Polamalu

The island is abuzz. One of their favorite sons is back for a victory lap. The local news media (meaning the three radio stations and the newspaper) have been avidly covering every aspect of Troy Polamalu's trip to American Samoa. Yesterday he hosted a press conference in Samoan and ran a football camp for high schoolers.

Troy's an example of Samoa's second most lucrative export, athletes. All the children here play sports. Through the searing heat and humidity, you can see kids playing volleyball rugby, football and the local version of cricket almost everyday.

The Samoans have a very special place in their heart for the NFL. Every village has a son that's gone on to success in the NCCA and the NFL. Though most of these players never return to live in the island, their families usually reap the wealth and benefits. The families that remain here live in larger homes, drive nice new cars and carry a certain prestige in the community. One of the Samoan families I have spent time with is the beneficiary of a son who played for the Cleveland Browns and Arizona Cardinals for almost a decade. You can also see the family of a former famous Charger drives around in a pickup that is embossed with the lightning bolts from the teams helmet. That truck and its occupants also enjoy a beautiful large home overlooking Pago harbor. It's the Samoan version of the American Dream and on an island this small everyone is aware that's one of the easier the paths to prestige and glory for the children of Samoa and their families.

East Side Sunday

We decided on Saturday evening, after having a chore laden day to head out to Aunu'u on Sunday. Aunu'u is the island that is about a mile south of the eastern end of Tutuila. It's supposed to have a cool small village, a lagoon in an old volcano crater, some caves and a number of worthwhile sites. With our group, consisting of a driver who's on a short contract with the Park service, a criminal prosecutor from our office and us, we got an early start off to the east side of the island to see what trouble we could get into.

One of the first sites on the way out to Aunu'u, besides the green volcanic islands we saw here, is an old shipwreck that's washed up on the shore right beneath the coast road, past Pago Harbor. The old hulk's rusted through to the point you can see the waves washing through the seaward side. There were even a few boulders which had landed on the deck of the old ship. We couldn't fathom how they ended up there, with the steep cliffs being at least 50 yards back from where the ship came to rest. It must have been quite a slide or one heck of a bounce to make it up that high and that far out.

Here's the view looking out towards Aunu'u. It's the smallest inhabited island in the territory. There's a tiny village on the island which receives most supplies and basic commodities by regular boat trips which depart from a small wharf/harbor near the eastern end of Tutuila. The beaches along the North end of the island are supposed to be nice and there's a hiking loop that we've heard good things about. Plus, there are no cars on the island, just foot traffic, like the islands have been for centuries prior. Sort of a throw back, to how Tutuila was prior to the federal government taking a real interest in the welfare of the locals. Some of the stories I've heard from the locals tell of getting around by horseback and a true tropical paradise, not the cross between consumer culture and the native culture we now see on the island.

Once we made it to the harbor, there weren't any boats waiting at the dock. So we lounged for a bit on the breakwater that protected the harbor and tossed the rugby ball around. The weather was sunny with enough of a breeze to keep the heat from getting to be too much. I received a little bit of a scare when I realized I couldn't find my keys. Convinced they fell down between the rocks of the breakwater, I was sure we'd never be able to find them. Sara also didn't bring her keys. (Way to fall down on the job, Sara - you're supposed to be my backup in situations like these.)

After waiting a while, a boat arrived and started loading up with

some supplies. After we talked with the Aunu'u-ese they said the island was closed to outsiders on Sundays and we wouldn't be able to make the trip out there. They told us "No tourists on Sundays, come back tomorrow." Too bad we all had work tomorrow (Monday). A little bummed, we rallied up and decided to follow the coast road out to its end. We hopped in the NPS vehicle and continued our trek out East.

Near the end of the road, it wraps around around to the north side of the island. Not far from where the road ends, you get some great views looking along the north coast of the island. In the distance of this picture you can see the Cock's Comb, or Pola Island if you prefer the Samoan name. The North Coast of the island is steep and dramatic. We'll need to work on getting out here more and spending some time in the more remote sections of the island. The road ends a short way down from here. It ends with a whimper. - The pavement stops, three driveways head off in different directions, and that's the limit of how far you can go on the East end of the island.

