Babel

“They eat with forks,” Thanpuii reminded the student who was laying out the silverware. This is just one example of many cultural nuances that surfaced in preparing dinner for the Tahitians. Between the Indian missionaries, the Samoan natives, the Tahitian rugby players, and my American self, the entire afternoon was a master’s class in culture and cross-cultural relations. It was chaotic and fascinating. And the food was all right.

My school’s staff and student prefects have been divided into 3 groups, which change duty each day. That is, group 1 prepared food yesterday, group 2 was on duty today, group 3 will come in tomorrow, group 1 the day after. As a member of group 2, I spent the late afternoon and most of the evening preparing dinner with teachers and a bunch of year 12s and 13s. While I’m not too keen on teaching, it’s extra-curricular activities like this where the setting is less formal that I relish the job.

Structurally, the schedule of events was Samoan: we cooked the food, watched the Tahitian guests eat, then the teachers ate, and then the students. I spent most of the day hovering in the background trying to help when I could, but mostly leaving the main thrust of the meal preparation to others. Too many cooks spoil the soup (or in this case, the curry), and I didn’t want to mettle with what seemed like a pretty organized system. So I laid back.

Tahiti was colonized by France, and the Tahitian rugby teams consequently speaks French. No English. Since our non-French-speaking staff has been charged with organizing the team’s logistics, language is a key issue. I’ve been on Savai’i since the team arrived, and hopes were high I would be able to communicate with the Tahitians. Sorry, everybody. I took four and a half years of Spanish, which is of no use in this situation. Everyone’s been getting by with pantomime and pictures though, which works well enough.

Communication has been a bigger problem with the Oceania Rugby Union giving our staff certain directives that haven’t gone over well in practice. For example, the union told us that the team should eat lots of fruits and vegetables. At last night’s dinner, the team barely touched the fruits and vegetables, instead opting for meat. I think some students and staff were miffed about this, but I think these sort of kinks will get worked out over the next 2 weeks.

It was hilarious watching students interact. My year 13 Amanda was a Chatty Cathy going on and on about how the Tahitians don’t like the food and only ate scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast and how the girls from group 1 got in trouble last night for being too cheeky with the players and how it’s strange that they drink so much juice and blah blah blah.

Dinner was served buffet-style, but the girls, who changed into pulatasis just before dinner was served, tripped over one another for the opportunity to go around to offer the players extra food or to fill up their drinks. Romance can be taboo in Samoa, and having a slew of athletic, exotic young men is a rare treat for a female adolescent.

Overall, I had a good time tonight, which is good because we’re doing the whole thing again on Wednesday when it’s group 2’s turn again.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Girls serving the team.

Students flank Suasami, who is also in group 2.

Year 12 Gasologa.

Goof balls.

All the Way Home

I took a flight from San Francisco to Geneva once. That was a long way. I flew from Los Angeles to Rio de Janeiro. I think that might be a longer distance; I’ll have to Google that. My point is in the grand scheme of things, today’s entire trip was a relatively short distance. But with the exception of my New Years Eve trip to Falealupo, today’s trip back to Apia from Manase was my longest one-day journey in country, point-to-point.

One other thing that sets today’s trip apart from that NYE trip: a bunch of us went in on a taxi for the longest leg of that trip. Our trek today comprised wholly of public transportation. That’s a little more of a headache.

The day started at Tanu Beach Fales where we had complimentary breakfast and I took a brief swim since the tide was in. Luisa and I had our bags packed and our fale cleaned by 9:45 since we’d been told the bus would come through the village to pick us up at 10. I was told over the phone when I made the reservation, we were told yesterday when we checked in, we were told this morning when we checked out. 10 a.m., 10 a.m., 10 a.m.

The bus came at 11:30.

It was cool though. The family that owns Tanu is very nice, and when the bus finally did show up, there were plenty of open seats. We sat in the bench at the back and we were off.

Though Los Angeles is a bigger city with a wilder reputation, I find drivers in the San Francisco Bay Area drive a lot faster on average. This same juxtaposition seems to be true of Upolu and Savai’i: despite being the quieter, more laid back island, drivers on Savai’i haul ass. It took us an hour to get to Salelologa. On an Upoluan (Upolutian?) bus, the same distance would have taken twice as long. No exaggeration.

We got food at a hotel in Salelologa, and then walked to the wharf where most passengers had already boarded the ferry. With the new boat in and out of commission, the boat schedule has been all over the place. Today, the (old) little boat was not running so there was an extra large crowd on the (old) big boat. The air conditioners were off, and by the time we got on, there were very few seats left. Luisa squeezed in to a bench. I sat on the floor.

