In the 20+ years that we’ve been together, I’ve joined Mr. Vacay on countless surf trips. I’m not a surfer, but I love warm weather, beaches, and tropical vacations. So why would I stay home?! Many of our trips have balanced surf & sun with land-locked cities, history, culture, gastronomy & art. But for Mr. Vacay’s 50th birthday, we went all-in on an all-inclusive bucket-list, surf-all-day getaway.

Tavarua Island Resort is situated on a 29 acre heart-shaped Fijian island, nearest to Viti Levu (Fiji), in the South Pacific. Read that again, TWENTY-NINE acres. That’s considerably smaller than most American ranches. Die-hard surfers go for the enviable access to some of the most sought after waves in the world, and the resort caters to these surf-centric guests. So, what’s a non-surfer girl to do on a tiny island? Plenty.

But first, let me tell you what I didn’t do. I didn’t have to plan much of anything, aside from who I would buy my travel insurance from and which bikinis I would pack. The Waterways Travel trip organizers did the heavy lifting, from flights to inter-island transport and resort accommodations. They even helped arrange for a day-use hotel in Nadi prior to our return flight.

Here’s how we got there:

We flew direct from Los Angeles to Nadi, where a transport bus was waiting for us plus our luggage at the airport when we arrived. They deposited us at a nearby hotel for breakfast and pool-lounging while our rooms were readied. There was a large market one block away, perfect for picking up snacks, drinks, and any necessities we had already remembered we’d forgotten.

The transport bus returned for the drive through Nadi (a busy and well developed city), through a rural area, and eventually to an otherwise unmarked and unassuming rocky-land clearing that led to a small sliver of shore. A few other buses arrived at the same drop off spot, full of surfers young and old, groups of friends traveling together, and families with kids – teenagers to babies, about 40 of us in total, all eager to get our vacation started.

With our eyes trained on the horizon, we could see Tavarua and neighboring Nomotu. Panga boats approached and stopped short of the shore. The departing guests disembarked, soaked, smiling from ear to ear, with well-wishes and hints of jealousy that their trip was ending and ours was just beginning. We walked precariously across the exposed coral and loaded into the pangas for the quick & safe return ride to the tiny island, sea-spray and wake-bumps included.

Arriving on Tavarua, you’re greeted by knee-deep warm water, soft sparkling sand, and a welcoming committee offering shell necklaces, broad smiles, and Fijian music. We had finally arrived, and it was just as idyllic as we thought it would be.

The rooms (burres) are private cottages, charming, comfortable, and perfect for a week-long stay. Each has a patio facing the water, and a near-constant ambient soundtrack of crashing waves. Many have hammocks or beachside adirondacks with palm-frond umbrella palapas mere steps away, inviting everyone to get outside.

Here’s how I spent my time:

