Alarming news- A millipede has gotten up onto my bed- is this a gateway insect?? Is a centipede a.k.a a devilpede next??

Tonight’s top story: Someone has stolen my muesli bar from the fridge at work.

Between the stolen muesli bar, the millipede on my bed, and my melancholic mood, morale is low. On the upper hand, I just wrote some awesome alliteration. There I go again. Unstoppable.

My mood has taken a turn for the worst of late. I may have a mope right now so turn away if you feel like you don’t want to hear me ask life’s hard questions; “if a muesli bar is stolen from the fridge at work without anyone seeing it, does it still make a sound?” 

Let me just say that before I start my mope- I really must comment on how fab my class are. I only have ONE kid who is actually a bit of a pain, primarily because he is ADHD and American and doesn’t know when to shut his trap. Aside from that delightful minor issue, they really are a cool bunch of kids, and extremely tolerant of my shite teaching practice/preparation/spelling and mathematic skills. They tell me “I like learning, you’re a cool teacher” and I tell them “You like learning? NERD ALERT!!!” and then I say I’m kidding and that they are a cool class but if they really loved me they would pay me more. I like to keep them on their toes.

 I sound jokey when I talk about my class, but I really have had some awesome teaching moments with them. They clap after I read a chapter of their ‘class read’ book particularly well (or if they are sucking up for another chapter). They get excited about learning and laugh with me about things that are funny, and get serious about things that are serious. There are two boys who have me in hysterics constantly, to the point where I once thought I might have to leave the room to regain my composure. Work has become a joy/just kidding but it’s come close enough, and there have indeed been some joyful moments in there.

My mope comes down to the old classic- self doubt. It’s also partly self pity, let’s not beat around the bush (what does that even MEAN? I am just imagining some old guy with a stick beating the ground angrily around a small shrub.)

Twice a year when the stars align and the tides are right, the Giant Sea Turtle comes ashore to lay it’s eggs, and I have an emotional breakdown and decide that I am so bad at doing life. Pause for audience gasp. I know, I know, I seem to have it all together with my short/at times bordering on dykey hair cut and my around-the-world jaunts. But truth is sometimes I really don’t know what I am doing with this whole thing (life, not the hair, which is currently a mixture of a mullet and a bowlcut.) I am about the most nostalgic person I know, so the past always looks like this exotic dream world, and I totally pine for it. Minutes before I sat down to write this, I stared at myself sadly in the mirror and thought “why didn’t you just stay in Hamilton where you had friends and a car and money and material wealth! Now your friends will forget you because you left a perfectly good place!” Then I got thinking about how I wish I was better at things- better at being a Christian, better at teaching, better at caring about other people, better at not caring about what other people think of me. It’s a horrible mixture of self doubt and self pity and self loathing all at once. 

I guess my point in sharing this is that I am having a little freak out “I should be in New Zealand improving myself and my life. I wasting my time here” when really what I am effectively saying is “I’ll start the diet tomorrow.” I guess the great thing about life is that it is fluid- you can start the change at any time- that’s if you really want to I suppose. I’d be intrigued to know if it’s a feeling we share as people- the three selves- and whether or not it disappears in time/with success/happiness. I’m also ranting because I am tired, so disregard this if it sounds mental or too self indulgent for your liking!

Next time on AinsleyinSamoa…..Having a decent sense of judgement when driving in Samoa….is it just too hot? Samoan driving skills and other unusual behaviours.

Love you! Ains x

Les Mis- Similar to Les Mills. Les is a terrible name for a man. Sorry to everyone called Les. But it's true.

Soooooo many things are going down-toooown in the Moa at the moment!!!!

I lie, a small, limited number of things are going down.

Firstly and most importantly is that I am obsessed with watching Les Mis. Day after day I skip it to the sad bits and sob away. I recall my mother telling me once that she wouldn't let me watch Milo and Otis (shout with glee if you know this film) because I would get too distraught (for everyone who doesn't know the film, it was about a cat and a dog that leave home and get lost, and it was VERY MOVING ALRIGHT???) I'm looking for opportunities at every corner to tell people to "retrieve the flag" and in maths, am always using the digits 24601. Total saddo, but hey, it's a part of my life now!