We did a little exploring, I almost made it up to the top of a palm tree, problem was, once I got up there I couldn't use my hands to free a coconut, they were too busy holding on for dear life to the trunk of the tree. I need to work on those thigh muscles before I'll be an able coconut gatherer.

The Eastern point of Tutuila is sort of the end of the world for us. It's odd to feel physically bound to this small island. Sara and I don't have island fever yet, but I see it in people who have been here longer than us. We'll see what happens when we start to feel the small size of the community and island.

We also have seen this phenomena around the island at various spots. Rumor has it, its a means to keep ghosts and spirits away. Who knew that old detergent and bleach bottles could be that useful. The smaller villages are full of little superstitions like this, we need to get out and get a little more details to confirm or deny the ghost stories.

With our plans to visit Aunu'u in tatters, we opted to go to our new favorite east-side Sunday activity: Tisa's Barefoot Bar. We rolled up and the beach scene was in full effect there. We were able to grab a table on the deck overlooking the beach. A few Vailima, some snorkeling and socializing with the island's palagi population soon had us in good spirits.

There was even a tattoo artist working with the traditional Samoan tattooing fork. It looked like a time consuming and painful process, even more so than usual, since the guy receiving the tattoo was almost a tourist attraction under the fale next to the bar. We at least asked if we could take his picture first, but I wouldn't want to be in his place. It may not have been the Sunday we planned, but it turned out quite excellent and we'll always be able to make it Aunu'u another weekend...

Once we made it home, Sara and I had to devise a way to break into the house. Our back door hadn't locked properly, so we were able to make it back in without too much shattering of glass or otherwise. Turns out someone (Sara), had borrowed my keys to grab a few last minute additional items and left my keys on her dresser upstairs. Thanks for the scare, Sara. Er, I mean it's good we got back into our house without too much trouble.

Random Moments

A few random occurrences from today:

Sara and I saw a sea turtle at lunch.

I picked up a custom sewn Hawaiian shirt from the little Indonesian sewing shop.

We had a staff meeting to talk about the two month ordeal to get us new office supplies.

We snorkeled in the lagoon by the hospital, the visibility was bad, so we watched some Samoan Cricket, aka kirikiti while waiting to dry.

We learned that Brownie likes Tikka Masala leftovers.

We had a 3 inch long praying mantis on our front porch.

There also were two toads inside our screen door.

Sara and I tried Cuttlefish flavored chips and they are awesome.

Ended the evening with a Wayne's World plane landing moment at the runway by our house. (Looking up at the Milky Way and down the runway was unlike anything we've ever experienced.)

Just another day in paradise.

Outrigger Paddling

Sara and I have been looking for an activity that will suit us both since we arrived on island. I've been doing some hiking, but since Sara's leg is still in need of some repair, it's not ideal for both of us. Thus we decided to give the outrigger paddling group a try. One of the other attorneys in our office is involved with a group that gets out on Pago Harbor every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. There's also a more casual group that dips their paddles on Tuesdays and Thursday, but we've never been the types to back down from a challenge. Today was our first try at staying upright in the water.

We showed up at the appointed time and place after work. Most of the boats were already making runs along the west bank of the harbor. There were a number of children and youth groups that were taking their turns with the outrigger canoes. We knew one of the parents who was there watching her son's paddling. After the usual chit chat the kids started to come in and the adult group started to congregate around the boats.

I realized that this group was serious when everyone in attendance had their own paddle. Each one was custom made in Tahiti, with certain lengths, bends of the shaft and blade sizes depending on the paddlers size, ability and strength. I felt a little out of place grabbing one of the extra ones left over from the kid's practice.

We hoisted the boats from their resting place on shore and carried the ones we were taking out over to the beach and divided the fifteen of us into three boats. With a few moments of instruction Sara and I were hopping into the third and fourth seat of our canoe and we started paddling off toward the channel marker at the mouth of the harbor.

