Miner Jeffrey: That time I went to Fiji and drank kava, met friends at the adult pool, and had a wild time.

Ever since that semester I spent in England when I was twenty, I’ve lived to travel. That trip was my first time out of the country—before then, I had only been to Florida, which is kind of like the very, very south end of New York. In other words, Florida is about as far from exotic as a trip to Hoboken. SO I decided to take myself to Fiji! Single woman, recently divorced, the world was my oyster!

Ever since I was a little girl, I always dreamed of running away to Fiji. It was about as far away from Long Island (where I was birthed) as any place I could imagine. Now, I was actually doing it.

Fiji did not disappoint. Out of all of my travels, it is my favorite place in the world. The locals are amazing! I permanently have the words “Bula Bula Bula” ingrained in my brain. Bula means “hello,” but it also means “a life is walking toward you,” so when you say “Bula,” you greet life. At least, that’s what one of the older Fijians I met told me, but maybe he was just high on too much kava (a Fijian treat that’s kind of like marijuana in beverage form).

I drank kava, too, with the chief of a village I visited. I also went scuba diving, and saw a cave where cannibalism was practiced as recently as the eighteenth century. And I fell in love with the people of Fiji, who are the happiest people on earth—some of them even live off the land with no electricity or running water. The high school children in one village near the cannibal cave swim across the river every day to get to school! Such a simple, beautiful life.

But, again, at my fancy resort packed with couples on romantic vacations (and families dealing with the after-effects of too much romance), I felt a little lonely. So I decided to plant myself at the adult pool at the resort (no more screaming children who were probably peeing in the pool, please!) and wait at the swim-up bar for anyone I could try to socialize with.

It worked! Instead of hooking up with another guy, this time I met an awesome group of girls from Australia there for a girls’ vacay. No, not like that! These were girls who like boys, just like me, and before long a group of adorable Australian boys had joined us at the swim-up bar.

The girls were leaving the following day, but just my luck, the boys weren’t. The guys were there for their best friend’s wedding, which he had cancelled at the last minute after everyone had already flown to the island. Apparently the bridegroom reached the decision that he wasn’t ready to get married—something all of his friends already agreed about. So everyone was in the mood to party it up, and party we did!

Miner Jeffrey was one of the guys in the wedding party, and proved to be my personal knight in shining armor for this final leg of my trip. He was over six feet tall with an amazing body, probably from his work in the mines in Australia.

Let’s just say he was very good with his hands.

But back to my story. The guys in this group really were boys—at least compared to me at the ripe old age of thirty-one. Miner Jeffrey told me he was twenty-nine, but when I noticed his email address ended in the number eighty-seven, I asked if that might possibly represent his birth year. He was adorable when he finally admitted that yes, he was really twenty-six. He blushed and said he thought a mature, adult woman like me wouldn’t want to talk to him if I knew how young he was.

Apparently, they’ve never heard of cougars in Australia, not that I’m anywhere near close to cougar-hood yet.

Miner Jeffrey and I spent the next two days together just as Mr. Manly and I did in Sydney. Of course, after my balcony bubble bath in Sydney, we just had to fill the tub with every soap-like product that the room offered. Afterward, let’s just say he filled the slippers and bathrobe that came with my hotel suite very nicely!

We swapped stories of our lives back home in our native countries—dating, work, our families, travels, and more. We drank on my balcony in our slippers and robes until the wee hours of the morning dancing, laughing, and listening to the waves of the Pacific crashing on the beach. It was very therapeutic—almost like the luxury hotel room came with a nice, sweet, sexy guy as an amenity. Not that I saw him as a thing. Two days with him felt like weeks with the guys I date back home. We really got to know each other.

For my final night in Fiji—and of my entire South Pacific adventure—I trekked across the sand to Miner Jeffrey’s simpler, no-frills resort for a kava ceremony. There were Fijians, Miner Jeffrey and his friends, and some other travelers all sitting around in a circle on the floor, listening to the kava guy play his little guitar and sing.

It was a magical ending to a magical trip!

I felt so alive, so amazing, and so fortunate to have made so many good friends from all around the world. Who would have thought a girl like me from Suffolk County would be sitting in freakin’ paradise? The hotel staff even sang me a goodbye song and wished me well on my travels home back across the world.

Of course, me being me, I cried.

After the ceremony, we took a cab to meet the rest of the guys in the non-wedding party at another resort. I met all of MJ’s closest friends who had also flown in from the land down under, and they were all wonderful people. I also heard the story of how the almost-groom dodged a bullet by not getting married. Apparently, all of his friends and family were elated that he didn’t go through with it. He must have been twenty-four or twenty-five—way too young, I think, to even consider getting married, although he was practically an old man compared to me when I walked down the aisle. I shared my own story and my best “older-woman” advice about waiting until the time and the person are right.

Think of everything I would have missed if I had settled for less.

We talked for a while and drank yummy cocktails, and then we all jumped into the pool that bordered the South Pacific Ocean.

Before I knew it, the sun was coming up over Miner Jeffrey’s glimmering back muscles and my enchanted holiday was over. Damn, they do make them good in Oz! I didn’t want the moment to end because I knew that in twenty-four hours I would be back in the real world.

However, all of the guys I met on my Australian/South Pacific odyssey still stay in touch with me. The magic of Facebook!

Now why can’t any guy from my homeland be so good at communicating?