I knew I liked pork but had to come to Samoa to find out I love pigs, too. A wee conflict.
I figured sequels worked out well for Rocky and Bruce Willis, so thought I’d do a sequel to the whiny entry I did about the little things that make me nuts. Actually, I could run that list out until we’re all old and grey, since I’m a tad irritable.
Part II, though, is a bit different. Instead of continuing the whining, I thought I’d share some of the little things that make me smile.
The puppy
I could easily add the puppy to the whiny list, since he still leaves puddles, likes to chew on my long skirts and will likely be the cause of my next broken bone, since he believes that wherever my feet are is where he should be.
All that aside, I can’t resist laughing every morning when I open my door and there he is, acting like I’m a better treat than a Milk Bone. Even when I just come back from a walk, he acts like his best friend has just returned. Nice to have all that pure love and energy be part of how I start my day.
The baby
My family has a granddaughter, who’s four months old. Her name is Eden and she doesn’t live here, but visits frequently. She has huge brown eyes, a monk’s fringe hairdo and is one of the best babies I’ve ever met. Initially, she wasn’t fond of me or my glasses, I’m not sure which. She seems to have adjusted though and is very patient with letting me hold and love on her. When we returned from the aborted teacher’s meeting, she was waiting. How could I be cranky when she laughed out loud to the sound of me reciting the Samoan alphabet? There are few things that are more soul-deep satisfying than giving a chubby baby a raspberry and hearing her laugh.
For Whom The Horn Honks
Samoans like to honk. Many have installed special horns to make unique sounds. It’s not about the rims here, it’s about the horn. They honk to get you to move. They honk to let you know they’ve arrived. They honk to let you know they’re leaving. Mostly, they honk because they see someone they know.
It is gratifying to hear a honk and realize that it’s me they’re honking at. One of the neighbors passed me yesterday when I was out for my daily stroll. I’ve never spoken to him, more than a talofa, but he honked and the entire family was smiling and waving energetically. I gave them my best wave back. They passed going the other way a couple of minutes later. We repeated the honking/waving. Felt just as good the second time.
I may have written about a negative experience I had recently when a bus didn’t stop for me, even though I was signaling and the driver clearly saw me. I talked to someone who knows several of the bus drivers. I don’t know what he told them but I haven’t had that problem again. And now, the buses honk when they see me. All of them. Plus, I get the special wave that cool guys do here. I give ‘em my own cool wave back, along with a big smile.
The kids
I like kids. I like that they are eager to try new things. They want to learn. They don’t care if doing something makes them look silly. If it’s fun, do it. There are a lot of kids in Samoa and unlike the States where we have to be so cautious when near a child, there’s always a kid to play with here.
Like the six year old who comes to watch me read at the beach fale. How bored would you have to be to sit and watch some lady reading? He relieves his boredom by singing. So then I sing something. Then we work on a tune together. Ends with smiles, every time.
Yesterday as I headed out on my walk, a girl of about 13 was trying to ride a bike. It wasn’t going well. She’d pedal once, get her other foot on the pedal and then lose her balance. I asked if she knew how to ride. No, and clearly a bit embarrassed about not being able to ride. I told her where to put her feet to get started and said “Just pedal. I’ve got you. Just steer straight and pedal.” We only made it about ten feet before she ran off the road into the bushes, with me holding her up, but it was 9 feet farther than she’d gotten before. More smiles.
Pe’e pe’e
No, that’s not peepee, it’s coconut cream, pronounced peh-ay, peh-ay. It’s labor intensive to make, but Samoans put in the effort and use it on everything. The other day the family asked me to join them for to’ona’i (big Sunday lunch). The first thing they put in front of me was a soup bowl full of something that looked like oatmeal. Nope, it was hot, mashed ripe bananas, cooked with fresh coconut cream. It took everything I had in me to not lick the bowl.
Soup made from fresh papaya and coconut cream? Lovely. Fish cooked in coconut cream and onions? Delicious. I haven’t found anything with coconut cream that I haven’t liked and I’m looking forward to the next thing.
Reactions to my eating
A couple of things. First, palagis, especially American palagis, are known as picky eaters. Second, Samoans eat with their hands. So, people tend to be a bit surprised and pleased that I will eat pretty much anything they put in front of me, with my hands. People seem surprised and happy that I actually seem to like the food they give me. I’ve heard my host sister proudly brag that “She eats limu and kui kui and oka. She eats like a Samoan. Except that she doesn’t like too much talo, kalofai.”
Luckily for me, I’m not a picky eater. I was as a kid, but my parents broke me of that habit. They believed that people’s tastes change as they get older, so I had to try everything new, even if just one bite. And, even if I didn’t like it, I had to try it again the next time it was served. They were right. I hated cheese as a kid. Too strong, even the American slices that come wrapped in plastic. Now, there’s not a cheese made I don’t relish and the stinkier, the better.
So when someone here puts food in front of me that I don’t recognize, I don’t ask questions, I just dig in. Sunday it was what I’m assuming was chitins’, based on the word “pig” and where the person pointed on her body. They were delicious. The best part, though, was after lunch. I excused myself and was walking back toward my fale, when I heard them discussing with what seemed like great delight how much I like “their” food.
Natural beauty
It’s really hard to stay in a pissy mood when such raw, natural beauty smacks you in the face every way you turn. The constantly changing moods and look of the ocean, the clouds that seem to be lit from within in shades of red and blue at sunset and sunrise, the sound of the wind through the leaves of the breadfruit and banana trees. I can’t describe the physical beauty of Samoa. I might have trouble walking out of the cold shower I just shared with a couple of cockroaches if I wasn’t stepping out into paradise.
And, have I mentioned the beautiful people? Samoans are some good looking people, from babies to old folks. Not all are beautiful, of course, but there are a lot that are. And if you’re into the not-an-ounce-of-fat, tan six-pack kind of guy, come to Samoa. Working in the plantations as most of the young men here do is hard physical work. On numerous occasions I’ve glanced over at a group of men working, wearing nothing but lava lavas wrapped around their waists, sweaty muscles gleaming in the sun, with abs you could crack walnuts on. Don’t judge me – bet you’d smile too.
Running pigs
I know it’s not just me, or the pig races at state fairs wouldn’t be so popular. I’m not sure what it is about running pigs, but they crack me up, every time. Pigs running in the rain? They send me into giggling fits. I try to tone it down, because the Samoans don’t seem to share my amusement. But it doesn’t matter what I’m doing, if I see the dog sneaking up behind a group of pigs, I get up to get a better view. I know that Blackie will get right behind the biggest pig, let out a bark and the chase is on. Pigs squealing and running surprisingly fast, with Blackie and the puppy in hot pursuit.
I tend to write about the negative stuff. As you read it, I hope you’ll take it with a grain of salt. There’s also a lot here that I smile about every day. Way more than I’ve written in these paragraphs.
I didn't write about how much I love getting packages, because they're not a little thing. The love sent in those beautiful boxes (shown here in the bus on my way home from the Post Office) is HUGE and I can never thank you enough.
Some flowers next to the beach. Beautiful, isn't it?
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