Fiji on Film: A Series of Photo Essays
Known for its country-branded bottled water, idyllic weather, and scenic beaches, the Fiji Islands are a destination I never fathomed I would travel to. “Yet truly transformational experiences require more than just showing up with a suitcase,” writes Terry (2020) for National Geographic. A combination of energy, effort, and commitment form a traveler’s luggage to best prepare (while often facing shortcomings) for the adventure ahead.
But this past summer, I embarked on a six-week experience in the country’s largest island of Viti Levu. For almost five weeks, I immersed myself in the iTaukei (Indigenous Fijian) communities in Waisava and Vunimaqo. This trip was sponsored by the Laidlaw Foundation’s Undergraduate Research and Leadership Scholarship Programme at the University of Toronto. The Laidlaw Foundation’s partnership with Think Pacific facilitated this opportunity.
Travel often connotes tourism. But through my trip to Fiji, I tasted, delighted, and often winced when grasping my thoughts on how travel differs from tourism. From coastal resorts to highland villages, my mind encountered foreign culture in a profoundly experiential and community-driven way. Experiencing Fiji resulted in nearly limitless reflection time — about personal traits, people around me, places I visited. In these photo essays, I capture my once-fleeting-now-memorialized moments of life in Fiji and, through my commentary, draw parallels and contrasts between travel and tourism.
Regarding photography itself, unless noted that the picture was taken using a disposable film camera (either mine or someone else’s), most shots were captured using my iPhone 13’s digital camera. Another disclaimer pertains to how this compilation of photographs fails to convey the entirety of my experience, or even the entirety of my gallery. It’s merely an attempt to portray some of my learning and experiences from a window of time in that place and community.
(July 9) I’m currently about to land in Fiji. I don’t know how to feel. Currently, mostly tired, worried about making through customs and purchasing a SIM card on time. […] The darkness outside the plane window is overwhelming. But in an exciting way. I only see occasional small clusters of shining lights. Already suggests a different community-living layout. Suggests a different landscape layout too. It leaves me to imagine what the darkness currently conceals. […] This moment seems unfathomed a few months ago. A fuzzy date in July. But now it’s happening. And I feel calm. Enveloped by the darkness outside. Comforted even.
The static Fiji Airways announcement from the airplane’s captain plays through the intercom system, “Bula, and welcome to our home. It’s now eight minutes before 6 AM. And as we’ve crossed the International Date Line, it’s now Sunday, July 9th. Vinaka vakalevu (thank you so much), and welcome to our home.”
Lining up for customs in Nadi Airport, however, unarmed all my anxieties. Three Fijian men, wearing colorful bula shirts and matching sulus, greeted us with their guitar strumming and harmonious singing. Leave it to Fiji to guarantee a seamless and unintimidating airport experience.
Beach Resorts & Coastal Sightseeing
Smugglers Cove Beach Resort, Nadi
After going through customs, I meet with another Laidlaw Scholar at the Nadi airport. Together, we exchange some cash for Fijian dollars and, together, hope into the back seat of a taxicab. I notice that the Fijian driver sits behind the wheel on the left side of the vehicle, just like in the UK but unlike Canada.
We arrive at the resort, and we chat with the receptionist while we wait for our room check-in. She generously welcomes our questions and enthusiastically responds to them with small insights into Fijian culture. One insight included the Fijian alphabet lacking the letters H, X, and Z. Another insight explained how in Fiji, the flower behind a woman’s right ear means she’s single. But behind her left ear, just like a ring in her left hand, it means that she’s in a relationship.
“Do you ladies have any more questions?” The receptionist asks.
I stare at the floor, gathering my thoughts. “What’s your favorite thing about Fiji?”
The receptionist ponders my question while also staring at the floor. Before replying, she offers a coy smile. “The village, to be honest,” she says. “And the people.”
Unfortuantely, the picture I took of Joana, with her beaming smile standing next to a decorative hay shack at her reception desk, is a black blur. She was my first shot ever using a disposable camera. My only attempt leaves only the memory of a conversation, and my anticipation as a preamble into what travelling into the Fijian village will really look like.
