The tourist IS searching for

the Pacific of his dreams

By a Sydney travel agent

A recent item in PIM stated that colour TV in Australia was a cause of the falling-off in tourism by Aussies in Fiji. At least this is the view of the chairman of the Fiji Visitors Bureau. He claims that in stead of visiting Fiji the Aussie is buying a colour TV set. He also attributes Fiji’s tourist slack to the fact that Fiji is meeting competition from New Caledonia where there is a gambling casino at Noumea. He considers the gambling Australians would need a casino to get them to visit Fiji. 1 think the chairman is dodging a few important facts as to why tour ists visit a country or they don’t. If an Aussie wants to visit Fiji, buying a colour TV set won’t stop him—it will merely postpone the day. The point is, does he?

There is, of course, the question of cost. If it’s expensive to get there, it’s got to be worthwhile. Is Fiji worth it? If recent bad publicity is any guide, it is not.

Poker Machines Apparently, gambling casinos and poker machines have been suggested for Fiji in the past and the govern ment had the good sense to say “No”.

Their thinking was no doubt influ enced by more pressing consider ations than the tourist scene. The Fijian seems to be having difficulty coping with the stresses of an evolv ing society and the realisation that the haves and have-nots are a fact of life. The Fijian appears to be ensuring what side he's on.

When taxi drivers make their own rules and look on the tourist as fair game; when there is no law making it mandatory for all taxis to have meters so the tourist can see what he is paying for; when the crime rate is such that you run the risk of being robbed in broad daylight; where drinking is not a civilised cus tom but a marathon, resulting in dangerous drunks abroad, then Fiji had best take a long, hard look at itself if it wishes to attract tourists.

Within five minutes of arrival a tourist has the “feel” of a place.

What a country is, is shown in the officials and the people with whom he comes in contact. If it is a “grab”

society your tourist sees it instantly.

If it is a sick society, he feels it. And your Pacific Island tourist is a romantic—he doesn’t want to see either.

What then does the tourist look for from the Pacific? All his life he has heard of the friendly, happy Islanders; of blue skies, white beaches and waving coconut palms.

In music, song and literature the Pacific has been romanticised, so that to our starry-eyed tourist it represents the next best thing to Paradise.

Island Conspiracy

He is going for a holiday and hopes he has left the rat-race behind him. On the average he may be there two weeks. He is very often not rich but has saved hard for the trip.

He will spend his money and be happy doing it if he is getting full value. But he doesn’t want to be taken for his shirt. It must surely be possible to treat him kindly, give him a good time and send him on his way with his dreams intact, even if it means an island conspiracy to do so.

The difficulty with conspiracies, however, is that they often come un stuck. And when your starry-eyed tourist starts to look around him, he may be in for a jolt.

There are the frangipani and hibis cus just as he imagined it—but the place looks filthy. Empty beer bottles and beer cans all over the place; beaches and reefs strewn with broken glass and rusty tins; derelict cars and discarded machinery dotting the beautiful landscape. Who’d have be lieved it?

And call that a main road?—he’d never had such a rough ride in his life. What a bone-shaker!

He’s right, of course. Roads come first and casinos last. He can gamble at home, but he’s spent a lot of money to come and see your land and your people and he expects to do this in reasonable comfort.

And when he books into a hotel he doesn’t want to see a carbon copy of the Hotel Australia or a Miami beach skyscraper. It should have something of the character of the place he is in. He wants to hear the sound of the sea, the rustle of coco nut palms smell the scent of frangi

pani. And he can’t do all that from 20 storeys up. He expects meals to be reasonably priced and be tempted to taste the dishes of the region. He expects to see coconuts on the menu as well as on the trees.

And while he equates the Pacific Islander with the happy-go-lucky, he expects reasonably efficient service for which he is paying. Not break fast at 10 o’clock when he was dis tinctly told 9 o’clock, and the bus arriving at noon when he was told 1.15 pm. No tourist industry will survive such frustrations. He only has two weeks, remember, and wants to see and do as much as he can.

Having been shown courtesy, friendliness, and had a marvellous time sightseeing, cruising, fishing, shopping, swimming, filming and photographing to his heart’s content, our tourist is ready for the night’s entertainment. Can he survive with out poker machines and a casino?

He can and must.

Song and Dance I have sat for hours listening and looking to island song and dance, telling of their history and their legends of which I didn’t understand a word—but what matter if the sights and sounds are right? Your happy tourist will be as delighted as I was, if only he is given the chance to get some of it on film. He has just got to show the folk back home—and of course it’s all wonderful publicity for the islands.

It is important to remember that the tourist is looking for the un spoiled Pacific of his dreams. He does not want to see the islands he has idealised becoming a part of the civilised rat-race. If he is dis illusioned the first time he will not go back again.

If the Islands wish to cash in on the tourist bonanza, then the people themselves must be educated in the part they too must play. Your ro mantic tourist doesn’t want to be looked at with dollar eyes but to be welcomed as the romantic that he is.

He is in love with you, so don’t let him down.

And leave the casinos and poker machines to those places devoid of mystery and imagination—the Islands don’t need them.