Secondly, and more life changingly, Liz has forced me into giving my the black gold- aka the liquid love of my life, Coke Zero.I am a dedicated Coke groupie- so delicious! It adds flavour to anything "Only got stale bread to eat? Add a Coke!" "House is messy and you don't feel like cleaning? Add a Coke!" "Just woke up on a Thursday morning and feel like you need something 'extra'? Add a Coke!". The last one is where we obviously pin pointed the addiction......it was at this point that I sullenly agreed to make the change. I've been horrible today- no chocolate in the house + no Coke Zero to come home to-"What is the point in LIVING!!!?" I screamed furiously at Liz (in my head) while she smugly enjoyed her pineapple juice. We will see how this one goes.

I am reeeeally enjoying work here at the moment. The kids in my class are fantastic, and I am going to do a proper blog about some of the cool stuff going on in there at the moment. I feel really blessed and relieved at the nice class I have been dished up this year. It's actually a joy going to work/ work is never a joy but it's close enough.

I'm sick of the insects and the mice and the dirt and the heat. It's not that I can't handle it, I can. But I am sick of it. I have adapted to it all, but begrudgingly. It's so odd how you can adapt to things. For example, I was sleeping this afternoon, after exhausting myself weeping away to Les Mis, when I felt something tickle my arm. It was enough to make me open my eyes sleepily, and who did I see staring back at me, but farking McCready the mouse! I lost it, swearing loudly while simultaneously leaping into the air. McCready made a run for the hills/the back of my wardrobe, where I hope he had some time to think about what he had done!! This is the weird thing tho. I went back onto my bed and WENT BACK TO SLEEP. I didn't even try to kill McCready, which I usually do for sport or when he is pissing me off. I just went back to sleep. I am used to the presence of a wild mouse in my room. That is just really too wrong!
 

I need to go to sleep.

Love Ainsley.

Ainsley and the Sliding Rocks.

First of all, let me start with an excerpt from my email to one of my besties, Sarah McLeish. The story is unrelated to the Sliding Rocks, but for those of you who like to be in the know....

"In other news, I have mice living in my room. I hate them so much- they nibble away at peanuts I accidentally leave lying around- it's my bedroom, I shall leave peanuts where I want!!!! Anyway, I named them Walter and McCready. Walter is spontaneous and cheerful, always willing to try new things. He'll probs die first from the rat poison I have laid out tonight....McCready is slightly more world weary, he's done some time around the block and has seen one or two of his mates go the way of ol' Stuart Little (in this story we pretend Stuart Little died by eating rat poison). He's going to be harder to track down and destroy. I kind of like them a little bit, so it will be sad when they crawl behind my wardrobe to die and I have to fish them out with the salu (broom). Gross."

In an unrelated story, last Saturday, after a late morning lie in because we were hungover from out intense dance session at the local RSA (true story, there was a fight and everything), we headed over to the Sliding Rocks.

The sliding rocks are aptly named, as they are basically a collection of rocks that are covered in algae, that are now very slidey. There are various little waterfalls and pools that the daring can take a little dip in. There is one waterfall/slide that is slightly larger than the rest, I couldn't tell you how big because I'm not super great with measurement, but probs like 6 meters high or something? High enough that it is scary, but low enough that you don't have to think (too long) about whether you will die or not sliding off it. 

Being the cowardly fool I am, I knew that if I didn't do it straight away I never would, so I quickly jumped on and did the big one. I'm really glad I did- it was fun in a "my butt hurts from the rocks, and now I'm falling, and now my butt is hitting the ground cos it's shallower than we all thought" kind of way. I tried to attempt round two, but ended up having a panic attack at the top of the waterfall and sitting there, hunched up in a ball, weeping sadly (I imagine I looked a bit like Gollum when he lost the ring.)

Anyway, I pulled myself together quickly as a family was approaching  and I didn't want them to see me in my sorry state. The girls and I lounged around for a while longer, basking in the sun, until we decided it was time to go for another slide.

Now is probably time to mention my greatest Sliding Rocks fear. I am distrustful at the best of times, so my natural inclination is to think "what if there is a sharp rock and I rip my bum on it?!" It's actually my worst fear ever since Hannah at intermediate school told me that people put wall tacks point up in the waterslides at the Lido Aquatic Centre and someone got one stuck in their bum!