But before heading to the villages of Vunimaqo and Waisava in the northern province of Ra, our Laidlaw group traveled around Viti Levu’s southern coast. Our sightseeing featured different spots and resorts, unearthing different insights and reflections into the contrast between tourism and travel.
Maui Bay, Korolevu
(July 10) “Today we met all the other Scholars and drove to another resort. The saltwater smell, gentle warm yet refreshing breeze, the calm buzz in our bus as we appreciated the weather, views, soundtrack. The rest stop was so quaint. Covered with Bible verses. Felt at home somehow. Also, the view from Maui Bay was absolutely stunning. Stepping onto that boardwalk felt magical. Fiji is truly stunning, and I wonder if the color of their flag reflects its waters.”
Stepping into this dock was absolutely breathtaking. As cliché as it sounds, I felt transported into a paradise. I couldn't believe what I saw in front of me. But at the same time, it was fleeting. Enjoyable, epic, ephemeral.
As we walked back from the dock and into the land, Fijian street merchants were selling different trinkets and souvenirs. From the French ‘souvenir’ (or ‘to remember’ in English), these place-specific memorabilia aim to capture the essence of a place as a travel memento. It’s supposed to be something a traveler or tourist brings back with them from their trip.
These trinkets varied from accessories (such as hats, rings, bracelets, and necklaces) to seashell-covered boxes, miniature Fijian musical instruments (which I didn’t know at the time but would later learn about, like the tabua [pronounced tam-bua]), and photo frames with the text ‘I’m on Fiji time; no worry, no hurry.” *
* Fiji time is a culturally specific and significant concept I came to learn through my nearly five-week stay in Vunimaqo and Waisava.
I refrained from purchasing any souvenirs at Maui Bay. Later, in Suva, for both our entry and exit visits prior and after the stay in the village, respectively, I would coin a punny rename for these as ‘Suva-neirs.’ But with being in Fiji for over a day, I had no tangible item I desired to bring back home with me. Yet. My mindset, instead, was to capture as many videos and pictures as I could to remember how I experience this place with all its richness of sound, smell, and feelings. Even if some of these aspects cannot be captured, it still allows me to reflect on what my thoughts focused on, both in the present time and retrospection after my return.
Uprising Beach Resort — Pacific Harbour
(July 10) “It’s surprising to see our Laidlaw group is very diverse, from alumni to current Scholars. We’re also very diverse with our backgrounds and programs too. We’re really coming at it from different approaches and experiences.”
The following day (July 11), I added another entry to my travel journal.
“Yesterday too, it was funny how people were complaining there was nothing to do because the weather was cloudy and windy and rainy. Compared to the day before, it was less enticing to go to the beach. But then, playing cards and sitting around just talking, it was the best way to get to know each other. Sometimes the weather can dictate the best activity, or most appropriate, even in the tropics.”
When I tell people I went to the Fiji Islands for the summer, they often ask me about all the beaches I visited. My response? “I went to a few, but I stayed in a rural Indigenous community located in the highlands.” Fiji, for me, featured its paradise-like beaches, bathed in the Pacific Ocean’s splendid waters and golden sunsets. But I also like to contrast my visit with how, towards the end of our group’s stay in the settlements of Vunimaqo and Waisava, we visited Namuiamada Beach. It was a 20-minute drive away, yet none of the villagers had ever been.
We were all surprised to learn that as we spent our final weekend together with our Fijian host families. We played volleyball by the seashore, shared homemade meals with our Fijian parents, and nagged at our Fijian siblings to return the piles of starfish they burrowed out of the sand from the low tide. But when I think back to that memory, it also presents itself as a clear contrast between travel and tourism. Both require financial resources. From our stay in Vunimaqo and Waisava, we learned that most families struggle to afford the carrier’s fare to go to Rakiraki — the nearest town — or even to send their children to school. Owning a car is a luxury, and affording for its gas and maintenance also comes with a cost. On a more direct implication from this incident, the choice for tourism, rooted in its etymology for ‘tour,’ implying a circular meandering (Source, Year) is also a luxury. After all, it’s something done for its own sake rather than a means for an end. But this reality shows an underlying reality throughout my photo essay: It’s a monetary privilege to engage in tourism and travel, regardless of their nuances, and all its questions and commentary stem from this financial benefit.
