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The Swedish fertility dance is in full swing. The two young surveyors from Gothenburg (he, a hollow-eyed Stefan Edberg type, she, like a tanned Agnetha - the platinum blonde from ABBA) have been joined by a rotund compatriot and are hopping around in circles, mooing, yelping and yapping like an assortment of farm animals. In the centre of it all stands a bemused young Fijian, a pair of lifebelts extending from outstretched arms, being a tree.

I have some sympathy with Albert, the Activities Manager aboard the Blue Lagoon Cruise around Fiji's Yassawa Islands. I too, have starred as a tree tonight - a role befitting one whose wooden stage presence rivals that of Keanu Reeves - as part of the Australian entry in the evening's "International Night". Eschewing the beer-bottle clutching synchronised swimming as our cultural contribution, we'd opted instead for a dramatisation of "Waltzing Matilda", with visual subtitles for the hard of comprehending. Mind you our entry's beginning to look startlingly original when compared with certain others. While the British contribution, led by an Australian resident of over thirty years standing (once a Pom, always a Pom), is a not untuneful "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts", the Kiwi contingent compound cliches of chips on shoulders by re-telling a couple of anti-Aussie jokes.

The things you do when you're cruising in the South Pacific.

By this, the third and final night of the Blue Lagoon Cruise, you're just about ready for this. Fed on a steady diet of nodding palms, pearly sand beaches, staggeringly blue seas and teeming reefs, not to mention a seemingly unstoppable conveyor belt of all-too edible food, you're that chilled out that not a lot taxes you. You've also got to know your fellow passengers just well enough to make an arse out of yourself in front of them.

You can now see why, on arrival, the crew made you wear your name badge - "we like to form a small family, you might meet someone from your own suburb" - and passed you the microphone to introduce yourself in a way which summoned up an altogether different kind of meeting. I kept expecting somebody to say "Hi, my name's Derek and I'm an alcoholic", but no, the only contentious claim came from our man in Canberra: "Hi, my name's Roger and I'm from the centre of the universe".

In retrospect, however daunting they may seem, these introductions are a helpful short cut to communication with fellow passengers. With only 36 cabins aboard the MV Mystique Princess, you're bound to meet them anyway so you might as well know which suburb they come from. That's not to say that you're not given your space on the four day, three night cruise. The cabins themselves are an air-conditioned haven - a place to retreat from the heat of the day as well as the odd unsatisfying conversation about Swedish surveying. They feature solid queen sized beds, panoramic windows (so as you miss none of that glittering sea), a half-wall mirror which makes the room feel twice its size and even a few surely unnecessary accessories such as satellite telephones and televisions for the in-cruise videos. Ensuite facilities, including powerful hot water showers and aircraft-style flushing toilets, round off a picture that puts many rooms in so-called five-star resorts on Fiji's mainland to shame.

Nor are you, and this is important for anybody who adheres to the EE Cummings adage "include me out", constantly being pestered to join in with everything. In fact, the ratio of activity to non-activity aboard the cruise is spot on, and the crew (who line up during those unnerving introductions looking every centimetre the Fijian national rugby scrum) hardly hit a bum note during the time at sea, remaining friendly and seamlessly organised throughout. Also, for anybody who gets fidgety sitting in the same space for too long, the length of this particular Blue Lagoon (Gold) Cruise - three nights and four days, with around four hours cruising time per day - is about right.

The Mystique Princess spends its days pottering among the thin strip of the Yassawa group of islands to the North-West of Fiji's main Viti Levu island. The Yassawas are a brochure writer's heaven and the cruise takes full advantage of them, ferrying passengers ashore daily on water taxis for statutory swimming and snorkelling. Other one-offs include a fishing trip, a hilly trek to a village whose ancestors thought Captain Bligh looked tasty enough to eat and a Meke (an exuberant Fijian entertainment) performed by the inhabitants of Nacu village, where they have lived in the same traditional way for centuries. In the evenings, the motor yacht is opportunely anchored for the sublime South Pacific sunsets, best viewed from the broad Sky Deck with a Fiji Bitter in one hand and a camera in the other.

On the final night, almost the entire army of crew and passengers steal ashore at Nanuya Lailai Island for a Lovo feast (whole hunks of meat baked in a hollow in the ground), followed by the dreaded "International competition". To our astonishment, our dramatised "Waltzing Matilda" nearly brings home the bacon, claiming third prize. But none of us, not even Swedish Stefan and Agnetha at their most perky (second prize), can match the precision yodelling on offer from both the Swiss and the German camps. With not an Alp in sight it is they that carry off first prize.

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