the West Coast is and will endure. So, if Ensenada can do it, why can't San Diego?  Or LA?  What does California need more -- a proposed train linking several cities which never seems to get built and only increases exponentially in cost or water?  I leave you to ponder that one.

Wes and Ron's new house is jaw dropping.  It is perched above the Ocean with amazing views in all directions. For obscure, Mexican reasons the house stood, almost finished but unoccupied, for fourteen years before Wes and Ron found it.  With all the infrastructure in place (plumbing, electrical etc.) the guys saw an opportunity to make it their own without having to build from the foundation up.  And the results are impressive as Michael's photos will show.

We spent three days with them touring their area (Bufadora), venturing into the Guadalupe Wine Country (marvelous lunch at a vineyard) and catching up on events since their move.  They dropped us at the ABC bus station one morning and off we went on yet another leg of the journey.

Bluefin tuna pen aquaculture visible from their patio.

Wes lounging on their patio...

and more of the patio & house. The exterior walls have not been painted yet.

Going to the blowhole in La Bufadora, you must run the gauntlet of shops & souvenir stands.

It is well worth it though to see the blowhole in action.

The view of the coastal rocks and the Pacific was equally magnificent.

This and the dish below were not only very tasty, but were also works of art in their presentation at the restaurant in the Guadalupe Valley (Malva).

Cars, Buses, Taxis, Feet, Trams and Trains

We started our next trek in Wes and Ron's car to go to the ABC bus station.  Two hours on the bus and we were at the airport.  While you can walk across the CBX land bridge to the U.S. if you have just flown in that day, if you've been in Mexico more than 24 hours you are out of luck.  So, into a cab we went for a drive to where you cross the border by foot.  We have Global Entry (worth its weight in gold) so we could jump all the lines and were over the border within a half an hour.  Right over the border we picked up the San Diego tram ($2.50 each) and rode it to the end of the line -- which was right in front of the Santa Fe Depot train station.  From there onto the Surfliner Train (beautiful ride along the coast) to Union Station in LA.  Justin, elder son, met us at the station and via car we arrived at his condo in Studio City.  Voila!  Mind you, this was carrying all the luggage we would need for our three week trip.  A tad exhausting.

Finally Fiji

After a few days catching up with Justin and eating our way through LA we were off to Fiji -- a mere 10 1/2 hour flight. What is worse than a 10+ hour flight?  A 10+ hour flight in the middle seat next to The Terror from Tonga.   Pacific Islanders are very large people -- very, very large in many cases.  Now, I am not into body shaming unless that body has draped itself over its seat and well into my seat. Such was the case with the Terror.  But it wasn't just body overlap.  She had managed to bring onto the plane a vast assortment of things that clearly exceeded any airline limit. Some were strewn under the seat in front of her (OK), some were strewn under the seat in front of me (not OK) some on the floor between us (where IS that flight attendant who loves to chastise errant passengers?) and then she sheds her shoes and heaps them on top of everything on the floor. I stare in mute horror as I contemplate my life for the next 10+ hours. And then the wrestling begins. It is well known that the person unfortunate enough to be in the middle seat gets the arm rest.  It just is a given.  Not with the Terror. A quick elbow jab on her part renders my elbow and upper arm numb as she quickly seizes the advantage and dislodges me.  I tried to fight back...I really did.  About two hours and one sleeping pill into the flight I just gave up, crumpled myself into a defensive fetal position and hoped that she would have miraculously disappeared when I awakened.  Didn't happen.

Our driver met us at the airport at 5:45 AM Someday.  I started just using Someday as a generic day because I find crossing the international date line so confusing that it is just too much trouble to hone in on what actual day it is.  The date is kind of important but honestly, when you're on vacation, does knowing the day of the week justify torturing your brain with specifics?  No.  As we drove through the Fijian countryside we began to notice certain things. "Look how the mountains look like our mountains at home. I guess it's because it's volcanic like our area,"  I said.  A minute later. "Hey, all these plants look just like ours... really, all of them," said Michael.  "And the houses, lots of concrete with rebar sticking out of not yet existing second stories," I added.  Silence. "Did we just fly 8.000+ miles to land somewhere that looks like where we just came from....Looks that way." But we would soon find out that Fiji differed from our adopted home in many significant ways.

The British have a term for the type of vacation we signed up for.  They call it "the fly and flop" in that you fly to some beachy spot, flop by the pool or ocean and call it a day.  Our resort certainly fit the bill for that description.  It was: a) beautiful -- it had 7 vast pools and raked sand beaches; b) totally self contained (a little inhibiting) and c) mindless -- they thought of everything-- and charged you for it.  In summary, it is nothing like the trips we usually take but it pays to mix things up a bit.  We took the trip because it was so staggeringly inexpensive (Fiji WANTS post covid business) that I just couldn't resist.

