Tuesday 18th February
We arrived at the deep water harbour Tutuila which is not very wide for a ship the size of Queen Elizabeth, in fact as we sort of eased our way in we could hear dogs barking and cockerels crowing on shore. The inlet, surrounded by high cliffs covered in lush undergrowth which fall below the surface as deeply as they tower above us. Small buildings cling precariously to the cliff faces, mostly at about sea level but some brave souls have risked sticking buildings to the cliff face higher up. They sit there half enveloped in undergrowth, leaving one to wonder how on earth the milkman gets there each day. As we reach our berth the overriding impression is one of complete silence as once more we are surrounded on all sides by towering tree covered steep slopes rising to almost vertical upper reaches. It is not long before we are once more ashore, walking through the impromptu market that was convened to welcome us, to the gates of the small dock area manned by local police dressed in the traditional “skirts” though I guess they have a proper name for them (kilt maybe – perhaps not). Our ‘coach’ was waiting for us. Coach is perhaps too grand a word for it, as it was a traditional island bus with beautiful polished wooden bodywork that had flames painted on each side (presumably to give it the impression of a speed it did not have), fully air conditioned in the manner of this part of the world (no windows) which also doubled as our escape hatches in case of accident. Or so Kelvin our guide told us. He advised us that the air conditioning was fully adjustable, all we had to do was use the coaches’ communications system to let him know if we were too hot or too cold and he would advise John (the driver) to speed up or slow down accordingly. He was a Samoan of ample proportions who was also a paramedic. He advised us that the bus was fitted with an airbag pointing to himself and the modern communications system he spoke of (which we could also use to tell him to speak up) was a length of string stretching from front to rear, which if pulled produced a sort of strangled squeak. Seats were wooden planks covered in a thin red oil cloth and placed closer together than Ryan Air could ever dream of achieving. Kelvin said that we would not need seat belts as the coach didn’t go fast enough and we were so tightly packed in no one would move anyway. Suitably briefed on all aspects of our transport, we set off in a series of lurches and bangs, the air conditioning came on and Kelvin launched into his well-rehearsed commentary. We followed the coast road round to our first stop which was opposite a small island they called Flower Pot Island on account of the fact that it looked like a flower pot (why else). According to Kelvin the reason the island was there was a very complicated love story that included cannibalism, princes and princesses which would take far too long to relate here. However as we approached the island, there was an ominous load banging noise from underneath and the poor old bus came to a premature halt in a layby opposite Flower Pot Island. Whilst John called the bus hospital we sat under the coconut palms and took photos of the sea, the island, the bus and each other, until a replacement bus turned up. The replacement was slightly more the worse for wear that than the first, but with fully functioning air conditioning. We were soon on our way with a new driver called Lotto, apparently the driver goes with the bus so hopefully with a name like Lotto we should be OK. The rest of the trip went without incidence and we were shown the runway, sorry international airport (two flights per week), the golf course, a church and many more places of which the islanders are extremely proud. The scenery around the coastline is stunning, so to hear that the population of Samoans is shrinking was a surprise. On our return to the ship we stumbled on board to freshen up and have a bite to eat before nipping ashore again to McDonald’s (I know, I know) but it’s the only place with WiFi. We got caught in one of those torrential tropical rain storms which could have passed for a hot shower if we’d had some soap and anyway we shouldn’t have bothered, as so many others had the same idea that we were not able to log on when we got there. So we made our way back, had a proper shower and watched from the balcony as we executed a perfect standing 180° turn in the small space available and with many a blast on the ships sirens, bid farewell to the extremely friendly islanders.
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