Massage in Nadi Airport

Fijians are dark—much darker than I would have thought.  Their lovely, musical accent sounds similar to East Indians or Jamaicans. It must be the result of mixing a British accent with a native tongue—it’s perfectly literate, correct English, but just sounds like it’s their second language, even though most all of them have been speaking it since childhood.  Fortunately, having got accustomed to this type of accent by spending hours on the phone with various customer service centres (notice British spelling!) in Calcutta and Delhi, I had no problem understanding the charming Fijian lady at the “Island Massage” booth in the airport when she asked if I wanted a massage.  Strangely, I did.  

After a 11 hour flight from LAX (most of which I slept through, but in an economy aisle seat), a massage sounded almost better than a cup of coffee.  And since I knew I had time for both, I went for it.  Cost: $15 for 15 minutes, US$ or FJ$, your choice.  They were very happy about my paying in US$, because evidently, the US$ is still higher than their local dollar (as I learned later when buying a $5 cup of coffee with a slightly tattered Abe Lincoln note (I just love getting that guy’s picture out of my pocket) and receiving two Fijian $1 coins in change.  So that massage lady got a good bonus with me paying in US$ (and leaving a tip!) 

The shocker, however, was when she said to take off my shirt.  Now I have seen people getting massages in airports in Seattle, Phoenix, Chicago…but I have never seen anyone naked from the waist up getting their massage.  At first, I objected, and wanted to walk away, but I know she would have been much saddened by losing a customer (especially since it was 7am), and so, considering it an opportunity to practice humility and charity, I bared my slightly fat and very white (especially by Fijian standard, I’m sure) body to the massage lady and the few people who happened to be passing by.

 I got over it quickly, especially as the warm coconut oil soaked into my skin.  However, I quickly realized that all my older children are much more competent at massage than an airport masseuse.  I’m very blessed, but now a little worried…will I really have to pay them $1 per minute?  And will that be FJ$ (worth about 65¢ it seems), or will I have to pay in US$?  Or will they continue to do it for love?  It’s really dangerous telling your kids that they’re as good as a professional if it makes them get dollar signs in their eyes…

Landing in Nadi, Fiji

The airport at Nadi, Fiji, is not air-conditioned.  It’s a bit like Honolulu, but a little more foreign. Upon disembarking and entering the terminal, we (the 500+ passengers from LAX were greeted by a group of traditional (I assume) Fijian singers (four guys dressed in gray skirts and matching aloha shirts), playing ukeleles and guitars. That was a mixed blessing, since they really didn’t sing what one would call “pretty” music. It was, in fact, rather grating.  However, they did collect a few tips (not, however from me), and it made the time pass by while standing in the Transit/Transfer line to get back into the terminal for my continuing flight to Auckland. I feel that I have now experienced the slowest airport security people yet; the team in Fiji was far more lethargic than any TSA agent, or anyone in any South American airport. I wanted to buy them some coffee so they would move faster and get me to the front of the line, but I had to wait in line before I could get into the terminal where the coffee shops were.  My charitable idea was in a Catch 22.

Off to New Zealand

The first thing one notices about a 747 is how big it really is.  The airport was crowded.  I thought, “Wow, the airport is crowded for a Tuesday night at 10:00."  There were no seats in the small deli/bar on the South wing of the LAX International Terminal.  So I ate a cold turkey wrap standing up (not knowing what AirPacific would serve for “dinner." It was a good thing, too... ;)  There were no empty seats in the waiting area, and certainly no seats near an electrical outlet.  I thought, “Where are all these people going?”  

Well, it turned out that we were all going to Fiji.  A full 747 can hold over 500 passengers, and it was full.  But that’s okay with me.  Whenever I ride a full airplane, I think, “Good, this airline is making enough money to stay in business and keep fares low.”  Besides, AirPacific Los Angeles to Aukland was about half what Air New Zealand or Quantas would have cost, and a stop in Nadi, Fiji, sounded interesting.

Unfortunately, it’s hard for me to fly over the pacific without flashing on Tom Hanks in Castaway, and think, “This is a big plane…it holds over 500 people…that’s a lot of people to die all at once if this plane crashes.  Of course, I would be one of the survivors, having to float to some deserted island and then face all my personal demons alone while living in solitary confinement for a decade with only a face painted on a volleyball to talk to.  My only real worry?  Where am I going to get the volleyball?