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!)
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