The rhythm of paddling is 14 strokes on one side, then the number one or two paddler calls "hut." One more stroke on that side, then the rear paddler calls "ho" and everyone switches sides and punches out another fifteen strokes, rinse, repeat. As a first time paddler, this means I had enough time to get my hand hold right, match the cadence of the other paddlers, iron out my stroke technique and then I had to switch sides and figure it all out again. The key is staying in time with your lead paddlers and not taking strokes that are too long, as all your power is at the beginning of your paddle stroke. If anyone is out of cadence you can feel the canoe noticeably deaden in the water and the momentum is quickly lost.

We paddled south into the waves that were rolling into the mouth of the harbor. Nothing was breaking, but there were moments between the crests where you were digging deep to get the blade of the paddle into the ocean. We paddled out to the marker buoy, called a halt to our efforts and let ourselves drift for a moment.

There's easily no better place to view a small volcanic island than from a mile off the shore. We were greeted to a view of the sun setting behind the peaks that line Pago Harbor. That's a view I need to get a little more often.

We got a few moments to admire paradise and recommenced our paddling. Our rear paddler barked out corrections and coaching advice to Sara and I as we started our return trip back into the harbor. On the return paddle our lack of experience and stamina started to make itself apparent. I thought I'd paced myself well for the return trip, until I realized that we weren't angling towards the beach we started at, we were heading down the middle of the harbor, right past the beach we started at. Damn, there went the energy reserves I thought I'd rationed out for the journey.

Instead we continued our paddle past the port and the Canadian Naval vessel that's moored there on to the channel marker near the end of the harbor. Once around that buoy we got another breather. At this point my back was aching, my brow was dripping sweat into my eyes, my beard was soaked with salt spray and I was struggling to keep up with the paddling cadence. Determined to keep up, I resolved to finish out the final leg as best I could.

Thankfully the final leg was the shortest, but the wind was against us. We just need to go half the length of the harbor and loop around the breaking waves that were over one of the reefs. Going into the wind we lengthened out strokes and tried to maintain a consistent rhythm. With the end in sight, we coasted into shore. My back and shoulders were aching, but it was well worth the effort.

All that was left was to carry the boats back to the field where they are stored and rinse ourselves off. A little tired and woozy, Sara and I made it back without earning too much distain from out boat mates. Turns out we did over five miles paddling. Depending on how sore we are tomorrow, were looking to do it again soon.

Samoan Hospitality

At the end of last week and after my third day of a medical malpractice trial, I chanced upon a Samoan woman in a traditional puletasi at the EOB right outside our office. (Most Samoan women who work in the EOB dress that way every day, while men where short sleeved button down shirts with lava lavas, or formal wrap skirts.) The woman recognized me as someone she had not seen before (that happens a lot) and inquired as to which office I called home. We got to chatting and, as it turns out, two of her children live in Clovis, outside Fresno, CA. She was excited to meet someone who just moved from Northern California and could not believe I actually knew where Clovis was. She also happens to work in the Treasury Department, which is just down the hall from our office. I left our conversation pleased that I had met such a nice lady who works close by.

This morning, as Jay, another co-worker, and I approached our office, that same Samoan woman called my name and so I stopped to chat with her. She presented me with an absolutely beautiful ula made of orchids, kissed me on the cheek, and welcomed me to the island. Her Samoan hospitality was a wonderful way to start the day!

Barbecue with a View

Went to a barbecue yesterday evening. It was for a few departing members of the palangi community here on island. With all the palangi on 6 month, 1 year or 2 year contracts, this is a pretty often occurrence on the island. It's a population of people that is in constant flux, you're often hitting it off with someone new and looking forward to seeing them again and it turns out they are leaving the island for good on the Thursday flight. Not ideal for trying to build a circle of friends.

One thing that came from this barbecue, was an introduction to another of the contract worker enclaves on the island. This one is on a hill, overlooking the Tafuna Plain. These are the views from the deck, looking back east, toward Pago Harbor. The more I get into the high spots on the Rock, the more I'm blown away with the views.

