Debbie spent the flight to Fiji wedged in a seat next to a rather large Tongan rugby player, which wasn't as much fun as it sounds. On top of this she also lost a whole precious day of the last month of her 20's when we crossed the international date line.
We spent the week in Fiji living in a little thatched hut on the beach, lying in hammocks all day drinking rum and coke, and occasionally going for a swim or a snorkel around the coral reefs that were just off the beach where we were staying.
We managed to stir from our hammocks a couple of times, once to go snorkelling with manta rays, which were as big as Debbie, and another time to go snorkelling with sharks. They swam within a foot of us which was a bit unnerving although apparently they only like to eat little fish.
Another night we were forced to join in with a Bula Dance which was like the Fijian Macarena , only worse (if that's possible), followed by a Kava ceremony, where we drank bowls full of the disgusting stuff to little effect.
On our last evening we went out on a fishing trip along with about eight other people, and Graeme was the only person who caught a fish. Unfortunately it was a beautiful coral reef fish and he had to throw it back. No fish and chips for dinner for us.
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