Growing up in South London, I always felt like Fiji occupied this rarefied realm of exoticism that would almost certainly remain entirely out of reach – some far-away land, reserved only for postcards and cult classic Tom Hanks movies.
Spain would do; perhaps a summer through Italy. But never a trip across to the Pacific islands, where turquoise waters breach white sandy beaches under the shadow of palms and overwater bures.
So it was strange, some three decades later, to find myself standing on the tarmac at Nadi International, frantically ripping off the jumper I brought over from Sydney winter.
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Fiji Time
Immigration had apparently decided that the best introduction to Fiji was to make an entire plane wait in a slow-moving queue while a handful of desks processed several hundred arrivals.
Not entirely the airline, the resort, or even the airport’s fault – a remarkable number of people had simply neglected to fill in their arrival forms until reaching the front, which did little to improve the situation. Twenty minutes later, though, I was outside, in an air-conditioned car, and the drive towards Momi Bay had begun.
It’s a short drive, around 40 minutes from the airport, to Fiji Marriott Resort Momi Bay. What felt like a single road, through traditional Fijian villages (and the rather stark speed bumps that intermittently stop the whole procession), turned into a winding path across lush green spaces, growing communities, new builds, and finally, the turn into the resort.
This, I realised, was probably the beginning of Fiji Time, a loose term that can be applied to almost anything that happened throughout my three-day stay at the resort. If I wandered down to breakfast during the busiest period and asked to enjoy a short wait on the couch for my table: Fiji Time. Another mimosa with breakfast? Fiji Time.
Because Momi Bay actually asks very little of you once you’ve checked in: There are holidays where you spend the week trying to extract every ounce of a good time from the destination; and there are simply those holidays where the destination seems perfectly happy to leave you alone; where you’re invited to sit back and relax amid the symphony of “Bula” greetings that permeate the entire resort.
We were staying in one of the apartment-style rooms, set into the two-storey accommodation that curves around the lagoon. It was a short walk from reception, although there’s always the affable buggy available if the Fijian heat has made walking redundant.
The room was comfortable without any theatre, with a large comfy bed, plenty of space, everything neatly arranged, and all the amenities that you’d expect from a 5-star stay.
There were even chocolates, fresh fruit, and sparkling water waiting when we arrived – details I have become strangely fixated on as I get older and travel in, shall we say, more luxury. But I'll admit to a quiet disappointment every time a hotel skips the pillow mint these days. Call me gaudy, but it's the kind of thing that separates a place with personality from the cookie-cutter five-star experience so many chains are content to phone in.
Fijian hospitality
I had heard stories about Fijian hospitality before landing, but I don't think I've said “Bula” or “vinaka” more in my entire life than I did across those three days.
As someone who rarely even says thank you to the bus driver, interacting with everyone you walk past with this warm, infectious greeting is something that certainly stays with you long after you’ve checked out. There's a reason the resort's own messaging leans so hard on the idea that happiness comes naturally here.
I kept thinking about that as we moved around the resort – a large, polished five-star property that doesn't at all feel as though the Fijian character has been scrubbed away to make the place more international for its largely American and Australian guest book. If anything, the resort's personality comes from the decision not to sand off those edges.
It’s something you notice at the adults-only pool at Fish Bar, where every night, as the deep blue hue of the open water takes on the warmth of orange sun as it drops behind the horizon, people emerge from their rooms for the first drink of the evening, couples sit on loungers, and the starters are being prepared for the first sitting of the night.
It’s here that the Fijian Warrior begins his daily ritual, walking the length of the pool in traditional Fijian dress, bellowing “Bula” to everyone below before lighting the torch at the corner of the bar.
It is slightly theatrical, but I liked it. Perhaps because it’s a reminder that you hadn't somehow been transported into a generic luxury resort that could have been anywhere from Bali to the Maldives.
This is also a good moment to pay attention to the resort's other trump card: knowing when to draw a line around the adults. Now, I've got nothing against kids in resorts – it’s exactly what draws young families here.
And fair enough, Momi Bay is clearly designed with families in mind; the kids' pool sits right alongside the apartment rooms, close enough that parents can keep half an eye on the chaos without abandoning the convenience of the sun lounger and the ice starts to melt on their third G&T. Remember, it’s their holiday too.
But the adults-only infinity pool at Fish Bar, cabanas included, is reason enough to come back. After a morning out on the water, I returned to find my girlfriend drifting across it on a lounger, sunburnt, grinning, with a frozen limoncello in hand. How good.
And the rooms?
