I had never flown before, and my first flight was four hours to LAX, then an overnight 11 hour flight. I was beyond nervous but I knew it'd be worth it. I never expected to fall in love.
Looking out the window on the flight to the west coast I saw so much in so little time, and wonder about the adventure that lay ahead of me.
We landed in Fiji before noon the next day. Stepping off the plane my nose was bombarded with a salty but peppery smell. I had no clue what it was until we got closer and closer to our resort which was right on the beach. I have never seen a beach as beautiful as this one nor smelt that wonderful smell. I was convinced I wouldn't see anything more beautiful than the resort in general until the sun set. Little did I know, most of the island's homes are what we, as Americans, would consider shacks or houses unsuitable to live in. The houses that were considered nicer were the size of an average houses here in the states. I wasn't sure what to think of it, or the new culture I was learning about. But looking back on it, I'd often rather be there than here. I'm not sure if it's just the overly friendly attitude of everyone or just how much different it makes you feel to be under the stars at night laying in the beach on an island that feels a million miles away from everyone. I felt so small those nights, just watching the waves come in and not being able to differentiate between the beginning of the sky and the end of the horizon.
I left Fiji expecting to find the same thing in New Zealand, and everyone running about in Australia in cargo shorts with koala bears ridding piggyback. Oh boy was I wrong.
(continue eventually...)
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