There's also an old crater west of this house that houses the largest fruit bat colony in the territory. In the early evening, when we arrived, they were just starting to take flight for their nightly feeding. We got to hang out with beers on a deck with three-foot-wing-span bats flying all over the evening sky. Kind of kicks ass.

Airport Beach with Waves!

Sara and I took the opportunity to walk out to Airport Beach. It's a short hike from our house in Fogagogo/Freddy's Beach. Our house is just off the end of the fence line for the runway for the Pago airport. Our destination was a beach that is hemmed in by the airport's fence and to reach it you need to walk along the narrow strip of land between the barbwire tipped fence and the ocean. As we walked out to the start of the trail, we were escorted to the trail by Brownie, our adopted dog. He did a pretty effective job of keeping the mangier local dogs from coming anywhere near us, looks like Brownie's earning his keep.

The first part of the trail is a covered in trash. The Samoans have a different tolerance for litter and garbage. It's sad to see people throw every piece of trash on the ground, especially, since the island is such a naturally beautiful place. The Samoans haven't quite adapted to the consumerist culture their colonial overlords have thrust on them. They don't have enough trash service and trashcans and use it as an excuse to toss their trash as they finish with it. The smaller and more remote villages aren't plagued with this problem, but near the heart of the wannabe suburbs of the Tafuna Plain, it's pretty egregious. The hike out contains plenty reminders of the local's convenience-over-aesthetic-beauty set of priorities.

The walk out is pretty spectacular. The lava cliffs are cool on their own. But today the coast was getting smashed with some large waves. It made the cliffs that line the hike out come alive as the waves slammed the cliffs sending sea spray flying as the waves beat themselves to their end into the island. Sara and I were sprayed several times and had some great up close views of how rugged and wild the South Pacific can be.

The coast on the way out to Airport Beach is riddled with old lava tubes called avas. They really course across the entire island, but they rarely are seen except when excavating or at their ends, such as here, where they end into the sea. The result of all these tubes are some spans, caves, bridges and blowholes that riddle the cliffs and make them come alive when the waves pound is, as they were yesterday.

Here is a wide blowhole, that would surge out a blast of salt and mist every time a large wave struck it's opening. The gust of air it generated was forceful enough to blow my hat off, when I was up close to it. Thankfully, I was wearing my neck strap so the hat continues to protect me from the equatorial sun.

I also managed to find a buoy for a fishing net from Tahiti (it said on the outside) that had washed up on the cliffs. This is one piece of detritus that's coming home with me to decorate our little backyard.

There were also some spots where the waves would come crashing over the cliffs. There was no shortage of dramatic moments on the way out to the beach. For a short hike, it held a ton of interest and some great moments. On the way out, I recall thinking that the waves our little shore was getting pounded with may have been building up force and inertia all the way from Antarctica's shore, since there's not any land mass between us and there heading south.

Eventually, to reach the reef protected lagoon that is Airport Beach, our path cut us through some tall brush. With no terrestrial poisonous snakes on the island, cutting through vegetation like this is not very perilous, the biggest annoyance is the spider webs that will build up if the path does not see much use. The best approach is usually to walk with your hand in front of your face. Thereby letting it take all the webs instead of your nose.

There's not much legacy left from the US Navy's half century of staffing Tutuila. These World War II pillboxes are some of the remnants of that time. They dot the coast throughout the island, though I don't believe they saw any action during the war in the Pacific. They stand today as a reminder of one of the eras that this little community in the middle of nowhere has experienced.

The beach was pretty great yesterday. The waves that were battering the cliffs on our walk out, were breaking themselves on the shallow reef that was a long way off shore from Airport Beach. From the beach we could see waves that looked to be 20 or 30 foot rollers crash down upon themselves while we were floating in a salty, warm-water bath, with only the slightest hint of waves lapping up against the coral sand. Pretty idyllic.

Airport beach is known for its snorkeling, we didn't bring our gear, but the swimming was plenty for us. One of our neighbors bought a Hawaiian sling for spearfishing, he was cruising the reef looking for his first catch. The fish ended up winning the day and he came back from his first day without a catch.

