I woke up this morning feeling slightly off. I wasn’t sure if it was from all the food, wine and kava from last night, or the shear excitement of the most anticipated activity of our trip – the sand spit picnic. Through our research and our travel agent’s recommendation, it was clear that this was going to be the highlight of the trip. I open the bedroom shades to reveal a bright, sunny morning. Uh oh. I take a quick look in the mirror and much to my surprise, my sunburn is no more! I break out the SPF 50 and lather up before even brushing my teeth. I ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach and power on to breakfast.
I elect for a small meal knowing that lunch will be early today. We were given a rough departure time of 12:30 but our timeline will depend completely on the tide.
I order the breakfast platter for the second time this week along with what is now my signature morning ginger ale. I’m hoping it calms my stomach because with every passing moment, the possibility of projectile vomiting is becoming more and more real. I excuse myself to head back to the room and fetch my industrial size bottle of Tums. I never travel without them! I head back to the restaurant hoping that I can rally! We finish up breakfast and head back to the room. I take this time to check out the bedroom balcony for the first time and grab my iPad to continue reading “The Devil in the White City”, which chronicles the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago, intertwined with the story of America’s first serial killer, H.H. Holmes. Those of you who know me would find this to be an unusual read, as I do not like ANYTHING that is remotely scary, however, I wanted to push my comfort zone a bit and it seemed like a great way to learn about the history of Chicago. I had initially downloaded “A. Lincoln: A Biography”, a 600-page book that narrated the life of my boy, Abe, but opted for the wildcard read.
Note: While I did enjoy the historical aspects of “Devil in the White City”, the murderous side of it proved to be a little TOO FAR outside of my comfort zone and I have yet to finish it.
Two hours later we receive the call we’ve been waiting for! Time to head out to our own private oasis. The sand spit is a small sand bar in the middle of the ocean that is only above the water for a few hours a day when the tide goes out and is submerged the remainder of the day. You can “rent” the island for those few hours and the resort will arrange for you to be taken out by boat, dropped you off with lunch and come back to retrieve you before it’s underwater again.
We pack up our snorkel gear, life jackets and as many bottles of sunscreen as I can find and head off for what is sure to be the adventure of a lifetime. We are met in the restaurant by our captain who is carrying a cooler containing our lunch. As we walk towards the boat, Paul asks me whether or not I think the champagne is in there. You see, our entire vision for this outing revolved around a champagne picnic when we had made our lunch selection for this afternoon earlier in the week. Paul wants to confirm and when we open the cooler, nothing but two bottles of water. We know time is ticking, so we make a quick dash back to the restaurant to order their finest bottle of Veuve Clicquot. We pack it in a bucket full of ice and the bartender hands us two plastic cups. The look on Paul’s face is priceless. This picnic has the potential to be the best photo op we could ever ask for and Paul will obviously not be happy snapping pics of champagne in plastic cups. He kindly asks for glass and we’re told that due to their fragility they don’t want them on the sandbar. Luckily Jale was nearby and overhead the conversation. I have no idea what he said, as he was speaking Fijian, but I know we did leave with two proper champagne flutes.
With champagne and glasses in hand we bolt back to the boat and quickly hop on. I am bursting with excitement and curiosity as I wonder if this place is will be as amazing as the photos promise. Fifteen minutes later I have my answer – it’s even better!! Our small boat drifts into the shallow water surrounding this teeny tiny piece of paradise and our captain instructs Paul to jump out and “hold the boat so it doesn’t go anywhere” while he sets up two chairs and an umbrella. As he’s about to depart he hands us a small cell phone inside Ziploc bag and tells us to call if we need help. If he doesn’t hear from us he’ll see us in few hours. I can hardly keep the smile off of my face as I watched him disappear into the distance.
HOLY $#!t !! This insane!! I am literally jumping up and down with excitement. We are alone, standing in the middle of a tiny sandbar that is in the middle of the ocean and we could be wiped out by a rogue wave at any moment. Time to take a few pics, and by a few I mean a hundred. We MacGyver a makeshift tripod using the cooler and camera bag. What I forgot to mention is that when Paul was keeping the boat from drifting away, he stepped on a sharp piece of coral. It didn’t break the skin but stuck him hard enough to make limp around a little. With the camera resting on the mound of random objects, Paul presses the timer button and he slowly hobbles his way over to the beach chair where I’m sitting. He barely makes it before the camera goes off. The sight of this is nothing short of hilarious and I laugh out loud each time he does it as I tell him to hurry up. He does this about a dozen times before I volunteer, as both of my legs are in perfect working order. I press the button, sprint to my chair and smile big, capturing an awesome moment.
After we secure the perfect shot, I make a toast to the best of my life! “Wait,” Paul interjects, “Isn’t the best day of your life supposed to be the day we got married?” He brings up a good point. Most people think that your wedding day should in fact be the most memorable, excellent day of your life. I feel a little differently. While it was great, to me it was amazing for a different reason. It signified the moment that we picked each other to share and make all these amazing memories with for the rest of our lives. If your wedding day is the “best” day of your life, you’re essentially saying that it’s all downhill, that there will never be a day better than that one. For me, I know that the best is yet to come and I look forward to continuously topping the “best day(s)” of our lives and making new memories to share. I guess it could be argued that eventually you will have a moment in your life that will truly be impossible to top. I disagree with that - it’s all a matter of prospective. When I’m 82 years old and I’m surrounded by husband of 57 years, my children, my grandchildren, my great grandchildren and can have a mind healthy enough to remember all the memories that I’ve created with my family and friends up until that point, THAT will be the best day of my life.
Satisfied with that explanation, we clink glasses and seal our toast with a kiss. I want a picture of me out in the water so I venture out a bit with my champagne glass in hand. The water was shallow so I was only knee deep. I smile as Paul snaps away but as I make way back to our temporary island, I seem to repeatedly step on sharp shards of coral. Ouch! Damn! No wonder Paul was limping around! Karma. This is what I get for laughing. And lucky for me Paul captures it all with the camera.
Once back (Hallelujah!) we lay out our towels and open the cooler. We enjoy some spicy, shrimp fried rice and fresh fruit as we finish off our bottle. Our conversation turns to wondering how it is that they can drop you off in such a remote location with a bottle of alcohol and tell you to snorkel around. Doesn’t seem like the smartest idea and it begins to make sense why they selected Fiji as the location to film the Tom Hanks classic “Castaway”. I’m not interested in making the sequel and I’m sure we signed our lives over somewhere in the paperwork.
As I look around and take in my surroundings, I realize that this is the most relaxed, peaceful and grateful moment of my life. Reflecting on the week we’ve had so far, we are lucky to have had the opportunity to visit such a beautiful place and experience all that Fiji has offered us so far. These are memories that will last a lifetime.
With about an hour left, we decide to do a little snorkeling. The tide was strong as it was it coming back in, but we made our best effort to hang on to the coral below us. While it was pretty, the reef around the resort was much more impressive and abundant with life. As we come above the water, we see our little yellow water taxi arriving to return us to Royal Davui. Paul once again holds the boat steady as our captain packs up the umbrella and chairs. We make our short journey back and there's a permanent smile on my face. We arrive back to the island with another amazing memory and a new answer to the question “Where was the craziest place you ever…”
Once back in the room, I wonder what I’ve done in my life so far to make me deserving of this day. Karma. I am on Cloud 9! The big guy upstairs must want to keep my humble because what happens next is far from great…