FIJI: HOW I LEARNED TO DIVE

In yet another example that I might be getting carried away with the fantasy component of this enterprise, I am already planning a pre-prize stay in Santa Monica around this one, a one-week stay at Namale, a spa and resort in the Fiji Islands. Roundtrip airfare is from L.A., so why not? I have been smitten with Santa Monica since my first visit there, on a business trip in 1990. Several years later, I came very close to accepting a job offer in L.A. but I ended up staying in D.C. This was right before the big earthquake of 1992, and, as a friend pointed out several days later, maybe it was a good thing that I’d stayed in D.C., because if I had moved to L.A., I might have died, been injured or otherwise hugely inconvenienced. I don’t care much for the “what if” game, except from time to time I ask myself: What if Diana hadn’t married that awful Prince Charles? Poor girl.

On this business trip, I stayed at the Cal-Mar (www.calmarhotel.com), a charmingly divey place a few blocks north of the Third Street Promenade, a few blocks east of the ocean, very Nathaniel West, very Miss Lonelyhearts. I had traveled to L.A. with a colleague, on a Saturday; this was back when Saturday stayovers were de rigueur. She was staying at the Cal-Mar, too. The first night, we went out to dinner in Beverly Hills, at a restaurant whose name I've forgotten. While we eating our appetizers, the napkin in the breadbasket caught on fire when one of us (most likely me) placed the breadbasket too close to the candle. I hoped it wasn’t an omen for the trip.

By coincidence, a photographer friend of a photo-editor friend of mine was also in L.A. from D.C., he was covering the Academy Awards the next evening. He said he could get me a press pass and hang with him. (I was writing for a newspaper myself at the time.) My stars! This was back in the day when I was scene, “scene” as adjective, “scene” as in I wanted to be a part of one when there was one. I very much wanted to go. Only I didn’t want to ditch my colleague. Plus, I didn’t think my friend’s friend wanted me tagging along. Months later, I bumped into him at a party back in D.C., and he asked me where I’d been that evening. “I was waiting for you to call!” he told me, and I could tell he really meant it. In the end I’d gone out to dinner with two colleagues, to Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant in West L.A. (I think it later closed.) Then, I’d gone back to my room and, very Nathaniel West, very Miss Lonelyhearts with a twist, watched the Academy Awards. I was incredulous, and sad, and mad, that Dancing with Wolves beat Goodfellas for Best Picture.

Speaking of movies, there is a wonderful old film, The Hurricane, set on a fictitious South Pacific island, starring Raymond Massey and Dorothy Lamour. It's hauntingly atmospheric, even if it won't leave you wanderlusting for a trip to that part of the world. As for going to Fiji, it certainly is a long distance to travel for one week, especially from the East Coast. Yet, what if? I would take diving lessons; Namale is a 5-star PADI resort. The diving, in the Koro Sea, is supposed to be stupendous, with little current, and coral walls and coral gardens. (Of course, I would worry about the bends. I am a tad accident prone; travel tends to accentuate the affliction. I therefore avoid high adventure activities. If I broke an arm or a leg on a trip, it would probably be because I tripped climbing out of a hammock.) I would also partake of multiple massages and facials. The treatments have great sounding names, like the Fijian BoBo massage and SavaSava facial. Ah, the ah of it.

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FIJI: ONE WEEK AT NAMALE RESORT

DEADLINE: April 16, 2006
TO ENTER, CLICK: www.spa-addicts.com/metimesweeps/default.asp
THE SPONSOR: Spa Addicts
THE DIGS : www.namalefiji.com
THE INELIGIBLES: N/A
ARV (APPROXIMATE RETAIL VALUE): $11,500
MY PERSONAL ENTRY: March 27, 2006
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