Looks like he'll need to content himself with some beach hangouts instead. Just try not to be blinded by my pasty, mainland complexion.

Sara and I continued to build our collection of seashells and ocean treasures, a few of the almost good enough pieces found another life as a little coral forest next to our towels as were dried off.

On our way back to the house, we walked along the graded land directly underneath the airport's fence. Not as exciting, but a quicker route. Once we reached the road we encountered a car full of Samoans on their way out from a wedding. They stopped the car, rolled down their windows and offered us lollipops. Not a bad way to end our little trip to spot that's a 40 minute walk from our backdoor.

Brownie

When I left home, I assumed I was going to be doing without animal companionship for the balance of my time here in American Samoa. Tucker is happily living with my parents for the last two years and Sara and I have had a hole in her hearts and household without him.

With the rough reputation that local dogs have here on Tutuila, I didn't expect to find much along the lines of a dog I'd get along with. Turns out I was wrong. Sara and I have slowly been adopting a neighborhood dog. He had been the dog of the Risk-Taker, but he and his family moved out of Freddy's Beach. The Risk-Taker asked that I look after his dog in his absence. So all of a sudden, Sara and I have a new ward.

Our first few days, Brownie shied away from us and treated us as most other island dogs do. After a few days, with no one else looking after him, Brownie would start to peek in our window. We would come out and greet him, he'd remain shy, but let us pet him. We'd feed him, but he wouldn't eat until we went back behind the closed door. Even after we went behind closed doors, he would look around, take a bite of food, then raise his head and scan the horizon, then repeat the process. He's a wary old island dog.

Some days he'd show up with fresh cuts and scars on his snout. During the night we will occasionally hear dogs facing off in the dark. I've heard reports of Brownie fending off three other dogs and driving them off. He has the scars to back up those claims.

Brownie's eventually warmed up to us. He'll now stand outside our door in the evenings. Sara and I will bring him out some leftovers or stale corn chips with some sauce. He'll now eat us with us standing in front of him. He's slowly integrating himself into our household. We'll see if he remains as a permanent part of our lives here.

Christmas in June

Sara and I got a nice treat yesterday, our pallet of goods that we shipped out from California arrived. We received a call from the shipping agent that it was arriving on Saturday, but the customs office is only open on weekdays.

Thus we called and talked to the shipping agent on Monday. They said that they were open until 5pm. We headed over there after work on Monday. Turns out the shipping agent is open until 5pm, but the customs office and port are only open to 3:30pm. Thanks for the heads up on that one...

Tuesday morning I dropped Sara and our carpool off at work and headed over to the port. First I needed to get our paperwork from our shipping agent. To get them to give me the paperwork, I needed to pay $78.46. They only take check or cash, so a quick trip to the bank and I was paid up. Sigh. They turned over a few pages of paperwork.

Now, with our Bill of Lading and shipping agent invoice in hand I went into the port. I was directed over to the large warehouse. After trying a few different offices, I eventually found the one I was supposed to start at. They reviewed my forms and said go to the office at the back of the warehouse. Again, the offices were unlabeled at the back of the warehouse and after trying a few, a customs inspector pointed me towards the correct office. Double Sigh. They reviewed my paper work, signed one corner and then sent me to the guys with the forklift, to retrieve my pallet.

Turns out, my pallet was still packed in a shipping container. The container was still stacked somewhere on the pier. The suggested I come back at lunch and they would have my pallet waiting in the warehouse. Triple Sigh.

Since our computer server was down at work (Sigh^4), taking a long lunch to deal with shipping issues, wasn't as much of a wasted day as I would have initially thought. I began by taking my paperwork to the warehouse foreman. He confirmed my stuff had been unloaded and I was shown the pallet by the customs inspector. He cursorily looked at my still wrapped pallet, asked me if I had any firearms and then signed off on the inspection.