So we headed down to a more relaxed part of the pools. In the distance the rapids got slightly more intense. There was another little waterfall that fell into a large pool, but we deduced that it didn't look very safe, as there were pointy rocks sticking out at the top of the waterfall. I watched cynically (not over my failure at the last fall it would seem), while Liz and Lena swam around in the little pools. Liz pointed to a rock that was about 30cm high. "Look, Ains" she said encouragingly, as if talking to a mentally handicapped Golden Retriever "this one would be alright for you!" She went down the "slide" to prove her point. "It does look fun.." my simple mind thought to itself. I wandered down to the pool and had a little go. Inspired with confidence, I looked for my next challenge- a rock that was big enough to warrant a slide, but small enough that I wouldn't stress myself out. I saw it, waiting on the other side of the stream, the perfect rock. "I'm just going over here to sit on this one" I called out to the girls. Lining myself up, I pushed off and immediately knew this was not going to pan out the way I had anticipated. 

"I caaaaaaaaan't stooooooooop!" Shrieking, I was headed to face my fears head on- or should I say, bum on! I was about to test Hannah's theory for myself- would my bum be ripped to shreds?? As I flailed around trying in vain to slow myself down, I reached the fastest parts of the rapids. "This is it" I said to myself, and squeezed my eyes shut and prayed, hoping that God would somehow turn my bum to steel and the rocks into marshmallows  Seconds later, I hit a bumpy patch, including a natural ski jump, sailed into the air, and landed with an undignified splash into a deep pool. I looked back up the river, spluttering, trying to figure out if all my limbs were in order, at Liz's panicked face trying to look down into the pool. After shouting that I was seemingly alright, they let loose the laughter they had obviously graciously been holding back, and just about wet themselves at the top of the stream. I'm glad they didn't, given my then current position.

Woman loses arm and half an ear to bedbugs- Lelata community horrified

No movement on the bed bug front unfortunately. 

In other and slightly more interesting news, some great things have happened recently. I have found that I have a heart of coal, and cannot contain my laughter when a child says something ridiculous in my class. It's mainly because when someone is Samoa says something dumb, everyone around them pisses themselves laughing and it's really hard not to join in.

The other day, we were talking about international organisations in Samoa. I asked one of my kids "How does SPREP (Environmental organisation) help the community in Samoa?" "They help us.....uhhhh, the environment??" the child answers, hopeful that he has strung enough words together that both answers my question and makes sense. "Yes!" I nod enthusiastically, pleased that this particular child managed to produce such an answer, "And how does looking after the environment help us?" 

"Uhhhhhhhh" he considered nervously, sweat breaking out on his brow "they help us.....smell?" The group stared in shock as the child realised his mistake "No, no, I...they help us breathe! The trees!" Too late. Everyone, including me, was rolling around pissing themselves laughing. I tried to cover mine up with a cough, but it was useless. Tears in my eyes, I encouraged him "You are right, they do help us breathe!" Clearly this child is not getting enough oxygen to the brain! I am such a terrible teacher!

Last weekend saw myself and Liz as well as a couple other ladies from school head over to TafaTafa, a beach on the south side of the island. 

Kind of like Samoan style camping, you book a fale on the grass verge beside the beach, and they drag in mattresses and mosquito nets and roll down tarps so you have cosy little tent like things. There is literally nothing around- no shop, no nothing, so you take what you need with you. There is a guy who lives on the property, Nug, a retired professional snowboarder, who built his own double storied fale, which serves as a bar, as well as his house. He runs surf tours from the camp ground, which keeps the owner of the land, Dave, sweet on the deal. 

Upon arrival I nearly asked if someone could drive me home and take me to an optometrist to have my eyes checked. Perched up and down the beach, all over the fales and beach side, were large, grey beige and white seagulls. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a group of humans, in their twilight years, decked out in the 2013 cruise collection (a lot of warm beige). After being congratulated on "getting out of our own country" (apparently a difficult feat for Americans?), and unwittingly having my photo stalkerishly taken by an old boy with an impressive mustache, the group ambled back towards their buses, no doubt reliving the olden days of their youth.

The camp ground literally deserted (we were the only inhabitants, and though there was a family somewhere that owned the place, we saw no hide nor hair of them), we set about enjoying various water sports/ activities. I went for a solo kayak to the end of the lagoon and out towards the reef break. I felt a bit like the king of the world out there- one of my top favourite feelings. My self indulgent fantasies about being the original discoverer of Samoa and having them make me their queen were only shattered by a group of drunk Samoan boys yelling pleasantries (or where they obscenities?) from the beach.