Arts Village — Pacific Harbour
(July 11) “After morning, we went to a little plaza-like shopping mall. We saw lily pads and they were so beautiful, just neatly and still floating on the water. We got to see an Indigenous fort-like structure. Although the one we saw seems to have been built for touristic display, it was cool to learn how it’s a defence or protective village design/layout. We also learned that place is also where worship for different gods happens.
Milli and Henry (Fijian Think Pacific leaders) come from different villages and families, so they have different ties to different gods. So at the top of the fort area, back then, human offerings satisfied the gods. When the chief dies, two people were sacrificed. And Milli and Henry also said that the villagers have secret paths to access the forts. […] They shared how it [Arts Village] seems to be performative for tourists. That’s what tourists expect to see.”
One of my cousins, who works in the tourism industry, always noted the difference between tourism and travel. My mind only grasped it more fully when I encountered its dichotomy through both a linguistic and historical analysis. Mingazova (2019, p. 182) writes,
“Relying on the etymological origin of “travel” from “travail” (“labour”), travel writers argued that travelling well is a task that requires effort and courage. Travel writers became nostalgic about older modes of transport, associating its modern modes with “mere” tourists. They held that tourists could not properly experience place because they travelled to and through their destinations too fast. While travellers sought to gain in-depth knowledge of places, of the land, tourists looked at the landscape and remained on the surface.”
The last sentence from Mingazova’s quote really resonated with me. My experience in Fiji revealed how cultural immersion, exchange, and learning requires my constant effort. Effort that translates as ‘work.’ Work that signifies venturing into the often-messy depths of culture. Messy because they force us out of our familiar caged ways, and this messiness means entering unseen beauty from the unknown now becoming known. Tourism nourishes the soul in its entertaining and enjoyable novelty. But travel is simultaneously discouraging and rewarding. Travel means meeting locals where they are at, and allowing yourself to meet yourself differently through that refreshing encounter.
Downtown Suva
(July 14) “Then we headed to Suva. We drove there, talking and enjoying the views. Saw a few Catholic churches along the way. It felt like a part of home.”
When in Suva, I learned more about Fiji through clothing items.
(July 14) “At the store today [in Suva, called Jack’s of Fiji], I almost got a Fiji sulu. But ended up getting the yellow one with the typical Mass print [meke] instead. Henry said that the coat of arms has staple crops, Holy Spirit symbolizing peace, and British colonialism.”
Through clothing, I learned a lot about Fijian cultures values.My takeaways are featured further below, detailed within a dedicated photo essay series.
Suva presented me with other architecture. As a Catholic, I admired the city’s cathedral. Fiji, as predominantly Christian country, held this as a religious sight for the faithful. But for me, entering into this cathedral was a touristic attraction before any travel or religious desires. Because of our short window of time, I was in and out of the cathedral in minutes. The language barrier impeded me from understanding any parts of this familiar celebration. All I had time for was quick quiet prayer. Tourism, therefore, reminds us of the momentary nature of certain types of travel. It always seems to come back to Mingazova’s quote about how travel connotes work. Work requires effort, and effort demands energy in digging for cultural depth. Depth beyond what’s visible, depth to dare to be curious and ask questions we may never have thought of asking.
In Suva, I was also privileged to visit The Fiji Times offices.
My visit to The Fiji Times in Suva came to its full circle moment as we bid our goodbyes to Fiji’s capital city. It all began a month prior, in conversation with one of the Think Pacific project leaders.
(July 14) “[Henry] also said how his friend for the Fiji Sunday Times could give us […] pages to write about the time in the village. The possibility to write and publish in Fiji is incredible. If it does happen, I hope I can do the community and experience justice.”
All I did for this opportunity to reveal itself was share that I’m a writer, my enjoyment for narrative journalism, and my recent industry experience. I was thrilled to be invited for this opportunity, and my two-part article printed on Fiji’s national (or should I say archipelago-wide) newspaper was surreal. My immediate reaction when purchasing one of two final copies at the Bauzer (gas station) up Dreketi Road was joyful disbelief. I became the talk of the village. Soon, they knew me as the ‘writer’ in the village. Even the village headman read my article!
