Sydney Hop

We'd had a lovely, relaxing week on Hamilton Island, with just a glimpse of sun at the end to imagine what it'd be like in season. Now it was time to move on to Fiji.

Due to flight schedules and economical airline choice, our route from The Whitsundays to Fiji passed through Sydney and Auckland, with an overnight stop in the former.

Because the notional title for Leg 3 was "Beaches of the World", I had a hankering to get to Bondi Beach, which is indirectly between Sydney airport and the city centre. Events during our previous stop in Sydney hadn't permitted this.

As we were just overnighting between flights, we'd booked a very humble Formule 1 room, with shower, toilet, telly, and one double bed sideways underneath a single bed raised up bunk-style on a metal frame. Strange, but I suppose it maximizes the ways the room can be let.

Dusk had settled, and we managed to complete the 10-minute walk from the domestic terminal just as the very first drops of a rainstorm were falling. It was whilst sitting inside, looking out at the torrent, that I tried to sell the idea of taking a taxi to nighttime Bondi Beach to a tired Clare who would rather have stayed in the warm and dry, lying in front of the telly and grabbing a dinner from the McDonalds next door (people call them "Maccers" here, and the term is even used in adverts).

Clare acquiesced and, by the time the taxi came, the rain had stopped for the night. Dropped off on the road in the middle of the Bondi front, we walked away from the shops and restaurants, down the hill to the beachside promenade.

The first thing we saw was an ice-skating rink. What else do you want on a midwinter beach? Wonderful. Only the fact that it was closed for a private session saved Clare from having me try to drag her onto the ice.

Beyond, we could see the white lines of the famous breakers at the sea's edge, and we walked along the dark beach for a short distance before grabbing a pleasant dinner in a café called The Bucket List (appropriately for me, among so many others, I felt).

We'd had a very pleasant evening and Clare thanked me for persuading her to venture out.

Taxi back. Early start. Two one-feature-film flights, courtesy of seatback video-on-demand. Best ever transit in Auckland - the outgoing flight started boarding the moment we reached the gate, straight from the transfer security check. And we reached Fiji, again after a 6pm winter nightfall.

For our 90-minute taxi transfer from Nadi to the resort, we joined not only the driver but his wife. I imagined they'd taken advantage of the company car to pop into the city for for shopping. Anyway, it felt like getting a lift with friends, as we chatted the whole way, learning more about life on the island; floods, churches and hitch-hiking.

We finally arrived at our resort to a good first impression and a quick bite to eat. In the dark, we tried to work out what the setting was and what we'd be able to see in the daytime.

That was last night and, now I'm awake, I'm off to look out of the window and get a first proper view of Fiji.