The Fiji Diaries – #4 (the forty-one steps)

11 July, 2023

I don’t think I have had the pleasure of telling you about The Peninsula International Hotel, Suva. This has been home for the past six nights, with one more night before hopping over to the other side of the big island to Nadi. The Peninsula is – as named – very international, with all sorts of people housed within. Individuals of note in our short stay include the entire U19 Samoan Girl’s soccer team, and their rivals, the U19 Cook Islands Girl’s soccer team. They had their game on Saturday, and we were able to hear who won said game as they were shouting it for the whole hotel to hear at 2:30am Sunday morning. Good work Samoa!

Next door to the Peninsula is the Suva Central Corps of the Salvation Army. This fact seems rather banal, and it really is, but I don’t think you understand how wonderfully full-on Christian Fiji is until you’re here on a Sunday. The place just shuts down, and there is lots of talk of fire, brimstone and the need to repent piped through loudspeakers of every church – and there are lots of churches. The Salvation Army Corps here is fun as they have a brass band, which played during the church service and then practiced more exciting pieces in the afternoon. The religious zeal of Fiji is only surpassed by the trombone section of the Suva Central Corps. 

The Peninsula is moderately priced and well serviced, with restaurant, bar, pool and pool-side bar (which is open at times no one can quite seem to figure out). Four stories tall, it sits atop of the first hill from the foreshore, and we are blessed from our room with views of both Joske’s Thumb between a half completed high rise and a block of flats and the occasional glimpse of the sea through the cracks of Fijian domestic skyline. At the moment a fire is burning nearby – clearing piles of scrub cut this morning as the rainforest seems to be perpetually trying to claim the city back. To the west lies a forested mountain range, and one can safely assume that it is always raining there. The best part of the Peninsula, however, is the lift, both in Lilliputian size (whilst the sign in the lift says maximum capacity of eight, fitting three people and their luggage inside is almost impossible), and the capacity to induce a good level of fear when you hop in. You may think I’m over exaggerating but the fear is real, as the doors have a hard time opening and closing with the added bonus of just a pinch too much hesitation when they open, and the rub marks on the doors caused by the repeated action of steel rubbing on steel doesn’t fill users with a sense of well-maintained machinery. 

To all our surprise (and yet somehow not surprisingly at all, in true Fiji fashion) signs appeared on the lift Sunday morning – it was out of service. One might think this an essential and quick fix for a hotel but don’t forget that Fiji on a Sunday is a no-go zone for most things except church, so we were all confined to the steps. You, me, a lot of Indian families and both the Samoan and Cook Islands soccer teams. Not that one was counting, but there are forty one steps from the foyer to the third floor. Yesterday I was trudging up with nine litres of water and met one of the staff with a suitcase under one arm and a larger one on his shoulder – this was definitely a situation where he had right of way in both sheer force, need and mass. 

Now don’t get me wrong – I find the Peninsula a great hotel. Room service happens around 10am every day, and towels might not get replaced immediately, but they do end up coming back laundered. Just like everything in Fiji it’s got it’s quirks, and you’ve got to love that about the place. Variety is the spice of life, and Fijians like it spicy. 

Carpe Diem