Beqa Lagoon Restaurant

Services

Interior Design

Project Information

Location

Fiji Island

Samma Studio Team

Daf Ashari

Muhammad Feby Trylenium

A Quiet Revival by the Sea

Translating vision into responsible expression.

Beqa Lagoon Restaurant sat still for too long. Perched on the edge of Fiji’s coast, it had once been alive with the clink of cutlery and the buzz of evening conversations. But time passed. Storms came. Guests slowed. What was once a vibrant hub began to feel like a space holding its breath.

The owners, envisioning a new chapter of villas and wellness offerings, returned to the restaurant with a gentle request: don’t start over—just wake it up. A light refresh, they said. New chairs, new lights, nothing more. But design in the tropics is never that simple. The climate doesn’t forgive shortcuts. Culture doesn’t welcome strangers. Here, even subtle changes must carry meaning.

FIJIAN PATTERN CLOTH

FIJIAN RATTAN WEAVING

SOLID WOOD

From the start, the design approach was anchored in duality. While the restaurant belongs to Fiji, the design team worked from Bali—two islands, both steeped in tradition, both shaped by ceremony, craft, and climate. The resulting concept wasn’t a blend or a clash—it was a quiet conversation between places. Fijian integrity met Balinese softness. Lines stayed clean, but textures spoke loudly. The space didn’t need to perform; it just needed to feel familiar.

The restaurant’s structure remained untouched—a conscious choice. Instead of demolition, the design was woven in. Spaces were redefined, not rebuilt. Woven screens, crafted with Fijian motifs, became functional partitions. They guided movement, softened acoustics, and filtered light. Bamboo slats created rhythmic shadows throughout the day, giving the interiors a living quality that shifted with the sun.

Functionally, the space now breathes. Seating was reimagined for pace and mood. A tucked-away lounge invites long, quiet drinks. Bench seating offers warmth and familiarity for groups, while a communal table—long, solid, grounding—anchors the dining area like a canoe drawn ashore. The bar, once overlooked, now serves as a central pulse point, clad in timber and washed in warm, ambient light. Every element is considered, but never calculated. Circulation moves like water—soft, unhurried, intuitive.

Materials were chosen not to impress, but to remember. Rattan, hand-woven with native patterns, carries stories in its strands. Timber bears the marks of age and salt air, grounding the space in place and time. Textiles reflect the surrounding landscape—reef greens, ash greys, coral reds—while metal is used sparingly, always as accent, never as showpiece. Some pieces were crafted in Bali, crossing the sea not as foreign objects, but as familiar forms shaped by the same sun.

The façade is now a quiet sculpture. Timber fins layer across the exterior, filtering harsh tropical light into gentle shadows. Woven screens offer privacy without closing the space. By day, sunlight moves across the surfaces like a slow tide. By night, the building glows from within—lamplight spilling through lattice and slat, turning the structure into a warm beacon for returning guests.

Distance shaped the process, but didn’t limit it. From Bali, the design team worked with the rhythm of the islands—measured, adaptive, instinctive. Renderings were exchanged like letters. Material samples crossed oceans. Communication was steady, but patient. On-site, the team built with care, translating vision into form with the precision of those who understand the importance of place.

Now, the restaurant no longer waits. In the morning, its silence hums again—with movement, with anticipation, with quiet pride. Nothing shouts. Everything fits. The design doesn’t declare itself, but it speaks—of island kinship, of craft, of a space that remembered what it was, and learned how to feel alive again.