The Fijian kava ceremony

Kava is the drink at the centre of Fijian life, a muddy, earthy brew made from a pounded root, and sooner or later on a trip to Fiji you will be invited to share a bowl. We first did it on a small island off the mainland, at a welcome ceremony, and then again and again as the trip went on.

When they asked who was brave enough to go first, I put my hand up, because of course I did. You clap once, take the half-coconut shell, and drink the whole thing down in one go while everyone says bula. It tastes like peppery dishwater, and within a minute my tongue and lips had gone pleasantly numb. That is the kava working.

It is not alcohol and it does not get you drunk. It relaxes you, loosens the shoulders, makes a circle of strangers feel like a long evening among friends. The ritual around it, the seating, the clapping, the order people drink in, is centuries old, and even when it is laid on for visitors there is something real underneath the performance.

I like these traditional things. They can feel staged, sure, but they still give you a window into how people lived here long before any resort existed, and the Fijians running them clearly take quiet pride in it. By the end of the trip I had done enough rounds to stop flinching at the taste.

Say yes when the bowl comes round. Drink it, clap, let your mouth go numb, and stay for the singing afterwards. It is the most Fijian hour you will spend, and it costs nothing but the willingness to go first.