At first this arrangement wasn’t ideal, but I got sleepy and laid down in the aisle and took a nap. And it was awesome.

Getting off the boat is a crucial point in any journey given the scarcity of bus seats back to Apia. I have no idea why they send 3 tiny buses for a boat carrying >400 people. I try not to use the blog to complain, but the whole pasiovaa arrangement is absurd. Cramming that many people on to that few buses makes no sense in terms of safety, comfort, business, or efficiency. I don’t expect things to be overly accommodating or hoity-toity, but surely someone could scrounge up one more bus? Particularly on Sundays when only one boat is running and there’s bound to be hoards of people? It’s about the same as when there would be one Muni bus waiting after a San Francisco Giants game.

As you can probably surmise, the bus back to Apia was not fun. By the time we got on, there was standing room only, and we were near the front. Looking out the window, there were still at least 20 people waiting to get on. Luisa ended up riding on a random lady’s lap. I had to contort my legs and arms to fit into a tiny space in the aisle.

In the end, we made it back to Apia about 6 hours after we left Manase. On the whole, this was good time. Especially considering we got to eat lunch. But I’m still ready to take a break from buses for a while.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.

Phil and Luisa on the rocks out in back of his house.

I finally got to use the underwater camera bag this weekend.

Coral at Manase.

You can always tell a Milford Man.

Sunday Morning Go For a Ride

I had no plans for today. Sunday is such a dead day here it’s hardly worth the effort to try and make plans. During training we occasionally tried to schedule walks along the seawall or dominoes tournaments in the Apia Central courtyard. But making plans for Sunday is an upstream swim, and I think we’ve all accepted the inevitable “if you can’t beat’em, join’em” attitude. My plan for the day was to lie on my couch.

My kitchen seemed like a lost cause. I went to Farmer Joe after mass this morning, and they had no wholemeal bread. I’m loyal to the wholemeal, and they said they’d have more tomorrow, so I left breadless. Standing at the bakery counter, I did a mental check on what I could have for dinner now that peanut butter and jelly had fallen through. Oh right. Pumpkin stir-fry. It’s good to have a fall-back. I also had nothing for to’ona’i, the big Sunday brunch, but it’s rare that I have much of a breakfast anyway.

But then the day changed.

I’ve had a taro thawing in my refrigerator since my sister was here, and I also have an entire jar of pumpkin jelly. I’ve been kinda dying to go back to the Aggie Grey’s to’ona’i buffet after I went with my parents. Among my favorite things there was taro cooked like homefries. So this morning, I figured why not? So I sliced the taro into silver dollars, boiled and fried them, and topped them with pumpkin jelly. With a cup of Starbucks coffee and last week’s This American Life podcast, it was a delightful to’ona’i.

Koa called in the middle of the meal. He and his friend Caroline, who’s visiting from The States, rented a car this morning and wanted to know if I wanted to take a ride around the island. And just like that, I had to’ona’i and plans for Sunday.

We headed east from Apia, went over the Mafa pass, headed west along the south side of the island, and came back over the cross-island road, stopping whenever we felt the need. I burned a CD while Koa and Caroline were on their way to my house, but it turned out the car only had a cassette deck. And since it was difficult to bring in radio through much of our circuit, we had to rely on conversation.

We stopped at the Falefa waterfall where a mute Samoan teenager asked us to take pictures of him doing flips off the rocks. We honored his request. Then it was on to the Mafa pass where we took pictures of the landscape. Then back in the car to Saleapaga where the proprietor of the Faofao Beach Fales allowed us to swim for free. Then on to the waterfall at Papapapaitai. And finally a stop-off at the Baha’i temple at the top of the mountain. The volunteer working there told us we’d missed Paul and his mom by a couple hours.

It’s always fun doing tourist things with visitors, and today was no exception. And this on a day I’d planned to spend on the couch. Sweet.

I hope you’re well. Pictures will be posted shortly.
















Pumpkin jam, fried taro, coffee.
















Mute Samoan starting flip.
















Clouds off the south shore. Clouds here tend to sit on a straight line parallel to the horizon. Why do they do that?
















Golden bamboo at the Baha'i temple.

Amanda is Here

Despite all of the Road Switch warnings, Amanda has spit in the face of danger and come to visit me in Samoa. She is the lone member of my second wave of visitors, which is very exciting. And as a bonus, United had its act together this time around, and she was able to make both legs of her trip. She arrived on time and in one piece, albeit a little tired, at 5:00 a.m. local time

She used some of my parents’ frequent flyer miles to pay for the trip, and due to limited seats in economy class, she flew business class. She got to relax in the VIP lounge at LAX where they had finger foods and a refrigerator full of free soda and beer. She was escorted on to the plane, and as another bonus, she had the entire row to herself.

