The hotel? I am staying at Sadie's by the Sea, a former brothel. It’s right on the water, which explains the extreme mustiness of my room. A half day of air conditioning seems to have improved that situation. The accommodations are adequate and clean. I slept well and awoke to a most glorious view out my window. See above.
The rest of American is celebrating Memorial Day, but I will be conducting class with 19 seasoned educators , most of whom will receive Master of Arts degrees in Education from San Diego State University this coming December.
My arrival on the island was a steamy surprise. Although my host had suggested that I not attempt to step out of the plane in anything heavier than a loose tank top, I disregarded her advice. Afterall, it's winter here. Silly me. The moment I hit the air, my glasses steamed up, making debarking down the aircraft’s stairs a little dicey. I’m not sure I ever experienced the sensation of exploding with perspiration before last night. Even our summers in Champaign, Illinois could not compare to a Samoan winter night. No, Nyna and Jae (former colleagues at the University of Illinois), I kid you not!
Maria, the on-island facilitator for my course, has been a wonderful host. She and her three handsome sons, I'm guessing they are about 17, 15 and 10, met me at the airport. Since planes land here only twice a week, the airport is a happenin’ place on Sunday night. At 10:00 PM, there were families everywhere—babies, little kids, grandma, dads and moms and aunts and uncles. Maria’s eldest daughter was on my flight, returning from her graduate degree program on the mainland, and we waited for her to appear so that Maria could hug and kiss her before she was swept away by another contingent of their extended family. She and the boys helped me check in and get settled. We needed to walk down a very dark walkway and up some stairs to get to the room, so I was glad to have people with me. Maria and her family are truly lovely people with all the Samoan warmth, gentleness and hospitality I have read about.
After completing a couple of hours of work, I went over to the restaurant. The food was very American with the exception of Spam and eggs. (I know, that’s American too, but the WWII meat substitute seems to have really caught on here.) I order the matai (meaning ‘chief’) omelet, and it was tasty. I have never been served FOUR slices of toast before, though. Portion control would go a long way toward solving Samoa’s weight problem I bet. I ate one, not four, if you're interested.
I am debating on whether to tell you about the views or the people first....Okay, I’ll start with people, but I promise to come back to the former. As a preview of the latter, though, I now understand why people call this place paradise!
People: Yesterday in the Honolulu airport, I saw a couple of men in skirts. I initially wondered if these were the Samoan fafini (transgendered folk) I have heard about. When I studied the situation further, I realized that no self-respecting fafini would crop hair close, wear men’s glasses and go without makeup. Duh. I had not realized that men in Samoa still wear traditional wrap skirts. It makes a lot of sense, considering the climate. Maybe I'll bring one back for Sharon so she can surriptitiously wear Samoan drag. It will be our little secret!
Of course, the wrap seems more popular with the older men, and young guys wear jeans which are a lot less comfortable, but more western. I wished I had my camera earlier to photograph a police officer with the coolest uniform: Red baret, black shirt with all the quasi-military buttons and ribbons, and a black skirt with red stripes around the bottom. This might read like a description from a fashion show, but believe me, this guy was über butch!
There are plenty of beautiful Polynesian women of all ages and sizes. The restaurant manager was the no-nonsense type who walked and talked fast, wore a form-fitting dress (as she didn’t have any reason to wear a mu-mu), and had intricate tattoos around both knees that you could see, but just sometimes, as she rushed back and forth, ordering people around. Okay, I know bossy women are not everybody’s cup of tea, but as a fan of Hillary, Martha and—dare I say it—Piedad (but not Condeleesa), you know I got a major kick out of this. I hope she is there tomorrow…
The views…the views…. As I said, I made a little video which is causing me fits. I also missed the opportunity to photograph women doing something like kayaking out there on the water this morning, so you’ll need to imagine long, traditional boats with 6-8 people in them and a long, parallel float to the left, probably designed to stabilize the craft in rough water. My colleagues who have been here numerous times and know island culture will be smirking at my cross-cultural discoveries, but for the rest of you, I’ll work on getting a picture.
I’ll be back to you on day 2.
Thanks for the descriptions of the people. The pictures help with understanding your surroundings, and the "musty" and "steamy" experiences communicate the HOT and HUMID. Florida can be like that, too - instant sweat. My former boss, John, a native Indianan, used to talk about how he'd step outside in Florida's 100% humidity and be instantly drenched with sweat.
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