I then had to go back to the first office, show them the signed off inspection, pay $5 and they gave me a clearance form. I then had to take the clearance form to the port authority and they signed the clearance form. Sigh x 5. Then I took that stack of paperwork back to the warehouse foreman and he forklifted the pallet over to my car. I then unwrapped the pallet with the assistance of a USDA inspector who had attended my barbecue a few weeks ago and loaded my boxes, coolers and bikes into the car. A trip home and all the items were loaded into our living room. Now we just need to unpack...

Tisa's Barefoot Bar

So last weekend Jay and I decided to check out one of the most raved about local hangouts - Tisa's Barefoot Bar. It's on the Eastern end of the island and quite a ways from our home in Freddy's beach, so we took a few pictures of our drive along the way.

This first shot is of Pago Pago harbor looking west and back toward the town and our office. The second shot is Faga'itua bay, which is farther down the coast line a few coves over from the harbor.

As we continued along, we came upon this fun little island, which becomes a peninsula when the tide is low. Tutuila has several such islands, one of which we pass every day on our way to work called Fatu Ma Futi or "the flower pot." Then we actually passed Tisa's and headed farther on to Au'asi, which was farther east than either of us had been. Because it was Sunday, there were next to no cars on the road. Samoans are a very religious people and on Sundays, nearly everyone is in church. By the same token, it's considered disrespectful to swim at a beach near any village on a Sunday. So as not to disturb the locals of Au'asi, Jay and I parked toward the end of the beach and walked away from the village to enjoy some time on the coast before heading back to Tisa's. As you can see from the below pictures, it was pretty spectacular.

We checked out some blue starfish and filled our pockets with sea glass and shells as we walked along. Sea glass (i.e., broken beer bottles) is everywhere here, and as a result, shoes are required on certain beaches. Just before we were about to leave the beach, three dogs from the closest house began to approach us and were barking fiercely. Fortunately, it only took a couple of thrown chunks of coral to dissuade them from coming further.

Having defended our territory, we perched on some lava rock beneath the palms and had a snack of toasted nori. Among the rocks, we found more hermit crabs than I have ever seen in one place. In fact, upon closer inspection, at least half of the shells on the beach were moving if we watched for a moment or two. Pretty neat stuff.

Finally, we decided it was time to head back to Tisa's. Tisa's is - you guessed it - a bar and restaurant owned by a Samoan woman named Tisa. Tisa herself was not around that day, but her husband "Candyman" and several other staff were available to see to our pina colada needs.

Pina coladas are among the specialties at Tisa's, and I think the fresh coconut may have spoiled me for life. Tisa's sits on a bay nearly unto itself and is one of the few beaches we've seen which is totally free of glass. It's a thatched roof and deck structure which sits on stilts out over the beach. Needless to say, the views we enjoyed with our pina coladas couldn't be beat.

I went for a swim in bathwater-warm ocean and then headed back up to the deck to poach some of Jay's yellowfin (caught the day before - ah.ma.zing) and share in some banana fries. The bananas here aren't the Costa Rican variety we're used to, but instead more of a potato-esque dense starch. Delish.

Another funny thing about Tisa's: I had only been on-island for a total of 6 days and I managed to see someone I knew. Ahh, island life... After 5 hours of serious R&R, Jay and I had another swim and packed up to head home. I'm thinking this may become a Sunday tradition.

Dinner Party and Hike

Had a coworker, her spouse (the Kiwi), a former coworker (the risk taker), his spouse and his son over for dinner last night. We had some eggplant parmesan, caprese salad, long bean saute and bread pudding. It was a pleasant evening, but the major thing to come from it (aside from a local plaintiff's attorney trying to execute a writ of possession earlier that evening for the governor's car, with my coworker and the AG stepping to put a hold on it) was the suggestion of a hike out at the National Park of American Samoa the next day.

After a morning of errands with Sara, she packed me off with the boys in the back of a spray-painted and glitter dusted pickup truck with the Kiwi and the risk-taker. We were off to try a hike/run in the National Park on the north shore of the island. I'm glad to have take the journey over the saddle between Rainmaker Mountain and Mount 'Alava in the back of a pickup. Too often my trips around Tutuila have been from inside an SUV. Riding around in the back of a pickup opens up whole new vistas that I never noticed. The volcanic peaks soar around you and the coastal road snakes underneath cliffs and between some stunning verdant slopes when there's no longer a roof to constrain your view. I need to keep this in mind when exploring transportation options here on the the island.

