Brett in The South Pacific (6)
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
Brett is a friend who, after 15 years without a break of more than a week, quit his high powered job at an investment bank to get a different perspective of the world.
This is part 6 of Brett's journey to the South Pacific.
29 August 2001
Apia, Somoa
If you've been keeping track, my travels thus far have taken me to a Kiwi Protectorate, a French Colony, a former British Colony, an Anglo-French science project, and an Absolute Monarchy. Thus, any British or French patriotic ire that has been raised by my commentaries may well be a coincident result of the sequencing of my travels. Particularly for the former, who for the most part have been ever gracious hosts during my time in their country, I will spoil the end of this chapter by revealing that you are, on the whole, not involved so this will be your comeuppance. Since the Somoas are also my final stop in South Pacific, this chapter will also serve the role of a summing up to the degree that it is interesting or relevant to anyone other than myself. In the interest of those who continue to ply their trade, I will also endeavour to be brief, though, as you've noticed, this is not my strongest suit.
For the benefit of the Somoans, I should disclaim that when I decided to travel to Vanuatu, my time in Somoa was shortened. As such, unlike elsewhere, I was confined to the main islands of the schizophrenic Somoas. That said, whenever I plan my next South Pacific adventure, I will not be rushing back to rectify that oversight.
Somoa is a divided country without regard to the Somoans, and that in itself probably distinguishes it from the history of any other peoples. Western Somoa, or what is now simply referred to as Somoa, was colonized largely by the Germans during the early part of the 20th century. Today the lasting remnants of German colonization are evident in three principal respects; the quality of the roads and infrastructure, the clannish-ness of the people, and the rather unfortunate dress sense of combining sandals and white socks. Western Somoa was gifted to the Germans in a compact with the British, who were too busy in the misadventures of the Boer War to care, and the Americans, who retained American Somoa as a Naval foothold in return.
As might be expected, the Germans ruled over their Somoan subjects with rather an iron fist. What is less understandable is that when the Germans were kicked out of the territory as the tide of WWI swung against them, the Kiwis, who inherited the mantle of dominion over Somoa on behalf of the allies, continued to rule with the same austere discipline. Prohibition, for example, was still in effect on Somoans (not foreigners) up until the 1960's. But a quick word on the famous Kiwi military victory over the Germans, which surely must rank as their finest hour. Except that no shots were fired. Apparently the Germans knew their goose was cooked, and had no troops or ships on the island at the time of the 'invasion'. The major snafu revolved around the fact that the Germans had no official means to surrender since they didn't possess a white flag, and the Kiwis were unable to provide them with one as British ships (Kiwis flying the HMS flag at the time) are not permitted to carry a white flag. And that perfectly sums up the British never-say-die attitude that I have come to admire.
The main island of Somoa is called Upolu, and its capital city Apia. It is not an unattractive place, and I should add that the other, 'resort' side of the island is very picturesque. Somoa is also well known as the paradise where Robert Louis Stevenson went to die on an estate known as Vailima, which is now the name of Somoa's nearly famous ale. For film buffs, Garry Cooper travelled here to film Return to Paradise. But more than anything else, modern Somoa's evolution is traceable through the life of its famous hotelier, Aggie Grey and her hodgepodge hotel that evolved out a business of selling hamburgers to US servicemen. It is without a doubt, one of the most character-rich hotels in the region. So with all this and Polynesian élan to boot, what exactly has gone wrong?
The family unit and extended village are the centre of life and source of cultural preservation throughout Polynesia. In Somoa, however, it seems to have developed along with it a sense of entitlement. Unlike anywhere else I visited in my travels, the Somoans seemed to constantly have their hands out, equally there was both an aggressiveness and deviousness that was also fortunately absent from my other experiences. Ask a Somoan girl to dance, and when you exit the dance floor you will surely find a minimum of six cousins all eagerly expecting you to pick up their drink tab. A second dance, and you will find yourself rather overtly being assessed as to the size of your bankroll. Even the housekeeper at my hotel entered my room, shut the door behind her and proceeded to tell me that what I needed as a 'big, rich man' was a Somoan girlfriend. As for Somoan men, the principal evening occupations seem to revolve around drinking a lot and fighting, also a lot. These people are the ultimate pack-rats, deriving all identity from being part of a large group. It is not a stretch to see why they make great, and large, offensive linemen, but none of them will rate a tryout at quarterback.