The afternoon then was spent lying on the beach; reading, getting sunburnt, pining after chocolate, remembering that I had chocolate, eating chocolate, pining after chocolate again etc until Dave (the owner) approached us and asked if we would like to go fishing with him. Apparently, Dave is one of the few men in Samoa that doesn't believe women on boats are bad luck, and actually considers them good luck, so we felt honoured to go out with him. Although rain clouds were hugging the islands off the coast, Dave felt confident that we would catch something. He good naturedly  kept saying "Heeeeere fishes!!!!! May-pe dey sleep, hab some Valima, hab a sleep!!" in broken English and cackling at his own wit.

We trawled for a solid two hours, with no luck. I spent most of the time looking at the clouds (they have really good clouds here) and making pictures in my head, and then nudging Tina and trying to see if she would get the same cloud pictures as me. She would usually get most of them, or pretty close anyway, except the dirty ones and then she would just laugh and shake her head disapprovingly at my 24 year old humour. 

The most exciting moment of the trip arrived mid rain shower, when suddenly a commotion came up from the hull (?) of the boat. Apparently Dave was trying to communicate something, but the cigarette he was clamping between his teeth, the noise of the motor, and his less than pristine English skills were all making it difficult. "Shaaaaaa" was all I could here, and then I saw him pointing furiously over the side of the boat. Between the aqua or the water and the navy blue of the rocks and corals, I couldn't see anything  Suddenly one of the navy blues started moving, taking shape, and I saw what Dave was communicating. Shark. As a girl who has read "The Beach" at least 10 times, I knew the end of my life when I saw it. Preparing for a Jaws like scenario, I squeezed my eyes shut as we zoomed over the shark, waiting for it to leap up and rip my guts out. It didn't. Obviously.

After that there's not much worth saying if you weren't there to enjoy it. After 4 beers in 30 degree heat and a day in the sun, I was ready to drop it low to slow filthy gangster beats blasting from Liz's iPod, courtesy of Nug's sound system. Somewhere between 12-1am I decided it was high time I had my first ever skinny dip, or SD as we decided to call it (sounds gross, I know, it's half of the hilarity). Since no one else was foolish enough to come into the shark infested waters, I SD'ed alone, it water dark as ink, watched by the million eyes of the Milky Way (sinister thought), Liz dutifully keeping watch on the beach. 

To change tact slightly, a we just had a animalistic shakedown in my classroom. I have various animal friends knocking around in here, last time I counted- a mouse, a giant gecko (two hands length , a spider as big as my hand, various insects, and of course, all my mini geckos. Now, as I write, out of the corner of my eye, I spied an interesting interaction.

The mouse, obviously smelling food,and thinking no one was around, came a wandering across the class. While I've been writing there has been a small gecko, about the length of my pinky, hiding near me under a table leg. The mouse, on his wander, didn't notice the gecko. The gecko, doing God knows what, jumped out at the mouse. The mouse jumped about 5cms in the air, and ran for it's life in the opposite direction. I just imagined the gecko pissing itself at such a hilarious joke.

Laters baby (for all you 50 Shades fans....I know who you are!)

Pictorial of Ol' Sammy- Moa

Liz swimming in the dreamy stream next to our house- Little did we know this ol girl is a killer- apparently best not to swim in rainy season, might get washed away in a flash flood!

If you come to Samoa to see me, I will take you here and we will live like kings!

Looking tropical like we ought

I look pleased because I saw my Diet Coke approaching on a tray out of the corner of my eye while the photo was being taken.

Excuse the nuidity, but this is the price I pay for being a white. Also for not wearing sunblock in the tropics.

The waterfall up the road from school where we sometimes have swim after a hot day

My lovely school field with the water in the background

Damn right that's the view from my classroom. Ps that tree is all about the cyclone damage.

My desk in the mid morning sun- I try to avoid this area at that time of the day!

Our school is bright purple. Embrace it.

Sounds

You know how when everyone talks about India, they all seem to mention one same thing- the smell. "It's invasive" they tell you, with a look of wonderment (or disgust, depending on what they are describing) on their face.

Sound to Samoa is what smell is to India. It's EVERYWHERE. It's invasive. And it's great.

