This town is not only rich in history, it looks like history It is Maugham, maybe. All those amazing old colonial homes on the hillsides, their top-hinged window shutters held open with sticks, their interiors filled with polished brass and overstuffed chairs. But it is John Steinbeck, too, a cannery row with red-painted iron sheds and other nearly discarded remnants of history, a community kept alive by fish packing. Levuka's Royal Hotel. In Levuka, the sea is provider and partitioner, a wall tidily pushing the town into the mountains.
People here live by the sea, know the sea, literally breath the iodine scent of the sea.
When they're not breathing the cannery. This town is not only rich in history, it looks like history. Levuka is so comfortable with its past that it doesn't need any Lahaina glitz, no 'Ye Olde Shoppe' stuff to portray its character. This is a town from another time, another pace. And speaking of time, a pealing church bell tolls the hours, every hour, every half-hour.