We had just touched down in Nadi, and my mind was still swimming with memories of Tuvalu. But the return journey had begun, and I had a few hours to kill in Nadi before heading out to Los Angeles.

There was just one complication. I could not go straight to the transit area because Fiji Airways in Tuvalu had not checked my suitcase all the way through to Los Angeles. So I had to go out through immigration, collect my bag, and then check in again. A mild annoyance, yes. But also, as it turned out, a small and very welcome opportunity.

I quickly fished my phone out of my pocket and sent Aseri a WhatsApp message: “Are you anywhere near the airport? I just landed.”

Aseri was the driver Marriott had sent when Sharmila and I visited Fiji for the first time many years back. Since then, he has become a dear friend, and we have managed to meet a few more times on my later trips to Fiji.

It turned out that Aseri was indeed at the airport, waiting for a fare.

“Just hang in there. Do not take any fares. Book the next couple of hours for me,” I wrote back. Then I rushed through immigration, grabbed my suitcase, and headed out.

There he was, waiting for me in front of a column. At first, I almost walked right past him. He had lost so much weight that I barely recognized him.

“Bula!” we shouted together.

First things first. We went to the airport store, bought a bag of kava, because I simply cannot resist it in the Polynesian islands, tucked it into my suitcase, and checked it in again. Only then did we set off.

We spent the entire time talking. The funny part is that he did not even ask me what I wanted to do. We had our usual routine all set. First, he showed me his prized possession, the new car he had bought.

Then we headed straight to Denarau Island, where he took me to the three shops I always visit to buy my island shirts. This is never an easy task. There are just too many to choose from. There was one shirt in particular that even made Aseri laugh. He said it was too loud. Naturally, that was the one I bought. I only discovered later that Sharmila agreed with him, and apparently, with great enthusiasm.

I still had a couple of hours left, so we went to a nearby Indian restaurant and I introduced Aseri to pani puri. He quite liked it.

Over dinner, we caught up on our lives since we had last met, and on our families too.

Finally, he dropped me at the airport and headed off to his next fare.

Sometimes I feel incredibly lucky to have friends in far-flung places, people who can turn an awkward airport layover into something warm, familiar, and unforgettable. That, more than anything, is the real souvenir.