We can only lounge poolside for so long -- Deirdre for 4 hours, Michael for 35 minutes or until his first layer of skin crackles and falls off (40 minutes).  Thus, we needed to find some activities that were beyond the pool.  We took a trip on a large sailboat to a private island (not sure how I feel about that) which was really beautiful.  We snorkeled (medium to good) and kayaked (well, he paddled) and the water was magnificent.  Saw some baby black tipped reef sharks -- wondered where Mom and Dad were but nothing happened.  So, that was a good day all in all.

Harvesting the coconut. Later when we were in the Fijian village we learned not only how to husk the coconut but also how to crack the coconut based on the orientation of the face".

Sitting on our back patio we were entertained by this informal futbol game.

We were also entertained by this kite surfer one day.

One of the black tipped reef sharks we encountered...

and a close up showing the black tip on its dorsal fin.

The view from our private cabana...

and a picture of the Gate 1 travel group. We got special treatment by our guide on the boat and on the island as well.

Another Fijian Island onn on our way back to our island. The volcanic nature of the islands is evident from this picture.

The Fijians are trying to protect and expand their mangroves to protect the shoreline from erosion.

Back at the resort we encountered this ice cream eating contest designed by the staff of the resort to keep the children occupied.

Some ended up with as much ice cream on their face as in their stomach.

Another day we signed onto a longer adventure -- like 13 hours or so.  But only about 5 hours actually involved doing anything since we drove 4 hours in each direction.  That was fine though because we saw a lot of the interior of the island (well, kind of the fringe since the roads tend to hug the coast).  Once there, we boarded long boats to travel up river to the sight of an amazing waterfall. Shades of David Rockefeller in Papua New Guinea.  You all  know how that ended.  We had to disembark on a rather precarious landing and as our boat idled while the boat ahead of us unloaded I said to Michael, "By God, for once we are not the oldest people on an adventure."  Ahead of us was a couple definitely more decrepit than us.  I'm actually not sure if this adventure was a good idea for them since Jack (we all became fast friends) had to be piggybacked off the long boat. He is 87 and his wife is 75. I mean there comes a time.....

Anyway, it was about a half mile hike to the waterfall over somewhat slippery rocks and uneven terrain. Somehow Jack and his wife (they were celebrating their 50th anniversary) made it to the falls and with steadying hands from the group had a delightful wade in the water.  Michael's pictures should give you an idea.  Going back down river we experienced riding the bamboo rafts that are/were the principal mode of transportation for folks living around there.  The most challenging part of bamboo rafting is getting on the raft -- the rest is a piece of cake.

We gathered in this one village center to get our PFDs (personal flotation devices) aka life jackets prior to boarding the boats.

The long boats were narrow and designed for the rapids,....

which at one point forced us to leave the boat (except for one person) to walk around the rapids.

There were other rapids which we were able to just stay in the boat and enjoy the ride.

This fantastic waterfall was our ultimate destination,

which Deirdre enjoyed with its very cool water.

The force of the waves created by the waterfall made swimming up to the waterfall very difficult.

Jack, his wife & Nem at the waterfall pool.

There were other smaller waterfalls created as the water flowed to the river.

Nem commanding our bamboo raft.

The lush vegetation of the rain forest.

Back in the village we were greeted by this villager blowing on a conch shell...

this villager beating the log drum and

this Fijian warrior guarding the "lovo" (the original pit barbecue).

Opening up the lovo to put the cooked contents in the palm frond basket. We later had a demonstration of making a palm frond basket (in a matter of minutes), which was capable of supporting the weight of a 240 lb. man.

The village head's chair.

The ceiling was all hand painted using stencils on the mats, which are then attached to the ceiling.

We go to witness a kava (yaqona in Fijian) ceremony.

In the ceremony one of our lucky number had the opportunity to partake of the kava (most passed up this bitter brew).

Nem led the villagers in song...

and then the warriors performed a Fijian war dance, followed by the women singing a Fijian song which you can listen to by clicking on the link below.

This link will take you to a video recorded at Koromakalli Village: https://youtu.be/qJhhvMSduZU

Speaking of David Rockefeller

Returning to the Village we got the full dose of local culture education.  Fierce warriors dancing, women singing, kava drinking, basket weaving -- you get the idea.  Through it all, Nem, our guide kept making jokes and allusions to the "cannibals lurking around the corner" etc.  Michael and I discussed when back at the hotel the veracity of the cannibal stories.  Well, they weren't "stories".  Yep, another trip where we learn of prior cannibalism.  Now we have been to so many countries where this appears a common vice that we now categorize the motivation of the cannibals to help us bracket them in terms of our disdain and /or horror.  We are least critical of those who eat others because they are truly starving and it's the only solution; next come the ones who devour their enemies because they want to transfer the bravery and spirit of the enemy into their own souls; and least laudable those who munch out of sheer revenge.  Unfortunately, it turns out that the Fijians fell into bucket three.  Oh well. 