  • If Mr. Vacay was up, I would walk with him to the boat launch, watch the sunrise, walk the entire island (which only took 15 minutes), and stretch; on the sand, the helipad, or the deck of our burre. The pangas run surfers between the island and the breaks starting at sunrise, and throughout the day, every few hours.
  • On Sunday, I took a private panga from Tavarua to the big(ger) island for church services in the neighboring village of Nabila (pronounced NaMbila). On the ride over, I could hear the children of the choir raising their voices in song. Inviting, entrancing, incredible. On that particular Sunday, it was Father’s Day, and the service was devoted to celebrating the fathers of Nabila – led by the men of the village – in Fijian song and sermon (with a generous English welcome presumably for me and the 3 guests who were visiting from Australia). The kind pastor and his lovely wife, Selena, invited me into their home before and after the service for refreshments and conversation, and then I was toured through the village and picked up for my return trip.
  • We visited the neighboring Nomotu island bar for cold beer and ice cream bars, and we hunted for letter shaped pieces of coral stranded on the sand.
  • I nestled in hammocks, purely for the sake of lounging, but more often for consuming a good book, and falling asleep.
  • I attempted, and failed, at a solo paddle-boarding excursion. Thankfully, I quickly realized that paddling around the island might be more difficult than walking around the island, especially without an understanding of the wind, tides, or reefs. And THEN I remembered that I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. AND let’s not forget that I was on the open ocean in the South Pacific. Tom Hanks & Nelson from Cast Away flashed through my mind more than once.
  • I received a therapeutic, healing, downright wonderful massage in the beachfront, wall-less & door-less open air treatment hut. My one regret – that I didn’t get MORE MASSAGES.
  • I watched in awe as the local Fijian women working at the resort would scoop up the youngest fussing guests in their arms, and walk them into the pool to play and cool down, full length dresses and all!
  • We all bronzed in the sun, by the pool, on the expansive beachfront restaurant deck, and on the beach.
  • We consumed each sunrise and sunset (see note above about the size of the island, and the ease with which you could circle it on foot), with much appreciation for peaceful starts & calm ends to each day.
  • We ATE – oh did we eat.
    • Breakfast – tea and toast in the early morning hours, followed by eggs, roti (a flat bread), fruit and chia pudding, all at a more reasonable hour.
    • Lunches – seared ahi, tuna niçoise or beet & couscous salads, chicken sandwiches, watermelon, oranges & grapes.
    • Dinners – pumpkin soup, teriyaki beef, green curry chicken, lasagna, stir-fry noodles & veggies, healthy greens, and DESSERTS… apple crumble, carrot cake, or brownies with ice cream… oh my heart.
  • We snorkeled in what felt like a swim-in aquarium. There were extraordinary fish in every size and every color. And there was a forest of coral. The snorkeling was easy, freeing, and other worldly. Funny story… we swam and swam, looking for the giant clams that they protect. We had heard so much about them, “you can’t miss them” everyone said… and yet somehow, we couldn’t find them. Mr. Vacay, not one to give up easily, doubled back, and found the protective clam cages – right at the entrance to the channel of coral. We had likely cruised right past them on our over-enthusiastic swim out. I’m glad we found them because they were truly remarkable.*
  • I reveled in sea life – tide pooling when the water receded gently, beckoning the beach master to rescue a sand-stranded starfish (which was swiftly tossed back into the ocean), and hunting sand crabs with the young daughter of a new Australian friend. But the sea turtle hatchlings… they were the unexpected show stoppers.*
  • And last but not least, we spent an evening celebrating the land, the culture, the traditions, the music, and the people of Fiji. Guests, villagers, and island chiefs all gathered together, wearing beautiful hancrafted leis, enjoying a cup of kava (with a single clap and a raise of the glass!), offering modest gifts of thanks, singing & dancing, and exchanging words of gratitude and appreciation for the shared experience.

Mr. Vacay isn’t a young man, but he was in top form heading into our trip. It meant that he could surf everyday (sometimes multiple times per day) for one week straight. And by the end of the trip his muscles were pleasantly fatigued, his gills were sufficiently soaked, and it was a milestone birth-trip he will never forget.

*Rick & Jamie are part-proprietors of the island and part triton & mermaid. This beautiful husband & wife duo (along with their son) were our island hosts, and they were gracious and generous with their knowledge of ocean and island life. They taught me about clam hatchery – everything from the colors of the clams, to their hermaphroditic sex organs, and how they teach other clams to eat. We snorkeled (third times a charm!) alongside them as they guided us around the cavernous coral caves, and we were awestruck as they pointed out the 25+ year old wild clams. We spotted two cages with small clams and one cage with giant clams in unreal colors – the deepest royal blue, and the brightest teal green, and one clam that was INSANELY black and white zebra-striped. The clams calm and gentle pulse, like the beating of a heart or the motion of methodic breathwork, was extraordinary.

Later in the week, I learned about the Hawksbill Sea Turtles that had hatched on the island five days earlier. The hatchlings were all active little boys – their gender determined based on the incubation temperature of the eggs (fascinating!) – and they were being protected in huge tubs, carefully watched over by resident and visiting experts. Sea turtles are prey to many predators, so these caregivers helped give them a (sea)leg up before releasing them into the wild. I learned that their eggs are nutrient dense, so they don’t eat much when they hatch, but when it’s time, their first meals are a strict diet of seaweed and raw fish bits. The turtles were born jet-black and felt like soft rubber. I was told that their coloring would lighten, they would eventually turn brown, then green as they mature, and their shells would harden over time.

I think the island had an inverse effect on me. My skinned tanned and my shell softened after days spent resting, relaxing, eating, swimming, sunning, and smiling, all thanks to the love expressed on the little heart-shaped island in the sea.