Paradise or tourist trap? Rustic sanctuary or stuck in the past?

We asked visitors and natives what Fiji means to them. The answers were diverse and sometimes surprising.

Set to the music from White Sandy Beach Hotel in Naviti Island and from Bounty Island.

There were no naked people at Vancouver’s Wreck Beach, but there was a greying hippie feeding seagulls and a friendly bearded fella named Cloud.

This would have to suffice as a taste of this naturist mecca, where in the summer, thousands gather wearing nothing but a smile.

We happened on this notorious beach by chance: the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia was charging $14 a person, a few notches above the limits of reason for budget travelers.

So we walked around the building instead and happened upon a totem pole park and an art installation of tiny white plastic boats sticking out of the gravel. This, we thought, would have to be our discounted moment of culture for the day.

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But just beyond the poles was a promising nature trail that led to a steep zig-zag of stairs. It seemed to descend into the thick woods, with no end in sight. But soon a sign warned us that below was a clothing-optional beach.

Eight degrees and cloudy is too nippy for even the most dedicated nudist, but traces of the naturist savoir-faire were evident. Like the white-haired Tommy Chong lookalike with a throwing breadcrumbs at the seagulls. When we passed by, his birds took flight. For this, I apologized.

“They have wings, so they’re quite mobile,” he spoke in a lazy bullfrog drawl. “We only wish we could fly like them.” And without looking our way, he resumed his feeding ceremony.

Art?

Our attention was then caught by a young fella with a full black beard and an olive hoodie. He seemed to be drawing in the sand with two sticks that were taller than him. When I approached, I saw that he had carved an eight-figure in the sand, in which water from a nearby spring was flowing.

“It’s a filtration system for the animals,” said the friendly sculptor who calls himself Cloud. He’d been doing this for seven years, he told me. He comes to the beach a few times a week and arranges sticks and clay that trap impurities from the water dribbling down the beach cliff.

He pointed to an accumulation just past a miniature dam of sticks he made. “See, this is almost clean enough for you and me to drink,” he said. But it’s good enough for the dogs that come walking. But why the eight figure?

“So there’s a water circulation system. That way the mosquitoes don’t nest.”

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Cloud’s water purification system at Wreck Beach.

I asked his permission to take his picture. He took his sticks and walked towards the shoreline, saying, “I’m going to play. You can shoot me while I do that.” With this, he twirled his sticks like a circus performer or a martial artist. Or a West Coast beach filter engineer, for all we knew.

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The stairs back to campus were just as treacherous, and the sight of a hot dog stand claiming to be the best in town – or your money back – offered an irresistible challenge.

It’s manned by a friendly Asian lady and her Mexican assistant. Tourists emerging from an Olympic women’s hockey game,  drunk enough to fancy themselves great seducers, hardly managed to fluster them. “Oh, I’m too busy with school to go out with you,” the señorita would say as she handed one such lothario his dog.

A regular hot dog costs $4. One of eight flavoured “smokies” – sausages, essentially – go for $6.50. Not budget prices, but it’s understandable. They come topped with drilled onions and you have six condiments and 10 sauces to choose from.

I had the “volcanic” smokie, meant to be spicy, but it gave me a slight tingle. Bianca had the Cajun. Both were delicious. I highly recommend the cranberry chipotle sauce or the jalapeño barbecue sauce to give the dogs a little more emotion.

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Trip summary

Costs per person
Bus fare to UBC: $2.50
Museum of Anthropology: $14
Hot dog and drink: $8

Highlights
Stunning view of the sea and mountains
Brisk climb and and down wooded steps
Glimpse of Vancouver hippies/naturists in their element

Bob Blumer is a madman, and therefore, my favourite TV chef. So when we were invited to an event promoting BC tourism with him as host, we had no choice but to go.

He didn’t cook anything, which was a disappointment. But thanks to him, we learned what a geoduck is and that Hollandaise sauce is a perfect condiment for oysters.

And we saw that B.C. makes some pretty mean microbrewed beers and ciders. So the media event to which we were invited did its job: we’re convinced BC is serious about food.

Here are some photos from the event.

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Tourist-friendly First Nations dancers regaled the audience.

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Raw geoduck with an Asian-inspired vinaigrette.

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Bob and me: Like Barry White fathered thousands of children, Blumer has been responsible for many memorable dinner parties. He liked hearing this.

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Our first press pass as travel bloggers.

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That about sums up my thoughts on the response to that video I posted of my colleagues’ reaction to my yearlong trip.

On Facebook, on Twitter, and on a few blogs, friends and friends of friends happily passed it on to their networks and, before I could say “unintended viral marketing”, I had a massive spike in traffic on this blog.

I’m honoured. And a little scared. I made this video thinking only friends and colleagues would see it. I never expected it to multiply through the miraculous butterfly effect of the retweet.

Diane, our beloved security person, was getting calls from distant relatives saying they loved her concluding laughter. It took me 10 minutes to convince her this was a good thing.

One should never ask a poet to analyze his own poems, so I’m hardly the best person to try to understand why that video struck a chord. But here’s an attempt.

1. It was unscripted

I captured people’s natural reactions to my announcement, rather than asking them to say something on camera after informing them. This gave the video a much more natural, authentic feel.

2. It was intimate

I allowed viewers into my place of work and into a uniquely personal moment. Showing the reaction of my editor, who was most affected by my announcement, revealed an especially sensitive instance that is rarely seen by whomever is not in the room.

3. It was snappy

I diced reactions into bits and tossed them around. It became almost like an AV Twitter feed, and therefore perfect for the age of Attention Span 2.0.

4. It was blessed by the editing fairy

As someone who’s just starting to work with video, I’m beginning to grasp that unique serendipity videographers enjoy. Several times in the video the music and images meshed perfectly, and entirely by chance. For example:

• When Bryan, my editor, says he has to figure out how he’ll find a replacement, the vocalist in the song goes, “I’ll have to find another man.”
• Several times when I freeze-framed to show the person’s name, the song cut from singing to instrumental, allowing a perfect time to swell the volume.
• There were others that I can’t bother to remember now,

And one last word about the business editor…

Poor Bryan. The video made him look like the grouch in a crowd of bubbly supporters. I knew there was this risk, and tried my best to make him the sober counterpoint, the voice of reason, the good manager who’s looking out for his department and preventing his minions from doing something monumentally stupid.

He thinks he was misrepresented. He asked me to shoot him again delivering a sincere critique of my film-making chops.

I though it was only fair. It’ll be posted next week.

The newspaper world, you may heard, is going through a savage depressive episode. My company is no exception. In fact, the paper I work for is now on sale as the parent company braves creditor protection.

I have an exciting job that pays me well. There are young journalists who would commit public arson to have what I have.

And yet, I’m putting it on hold for one year.

And it might not be there when I come back.

I must be insane. That’s certainly what I expected my colleagues to say when I informed them of my decision.

This is what they said.

Cartagena is a city that seduces you from every angle and through all the senses, from the most ornate, flower-adorned cathedral to the smell of greasy arepas wafting from street vendors.

I happened on these ceviche mongers one afternoon and any doubts I had over the freshness of the seafood were dispelled once I tasted it. Their allure is in their folksy simplicity: the sweetness of the tomato sauce with the tang of lime and the bite of the ají. I went back for more every day I was there.

Here Santander, my favourite vendor of the bunch, shows you how to prepare it at home.