Another Friday in Apia

Our hotel room in Apia. By European standards, it's spacious.

It’s 5:00 pm in Apia and I’m sitting in my air-conditioned room, waiting for the fiafia to start at 6:30.  I’ve been told it will involve food, drinking, dancing and a fire dancer.  Since it’s being held in the same room as our training, I’m a wee bit concerned about burning down the place, but am going with the flow.

Speaking of which, I’m pretty proud of how well I’ve been going with the flow so far.  Much of our experience so far has been relatively stress free and fun.  But still, for the last umpteen years, I’ve lived alone and worked alone.  Being tossed into a group of 20, with only one other person within decades of my age and having a 22 year-old roommate is a bit different.  Heck, when I travel with friends we always get separate hotel rooms.  The fact that my roommate hasn’t smothered me in my sleep is a testament to the “go with the flow” attitude I’ve adopted and the fact that she can sleep through anything, including my snoring.

The language training, which I dreaded is going much better than I expected.  My teacher, Fale, is patient, articulate and is using a variety of techniques and approaches to help us learn.  We had a pop quiz today and I got 13 out of 15.  Smack in the middle out of five of us.  And yes, I’m almost looking forward to four more hours of language training tomorrow, even though that means all the stores will be closed for the remainder of the weekend by the time we get out of class.

I dropped my dirty clothes off across the street to be washed today.  Everyone else is doing laundry in the sink,  but really, for a total of 18 tala for over a week’s worth of dirty clothes?  To have them completely dry and smelling like Downey?  It’s a luxury I’m willing to pay for.  It’s funny how we’re each managing our money.  I’m living on the cheap with occasional splurges on things like laundry or a meal out.  That’s allowing me to stash some money for either a big splurge or a rainy day.  Others are using every penny, knowing that another “pay day” will be coming. 

Some are treating themselves with food.  Cheese and peanut butter are both popular and fairly expensive.  Cookies and chips are also popular.  Chips are outrageously expensive here and I’m glad I don’t crave them.  Cookies, on the other hand, are relatively cheap and are my nighttime treat. Vailima, the local beer, is the indulgence of choice for others.  I’ve had a few and it is a nice way to relax after a long day of class. I’m already thinking about splurging for my 60^th birthday in a couple of weeks.  I’ll be in the village, so need to plan ahead.  My dream is a chilled gin martini and a rare grilled steak.  I’ll be happy with a Vailima and a hot dog.  If it turns out to be water and taro, I’ll get by. 

Speaking of food, 10 of us went out for Chinese food last night.  It was not cheap, especially if you got a large Vailima (Ms. Thrifty here abstained), but was delicious.  Chinese food seems to be ubiquitous, worldwide. The version here is similar to what we have in the States, which means when homesickness hits, I’ll be stopping by the Sunrise Restaurant.  The décor is also reminiscent of every Chinese restaurant I’ve ever been to.  This one is a bit on the upscale side, which is a nice alternative to the places we’ve been eating so far.

Some other observations on a beautiful Friday afternoon:

I’ve gotten used to the bells that clang outside our room every morning.  To me, they just signal it’s 5 am and I can go back to sleep.  I suspect to locals, they signal prayers.

The cats here seem to be tiny.  I haven’t seen many, but the few I’ve seen are the size of half-grown kittens.  There are two who live in the hotel.  They liked me a lot at lunch when I opened a can of sardines.  My fellow trainees didn’t seem as thrilled with the smell.

I have dirty fingernails.  I shower at least once a day, sometimes twice.  I’m in a classroom, not doing gardening.  Yet, every time I look at my hands, my fingernails are filthy.  What’s up with that?

I’m very fond of the smell of burning trash.  It’s not constant or overwhelming.  Just a light scent in the breeze that combines with the perfume of flowers to create a unique and pleasant aroma.  Sarah pointed out that it probably contains carcinogens that will cause lung cancer.  I responded that by the time I’m exposed to that much, I’ll probably be dead anyway.  She acknowledged the point.

I was not flirting with the cab driver.  Somehow, I’ve developed the reputation as a flirt.  Or perhaps “most likely to marry a Samoan”.  Or trainee (I don’t think there’s enough Vailima on the island).  It is all a complete façade.  So last night when we arrived at the restaurant, everyone else hopped out and headed into the restaurant.  I lingered, not because the young Samoan driver was good looking (he was) but because I wanted to get his number in case we needed a ride home.  The fact that I captured it on video was just a convenience. 

I’m off to get ready for the fiafia.  Most of the women are getting dressed up.  I figure I smell like Downey, so that’s good enough.