I found this hilarious. Taking business class to visit a Peace Corps Volunteer is like going upstairs to get to the basement; like taking the penthouse elevator to get to the mail room.

In any case, it seems like they schedule in some buffer time on the flight from Los Angeles because it seems to land 45 to 60 minutes early on a regular basis. Okay, I’m only looking at this week and last week, so my sample size might be too small, but Paul and I were both extremely late in meeting our visitors at the airport though we arrived on time.

Okay, I overslept. But I still made it to the airport at 5:30 for a flight that was scheduled to get in at 5:25. It’s reasonable to assume that baggage claim and customs adds a half-hour to curbside arrival.

I overslept and made it on time because I took a taxi. His name was Lio, and he wanted $40 for a taxi ride to the airport. I had been told by others this is a $50-ride, so I was down for $40. And since Amanda was sitting in the waiting area when I got there, I was able to flag Lio down before he left the tiny airport, and we got a ride back for $40. Sweet.

The drive into Apia from that flight is always pretty amazing. You leave the airport under cover of darkness, and you drive into the sunrise. It’s almost as though you can watch the shades of blue and orange and pink move across the eastern sky.

It’s also a bit mindblowing to see all the pre-dawn activity along the suburban road that connects Faleolo and Apia. I saw at least two students from my school, who I assume must wake up around 5:00 a.m. every day to make it to school on time. And there I am fighting the alarm clock at 7:20.

In any case, we made it back this morning with time to spare before school began. We opened luggage and I tried hook up my SATA hard drive and Amanda took a nap.

On the schedule for the week: beach, boat races, restaurants, road switch fun.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















Me and Amanda and Lio the taxi driver.
















Amanda.
















I re-grew the beard after that teacher said shaving made me look like a "little school boy". But I shaved this morning.

Rolling on the River

It was ill-timed that I began Tuesday’s blog with the story about hiking Half Dome because that hike applies much more to the river hike that I did this morning. This morning’s hike was perhaps the most intense hike I’ve ever been on. I’m not quite an avid hiker, but I’ve done my share—Mission Peak in the Bay Area, various trails in Death Valley and the Santa Monica Mountains, the Half Dome climb—but none of those involved a guide that was needed for actual guiding. And the funny thing is, my footwear for all of those hikes was almost surely much better than the flip-flops that I wore today. Oh well.

Footwear was my biggest concern when I packed, believe it or not, but when I called Phil to see what he and Robby would be wearing, they were wearing flip-flops. I know better than to hike in flip-flops, but I figured camaraderie would get us through. I was also not expecting the level of intensity the hike required (Also, thinking about it now, had I brought better shoes, they would have been my running shoes, and since much of the hike was in ankle-deep-plus water, those would have been just as lousy.).

Plans for the trip were brought up Wednesday night. Since Phil’s friend Robby is visiting, Phil was taking him to stay at the river fales in Falease’ela on the south side of Upolu, which includes three meals and a 3.5 hour guided hike along the river. The people who own the fales ask for a minimum of 4 people for any stay… so Phil invited Max and me to come along.

We met at the fish market yesterday morning, ate “brunch,” and hopped on a bus down to Lefaga (Lefaga is the district, Falease’ela is the town. Lefaga is next to Sefata, which is the district of Group 81’s training village, Fausaga.). It was pouring rain in Apia. Phil thought we might drive to better weather. As we neared our destination, I turned to Phil and said, “We didn’t drive out of the rain yet.”

Phil smiled. “We still might.”

We didn’t. We were greeted by the couple that owns the fales, Olson and Jane. Both New Zealand natives, they run a literal mom-and-pop operation on his family’s land. They greeted us with coffee and banana muffins. The river fales, we found out, is a Peace Corps favorite, and Olson and Jane are on a first name basis with many many volunteers. So we chatted. It was still pouring rain, so Olson decided it best to hike this morning rather than yesterday afternoon. Phil, Max, Robby, and I retired to our fale to play Spades for the rest of the day. It was kind of awesome.

When we set out this morning, Olson warned us about the flip-flops, but he wasn’t too nervous, and we had nothing else. Since much of the hike is through water, its best to wear some sort of sandal that straps around the back of your foot. This is annoying in water, but walking through inches of mud is awful. All of us experience problems with the plastic toe-strap popping out from the rubber soul. The other problem with mud is it lubricates the bottom of your foot so there’s no traction. And traction is kind of a big deal for hikers. Oh well. We managed.

