Koro Island (from cruisingrunner blog)

Originally posted on cruisingrunner

After being spoiled in Savusavu with easy running opportunities, we spent almost a week moored in Dere Bay on the northwest side of Koro Island. Koro is about 25 miles south of Savusavu and we had an easy day sail with light NE winds. When we arrived, we found Koro to be an enjoyable yet strange kind of place. It’s an intersection of traditional Fijian village life with western culture, but the western part does not dominate in such an offensive way as it does over on the dry side of Fiji in places like Port Denarau, Musket Cove, and even up into the Yasawa Islands. There are 14 villages on Koro, and our first afternoon we walked to the village closest to the anchorage, called Nabasovi, in order to present sevusevu to the chief. As we got to the village, the first people we encountered were a man, his wife, and their grown son, who were all sitting on a large woven mat in the shade. They motioned to us to come and sit with them, and we chatted a bit while the wife bounced their young grandson to sleep on her knee. They didn’t automatically assume we were from a boat, and they seemed just a bit surprised when we said we wanted present sevusevu. The son went to put on a sulu, and he acted as our spokesman with the chief, and after the brief sevusevu ceremony we had a nice visit with the chief and his wife.

It turns out that the likely reason they didn’t automatically assume we were from the yacht is that in addition to the two resorts at Dere Bay there is a small expat community who also live on the island. So, there are always white people about. And new white people are not always there to do sevusevu, as it is in some of the villages we’ve been to on other islands where the majority of their white visitors are from yachts. As an aside, the Fijians call white people “Palagi,” but we aren’t sure if it’s just a label or if it’s somewhat derogatory. Tim always refers to us a Palagis with them, and they always laugh, but I can’t tell if they are laughing because they think it’s funny just because he knows the word or because he’s actually saying it. I should have just asked by now, and if we come back to Fiji, I think I will.

Anyway, back to the expat community… there are western style houses, some quite luxurious in size, dotting all the hillsides around the bay. Tim and I took a walk, and the place is partitioned into at least a couple hundred lots, some with complete homes, some in various stages of construction, and some totally empty except for the wooden sign with the lot number. We met a few of the people who live there: A woman from Brazil, a man from British Columbia, and a family of 5 from Colorado. They were all very low key, down to earth people who enjoy the slow lifestyle and natural surroundings. And they seem to get on well with the locals. The Colorado family’s eldest son (9 years old, I’d guess) even attends the Fijian school and sometimes stays in the village. He has a “village family” that he stays with. As I mentioned, many of the lots are empty and a lot of the construction is halted, so it’s not like the expats have totally overrun the place. They seem to coexist there in more inconspicuous way than perhaps my cynical self was expecting.

I mentioned that there were two resorts in the bay but let me explain. I’m not sure what the business model is for these places, but they can’t be making much of a profit since we never saw any guests! Dere Bay Resort has a long wooden dock that extends all the way out over the coral and at the end is a floating dock where we could tie up the dinghy. Once you’ve made your way up the dock to the resort you see the small pool and the shady, welcoming restaurant/bar area. Except that there was never anyone there. Often not even any staff. It was $10/night for our mooring ball and in the end, I was having trouble finding someone to pay, because the staff was so scarce. Our last afternoon there, some of the expats were using the pool and they told us the resort does dinner on Saturdays, and since that day was Saturday, we tried to put in a reservation. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that someone showed up, but they very graciously accommodated us. So, we had dinner at an almost completely empty restaurant, but the company was good, and the view was stunning. There was one other table of expats having dinner as well, and I think if it weren’t for their reservation the restaurant would have been dark that evening just like every other evening. Clearly, this resort does not exist strictly to make money.

If I were told about a beautiful coral lined bay with a lush green hillside that has two resorts and a resident expat community, I would naturally envision a bustling, thriving atmosphere, with happy hours at the bar and dive boats taking the tourists out to the reefs a few times a day. But that’s just it. This place was empty. Still. Quiet. Sometimes it was quiet the way an uninhabited island is quiet. So, in the end, we quite enjoyed Koro for its beauty and for the unique culture “clash” we observed. Unique because it didn’t seem much of a clash at all.

The opportunities for running on Koro weren’t great, but at least they existed. There’s a network of cement and dirt roads, but some of the hills are quite steep, so in the end I opted for running along the trail that we took to get to the village. The small muscles around my ankles were sore the next day from stepping carefully over roots and crab holes. I was also careful not to get too close to the village because I was wearing short running shorts and a tank top, not my usual village attire covered from my shoulders to my knees. It is getting hot now in Fiji, because summer is just about here, so I had to go somewhat early in the morning before the heat was too stifling. It was a Saturday morning, and I met two girls from the village walking down the beach to collect shells. They seemed curious about what I was doing and laughed because when I stopped to talk to them I was out of breath. I guess none of the expats are runners.