The road up to the ridge was steep. The risk taker was the driver, but being new to driving manual he ran into trouble when he came to a stop after trying to push third-gear too far up the hill. With some gentle ribbing from the more experienced stick-drivers in the truck bed told him how to get going again on a slope. The driver then proceeded to roll several truck lengths back down the steep slope and across the other lane. The Kiwi, took it upon himself to get the car headed uphill again and we managed to reach the ridge of the mountain,where driving responsibilities were turned over to the risk-taker again.

From the saddle between the two volcanic peaks, there is an amazing view down on the harbor and the Tafuna plains. I'm definitely coming back here for a sunset and a beer. If only I'd brought my camera on this trip...

Over on the north side of the island, it's almost all National Park that is accessible from the road to Afono and Vatia. We parked at one of the National Park turn offs and started hiking up from the coastal road. It wasn't until I was on the trail that I realized that both my hiking partners were wearing cleats. I was piddling away in my "barefoot" running shoes. This was OK for the uphill, but there was enough mud underneath the rain-forest canopy to make me leery of the descent. I couldn't think about that too much as we continued our ascent up to the ridge between Rainmaker and 'Alava.

The top of the ridge afforded a new sensation for me in American Samoa. It was slightly cold up there. I may have actually gotten goosebumps. After sweating my way through the last four weeks, it was a welcome sensation.

The foliage would occasionally open up to afford some tremendous views from the ridge. Overlooking the village of Vatia and the Cock's Comb to the north and Pago harbor to the south. Next time I take this route, I'm not making the same mistake I did this time and am going to bring my camera. The best spot had two benches that had an amazing overlook of both the bay and the village of Vatia.

The hike along the ridge was steep and muddy. The Park Service had placed several ladders with rope to make the trail passable. The ups and downs of the ridge were steep and narrow. Without these aids, descending would be a dangerous challenge, especially with steep drops on both sides of the ridge.

The hike down off the ridge cut off right before the steep slope of Mount 'Alava started to climb. The descent was steep and muddy. This is where the cleats my fellow hikers were wearing paid off. I had to pick and choose my steps, where they could crash right on through. I'm going to need to ship an old pair of my rugby or soccer cleats out before the rains make these trail impassable to any other type of shoe.

When Sara's leg gets strong enough, I'm dragging her on this hike. Once we reached the bottom of the trail we were in the village of Vatia. It's one of the more remote and poorer villages on the island. The local school kids used to have to hike over the ridge twice a day to attend school in Pago Harbor along the same trail we just down-climbed. Now that the road's gone in, their access to education slightly easier.

We had to fend off a few local dogs on our walk back along the road to the car. The routine for this is grab some fist sized rocks from the side of the road and if the dogs get too close, throw the rocks at the dogs. It becomes second nature after awhile.

We also had some local kids yelling "Hey Palangi" at us. They loved our casual greeting in Samoan of "Malo" in response. The hike back to the truck was less exciting, we walked along the road to the turnoff where we started. We made it back to the glitter truck with enough sunlight to justify a hike down to the tide pools below where we parked.

There were some cool archaeological sites on the hike down. A star mound, a rock used to sharpen axes and some terraces had NPS signs and descriptions on the hike down. At the bottom of the hike, we got to some deep and narrow tide pools. We jumped from the rocks surrounding the pools on both side and were even able to dive in the deeper spots. It was a great way to cool off and relax after our 5-mile hike.

We eventually made it back to the car after watching the sun set behind the Cock's Comb. The ride back over the ridge was a little chilly in the back of the pickup, especially since we were still wet from the tide pools. Once we made it back to the risk-taker's temporary housing at the hospital the Kiwi and I called our wives and begged forgiveness for hiking the day away and each got ourselves a ride home. Overall an amazing hike, now I just have to deal with my sore legs and blisters. I'll do it again soon, once I have cleats and a camera to do it justice.