My choice to journal profusely during my almost five-week stay in Waisava and Vunimaqo sparked curiosity in the community. Choosing to record my thoughts, emotions, and experiences through paper served as content to craft my published article. But iTaukei tradition preserves culture through oral storytelling, and their preference for verbal communication challenged my dependence on writing. Through the process of crafting this article, I became much more appreciative of capturing conversation and soundscapes, and my communication skills deepened, with my focus shifting to the oral and translating life into multilingual words on a page.
I remember piling all my journals on the porch of my Fijian family’s home, profusely writing as my thoughts poured into the pages. Then, with another color pen, I would edit my writing. Through this process, lacking any sort of smart device with a digital keyboard, I learned to rely on old-fashioned analog handwriting with pen and paper. Until my friend lent me his iPad with a keyboard, and I could transcribe my draft into his Notes app. Overall, Fiji gifted me with the possibility to have my Na see pictures of her home views on the newspaper, and see her desire to frame it on their wall with printed family pictures around the television cabinet.
Sigatoka Town, Beaches, and Resort Stay
After our emotional departure from Vunimaqo and Waisava, and a brief detour in Suva, we stayed in another coastal resort in Sigatoka prior to departure from the Fiji Islands altogether. Below I’ve interwoven pictures (both from digital and disposable cameras) with journal entries portraying my headspace soon after leaving the Waisava and Vunimaqo communities.
(August 18) “The past few days have been so intense, leading up to our departure. I wonder if I made the most of it: with my family, with the villagers. I wonder if they konw how much it meant for them to life together in those four weeks. I wonder how deeply they felt and internalized our emotions. I wonder how deeply they experienced our time there. I wonder what the way forward is, for us and them. I wonder if they think about this.”
“[…] Being at the resort felt weird at first. I constantly feel I’m battling the guilt of departure, the privilege of having that be a fragment of my life, disconnected from the rest.”
The day we drove from Ra down to Sigatoka (pronounced Singa-toka) felt conflictingly strange. Here I was, leaving a wonderful community of native Fijians, whom I had shared life with for the past five weeks together. As we drove down the coast, I wondered if I would ever see my Fijian host family again. I imagined what their day-to-day life really looked like since, with us being there, everything revolved around us. It was never their normal.
I thought about how my Fijian father didn’t want to bid us goodbye because he didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.
I thought about how the days leading up to our departure were so intense: the final dinner, the group meke presentation, the farewell breakfast.
I thought about how our siblings and cousins cried with our departure, asking to be packed in our suitcases and hugging us tight.
I thought of how I would never watch the kids grow up, and their names would already begin to get fuzzy in my memories. But all of them, parents and children, they knew my name. But I never learned all of their names.
I thought about how we briefly had our paths crossed, and it was too fast.
But then, all I could think of was how guilty I felt for how, after five weeks of having bucket showers where my Fijian host family was kind enough to use their electricity to boil some water in their kettle for me to mix with the cold water in the bucket outside, I looked forward to washing my hair at the resort with hot water flowing from a high-pressure showerhead for the first time in five weeks.
After weeks of laying down thin mattresses in the living room and sleeping together, I had a queen-sized bed all to myself. No roommates, no siblings.
[TMI warning] After weeks of using an outdoor pit toilet every time I needed to (a few times waking up from my sleep, rushing down the kitchen steps through the backdoor at 3 AM, with my headtorch shining the frogs along the way on the grass, because of some unusually watery bowel movements), I had a flush toilet just a few steps away from my queen-sized bedroom.
After weeks of using a pocket mirror to apply my sunscreen and pluck my eyebrows, I finally had a full-length mirror in my room’s bathroom. My reflection stared back at me, and after weeks, I could see myself again. I felt weird. I felt different, and I was feeling guilty about reconciling the different versions of myself without any prior expectation or reckoning.
