A ‘capital’ place to chill
Craig Tansley visits the Fijian village of Levuka, a place that is a reminder of the way life used to be in the South Seas.
Jamie the taxi driver is driving his beaten-up Toyota Prius today; yesterday his dad was behind the wheel. In Levuka, the taxi service is an inter-generational affair. If I stayed longer, Jamie’s grandpa might drive, between stints on the family’s vegetable plantation.
Levuka’s tourism numbers were once consistent enough to warrant a daily flight in and out of Suva. But the closing of Fiji’s international borders because of Covid-19 changed that for a time.
‘‘You’re the first foreigner here we’ve seen since Fiji opened back up,’’ Jamie tells me. That would be why I feel like a rock star on Levuka’s main street.
And yet, if it wasn’t for the 500-metre-high mountains behind town, this might be Fiji’s capital. In fact it was until 1877, but when the government decided there was no room for expansion, Suva became Fiji’s new capital.
Now Levuka exists as a kind of time bubble, my chance to glimpse life as it was once was in the South Seas. In 2013, Unesco declared Levuka a World Heritage site because it is the best remaining colonial port town in the South Pacific.
Even without the plane, it’s not difficult to get here. I take a shuttle from Suva to a tiny port town 90 minutes north, then climb onboard a ferry for the one-hour journey to the island of Ovalau.
From the water, Levuka looks like an illusion. Mid-19th century Catholic and Methodist missions, churches and schools stand along a coastline covered in coconut trees, backed by kilometre-high rock escarpments where waterfalls flow. Town is one main street of frontier-style shops painted in every colour of paint ever mixed in Fiji.
There are no resorts in town (though Fiji’s oldest hotel still stands there: the Royal Hotel, built in the 1860s). I am staying instead in a homestay run by Levuka’s only expats.
Australians John and Marilyn Malisi have been here since 1999. ‘‘ We saw you on the ferry,’’ John tells me when I arrive. ‘‘ We haven’t been off the island for two years. Watching the ferry is like TV.’’
They fell for Fiji in 1984, then roamed the country for years, looking for the best place to live.
‘‘Everything good about Fiji is here,’’ John says. ‘‘Mostly that’s the people. There are no friendlier people in Fiji and they’re so inquisitive. They’ll invite you in for tea just to hear your stories.’’
For a small place, there is a lot to do. I take hikes behind town that take me deep into the mountains, and stop for swims in waterfalls along the way.
From the highest peaks, I can see the islands of Taveuni and Vanua Levu, in northern Fiji.
Though the Malisis tell me the best thing about Levuka is slipping quickly into its slow pace of life. ‘‘A nap in the afternoon is essential here,’’ John says.
When I wake from mine, Noa Vueti is there to drive me around town and to the churches built along the waterfront.
‘‘Levuka is famous for its firsts,’’ he says. ‘‘It has Fiji’s first bank, first post office, first school, first private member’s club, hospital and newspaper. A lot of our prime ministers went to school here.’’
Just beyond town I find Levuka’s other place of worship – a rugby ground where almost the whole population of the island shows up on Saturday.
I don’t find the perfect white-sand beaches I normally associate with Fiji. But for three days I get a glimpse into how Fiji used to be. And I like what I see.