bye-bye Savaii

“You say yes, and I say no, you say stop and I say go…
You say goodbye, and I say hello
Hello hello
I don’t know why you say goodbye, I say hello”- The Beatles

Savaii is a short 1 hour ferry ride from Upolu, and if you strap the ferry trip to a 1 hour/$4 bus fare from Apia, you’re facing a total of $16 tala ($8) and a couple of hours of mild adventure to find yourself on the Big Island.

There are fewer Samoan’s on Savaii- one of the reasons, apparently, that it’s not entirely surrounded by the reef lagoons (as Upolu is) which provide relatively safe access to the ocean, and shield the coast from the open Pacific. When combined with the large volcanic cones and the relatively short period since the last major eruption (which lasted from 1905-1911)… the big island has a couple of attractions sau risks which the smaller doesn’t.

I’m here for the weekend, taking advantage of an empty fale left by a couple of volunteers enjoying a Christmas break on Upolu. They live in a self contained room out the back of the Savaiian Hotel…which is closed for a couple of weeks when I arrive, lending the resort a ghost town atmosphere which lone caretaker Sa only adds to (he’s a Samoan Yul Brynner with a Steve Buschemi smile).

As I’m walking the few kilometers from the ferry to the hotel- I get offered a lift. The driver is named Tusi (his name literally means “story” or “book”). We exchange names and occupations…I give mine…
“ae a oe?” (and you?)
“I’m in the circus”
“Oh…?”
“The Samoan Magic Circus…”
When you’re fed a line like his from a dude name Tusi, you can either call him on it and spoil the fun…or go with it, and end up playing pool at Tusi’s place for a while, discussing his extensive international travel (Amsterdam is apparently the schnizzle), and meet some of his family before he gives me a lift to the Savaiian and my fale le aso.

My weekend consists of a bike ride from the Savaiian at Sapapali’i to Manase and back…I discover on arrival that I’ve misplaced my cashcard, lending me both a time limit and a cash budget for a day or two until I get back to Apia. The bike journey is 45km one way, the road is mostly flat with a couple of gentle hills designed for skinny white legs that last rode a bike in the 20th Century. It’s a pleasant, easy ride passing from the east coast of Faga, lined with fales; through more sparsely populated lush jungle, before appearing on the north east coast in lava fields and descending to the beaches of Manase, the tourist centre of Savaii, about 3 hours later. On Saturday night in Manase I get a basic, comfortable fale which my hostess discounts to $60 (NZD $30.00)- including breakfast and a tuna steak dinner. The fale is about 10m from the crystalline fish filled water… ta’ele (swim) or snorkel, go for a walk, find a beer, read a book- you know how holidays go.

Aso Sa is Sunday. The palagi advice I’ve had is that riding a bike or walking through the villages on Sunday isn’t encouraged, the shops are all closed and swimming (outside the resorts) isn’t done. There is, in short, nothing to do on Sunday. There is some substance to this…but…I have to ride home- I’m cash poor and I’ve asked a couple of locals if I’ll be cool riding home- they say “le afaina” (no worries).

Within a kilometre of leaving the fale at Manase I’ve seen ½ a dozen kids on bikes, lots of pedestrians, and a ta’avale (car) every minute or so. Not everyone is going to church- people are resting, bathing, doing chores or just playing with kids in the yard. There’s no indication I’m out of place and everyone is friendly- happy to wave or say “malo”. Something is occasionally lost in translation, and I get a couple of "I love you"s…odd but not unpleasant when it comes from a couple of mature ladies bedecked in white wear and hats like a pair of Polynesian country singers (you be Tammy, you be Dolly, I’ll be Kenny…). Kids all the way shout “bye-bye” and offer high fives…my “malo” meets repeated “bye-bye’s” as though it were time I left.

The shops are all open before Church, until 9 or 10. And after that, they close for a bit while everyone has lunch and a nap- or they don’t. I’m back on the East Coast before 11, and by 2pm I’m starving and my ghost resort fridge is only stocked with the lingering thoughts and odours of real food. So, I go for a walk and pass half a dozen closed stores, before coming to an open one. The shop keeper is sleeping happily on top of his deep freeze behind a counter full of fresh bread…even vividly imagining a corned beef sandwich, I can’t bring myself to wake him. 20m up the road another store is also open. They don’t have bread or corned beef- and I have to mention the sleeping storekeeper next door…”Oh, my brother- wake him up!” she says, before giving me about ¼ of a chicken, leftover from their family to‘ona’i to have on my sandwiches… I have to buy something to go with my free chicken and nap-interrupting bread, so I get a couple of beers for the fale fridge, even though alcohol isn’t sold on Sunday.

Saturday in Samoan is Aso To’ona’i…named for the feast to be prepared for Sunday, to’ona’i. Despite this weekly, not so subtle reminder the shops do a brisk trade Sunday morning…in a land where tomorrow is a long time away. 

Lots of things aren’t done (although most still are done) on Aso Sa in Savaii.