Right now my ears are in overdrive- The hum off the computer, the hiss of a boiling kettle, a whinghing child competing with the chattering noise delivered courtesy of the Cartoon Network.

Further still I can hear- the whoosh of the ceiling fans as they spin at full speed- it's hot today. The dripping of water from wet foliage from the most recent downpour. Roosters crowing, dogs barking and making the occasional yelp as one takes on another- perhaps for a scrap of food or in defence of their territory- and is put in it's place.

Noise, or sound, is constant here. Of course it always is everywhere in the world, but they are new sounds, and therefore I notice them more.

For the first week I had trouble sleeping. The stream outside my window, that in the dry season calms down to barely a trickle, rushes with a steady, crashing rythem. Unwelcome creatures scuttle and crunch on the leaves outside. The fan blows a stream of coolish air in my face, humming loudly with the exertion of working at it's highest level for hours on end.

At the end of the first week teaching, my voice was hoarse from trying to speak over the constant barage of rain on the tin roof. Wind howled, lightning cracked, and thunder roared so close over head, some of the kids actually screamed.

At night, when things are calm, the crickets sing. The geckos chrip greetings to one another, basking in the warmth of the closest light. The gentle words of Samoan float down through the open windows from the house above- the family are saying their nightly devotions. The village bell rings; once, twice. Songs carry on the breeze, ghostly voices singing their praises to God.

I would be pretending if I said these noises didn't piss me off sometimes. But like India, the experience would be incomplete without them.

Love, Ainsley

The paper

My year in Samoa.                                                                                                           29/01/13

I read the paper today. It was a bit on  the trag side, some of the English skills could definitely use improving, but who am I to judge when I pathetically can only speak one language (even if it’s the top dog of languages)…

The paper was in equal measure fascinating and depressing. I sat at the dining room table and read while drinking my orange juice, wishing I had a cigarette or a pipe or something to look fancy with because I was grown up-ly reading the paper. Meanwhile my Asian wife (slash roomie) cooked us up massive portions of fried rice. Quaint bible messages and quirky columns aside, things weren’t looking good: family debt, unemployment and a rise in violence among youth.

Money stuff distresses me in Samoa. In true third/developing world fashion, the uneven distribution of wealth is apparent when you have hulking great SUV’s driving next to the broken down old buses, and mansions next to shacks. It makes it even more disconcerting when you comment on a lovely giant mansion, about 10 times the size of a normal house, only to have the taxi driver grimly say “Pastor’s house”. Family traditions, religious expectations and lack of financial literacy are massive contributors towards the current financial state most families are in. Samoa is begging for change, though no one seems to be quite sure of how to go about getting their shit together, and therefore change doesn’t come. I look forward to looking more into this area, which may be difficult seeing as the topic is fairly taboo.

On the note of church, I haven’t been yet, but am looking to go along this Sunday. I am apprehensive to a point of what I might find. Samoa is a strongly religious country, and unfortunately church pastoring has become a rather lucrative business, and so I will openly say that I am sceptical of the sincerity and authenticity of some of these pastors. It’s probably unfair of me to judge without at least making an appearance first, so I will hold off on unleashing (more of) my thoughts until I have been myself.

On a side note, I had my first day of school today. The kids are BOSS AS (lol), gorgeous little things that were so quiet for the first block, I thought I was teaching a class of deaf mutes. Unfortunately, the glorious silence didn’t last too long, and everyone was busy having a raucous yarn by the end of block two.  Having only 19 kids though means that I am spoilt for choice towards who I want to help, and who I want to leave for dead (jokes) and I have promised them that they will all be massive braniacs by the time they finish in my class. They were pleased by that, only to have their hopes dashed when they realised that I can neither spell, nor do my times tables. I assured them that I had other cools skills like being able to whistle while sucking air IN, not out, and also am really great at reading stories out loud. The best thing is that they call me Ainsley, so I had the rather surreal experience of “Good afternoon, Room 7…..Good afternoooonAiiiiiiinnnnnsssss-leeeeeeey”. Cuties.

Night night and don’t let the bed bugs bite. Seriously don’t, because I try not to but they still get me anyway, and now I have at least 60 bites on my legs, a mild fever, and aches in my joints. Someone webdoctor.com those symptoms for me would you?

Love, Ainsley