The apartment-style rooms are the entry point, and a comfortable one, but Momi Bay's biggest pull remains the overwater bures that give guests their own private slice of the lagoon, staircase and all.
For anyone chasing something further still, the Duplex Lagoon Bure and Ocean Front Bures offer an entirely different register of stay – more space, more privacy and, if your budget stretches, a different resort altogether.
The surf and the WSL Fiji Pro
Momi Bay's other calling card sits a short boat ride offshore: Cloudbreak, the world-famous left-hander that's drawn the WSL Tour back to Fiji for the Fiji Pro.
I was out there during the event itself, taken out by the team behind the WSL partnership to see the wave the world's best had flown in for. Though Cloudbreak had other ideas.
Conditions resembled a gentle, low-pressure bubbler through Centennial Park rather than the reef-baring monster you see on the highlight reels – a slight ripple over a very famous stretch of coral. No complaints, really. That's surfing, and a testament to the access most guests will never get regardless of what the swell's doing.
How's the food?
Fish Bar is the obvious (and most expensive) standout by some distance. We sat down for the gin-pairing degustation as the Warrior finished his lap on the second night, starting with a Fijian take on the classic fish & chips: a soft potato crisp filled with a smooth reef fish mousse and capers. It tasted just like the real thing (minus the deliberate dousing of cheap vinegar).
Fresh salmon and walu crudo with avocado and lemongrass was followed by miso butter-glazed fish with a fresh cucumber salad.
And for the main, a beautifully cooked lamb saddle, still warm and pink in the middle. Finally, a coconut bounty panna cotta beneath a thick chocolate disk rounded out the meal. Each course was paired with a local Momi Bay Gin cocktail built specifically for it.
Breakfast, also at Fish Bar, was consistently excellent and varied enough that three mornings in a row never felt repetitive. The buffet at Goji Bar is a different story – perfectly fine, particularly at breakfast. The BBQ buffet dinner didn't justify its price tag against what's on offer elsewhere on the property. Worth knowing going in, if only so you don't default to it every night.
What’s not to love?
For the sake of impartiality, I want to publish the issues as I found them. But, honestly, three Fiji Golds deep on a Sydney-winter escape probably has me looking through rose-tinted sunglasses, struggling to land on any that justify their entry.
Of course, you have to want a resort holiday, fully, to get the most out of Momi Bay. There's not much encouragement to leave the perimeter because there's very little reason to. Need a drink? The bar's right there. Want a salty dip? So's the lagoon. Massage, spa, tennis, even Pilates – all catered for on-site.
It means that, should you stay any longer than the short window surrounding the Fiji Pro, you might be stuck for things to do. My girlfriend, a voracious reader who can finish books as quickly as I doomscroll, loves it. But I found myself kicking the proverbial can when conditions didn’t allow for a day out on the break.
It's less a gripe than an admission of defeat. You have to allow yourself to switch off and run on Fiji Time, as the locals kept reminding us.
That mindset extends to service, too. It's incredibly warm and attentive throughout, but if you're measuring it against the polish of a Sydney or Melbourne five-star, or even Bali or Hong Kong, adjust your expectations.
You certainly pay for the privacy and intimacy of the location, not the world-class service that you might come to expect from a luxury stay.
Getting there and getting around
Momi Bay sits roughly 40 minutes from Nadi International Airport. Immigration can bottleneck badly if only a handful of desks are open against a full flight, particularly when half the queue hasn't filled in their arrival forms before reaching the counter, so plan accordingly.
But once you're through, the drive itself is short enough that you'll barely have unclenched before you're pulling into the resort.
Any other tips?
Book Fish Bar's degustation ahead if you're staying during any kind of event period. Reservations are 24 hours minimum, and it's popular enough that you don't want to be scrambling on the night.
If you're chasing Cloudbreak specifically, go in with realistic expectations about conditions on the day. You're at the mercy of the swell like the surfers out there.
And if you're travelling as a couple without kids, it's worth requesting a room near the adults-only end of the property. The Fish Bar pool is worth building your stay around.
The bottom line: is it worth it?
Yes, unreservedly – provided you go in wanting exactly what Momi Bay is selling.
This is a resort (like all resorts, really) that accommodates guests who want to disappear for three or four days, trading exploration for a private lagoon, and a stacked itinerary to take you through to sunset sharpeners.
The bigger point, and the one I didn't expect to be making, is that you don't need to island-hop to get this idea of Fiji you've built up in your head since childhood. It's all here, four hours from Sydney, forty minutes from the runway. Which might be the most convincing argument barefoot luxury has made for itself yet.