Fiji

So. They have email in Fiji, too.

Anyway -- handing back the car in the states went without incident. Funny what a little spit and polish can do. At Nadi airport we were greeted by a band, singing traditional Fijian welcome tunes. Not bad for 5am. We managed to work our way through customs -- they're hot on stopping agricultural imports, and this apparently includes used tents. We swore we'd just washed ours (a small lie) and that we're only leaving it at the airport left luggage anyway (the truth), and they refrained from unpacking all our gear. Which was nice. Sarah had to bin her carefully managed stash of teabags, much to her annoyance.

We picked up the 'Yasawa Flyer' at the port of Denaru after a short bus transfer. The heat was sweltering, and the humidity akin to sitting in a shower. The sea air was better, even if the sun was still beating down. At least we had some heavy-duty sun-cream. The boat stopped at some of the little islets and resorts firstly up the Mamanucas chain and onwards up the Yasawas. The party people stepped off on the former. Our stop was the last, Oarsman's Bay on the island of Nacula, a sort of post-card paradise, with endless palm-fringed, white beaches lapped by a turquoise sea. As we waded ashore, we suddenly thought of the cold winter weather currently residing over England, nay make that most of Europe.

Oarsman's is an 'upper end low budget' resort, and it fitted our bill perfectly. It only holds about 30 people and people come and go every day. We had our own beach-front room, cooled by a fan and with running hot and cold water. Food was mostly OK, with all guests eating together, and we were thankfully freed of the burden of having to choose from a menu. We did four dives with Westside Watersports on a neighbouring island. They were great to dive with, but unfortunately much of the coral is dead in these areas. Why this is is a matter of debate. Some blame the rising sea temperatures due to global warming, and some blame the locals' propensity for fishing with sticks of dynamite. Probably a combination. We also did some snorkelling around our own island, where some reef sharks came out to play. One learns lessons on these outings. Your snorkelling guide wears a t-shirt for a reason. Even if it's overcast, the sun flays the backs of the unwary snorkeller.

The days at Oarman's blur into one, and after five nights we again board the Flyer bound for Beachcomber resort in the Mamanuca chain. The diving here is reputedly most excellent, and the dive operation is well respected. Sarah's a bit uneasy about Beachcomber's reputation as a 24-h party people place, but financially it's the most viable one for us. As we disembark, we realise that we have indeed stepped through a time-warp and ended up back at university Fresher's Week. Ah well. Our room's nice, and the food's even better. The party is there for those that want it. We've decided to do our Andvanced Open Water Diver qualification, as it's only five dives, and we'd do that anyway. Some theory work completes the university illusion.

The dive operation here, Subsurface, is excellently equipped, even if the atmosphere is a tad on the laddy side. The dive masters obviously appreciate the young, nubile single women that pass through. Every day. Perks of the job, I guess. For the AOWD you have to do 5 'adventure' dives, two of which are compulsory (Navigation and Deep). We also did a wreck dive, a 'naturalist' dive (look at all the fishies!) and -- Sarah's fave -- the Night Dive (more sharks. They're the ones with green eyes). Tomorrow we're doing the Supermarket, a shark appreciation dive, and some other pretty reef. Once our Nitro levels have receeded, we board a plane for Auckland, NZ.