The hike began through brush, and then we crossed the river. Then we waded through the river for a while. Then up the banks of the river, back down into the river, back up. Eventually there were long stretches of walking through knee-deep water. These parts became the most loathsome because we were going against current and the water was moving fast enough that visibility was affected. So we were walking a bit blindly over uneven rocks, constantly shifting balance with each step, against a current trying its damnedest to steal our shoes. Going was slow.

Olson told us the night before about the 30-metre vertical climb, which sounded daunting, but by the time we arrived at the wall, it seemed like a welcome break to blind wading. I’ve never been rock-climbing in a gym, but I can’t imagine it’s much different from the wall on the river hike. It’s a vertical climb with natural crevices that serve as grips and toeholds.

Getting down required a 15-foot jump into a small, murky pool. “Bend your knees,” Oslon suggested.

The final part of the hike was another waterfall in which you scale a rock wall until you are behind the waterfall, and then do a combination jump/shoulder roll through the waterfall. It’s a high-volume waterfall with considerable height, so it feels not unlike being hit by a car. The saving grace is the pool of water below. It was intense.

All in all, it was a great time, Olson and Jane are great people and the hike is way cool. For added intensity, I’d recommend trying it in flip-flops.

Have a great weekend. Pictures below.
















Max, me, Phil, and Robby waiting for the bus.
















Max flirting on the bus.
















Spades.





















In this picture, that's Olson at the top starting the rock-climb. Phil is doing the first jump into the pool (I believe I caught him just as his feet are entering the water... You can see small splashes beneath his feet.). Robby is waiting to jump next.





















This shot was taken just after the one above. Olson is doing the vertical climb. Phil's arm is visible at the bottom of the rock face. The first vertical climb starts where Phil is and goes a little above the top of the first waterfall. The second vertical climb is up the second waterfall.





















This is me standing in knee-deep water in the same position I was in when I took the photo at the top of this post. I handed the camera to max and he took it. I like it because it blue-ish hue that the camera automatically selected and the pose itself feel very Annie Leibovitz. Also, the light refraction in the water makes my legs look really short.

Guest Contributor: Joe and Patty

Though my knowledge of most of Samoa is cursory at best, I’ve been playing tour guide all week for my parents. It’s been fun and strange to be in company with non- strangers for the week, and it’s been enlightening to contrast the Peace Corps experience in Samoa with the tourist experience. My parents leave for New Zealand early Friday morning, and since tomorrow may get a little hectic since it’s their last day here, I’ve asked them to guest-blog about their experience in Samoa. So here goes:

Joe

It’s Wednesday, so we must be back in Apia. Today I’m going with the flow. It’s cooling off a bit now but that just means the rain is coming – again. I woke up this morning thinking I need a vacation from my vacation. It’s been an adventure daily starting from when we left San Francisco. United was three hours to LAX so we missed the connecting flight directly to Apia. So we wound up in Los Angeles for a day, another day in the air, and another day in Auckland; all meaning we missed two days with Matthew.

This morning we left the island of Savaii on the 10 o’clock ferry coming back to Apia. We spent two days in Savaii at the Lusia’s Lagoon Chalets, a not-too-modern place for a getaway on a beautiful cove with pristine waters. Though we saw only a small part of the island, it is plush with dense green growth and seems further from the world than Upolu, the main island, though Savaii is larger in area. Yesterday, we swam at the Palalaui waterfall. It was raining and it was hard to tell the water from waterfall from the water from the sky. I’m sure the Aussie family that dropped by to see the falls and the rain thought the three people swimming must be a little touched. The falls is over 30-feet high and is a wonder of rocks, caves and flora.

Back at Lusia’s there are fish in the cove so I thought I would engage in a little fishing for catch-and-release or maybe have a few for dinner fried up by the cook. Well, I could not find a place around us that sold hooks and line… on an island that depends on fishing. So the fish are still swimming happily at Lusia’s.

We’re very fortunate that Matthew speaks a bit of Samoan and knows the fares, or who to call if he doesn’t. He’s been able to keep most of the drivers honest.

Patty

Samoa has been neither as hot nor as humid as I had expected (feared?). It has rained quite a bit – thankfully mostly we’ve been indoors. However, yesterday we swam for an hour at the Palalaui waterfall while the rain came down in huge drops. Fortunately it was still warm enough to be fun. This place is incredibly green, lush and beautiful. The ocean is so blue. Too pretty to describe.