Our final trip out of the calm bosom of our resort was to the Garden of the Sleeping Giant.  The orchid garden was established in 1977 by Raymond Burr (Ironsides, Perry Mason) to house his own collection of orchids.  Since then, the collection has expanded and the entire Garden is filled with a wide range of tropical plants.  We were told that it is now owned by the Kroc (McDonald's) Foundation but I can't find anything to verify that. It would be an ounce of redemption for the Krocs after their unleashing fast food on the entire globe. The garden was great but the fruit punch they gave us was PHENOMENAL.  I have never, ever raved about fruit punch but....well, now I have.

Enjoy the views of the orchids in the garden, as well as the other flora.

As we wandered through the garden we ran into this "tree hugger"...

this frog by the pond...

and this fruit that even a native Fijian could not identify. A prize to any of our blog readers who can identify the name of the fruit.

Fijian Folk - BULA!

It is not fair to generalize about a people but I say it's OK if you say nice things...or offer disclaimers. First of all, no matter where you go or what the situation is someone in Fiji will be yelling BULA! at you.  This seems to mean hello, good day, goodby, I love you or anything else.  Caught unawares it can make you jump.  Except for the heartiness of their bulaing, the Fijians are very gentle and somewhat quiet people.  They are very tranquil and prefer it if you are also.  Nem, our guide, told us that the Fijians are so calm and slow moving that the British gave up trying to make them work the cotton fields and brought in Indians as indentured field workers.  The Fijians considered this a coup on their part.

Fijians speak English -- well, most do.  They are taught it in school.  It is a highly accented English (not British) and that, combined with their quiet voices, can result in some difficulty in communicating.  Another driver we had pointed out a school as we drove.  "Oh, that is the school for the Japanese students," he said.  "Oh, what are they here to study?" we asked.  "English", he replied. "Who teaches them?" Michael asked.  "Oh, we Fijians," he answered.  Michael and I looked at each other.  The concept of Fijians teaching highly accented English (it sounds Caribbean) to Japanese students seems fraught with problems.  I would love to hear a graduate.

Our open air lobby at the resort.

Back to L.A. and a Lovely Wedding

The flight back was SOOO much better.  I had a whole seat to myself and an empty middle seat!  It was almost like business class...or what it was like to fly 30 years ago...except you can't smoke now, or drink to excess, or have a decent meal.  But hey, it was much better.  We spent a couple of days with Justin in LA.  Lately, due to the spread of pestilence and improved serums, we have taken the opportunity to get vaccinations when visiting Justin.  Before Fiji we got the 5th (can you believe it?) Covid shot and a flu shot On the return we got the first (new, improved) shingles shot and Michael doubled up by getting the grown up TDAP shot.  Michael has virtually no reaction to these shots.  I go into immediate decline featuring immense fatigue, fever, chills and grumpiness which lasts between 24 and 36 hours.  Medical people tell me that it is my robust immune system responding emphatically to the invading whatevers.  I don't bother to ask why, if I have this amazing immune system, I have to have these stupid shots.  Just be quiet and settle down Deirdre.

So, upon my recovery we were off to San Diego for the wedding.  We had received news while in Fiji that the Surfliner train was having problems because a section of track had eroded.  Due to this we would train to Irvine, detrain and bus to Oceanside, retrain and continue on to San Diego. On top of this, while hauling our luggage to the bus we got stuck in an elevator (don't ask why we were on an elevator) which just made the trip more pleasurable.  But it was all worthwhile.  What a beautiful wedding.  The setting was a field overlooking the Pacific in La Jolla and the reception followed in a mansion in the same town. David and his bride Michelle were everything you'd want in a bride and groom and it gave us a chance to see most of Michael's family twice within 3 months.  It is quite amazing how much babies grow in three months-- just an aside.  So, the trip was complete.  With only minor travel struggles we made it back to Ajijic by mid October.  Just in time to gear up for Day of the Dead.  More on that later.....

The father escorts Michelle, the bride.

David reading his vows to Michelle...

and the "kiss" after the officiant pronounces them "man & wife".

The married couple leaving to attend the reception.

Our niece Carrie & her husband Devin playing at the reception as the guests entered.

The next day the two extended families gathered for a group photo. At this point the elders down below were slowly gathering for the photo.

Deirdre had never been to Old Town in San Diego so we took some time out and encountered these donkeys.

Showing their Mexican heritage, Old Town was already decorated for Dia de Los Muertos.

The Cosmopolitan has watched San Diego unfold around it for nearly 200 years. From a state-of-the-art adobe home built in 1827 by a young, revolutionary Don Juan Bandini to a modern two-story hotel, restaurant and stagecoach office in 1869 to an olive cannery in 1900 and a popular Mexican restaurant in the latter half of the 20th century, the Cosmopolitan has seen San Diego grow. Now, returned to its 1870s glory, it has a story to tell.