My mind tried to grasp why I felt weird. This weirdness stayed very close to my heart in the final days at the resort. I saw some of my other peers really enjoy the resort life. But I felt stuck in the memories I clung to in my mind.
“Have I done everything I can to cherish and remember these weeks? […] But these six weeks in Fiji have exposed me to new layers of privilege. Privilege in terms of both infrastructure and sanitation, but also introspection. Priorities and acitivities are vastly different and connected with culture and development, intrinsically. It also makes me wonder how privileged I am to desiring and attempting to reflect on this experience so profoundly. It’s a specific sort of privilege to be faced with the more internal frustrations about how to best reflect, internalize, and process the experience of being in Fiji for six weeks. […] It’s very privileged of me to come into this experience with reflective takeaways. It feels like a disconnected, fragmented part of my life. And the fact that it seems unconsequential to come into this space, interact so closely and intesely with people, to then just leave is also very privileged. I’m learning to find comfort in living with the new realizations of the privileges I was blinded to. I’m figuring out how I feel, and it comes and goes in waves.”
Sigatoka National Dune Park — Sigatoka
Our main tourist attraction during our Sigatoka stay featured the location’s National Dune Park.
(August 18, continued) “We went to the sand dunes today. It was the first excursion we had that I was actually excited for and enjoying looking forward to. It’s cool to get to see more of Viti Levu before I depart. It’s what Anna said, ‘Processing everything and also having fun.’ It’s about letting yourself feel whatever bubbles over at different times throughout the days, weeks, even months to follow. It’s about processing how to navigate the dynamics of still maintaining connection with a few people form the village.”
Hiking around Singatoka’s National Dune Park surprised me with its breathtaking landscapes. Seeing more of Fiji’s natural beauty, especially without prior knowledge about the existence of dunes in Fiji, was stunning. Dripping in sweat, we trudged for hours and hours under intense sunlight, from bushy vegetation to sandy slopes. But it was totally worth it. Although I was grieving my simultaneously long and short-lived experience in the Indigenous community, delighting in those views uplifted my spirits. Although it was a tourist space, it felt like a hidden heaven within my current headspace.
Mingazova’s astute observation about how travel connotes labor makes me further reflect on how it’s both emotional and physical labor. Physical, in this context, pertained to the intense movement for hours as we hiked up hills and dunes to appreciate the views. But emotional, also in this context, involved sifting through the storm of thoughts turmoiling in my mind.
(August 18, even more continued) “In other news, today I called Na Una. She said Ta [Rupeni] was going through my album and cried. She also liked the flowers from my grandma’s garden. She liked seeing such different places in the pictures. I teared up multiple times in call. When she said that it was silent after we left. That they miss us. That I should call when we leave for Nadi and before I leave to go back to Toronto. I have a Fijian family now. How crazy is that. I had the host home and family experience. It makes me glad to have been brave to call them, even if it made me sad (in a good way) to have miss them.”
Calling my Na was emotional labor I chose to complete after our day trip to the Sigatoka Dunes. My Ta, on our farewell day from the settlement, had slipped away before we woke up to go to the farm. When we asked Na where he was, she said he didn’t want us to see him cry. They all sat in the living room. The living room temporarily became our sleeping space during our stay there. They still had the mattresses out, and my Na had told me that when we left, she cried as she cleaned our temporary closet space (our Fijian siblings shared bedroom).
(August 18, further continued) “I look forward to seeing my writing unfold for me. And how I’ll figure out how to best go about it. ”
Creating these photo essay series helped convey slices of my time in Fiji. An autoethnographic approach is limited to my perspective, but also open to the (hopefully) richness of my introspection.
Thanks for reading until the end.
References
Mingazova, E. (2019). Slow travel writing: Anik See’s Saudade: the possibilities of place. Studies in Travel Writing, 23(2), 175–187. https://doi.org/10.1080/13645145.2019.1698844
Terry, R. (2020). Travel is said to increase cultural understanding. Does it? National Geographic. Retrieved from https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/does-travel-really-lead-to-empathy
Torroba Hennigen, M. S. (2023). Personal Gallery, Digital and Disposable Camera — Fiji 2023.