But enough of the caustic, what the Somoans clearly do have is the best cabaret show in the South Pacific; the Cindy Show. Hesitant as I was to go to a female impersonator show as a single guy, I steeled myself and decided to put aside my misgivings, after all it's only a show, right? These misgivings quickly returned when I found myself seated at one of the only small tables, directly in front of the stage. The show itself was hilarious, but 'Cindy' simply couldn't resist the temptation of heckling the single guy seated directly in front of her. Sensing my unease, she/he came down off-stage and promptly plunked her/himself down on my lap to the delight of everyone in the audience but me. I should add that at that precise moment I was conscious of several camera flashbulbs going off, and am certain that the photo will put an end to any aspirations I might have had to public office. Oh well.
With that 'highlight' of my stay in Somoa, I also hopped across to the other Somoa, known as American Somoa. And whatever I found troubling in Somoa, I found the Americanized version of it in American Somoa. In short, on steroids. Flying into American Somoa, it is immediately evident that this is one of the most naturally beautiful islands anywhere in the world, which only adds to the sense of distress when seeing what has become of it under American rule.
American Somoa recently celebrated 100 years of American rule. That is not to say 100 years as part of America since American Somoans can't travel freely or work in the US mainland, are denied the vote, and have no representation in government. I was reminded of those horrible T-Shirts one sees about 'My Parents went so-and-so and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt'. The motto of American Somoa could easily be, '100 years of American rule, and all we got was a Tuna factory'. It is a veritable monument to Charlie Tuna, the Starkist dolphin friendly fish. There are even statues of the fish throughout the main city of Pago Pago (pronounced Pa-ngo Pa-ngo). And when the wind blows inland on a bad tuna day, as it did when I was there, there is simply no escaping the odiousness of the place. But American Somoa has gotten more than just a Tuna cannery. The beer is budweieser, the food is fast and the fat saturated, the people unfriendly, and even the police are aggressive. Having seen no evidence of Johnny Law throughout my trip, my taxi driver to the airport was pulled over and ticketed for stopping to pick me. The cop's reasoning was that the driver had disrupted traffic, which was fine except that there were no other cars. About the only good thing I can say about America's trust fund baby in the South Pacific, is that the islands are so lush that nature appears to be mounting a vigilant fight-back and recapturing territory as soon as our backs are turned. At this rate, it will be overgrown and have a fresh start shortly after celebrating 200 years of American abuse. Amen.
What Americans do love is polls. And so for future travellers, I've decided to rate some aspects that may affect your decision on where to travel in the future.
Best Beer
Vanuatu (Tusker)
Western Somoa (Vailima)
Fiji (Fiji Bitter)
French Polynesia (Hinano)
Ikale (Tonga)
NB: I didn't try Cook's Lager because the brewer had been sacked and the plant was shut.
Best Food
Vanuatu
Western Somoa
French Polynesia
Cook Islands
Fiji
Tonga
Best Beaches (outer islands)
Tonga
Fiji
Cook Islands
Vanuatu
French Polynesia
NB: Can't rate Somoa
Best Snorkelling
Tonga
Fiji
Cook Islands
French Polynesia
Western Somoa
Vanuatu
Most Attractive Women
Tonga (also the least attractive women so beware the range)
Somoa
French Polynesia
Cook Islands
Fiji
Vanuatu
Place I would rush back
Vava'u (Tonga)
Aitutaki (Cook Islands)
Fiji
Vanuatu
French Polynesia
Western Somoa
Places I didn't get to but would most like to visit
Vanuatu (Santo, Ambae, Ambryn)
Tonga (Hapai group)
Fiji (Levuku)
Western Somoa (Savai'i)
Cook Islands ( Manhiki)
French Polynesia (Bora Bora/Raitea)
Best Colonizers
British
Everyone else
I struggle for myself to think of an adequate way to summarize the journey of the past months just as I struggled to explain why I was taking leave (of my senses) and embarking on such a path. I simply knew that it was imperative that I do so. According to science, time flows uniformly. But surely it has not flowed at the same rate for me over the past months as it has for the previous years as it has been my ally and not my enemy. If nothing else, of that I can be certain, even if I can not measure it. And the very fact that it has been immeasurable is probably the Truth in the journey.
