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Just where is the cradle of the world's delight these days? The tropicana ring around the earth provides ample palm-tree-culture alternatives for backpack nomads, scuba divers and package tourists. And within that ring is Fiji , which, in the long history of escaping winter, pops up regularly in many island- hoppers' imaginations. But the fun was interrupted in May 2000, when Fij i was embroiled in a coup-the former British colony's third in 13 years. Indigenous Fijians, led by local shady businessman George Speight (in Australia he was busted for bilking investors in a pyramid scheme out of US$72 million), attempted to overthrow the elected prime minister Mahendra Chaudhry. Speight felt confident he could overthrow the government based on his own (and he assumed others') prejudices against Chaudhry's Indian ethnicity (ethnic Indians make up 44 percent of Fiji's population and control 70 percent of its wealth). Well, Speight misjudged his own people. While he took over the royal palace for 57 days, the Fijians invited the High Council of Chiefs in to make a decision on this matter, and they politely took Speight to jail. An interim government is now in place, and has announced plans to hold elections and to adopt a new constitution by November 2001. Now, Fij i is back on the sunseekers' trail. Fiji is a friendly country and basically safe, with the exception of a few hustlers working the larger towns. The Fijian "hello"-bula!-is heartfelt and used libera lly. The bright side shines: There are good basic health and education systems, decent roads, new air service, and expanded tourist facilities. Tourism, the number one earner of hard currency until the failed coup, looks poised to bounce back within a year or two. Viti Levu, Fiji's largest and most populous island, has its share of sun- and-fun resorts. Inexpensive ferries and flights reach dozens of other beach- rimmed islands that cater to the chic as well as the six-bucks-a-night-thatched- hut dweller. From Nadi (pronounced NAN-dee), site of the international airport, al l roads lead to the capital Suva, where Fijian women with untamed afros mix with sari-clad Hindus. On the outskirts of town, swaths of sugarcane and coconut plantations dominate the landscape. Suva is usually the jumping-off point for adventurous travelers fleeing the insulated resorts that dot the south coast for the smaller islands' quintessential South Pacific scenery. Rambler instinct usually means escaping the "busy island" in search of adventure. But I resisted that impulse. Instead, I ascended into Viti Levu's craggy mountain interior, traversed her lofty spine, and waterfalled back to the ocean on a bamboo balance beam and found untamed, cloud-misted highlands that are an epoch away from sea-level hotel buffets. The real Fiji begins where the pavement ends. 32 A Marvelous Trance At a Nadi bar, drinking Fiji Bitter, I was asking the bartender about visiting highland villages when a stocky man named Severo said he had overheard my questions and introduced himself in the soft tones of Fijians. While not a professional guide, he offered to take me to the interior if I covered his expenses. This amounted to about $10 a day. An invitation from a village chief is required to enter most Fijian villages . It is akin to asking to swim in someone's pool and receiving a smiling yes. Severo could get me those invitations, and I hired him. The next day we made our steady ascent on Viti Levu using a medley of buses, taxis, injured pickups and feet, leaving the sunblock flock on the beaches behind. We reached the village of Navai, which naps at the base of Fiji's zenith, the 4,341-foot Mount Tomanivi. The British named the mountain Mount Victoria , though it is doubtful that any queen scaled the peak. Fij ians overlook that royal reference. Long-needle pines and towering palms loom over trad itional thatch-domed, wooden bures, along with a few proudly maintained boxy corrugated-steel abodes. (Hurricane relief introduced the metal structures and they quickly caught on.) The whole village blooms like a garden, filled with hibiscus, plumerias and birds of paradise. Flanked by a river and surrounded by misty mountains, Navai is communal peace defined. And, like most Fijian villages, there is no hint of litter. Two hundred residents live in 65 newly electrified homes. Hydroelectric power wired Navai in 1999, eliminating the need for kerosene lamps and batteries. The lone fluorescent bulb and listen-to-rugby-on-the-radio bill runs about a buck a month. People stil l cook over wood fi res. The universal mountain-dweller maxim emerges: Simplicity breeds familial content. The villagers' delight in family life contrasts the price western families pay for trudging the rat race. Here in Fiji , everyone seems somehow related and has cousins galore. Fijian friendliness stems from tribal custom. Family and friends-old and new, often one and the same- are life's greatest gifts. Every child is taught four essential tenets of "chiefly behavior": respect, deference, attentiveness and humility. A well-rounded person, say Fijians, treats everyone with interest and respect. After climbing Mount Tomanivi, I headed to the town meeting hall. I pulled off my mud-caked boots (twice their original weight) and the chief and his entourage greeted me fo r a customary yaqona ceremony, which centers around the preparation and drinking of kava. Now a US drugstore staple in the form of "herbal" pills that are said to promote relaxation, kava has long been a ritualistic beverage throughout the South Pacific. In Fiji , it is the opiate of the masses (well, most of the men anyway). Kava is made from ground waka, the long, dried root of a pepper plant. Waka granules are put in a large teabagl ike pouch that's submerged in room-temperature rainwater. The pouch is wrung and redunked until the concoction fogs to brown. Historica ll y, waka was masticated then spat out as kava-infused saliva for consumption. Today, kava is made in a tanoa, a block of wood with legs that has a depression carved in the middle. Some tanoa are lavished with intricate carvings. Others are more utilitarian.