Tradition without the tourists in Fiji’s highlands

Vili tells us to say “bula’’ (this time it means “cheers’’) and suck it down in one gulp. I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and drink. It tastes like dirt. With a laugh, I wipe the dribbles off my chin as the villagers ceremoniously clap three times and refill the bowl for my mother.

The bowl is passed around a few times, and I begin to feel a small tingling in my mouth, but no other effects. We pass around a second bowl, and stay for nearly another hour of easygoing, sometimes hilarious conversation.