Hope you've enjoyed being along for the ride.
This is part 6 of Brett's journey to the South Pacific.
29 August 2001
Apia, Somoa
If you've been keeping track, my travels thus far have taken me to a Kiwi Protectorate, a French Colony, a former British Colony, an Anglo-French science project, and an Absolute Monarchy. Thus, any British or French patriotic ire that has been raised by my commentaries may well be a coincident result of the sequencing of my travels. Particularly for the former, who for the most part have been ever gracious hosts during my time in their country, I will spoil the end of this chapter by revealing that you are, on the whole, not involved so this will be your comeuppance. Since the Somoas are also my final stop in South Pacific, this chapter will also serve the role of a summing up to the degree that it is interesting or relevant to anyone other than myself. In the interest of those who continue to ply their trade, I will also endeavour to be brief, though, as you've noticed, this is not my strongest suit.
For the benefit of the Somoans, I should disclaim that when I decided to travel to Vanuatu, my time in Somoa was shortened. As such, unlike elsewhere, I was confined to the main islands of the schizophrenic Somoas. That said, whenever I plan my next South Pacific adventure, I will not be rushing back to rectify that oversight.
Somoa is a divided country without regard to the Somoans, and that in itself probably distinguishes it from the history of any other peoples. Western Somoa, or what is now simply referred to as Somoa, was colonized largely by the Germans during the early part of the 20th century. Today the lasting remnants of German colonization are evident in three principal respects; the quality of the roads and infrastructure, the clannish-ness of the people, and the rather unfortunate dress sense of combining sandals and white socks. Western Somoa was gifted to the Germans in a compact with the British, who were too busy in the misadventures of the Boer War to care, and the Americans, who retained American Somoa as a Naval foothold in return.
As might be expected, the Germans ruled over their Somoan subjects with rather an iron fist. What is less understandable is that when the Germans were kicked out of the territory as the tide of WWI swung against them, the Kiwis, who inherited the mantle of dominion over Somoa on behalf of the allies, continued to rule with the same austere discipline. Prohibition, for example, was still in effect on Somoans (not foreigners) up until the 1960's. But a quick word on the famous Kiwi military victory over the Germans, which surely must rank as their finest hour. Except that no shots were fired. Apparently the Germans knew their goose was cooked, and had no troops or ships on the island at the time of the 'invasion'. The major snafu revolved around the fact that the Germans had no official means to surrender since they didn't possess a white flag, and the Kiwis were unable to provide them with one as British ships (Kiwis flying the HMS flag at the time) are not permitted to carry a white flag. And that perfectly sums up the British never-say-die attitude that I have come to admire.
The main island of Somoa is called Upolu, and its capital city Apia. It is not an unattractive place, and I should add that the other, 'resort' side of the island is very picturesque. Somoa is also well known as the paradise where Robert Louis Stevenson went to die on an estate known as Vailima, which is now the name of Somoa's nearly famous ale. For film buffs, Garry Cooper travelled here to film Return to Paradise. But more than anything else, modern Somoa's evolution is traceable through the life of its famous hotelier, Aggie Grey and her hodgepodge hotel that evolved out a business of selling hamburgers to US servicemen. It is without a doubt, one of the most character-rich hotels in the region. So with all this and Polynesian élan to boot, what exactly has gone wrong?
The family unit and extended village are the centre of life and source of cultural preservation throughout Polynesia. In Somoa, however, it seems to have developed along with it a sense of entitlement. Unlike anywhere else I visited in my travels, the Somoans seemed to constantly have their hands out, equally there was both an aggressiveness and deviousness that was also fortunately absent from my other experiences. Ask a Somoan girl to dance, and when you exit the dance floor you will surely find a minimum of six cousins all eagerly expecting you to pick up their drink tab. A second dance, and you will find yourself rather overtly being assessed as to the size of your bankroll. Even the housekeeper at my hotel entered my room, shut the door behind her and proceeded to tell me that what I needed as a 'big, rich man' was a Somoan girlfriend. As for Somoan men, the principal evening occupations seem to revolve around drinking a lot and fighting, also a lot. These people are the ultimate pack-rats, deriving all identity from being part of a large group. It is not a stretch to see why they make great, and large, offensive linemen, but none of them will rate a tryout at quarterback.