Pests

Sara and I have been busy battling the local ant population at our house the past few days. We thought we were being diligent about cleaning up our kitchen and food, but the ants are determined and keep finding the last morsel of food we didn't see at the bottom of the sink or that there is a way into the sugar package that is encased in two ziplock bags.

It's been a frustrating situation. We hesitate to spray for bugs in our kitchen, since we do prepare food for ourselves there and have no inclination to ingest toxins. But the frustration with the constant battles with ants is getting to us.

The ants here are different from the ants I've dealt with back on the mainland. There are two variety of ants here: sugar ants and protein ants. The sugar ants are tiny and fast. They are about the size of an eye of a needle. They are faster than any insect that size has a right to be. The ants quickly fan out across the whole house and scout out every little piece of food that escapes your notice. Once they find the food, there is a constant stream of them headed to it and taking back what they can carry to their colony.

The protein ants are normal sized, with a black head and tail, and a red body. They have a nasty bite that leaves welts. Thankfully these ones have not made their presence known in the house. The only troubles we've had with them has been leaving a plate a food next to the barbecue an hour and them swarm it.

Thus far we haven't sprayed for the ants, we've just been wiping them up with spray cleaner, but this solution just isn't cutting it. One of our longer tenured friends on the island suggested a poison paste you leave out on a sheet of paper. The ants find it, take it back to the colony and the poison is slow enough to kill them there. I'm not a huge fan of insect genocide, but I'd also like to reclaim my kitchen. We'll see if that solution works when we put it to use this weekend.

At least we haven't had the rat, centipede and cockroach issues other houses have had...

Commute

Today was my second day waking up in our fair village of Fagogogo (pronounced Fahngo-ongo-ongo-ongo) to the sounds of tropical birds and the ocean (and Jay's alarm clock). As it turned out, we woke up a bit early and had time for a brief stroll over to the beach near our house to enjoy the sunrise. All in all, it was a great way to start the day.

Our first stop of the day was the Office of Motor Vehicles to obtain my AmSam driver's license. Unfortunately, they were not open when we first arrived, so we had to make a stop at nearly every American Samoan's favorite establishment: McDonald's. It was easily one of the the nicest and most modern buildings I've been in on-island thus far. I'm not sure where else I could enjoy a large americano and watch ESPN on a flat screen.

The OMV was an adventure of its own and one of what I'm sure will be many examples of things being accomplished on "island time." After a relatively in-depth Q&A session with the head of OMV, wherein I was questioned regarding my background, employment, and "strange" California driver's license, I was finally able to get my picture taken and walk away with a license. Then the clerk came running after us and stated, in broken English, that we could not leave without new license plates. He then went back inside and eventually reappeared with a cordless drill and new plates for our government vehicle. I'm looking forward to the day when Jay and I have our own wheels, but for the time being, it's certainly nice to have mobility on the government's dime.

Then it was time for the drive from Tafuna to Utulei, where all government offices are located. I have to say, it may be the most beautiful drive to work known to humankind....

In fact, the drive is so lovely that it really doesn't even matter that everyone is driving 20 miles per hour and people are constantly stopping to let others enter the roadway, stopping for pedestrians, or stopping to avoid hitting one of the ubiquitous feral dogs.

Jay had the brilliant idea of eating our lunch under one of the several fale that line Pago Pago harbor across the street from our office. We were able to enjoy our leftovers with a side of sea breeze and sunshine.

Then it was back to the government offices (generally referred to as "the EOB" or executive office building) for the remainder of our afternoon. Our offices are on the third floor and it appears that only the palagi from our office take the stairs. In fact, one of our staff told me that her doctor told her to take the stairs just as she walked into the elevator. Incedently, when I asked her where was her favorite place to eat, she replied, "you mean other than McDonald's?"

Perhaps I'll convince her to walk the stairs of the EOB one of these days... On Friday, we plan to once again have our lunch on the waterfront, but will be trying a local twist on ceviche called Oka, which is made with coconut milk. Mmmmmmm.