It has been a busy week — we arrived Friday (after an unfortunate delay) and had a fun dinner with Matthew, Paul, Phil and Supy. It was great to meet them after reading so much about them. What an impressive group! Jane – I hugged Paul twice! I’m so happy that we got to see them before they left for Fiji. It was fun to go to dinner and get a tiny taste of where Matthew has spent the last eight months.

We spent Saturday in the village meeting Matthew’s Samoan family. They prepared a feast for us and I ate a lot more than Matthew indicated in his blog. I had some fish soup, omelet, rice and coconut juice. Everyone seemed happy to see us, and they were very welcoming. Asolima, her cousin, and her brother gave us a preview of the dance they were going to perform at church on Sunday. The two little girls, Akanese and Leme, are beautiful! Joe got to hold the baby and I got to play a game of Popo Mano with Akanese. Akanese also danced for us. She is darling!

On Sunday we went to the English Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. The mothers received ulas, or leis, that had been blessed by the new priest. After communion the youth choir sang a song about mothers. It made me cry. There’s something really comforting about being able to attend Mass anywhere in the world and still feel at home. Later that day we had a great Mothers’ Day dinner prepared by the two most important men in my life! The stir fry was really good and the taro hash browns were excellent. The only thing missing was my precious Amanda.

On Monday we went to the Baha’i House of Worship – one of only seven in the world. The grounds are beautiful and the atmosphere is reminiscent of Holy Family Motherhouse – definitely a spiritual place. Monday afternoon we took the ferry to Savai’i. At Lusia’s Lagoon Chalets, Joe, Matthew and I were assigned the Honeymoon Suite. What fun! They were filming an ad to promote Samoan tourism so at dinner that night we got to see an impressive floor show featuring Miss Samoa 2003 and an Australian newsreader (Tracy Spicer).

Tuesday we swam in the lagoon then Joe and Matthew went kayaking and snorkeling while I read on the dock. Afterwards we took a taxi to the waterfall and then returned to Lusia’s for a yummy dinner.

Today we took the ferry back to Apia and finally made it to Skippy’s and did a little window shopping at the flea market (can you window shop if there are no windows?). Tonight we went to Giordano’s with Blakey where we ran into Koa and his parents. We drank a little Australian wine and had some delicious bleu cheese pizza.

I can’t believe that tomorrow is our last day in Samoa. The time has gone way too fast. On the one hand I’m grateful that we got to see where Matthew is living and to meet some of his friends. It will definitely make it easier to imagine what his life is like here in Apia. On the other hand, being able to spend some time with him will only make it harder to be so far away. While intellectually I totally support what he is doing, the mom part of me wishes he were closer to home. I’m very proud of what he’s doing but my heart hurts at the thought of the continuing physical separation.

That’s all for today. Hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















At the flea market.
















Sleepy sleepy time.

The Big Island

The more I come to Savai’i the more I realize how little I understand it. The first time I came was in December, then once in January, once in February, once a week and a half and ago, and this time with my parents. I’ve lived in Samoa for 7 months and some change, and I’ve spent less than 2 weeks of that time on The Big Island. And even though it’s not too far from Upolu and everyone still speaks Samoan, it is a wholly different beast.

Savai’i is the largest island in the Samoan archipelago. It is more rural than Upolu where the capital is. It has its share of tourist attractions: a couple waterfalls, blowholes, the western-most point in the world, resorts, snorkeling, etc. It has cool Peace Corps volunteers like Phil and Trent and Rosie and Max. And much of it feels the same as Upolu. But I feel like there’s a different mindset here that’s difficult to pinpoint.

The best equivalent I can think of is an Indian reservation in The States. Everybody there knows everybody there and it’s a bit cut-off from the rest of the world and things happen in certain ways they may not in other places. And people who aren’t native to the reservation are a bit baffled if they only come occasionally.

Perhaps Upolu is just more used to having palagis around. I’m told that ferrying between the islands used to take much longer and the current system of ferry boats (provided by the Japanese) that go back and forth up to 6 times daily is relatively new. I don’t mean to imply Savai’i is newly open to the world, but its relative isolation is still palpable.

Our taxi driver was late picking us up this afternoon. In training we talked quite a bit about how Samoa is a polychronic society; that is, a society that works on multiple people’s schedules and people don’t necessarily feel they need to conform to one specific clock. And I’m late to things all the time, and if I’m late by 10 or 15 minutes, I am unapologetic. But our taxi driver today was 50 minutes late picking us up. And it was raining. And we were soaking when he finally pulled up. And there was no apology.