But enough of the caustic, what the Somoans clearly do have is the best cabaret show in the South Pacific; the Cindy Show. Hesitant as I was to go to a female impersonator show as a single guy, I steeled myself and decided to put aside my misgivings, after all it's only a show, right? These misgivings quickly returned when I found myself seated at one of the only small tables, directly in front of the stage. The show itself was hilarious, but 'Cindy' simply couldn't resist the temptation of heckling the single guy seated directly in front of her. Sensing my unease, she/he came down off-stage and promptly plunked her/himself down on my lap to the delight of everyone in the audience but me. I should add that at that precise moment I was conscious of several camera flashbulbs going off, and am certain that the photo will put an end to any aspirations I might have had to public office. Oh well.
With that 'highlight' of my stay in Somoa, I also hopped across to the other Somoa, known as American Somoa. And whatever I found troubling in Somoa, I found the Americanized version of it in American Somoa. In short, on steroids. Flying into American Somoa, it is immediately evident that this is one of the most naturally beautiful islands anywhere in the world, which only adds to the sense of distress when seeing what has become of it under American rule.
American Somoa recently celebrated 100 years of American rule. That is not to say 100 years as part of America since American Somoans can't travel freely or work in the US mainland, are denied the vote, and have no representation in government. I was reminded of those horrible T-Shirts one sees about 'My Parents went so-and-so and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt'. The motto of American Somoa could easily be, '100 years of American rule, and all we got was a Tuna factory'. It is a veritable monument to Charlie Tuna, the Starkist dolphin friendly fish. There are even statues of the fish throughout the main city of Pago Pago (pronounced Pa-ngo Pa-ngo). And when the wind blows inland on a bad tuna day, as it did when I was there, there is simply no escaping the odiousness of the place. But American Somoa has gotten more than just a Tuna cannery. The beer is budweieser, the food is fast and the fat saturated, the people unfriendly, and even the police are aggressive. Having seen no evidence of Johnny Law throughout my trip, my taxi driver to the airport was pulled over and ticketed for stopping to pick me. The cop's reasoning was that the driver had disrupted traffic, which was fine except that there were no other cars. About the only good thing I can say about America's trust fund baby in the South Pacific, is that the islands are so lush that nature appears to be mounting a vigilant fight-back and recapturing territory as soon as our backs are turned. At this rate, it will be overgrown and have a fresh start shortly after celebrating 200 years of American abuse. Amen.
What Americans do love is polls. And so for future travellers, I've decided to rate some aspects that may affect your decision on where to travel in the future.
Best Beer
Vanuatu (Tusker)
Western Somoa (Vailima)
Fiji (Fiji Bitter)
French Polynesia (Hinano)
Ikale (Tonga)
NB: I didn't try Cook's Lager because the brewer had been sacked and the plant was shut.
Best Food
Vanuatu
Western Somoa
French Polynesia
Cook Islands
Fiji
Tonga
Best Beaches (outer islands)
Tonga
Fiji
Cook Islands
Vanuatu
French Polynesia
NB: Can't rate Somoa
Best Snorkelling
Tonga
Fiji
Cook Islands
French Polynesia
Western Somoa
Vanuatu
Most Attractive Women
Tonga (also the least attractive women so beware the range)
Somoa
French Polynesia
Cook Islands
Fiji
Vanuatu
Place I would rush back
Vava'u (Tonga)
Aitutaki (Cook Islands)
Fiji
Vanuatu
French Polynesia
Western Somoa
Places I didn't get to but would most like to visit
Vanuatu (Santo, Ambae, Ambryn)
Tonga (Hapai group)
Fiji (Levuku)
Western Somoa (Savai'i)
Cook Islands ( Manhiki)
French Polynesia (Bora Bora/Raitea)
Best Colonizers
British
Everyone else
I struggle for myself to think of an adequate way to summarize the journey of the past months just as I struggled to explain why I was taking leave (of my senses) and embarking on such a path. I simply knew that it was imperative that I do so. According to science, time flows uniformly. But surely it has not flowed at the same rate for me over the past months as it has for the previous years as it has been my ally and not my enemy. If nothing else, of that I can be certain, even if I can not measure it. And the very fact that it has been immeasurable is probably the Truth in the journey.
Hope you've enjoyed being along for the ride.
