My year in Samoa 22/01/13
I write you today, with my experience of
Samoa. Raw and at times probably
unpleasant/depressing/whingey/boring. If you cringe at emotions and strange
wondering/self-confessions laid bare, I would start running in the opposite
direction now, or at least click out of this blog site. I want my portrayal of
Samoa to be real, not a whimsical fantasy version of life on this island.
I guess, though, that at times it will be
just that, because Samoa has its moments of being paradise on Earth. In part
like walking into a dream, it can come across as idyllic- winding roads snaking
into hills shrouded by mist, foliage so green it makes your eyes hurt, azure
blue waters that, if you took a picture of them on a fine day, you wouldn’t
even have to edit to chuck them on a postcard or a travel magazine cover.
But for all its beauty, Samoa has it’s
hidden vices, that I am slowly learning to adjust to. The heat, for example, is
oppressive. People back home are always saying how lovely it would be to go for
a holiday ‘somewhere hot’. Of course it is lovely to go ‘somewhere hot’, as
long as you have air conditioning, or a fan, or a large expanse of cool water
within walking distance. Day to day existence in Samoa- for most of the working
(or largely unemployed) class people is a steady hum drum of doing menial
chores in over 30 degree heat with no means to cool down. Sure, people say
“they are used to it”. And they are. They have adapted to the heat, if by ‘adapting’
can be classed as lying around in open fales, moving very slowly, and taking on
that sluggish appearance that most of us get within minutes of being in the
heat. It’s nothing against them, and I am a sluggish face heat sufferer too.
I’m doing my best not to look mentally impaired at times like orientation day
at work, but my alert expression of intelligent interest only lasts so long
before my eyes glaze over and mouth hangs open slightly. It’s not all bad- when
the rain comes the temperatures cool down substantially, and aside from those
living inland, most people are near enough to a water source that they can cool
off, in the wet season anyway. In the dry season I’m told that most fresh water supplies dry up,
thankfully it’s a few months before I have that to deal with.
I guess another vice could be the size of
the place- though I guess that’s your perspective on it. Already I am getting
that anxious feeling of being trapped; my greatest fear. Never have I been one
for planting solid roots (obviously), something I attribute to moving around a
lot as a kid, though who really knows. Pop psychology might tell me that it is
a fear of commitment, of the successes and failures staying in one place might
bring. Religion might say I’m searching for something in my travels that I will
only find in God. It used to keep me up at night, torn between the fear of
leaving my friends and family, and fear of staying. Innate boredom when at
home, innate longing for home when I’m elsewhere. No disrespect to family or friends, whom I
love beyond anything else. “It’s not you, it’s me”. Apparently, like the U2
song, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.
However, I digress, and I really was
discussing the size of the island. As far as islands go, I think it’s a fairly
big one, though I don’t know for sure because I don’t have a large range of
experience to compare it to. I would say it might take 2-3 hours to drive the
perimeter, cutting through the island’s inland hill (mountain?) range is
quicker. A small collection of supermarkets, stalls, and a scattering of retail
shops makes up Apia’s shopping experience. It’s hardly as if I have come from
Tokyo or New York or anything, but in comparison Hamilton seems like a buzzing
metropolis to the sleepy little Apia. I think more than anything it’s the NO
GETTING OUT factor that gets me- there is, genuinely, no place to go.
If I sound negative or somehow regretful of
my decision, I assure you I am not. I am merely trying to share a real
experience, not provide you with an illusion. Not all my posts will like this
one, though I’m sure they will have their place. It is after all, my year in
Samoa, and these experiences are consequential in what will eventually make up
my overall experience of this place. Life in paradise, and I don’t mind telling
you this, is taking some adapting to.
Love, Ainsley
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