August 8, 2012
Written by Kirsty Barnby
We turn right under the mango tree and bump our way slowly past the corrugated shed, known as the virgin coconut factory, along a tiny track until we reach the end.
The verges are lush, green manicured grass beyond which the undergrowth is having some kind of party far into the forest. Pebbles are laid in a circle around the base of a tree into which sand has been poured to make something of an attraction.
Puss cat comes to welcome us as our truck grinds to a halt next to the beach and in front of our little lodge, Adi and Fabine then emerge to welcome us.
Mengi, our taxi man, is related to Adi so we all have a bit of a chin-wag -catch-up before he heads all the way back past coconut plantation to cosmopolitan island life of Naqara and Matei.
I’m laying on the beach. Self declared, the best in Fiji. It is a full ten metres wide and lays quietly in front of our blue, flower-lined lodge. Volcanic boulders frame the soft white sand while the incredibly crystal clear water laps at such an incredibly slow pace its almost unbelievable – if life were any slower we’re drift backwards!
Here it is, the quietest, too-pretty-to-imagine place on earth. My favourite I think. The water is as warm as a bath, my body magnified under the shimmering surface. It’s this calm – I can see my reflection, water droplets on forehead an’ all.