That would not fly in Apia.

My dad has been asking around about fishing hooks. It’s an island. There are places to fish. And granted people tend to fish with nets or spears here, but it is surprisingly difficult to find fishing equipment of any kind. It’s the kind of problem that almost surely has a logical answer for the people who live here. Fishing equipment is one of those things that your family has always had and why should a store need to sell a product that everybody already owns?

This isn’t all a big diatribe to say that Savai’ins need to be more punctual or that they should make it easier for tourists to take their fish, I’m just saying there’s a different mindset here that I don’t completely understand. I live in a much different part of Samoa; I live in a part of Samoa that has adopted customs that make it much more similar to the places I grew up. And as long as I’ve lived in Samoa, I am still baffled by Savai’i.

It’s more cut-off. It’s more expensive. It’s less congested. It’s more green. It’s more traditional. So take it for what you will.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















My parents in the lagoon.
















My dad in a kayak.
















The honeymoon suite... our treehouse.
















Fire dancing at the culture show last night.

Sub Culture

Note: I was unable to post this blog on Monday because the door to the satellite Peace Corps office in Savai’i was locked from the inside. Apologies for the inconvenience.

At dinner tonight, some locals put on a tableau of Samoan culture featuring dancing, drumming, singing, fire dance, and an ’ava ceremony. A film crew was on hand to videotape the show and the audience reaction as part of a promotional video highlighting Samoa’s many tourist attractions. The show moved at a frenetic pace, often using the yelling and chee-hooing of traditional Samoan dance to keep the audience on edge.

But as we moved through a bare-bones ’ava ceremony, taupos wearing attire far more attractive and form-fitting than the traditional fine mats, and an overweight palagi being pulled out of the crowd to try his hand at the Manaia dance, things started to feel a little wrong. Cultural presentations are great, and I’m all for celebrating one’s heritage, but at some point it becomes sheer selling out, and it was unclear where we were on that spectrum tonight.

I admit, training in the host village totally has me on my high horse. While it’s not one of the Peace Corps’s articulated goals, part of the cultural immersion of the 11 weeks of training was to give us an understanding of Samoan culture that dug deeper than a simple, cursory knowledge. Though in some circles the Peace Corps has a reputation for being a 2-year vacation, living with a Samoan family and participating in cultural events and even hanging out with my students gives a more studied perception of the culture. And as much as PCVs are strangers in a strange land, after a month or two, we are barely tourists.

So tonight was a change in mindset. I feel like I’ve been walking on egg shells the past 7 months, trying to show as much reverence as possible. I’ve sat cross-legged through hour-plus ’ava ceremonies, curbed habits perceived as disrespectful, attended 6 weeks of Culture Day practice; I’ve treated culture with utmost respect because, if nothing else, my perceived reverence affects the way staff, students, and other Samoans think of me. So it’s off-putting to be in an environment where dance and culture are treated light-heartedly and as being slightly inconsequential.

But maybe I’m just a culture snob now. Maybe I’m not giving the Samoan dancers or the palagi audience enough credit. Maybe the point really was to celebrate Samoan culture in a way that is most easily accessible to visitors who are respectfully trying to enjoy their vacation. And maybe the free market via Samoa’s budding tourism industry can do more good for the Samoan quality of life than the Peace Corps at this point.

Maybe.

My parents enjoyed the show. During the ’ava portion, my dad was one of the people in audience picked out to receive ava, and I think it was a rush for him to be put on the spot; a rush in addition to the mildly euphoric affects of the ’ava itself. He also took video of the dancing with his digital camera, and he replayed parts of it back in the hotel room later this evening, saying, “That is just amazing.” So it sucks my parents missed culture day, but I guess tonight’s show was the next best thing.

Kinda.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















My dad and I in front of the Baha'i temple on Upolu.
















On Savai'i.





















Geckos in the light fixtures.
















My mom unknowingly booked the 3 of us in the Honeymoon Suite. Awkward.

Easy Like Sunday

After family vacations growing up, Jennifer and I would compare notes, and it constantly seemed like we were mismatched with our families. Jennifer’s parents wanted to go all over and take tours and do all kinds of stuff whereas she just wanted to lie around on the beach; my parents were the kind to leave Disneyland in the middle of the day to take a nap whereas I wanted to see as much and do as much as possible.

In preparing for my parents’ visit, I had forgotten this, and I’ve been a little apprehensive about planning places to go and things to see. But given today is Sunday when all of Samoa shuts down, and because yesterday’s village excursion was hectic and exhausting, I figured we could take today to sit by the pool and make dinner at my house. The fact that it rained the whole day (save for about 2 hours we spent taking in an overcast sky on the poolside) only justified the day’s lackadaisical itinerary.

