I had never been a fan of “island time”. This may sound a bit nuts, but the idea of lounging on beaches for hours, exotic cocktail in hand, used to sound miserable to me – I need to be moving, exploring, doing stuff. But somewhere in the Pacific between the coast of Nadi and one of several Yasawa Islands, I found myself falling for the lethargic schedule of Fiji’s island time – “bula time” to be precise. I ended up at the Denarau Marina in Nadi less than 24 hours after arriving in Fiji. I was waiting for a boat to bring me out to the Wanna Taki, a large sleeper catamaran that floats lazily off the Yasawa shores. And then the blur happened…
Beach Life
I call it a blur, because I don’t know exactly how else to describe it. bula time in Fiji rolls by you, simultaneously fast and slow. The days never seem to end until you wake up one day and realise that three have already passed. It’s like a time warp, messing with your perception, screwing with your sense of speed. Why haven’t other island lifestyles affected me like this? Why, when the Bahamas bore me in a few hours, could I blissfully allow my time to saunter by in Fiji? I have no idea. But I do know that it wasn’t the heat that calmed my jittery nature, or the rolling ocean, or even the kava. It just sort of happened. bula time took over. The days I spent onboard were a haze of activity, rest, and endless papaya and mango slices at the breakfast buffet. My memory of snorkling to shore to hike on the beach is balanced by hours of lying on the deck without even a book to occupy my time. The impact of a kayak excursion is softened by long nights sitting around a kava bowl and drinking, in turn, with the locals. When we were dropped off at Boitira Island three days later, I walked off the catamaran in a complete daze. I still cannot figure out how 72 hours can flash by so fast while unfolding at such an interminably slow pace. And I still have yet to get that feeling again.
