Day Five (August 29th)

Well I’m exhausted from today. Dan, Kristi, and I decided to take the hike to the island off of Savaii. This included a two hour bus ride from Taufua to Apia, a taxi from Apia to the wharf and then another 1 and a half hour taxi ride from the wharf in Savaii to our next three day home at Tanu Beach. We decided to take the bus first of all because our tight budgets, but also because it looked like an experience for sure. We’ve watched the buses transport herds of villagers from place to place in these N framed buses each with their personalized touch. I would guess there are over 100 of these buses across the island that consistently haul people around for no more than 4 tala (about $1.75 USD) a way. The buses have creative names such as “Drop it like it’s hot”, “man-eater”, etc, each representing their proud drivers’ tastes. They are all also pimped out with Addidas signs, Nike swooshes, cow print, fluro tail-lights, and colorful graffiti. It was quite funny. Inside the bus is a completely different story. There must have been about 20 rows of hard upright benches and track plexi-glass windows. When we first hopped on the bus, it was practically empty, but that didn’t last very long at all. We made stop after stop at local villages, picking up work commuters, Samoan parents embracing their little ones in their laps, and postal parcels to be delivered to the city. It was interesting to watch the courtesy of the towns’ people. Men and young ones giving up their seats for the elderly, children, and women. You would generally expect this from all bodies of people and cultures, but sadly it isn’t a routine gesture from much of my American and New Zealand experience.

By the time we arrived at the bus stop in the own center (near the new market), I ‘m pretty sure I had no feeling in my rear end because of the plank seats. Hey, but I was more than greatful to catch the bus and avoid sitting on a strangers lap deal. Anyways, we walked through the market again and grabbed a quick snack at the grocery store before taking the next leg of our journey. I also was glad to be able to find some familiar pepto bismol on the shelf because I have been cringing from the hurricane that has been roaming about my stomach for the past three days. Samoans must have extremely tolerant bellies because I lasted nearly a day drinking their water and eating their curried and fried meals. Remembering Dan’s 22nd birthday, Kristi and went on a successful mission to find cake and candles for later.

Not long after, Dan, Kristi, Tim & Annetta (2 international friends), and I caught a taxi to the wharf with a man named Tasi. One thing I have noticed about the taxi drivers here is that almost all of them have been to New Zealand or originated there. This gives us lots to talk about, especially now that I am very familiar with the country. Tasi is a rugby player in New Zealand who has done a surprising amount of traveling in his career. His family is in New Zealand, however he is helping them out until Christmas by taxi-ing in the Samoan islands. When we arrived at the wharf, we thanked Tasi and quickly grabbed out belongings and headed to the terminal. The wharf was much smaller than I ahd expected with flat-rectangular benches occupied by napping victims, playful children, and potato chip vendors. One distinct memory was of a particular surfer dude sleeping on one of the benches, wearing a straw hat to block the sun from his eyes and his boardbag resting at his feel. This instantly triggered my mind back to Wilmington and all of my beach bum friends. They would love it here! There’s no doubt about it! WE boarded the ferry at 2pm and each grabbed a patch of ground toward the back of the ship, where we could dangle our feet over the edge. Haha and I’m never going to forget a Savaiian woman’s response to Kristi’s question, “How long is this ferry ride?” “MAYBE, HOURS?!” she replied. What does that actually mean, haha. That’s Samoa again for you. Anyways, I wish we had a warning for the next part of our journey.

As soon as we stepped foot off of the ship, we were instantly mobbed by taxi show furs. It reminded me of the seagulls from Finding Nemo that constantly repeated “MINE. MINE. MINE.” Drivers held up signs labeling local fale resorts, ascting as if they were sent directly from the accommodations. It was so confusing. They were everywhere, yelling a mixture of tattered English and Samoan slang. “75 tala, market? 60 tala, where to?, Tanu?” Ahh. I couldn’t take it any longer and you could tell the rest of the gang was having trouble as well, so I finally yelled out “60 tala to Tanu beach?”

Without response, a man grabbed Kristi’s luggage and began carrying it to the boot of his vehicle. This marks the start of our journey with Lo Lani, our soon to be, first real Samoan friend! We loaded up our belongings and situated ourselves in his small hatchback vehicle. I ended up sitting in the trunk the whole ride, but it wasn’t so bad. We made a quick stop to the famous market place and headed to our new home! It was another ‘maybe, hours’ til our destination, however, our fascination in external environment makes it feel like 15 minutes. The unfamiliar lifestyles of these ancient people are so interesting! Never in my life have I received so many friendly waves as we drove through kilometers of farmland, beach, and villages. Pigs, roosters, and dogs ran wild in yards, whereas, horses were leashed up on the properties. Graves lay as shrines in front of owners’ fales and locals walk barefoot along the roads carrying baskets of coconuts, papaya, and other produce. Remixes of popular American pop songs fill the car and add to the local beach aura.

When we arrived at the beach fales, we exchanged thanks and information to our friendly driver for options to explore the natural wonders of Savaii the following day. Tanu welcomed us with coconuts and showed us to our “ocean front” hut, very similar to the previous one. Not long after, we grabbed beers at the office and walked to the beach to chill and watch the sunset. After our delicious dinner we continued Dan’s birthday celebration down the road at another fales’ bar staging live music. We decided to splurge in a combined 50 tala for a bottle of Australian white wine. Good choice I must add! Shortly after, all three of us were escorted onto the dance floor by local Samoans.

After the music ended and we finished our drinks, we headed back home via the beach. We heard some familiar voices in the distance that led us to another hide-away bar on stilts. Of course we decided to check it out. We were surprised to find that it was the rest of the Norwegians from Waikato. There was also another little hut atop the stairs. Inside were three Samoan men seated around a table covered in Vailima bottles. Happy hour, I’m guessing! I decided to peek my head in and say hello (malo).
One thing led to another and the within a minute I was a guest at the kings table with another drink in my hand. These old men were hilarious. A lot of the stuff they talked about was difficult to understand, but I started to pick up on their gibberish. I listened as they told me about their lives as farmers, fishermen, as well as their outward travel experiences. It was awesome; almost as if I bundled myself up in a blanket of the Samoan culture.