So we did a lot of lazing: lazing on the pool deck, lazing in the hotel room, lazing at my house. Even when I got in the pool, I swam in a lazing manner. At one point I attempted the old water polo warm-up routine from high school, and though I weigh about the same as I did back then, the muscle tone has diminished. I was slow.

With the skies already overcast, not rainy turned into rainy at the blink of an eye, and we were back in my parents’ hotel room pretty quick. And then I had my first hot shower in 110 days. It was awesome. I probably stood there in the warm flowing water for 10 minutes doing absolutely nothing, just feeling warm. It was the perfect day for a hot shower too given the cold rain outside. I talked to a Samoan once about how I loathe the cold showers, and she said she enjoyed the cool water since it’s so hot here. But today was cold. And a hot shower was more than welcome.

I made my famous taro hash browns for my parents tonight. My dad is somewhat legendary in the kitchen, and it’s always a bit risky cooking for him, particularly when I put him in charge of the stir-fry, which meant our two dishes would be plated together.

Shopping at Farmer Joe and the open-air market earlier today, he had thrown in some suggestions for the stir-fry (bok choy and ginger), so I figured it best to put him in charge of that. While it can be stressful being in the kitchen with my dad (Here, why don’t you do this, and by doing it, I mean watch me do it.), he is fun to watch when he’s in his element, and watching him put together stir-fry in my bare-bones kitchen was like my own private episode of Take Home Chef.

My mom was a sport about complimenting both of us on our cooking, and the meal went over well. My dad regretted not bringing wine, but I took the opportunity to introduce my parents to the joys of Sprim.

After dinner over a game of cards, I also introduced them to Niu Vodka (Samoa’s own coconut-infused brand) and Timtams (a chocolaty wafer-type confection).

My mom liked my house a lot, and said it was a good size, and exactly the kind of place she’d like to live if it were right on the beach. She then added that it would need sealed windows and air conditioning to truly meet her needs. True that.

Tomorrow we head to Savaii, but it’s a national holiday so it’s unclear when the boats will be running. So most of the day will be spent figuring out travel and then traveling. But Patty and Joe are low-key vacationers, right? So we’ll see how it goes.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















Joe in the pool. My hairy (sexy?) legs.
















Patty reading aloud from "Coming of Age in Samoa" by Margaret Mead.
















Joe enjoying dinner.
















Card game.

Family Ties

Over drinks last night, conversation rolled around to Chris’s parents meeting A.J.’s parents while the two of them met and started dating here in Samoa. Chris was happy she escaped a traditionally awkward experience. The rest of us had to nod in agreement. Don’t get me wrong, I think my parents are great and with the exception of Christi who I dated in 8th grade (whose dad was a Rush Limbaugh fanatic), most of the parents of the girls I’ve dated have been rather agreeable. But inevitably having parents meet the other parents is awkward. This is the closest model I had going into today where my Samoan host family met my American family.

Since my parents made plans to come, I’ve always felt a trip out to the host village an inimitable item on the itinerary. When I tell other volunteers my parents are coming, the first question I’m always asked is, “What are you going to do with them?” And without very many other sure things, I would always answer, “I’m taking them to the host village.” This answer usually yielded a wide-eyed, admiring, fearful look in the eyes of the other volunteer. The situation was risky, but I didn’t really feel nervous until this morning.

My plan was to rent a car so there would be a clear and easily accessible exit strategy, and to stay no longer than 3 hours. The morning quickly started off on the wrong foot when both of the nearby car rentals were out of cars. We would have to take a taxi. I hailed a taxi, and the driver turned out to be amiable and completely willing to wait around on the south side of the island for the 3 hours. Cool. Also he had a Lionel Richie CD on repeat in his car. The day was looking up.

I didn’t tell my host family about my parents coming to visit until yesterday. I feared they would roll out too much of a red carpet, and when we drove up and I saw shiny sequined fabric draped over chairs, it was clear they tried their damnedest. They came out to greet us, and then we all went inside, Asolima instructing my parents to sit in the shiny chairs. Asolima was very formal about introductions at first. “Welcome to Samoa. I am Asolima, and this is my mother Mele.” She introduced the family, and then invited us to eat.

