Globe Corner Blogs

The freezing weather of New England this October has led my mind to stray to better days and warmer climes.  About this time three years ago, I was fortunate enough to find myself lying on a deserted tropical beach, befriending locals, and running around without electricity or running fresh water.

What drew me to Fiji was, of course, the tropical weather, white sand beaches, and palm trees, but what really interested me was the culture.  Fiji is a country comprised of hundreds of small islands, some of the more remote of which house tribal populations.  The last reported case of cannibalism, historically a tradition among some of the Fijian peoples, was in 1994.

You can buy touristy versions of ‘cannibal forks,’ a four or five pronged object that looks very little like our traditional fork.  The prongs are arranged in a circle and point outward like a funny crown on a stick – the design, I suppose, is a result of perfecting the best instrument to glean human flesh from bone.  Cannibal forks were something that I sought out and brought back en masse for friends and family.  I can officially say that it is a curio unique to Fiji, and that you’d be hard pressed to find one in your local World Market. In the souvenir department, Fiji does not disappoint.

At the airport we were abducted by a friendly travel agent, who helped us arrange our travels.  She gave us Fiji water, shell necklaces, and boat tickets to the Manamuca islands.  Our first stop was with her brother’s family at his resort called Seaspray.  We ended up staying there for several days – it was the most rustic island that we could reasonably get to in the chain, and also the furthest away from the big island of all of our stops.  We took daily snorkeling trips to the nearby reef and hiked over the palm tree-filled sand dunes to the fancy resort on the other side of the island. There we used the Internet, got piña coladas, and went scuba diving (for my birthday). We also explored the mangrove forests at night with lanterns while the tide was low.

My friend Bill was the cook and the son of the owner of Seaspray.  He showed us around the island and took us into the forest at night.  He was quite the cultural experience himself – he caught a baby shark with his bare hands and ran around with a machete to chop down coconuts for our meals.  No one wore shoes (including me) – you didn’t need to, it was paradise.  I was able to attend a Catholic church service, which I’m pretty sure is different from Western Catholic church services, in that we sat on the floor in a wooden slatted hut wearing sarongs and chanted in Fijian (well, I just sat there, really) toward an altar of tropical flowers.  I had no idea what was going on, but it was certainly a spiritual experience.

Another character at Seaspray was Queen, the transvestite house cleaner, who was, in a word, fabulous.  There were a surprising number of transvestites on this particular island, working in the tourism industry, and they put on a dance/play every other night for people staying in the smaller resorts along the beach.  We got there through the trees with lanterns when the sun went down, avoiding the crabs scuttling between our feet, as though they also wanted to see the transvestite plays.

While I did not see any cannibals, what I did see was a very unique, varied, and conflicted little piece of paradise.

Read more: Beach Travel, Fiji, South Pacific, Travel


Meghan went around the world in 2006, and is dying to do it again. Meghan loves all things ocean and enjoys scuba diving in exotic locales.

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