Years have passed - 23, to be precise, since I left the shores of a paradise in peril to pitch my tent in the Land of the Long White Cloud.
Lives have changed in Fiji - mine and theirs.
Theirs? I'm a comeback kid, a naturalised New Zealander now although some here would dispute that. I mean what kind of Kiwi sports journalist has the temerity to scrutinise the All Blacks' performance or doubt Sonny Bill Williams' commitment to the cause?
For 10 days all that was far from my mind.
Here I was, lost in Fiji time - a concept that sat as comfortably with me and the group of mostly Australian tourists in the foyer of The Westin Denarau resort as the wet-blanket humidity that hits you the minute the Air New Zealand aircraft touches down at Nadi airport.
It's late morning and we're about to step outside the comfort zone of a five-star orchestrated environment.
Armed with water bottles, we pile into the air-conditioned minivan. Today, we're off on a 4.5-hour Sigatoka River Safari jetboat ride for $187 ($F265), which includes a visit to a Fijian village.
If I feel nervous I have little time to ponder as the minivan hits the motorway. Tourists mutter under their breath as cars overtake each other on blind corners.
About 66km later, at Sigatoka township, we are ushered into a handicraft and souvenir shop and asked to sign forms absolving the safari company from blame if we are injured or our property is damaged.
The female tourists are also handed a sulu (sarong) each to wrap around their waist, especially if they are exposing too much flesh, which tends to offend villagers. Everyone receives a "mini-passport" to Tubairata Village, a record of our visit.
While we wait for groups to arrive from other resorts and hotels, T-shirts and knick-knacks are purchased from the souvenir shop. The safari group trebles in size as three minivans snake their way along dusty gravel roads under construction.
Chinese road engineers wearing rice field-type hats crop up along the way, almost as frequently as project sign boards outlining the input from other Asian countries.
"Here, Korean Government help us," our driver barks into the microphone, oblivious to the injury he's causing to our ear drums.
Sigatoka is undergoing a renaissance. Once part of the cradle of the Fijian economy, the region's inhabitants have switched from sugarcane to arable farming to support the main money earner, tourism.
They grow spinach, cabbages, beans, paw paws and bananas to sell at markets around the country, but also sell the choice harvests to the resorts' restaurants.
A bundle of long beans at a town market will cost you $F1.50 but, at the Sheraton's Flying Fish Restaurant, a bowl of it garnished with anchovies and herbs costs $F9.
The Asian presence in Fiji rankles with the Aussies, with one saying: "What? They are here, too."
Residents of shanty corrugated iron homes dotted along the road are programmed to embrace tourism with "Bula!" Even the blokes working on the roads and farms have impeccable timing, pausing mid-air with tools and sporting smiles as wide as the Sigatoka River.
Eventually, we arrive at the jetty. Jetboat tour guides hand out lifejackets, but the thought of slipping into them in the humidity isn't appealing.
We enjoy the respite from the expansive trees spreading out like umbrellas to cover the storage huts, which signal the last toilet stop before the river journey.
Guides, with bandanas around their heads and sunglasses wrapped around their faces, outline safety procedures. One of them picks a "chief" from the touring party. It's George, a moustachioed bloke, and the oldest.
Like sheep, people are separated into groups according to criteria known only to the guides. I'm shuffled into one then pushed into another.
As the jetboats grunt up river, we hang on to our caps and sunglasses. The wind on our faces is godsent as the sun beats mercilessly on our backs.
Villagers swim and fishermen armed with nets and spears go about their business but always seem to have time to yell out: "Bula!"
Several minutes later, our guide, Freddy, stops to point out a tree on the bank where the river level reached during a cyclone which caused flooding so widespread villagers were forced to move to higher ground.
Another stop is at a rock face where Australian geologists found granite - which Australia is now buying. Japanese geologists are also said to be conducting tests.
Freddy then finds another glady spot under a tree for more history and geography lessons. Like the time when villagers built rafts from bamboos to take their crops down river to sell at Sigatoka town market in the absence of roads.
"Children swim across this dangerous river with school uniforms in a plastic bag and then they change on the other side before going to school," he explains.
Then we're off to the much-anticipated village (koro), a steep climb on a well-trodden path up a bank. Women drape their sulus around their waists before a village spokesman officially invites us to the commune.
We walk to the chief's bure (meeting place with a thatched roof) in a village where crudely built concrete homes flank an oblongish strip of land.
Scantily clad children find a perch on the branches of 2m-tall frangipani trees, shy, but their eyes fail to hide the excitement of youthful curiosity.
The visitors whip out digital cameras and the children respond with peace-finger salutes and "Bulas!"
Our chief, George, presents a bundle of yaqona (kava) roots wrapped in tattered newspaper. He drinks the first bowl of the muddy concoction soon after the village head to the sound of a fixed number of handclaps.
Everyone is then offered a bowl but they can "pass" if it isn't appetising. Some do, perhaps mindful of the dangers of meningitis.
It's question-and-answer time and the women feel privileged to be in the meeting house where women once were forbidden, let alone given a voice.
The chiefly system is akin to a patriarchal monarchy where, if the chief doesn't have sons, the mantle of power shifts to the next eldest brother.
A Fijian war club is passed around with another weapon similar to a boomerang with much embellishment of the indigenous people's cannibalistic past.
On that note we are ushered to a decrepit half-built concrete building, which we discover is the village church in a country of predominantly Methodists.
Laid out on the floor on a long length of tablecloth, the villagers have prepared a lunch for us of home-grown bananas, taro leaves and tapioca intermingled with canned fish, chicken drumsticks and super-saturated cordial to quench our thirst.
I stick to the root crops and fruit, reluctant to eat meat in the heat but some are too famished to care.
A group of male and female villagers drinks kava and serenades the tourists.
Having whet their appetites, the visitors find a way to work off their meals almost instantaneously.
The beat picks up and young men and women ask the visitors to dance. Some of us, sweaty and sticky just standing in a corner, grumble but give in while a few escape to the breezy terrace.
The Fijian farewell song, Isa Lei, signals departure time.
The village spokesman reminds people of the need for money to complete their church building but having paid for the trip - which stated the cost included a percentage for the church - few tourists are feeling charitable.
On the way back, Freddy delivers on his promise - the jetboat performs doughnuts and flips - much to all the youngsters' delight.
We are drenched but it hardly matters. By the time we scramble back into the minivans our clothes, skin and throats are parched again.
At the hotel foyer, an Australian couple with two children sums up the trip.
"We thought we'd go to it so that our children can see and compare their lives to the villagers' and realise how lucky they are," the father says.
Mum nods in agreement, while their teenage daughter massages the buttons of her cellphone.
Air New Zealand flies daily to Nadi, with fares starting at $275 plus taxes.
Safari prices
* From the Coral Coast (Shangri-La Fijian to Warwick Resort) F$245 an adult, F$120 a child.
* From Denarau (Nadi/Sonaisali/Natadola) F$265 and adult, F$130 a child.
* From Sigatoka (self-drive option) F$210 an adult, F$105 a child.
Note: Prices include: Transfers (except for self-drive), 4.5-hour safari tour, Fijian lunch at host village, contribution to village, 10 per cent shopping discount at Fiji Market & Tappoos, bottle of water, sulus (sarong) for women. Prices include Fijian VAT of 15 per cent. Free for children aged 3 and under.