I’d already caught a glimpse of the table, which had been set for 3, so I sidled up to my parents as they crossed the open fale into the dining room/kitchen and said, “We are going to eat, and they’re going to watch us eat.” And this is what happened. The spread was excellent: bananas covered in coconut cream, rice, papaya, deep-fried fish (still hot), two omelets, a beef/green bean dish, soup, and coconuts to drink from. With 3 months training in the art of eating in front of my family, I dove in, covering my plate (also I was hungry). After a while I looked up to see how everybody was faring. My dad was working on a healthy portion of soup, my mom was hesitantly poking at a scantly covered plate of rice and what may have been beef and green beans.

The meal went pretty well. At one point my dad asked for his coconut to be split open so he could scoop out the meat inside. Tafale grabbed a knife, and my dad got all Mr. Safety about it, “No no! I just want you to—“ I had to cut him off.

“Dad. She knows what she’s doing.”

In training, we talked about how in the situation where you eat first, it may be warm and endearing to sit around while the other people eat, but it is not fa’asamoa. So I pried my parents out of there and walked them down to wander around the village while my host family did their thing.

When we got back, Asolima started an impromptu dance party, of which Joe and Patty readily watched but opted out of participating. I got Akanese to play Popo Mano with my mom, which was darling.

Desperately looking for ways to pass the 3 hours, I suggested we take a walk down to the next village over, Tafitoala. Asolima suggested we drive over and walk along the beach. This made for a perfect third act, and the taxi driver was snoozing under the family breadfruit tree when we arrived back.

All in all, the day worked out well, and was just the right amount of time to feel like everybody got to meet each other and be done meeting each other. So I guess next time there’ll be no need to be so nervous. Cool.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















Dad and Me on the road in Fausaga.
















Akanese.





















Keleme.
















I like this picture.

Joe and Patty are Here

Walking down the aisle of the pasiovaa this morning, climbing over legs, trying to get off quickly since I made a slight breach in bus etiquette by asking the pasiovaa to stop anywhere other than the bus stop in Apia or the wharf. And in trying to maintain a low profile at 5:30 a.m., the toe strap on my flipflop became disconnected from the sole, and I had to repair my shoe mid-bus-disembark. It was awkward and decidedly un-low-profile.

Today marks exactly 7 months since group 81 arrived in Samoa, and picking up my parents this morning was the first time I’ve been back to the airport. It was kinda cool to be there again and see it through more seasoned eyes. Not that there’s much to see there. The airport is pretty tiny, but there are some cool wooden carvings from Koa’s school. And it was cool to see the place when I’m not overwhelmed and jet-lagged and exhausted and on sensory overload.

Once again proving how tiny a country Samoa is, I was leaning against a post waiting and the girl standing next to me goes, “Malo Matthew!” It doesn’t shock me anymore when strangers know my name, but it still feels a little cool. It also turned out she’s a student at my school. She’s a year 12 who is not in any of my classes, so I was guilt-free for not recognizing her. Also, I’m a lot better at not being obvious about not recognizing people. And while I was talking to the, a teacher from my school walked by. The girl grimaced a little, and I felt it would have been awkward to leave the conversation with her to say hello to the teacher. So that was that.

I think my parents’ flight was scheduled to arrive at 5:35 a.m., and I remembered when we came through that it took a while to get through customs and baggage claim and another round of customs after baggage claim. But I didn’t really put all of this together, and as time ticked by I started to get nervous. I’m usually at school by 7:40, and as I calculated how long it would take to get from the airport to the hotel and from the hotel to my school, it became increasingly obvious I would be cutting it close.

Since my parents were re-routed through New Zealand, there were a lot of New Zealanders coming out of the Arrivals area, and it was weird how they were quite clearly not American. There was nothing particularly different about them. You could just sorta tell.

I saw my mom before she saw me. It was good to see her and not as anachronistic as I was thinking it might be. The Peace Corps is the first time in my life where I’ve only interacted physically the last 7 months with a completely insular set of people who I’ve never met before. All the people I see every day are people I never met until October 6, 2008 earliest. So it was nice to see my mom.

My dad came out after. It was good to see him too.

And 48 hours after they left home in California, they arrived in Samoa. And I made it to school by 8:00.

I hope you’re well. Pictures below.
















For the Mother's Day assembly today, a bunch of boys from the year 12 and 13 classes dressed up in drag and did a skit and dance. The dance was really funny, and part of it involved the Macarena. Even in Samoa, the Macarena is a joke.
















Joe getting acquainted with the Samoan lifestyle.
















Hard to tell from this picture, but this rainbow was so vivid and so close. It looked like it ended just beyond that stoplight on the right. Disappointing that the camera has such a tough time picking it up.
















I saw a Smart Car today. It was crazy.