We seem to be getting more and more chilled about sorting out any idea of where we are going to stay before we arrive somewhere and Tonga was no exception. At the airport we quickly checked the awaiting hotel pick-up vans with our lonely planet and jumped in the best sounding one partly to avoid a rather grumpy taxi driver who seemed to have adopted us as his prospective fare without us actually saying anything to him. Once we had departed with said van he promptly overtook us and beeped his horn angrily at the chap who he perceived to have stolen his custom. This first place we headed to ended up being full (and we later found out was a bit horrific), so we went on to our second choice called Sela's Guesthouse in Nuku Alofa, the capital (and only large town) of Tonga.
Sela's was pretty basic but totally adequate for our needs once we had got our own mozzy net set up over the bed. One of the plus points was the vast bunches of bananas hanging up to ripen just outside our window which our host insisted we help ourselves to. The down side was that the plastic covering those bananas seemed to be harbouring a huge amount of mozzies, which swiftly headed for our room.
Shortly after arrival we stomped off into town for a quick rekky, knowing that (as always seems to happen) it was Sunday the next day and we would have trouble getting anything sorted. Sadly virtually everything was closed on Saturday afternoons as well.
Initially we had planned to try and book a flight off Tongatapu (the main island of Tonga) as soon as possible so that we could see one of the other island groups (either the Ha'apai or Vava'u group), but in the end, as we only had 7 days on Tonga, and we would lose the first one due to it being a Sunday and all travel agents being shut, we scrapped that idea and decided we would just spend our 7 days really getting to know Tongatapu.
We were looking for a nice cheap Chinese in town but sadly the one we fancied from the lonely planet appeared to have shut a long time ago. We therefore ended up in a rather dubious Korean restaurant with giant day-glo laminated wall paper made up of photos of raw meat. Ideal for Clairy really. Then her vegetable stir-fry appeared and consisted mainly of cucumber. She wasn't too chuffed. Afterwards we went next door to the billfish pub and had a few local beers until the expat crowd and godawful summer riddims drowning out all conversation got too much.
We decided the next day we would leave Nuku Alofa and go to Pangaimotu Island, just 15 minutes out into the bay. We were a bit concerned that we might have a problem getting a room, but on the way out we could see we were the only people with big bags and the rest of the crowd were just day trippers. In fact we turned out to be the only people staying in their fale, which was a bit of a shame as although they looked like they had been put together a little haphazardly (they seemed to be made out of concrete pressed into chicken wire), they were quite nice inside.
Here's our bed complete with net that had no visible holes, but seemed to let lots of mozzies in. We ended up thinking that maybe the mozzies were so small they could get through the damn thing.
The kids beds and tacked on porchy-bit.
The restaurant and bar area were known as Big Mama's Yacht Club, and they were obviously making a small fortune from the mooring fees of visiting yachts. We later learnt that Big Mama herself seemed to play a major part in getting those same yachties totally smashed at the bar when they could tear themselves away from their DVD players.
Big Mama was quite a character. She was Tongan born and 17 years ago, after working at the island, she persuaded the half Danish-half Tongan owner to stop messing around with his waitresses, cut down on his drinking and to marry her (her words). She now seemed to be entirely in charge, and was quite happy to entertain us with various stories of just how idiotic some of the tourists that come there are.
On the recommendation of our previous hosts we ordered our food as soon as we got off the boat (get in there, we're not getting served last). The fish and chips was bloody lovely, with home-made tartar sauce. MMmmm.
After lunch we went for a walk round the east side of the island, but the tide was a bit high so we couldn't get all the way round. Clairy took some nice piccies.
'Oh hi. Yeah I know my hair looks a bit stupid, but its quite windy actually.'
We went for a swim and Clairy was delighted to find a whole load of small starfish.
She does make me pick them up. Its not something I would normally do. Honest.
And then she found a feckin huge one. Check out all its little suckers.
Me and my starfish. Spiky yet fortunately not poisonous.
If I had my way this photo would not exist. I just can't get away from the Donald Trump comb-over resemblance.
That's better, you can hardly see me.
Later on that evening after we had eaten an incredible dinner (I had unforgettable honey-glazed pork...Clairy has just reminded me, no really it was proper lush). I noticed that a whole load of the male staff had arranged themselves in a corner and had a mahoosive kava sesh on the go. We still had half a kilo of kava powder stashed in my rucksack that was supposed to go to a village chief on Fiji, but somehow we never had the opportunity. I was keen to get in on their sesh and asked Big Mama if this might be appropriate, she saw the huge bag of Kava and insisted that I put it away right now. I think this was partly due to them having plenty and being happy for guests to join in anyway but also as she knew it would probably mean the majority of her staff would still be going for it when they were supposed to be getting breakfast ready the next day.
I therefore took my Kava back to our Fale and said my goodnight to Clairy. She had decided Kava didn't really do it for her, and was happy or me to go and spend some time with the cheerful locals. She's really good like that.
Kava drinking has a very different feel to it as a social activity compared to alcohol. The effect is much more of relaxation and personal contemplation than the drunken rantings of alcohol. I was slightly nervous that this combined with somewhat reserved nature of Tongan's might mean while they didn't really object to me being there, I wasn't actually going to be properly included. Fortunately, when they cheerfully made room for me, I was quickly introduced to Lo on my right.
Lo was in his late thirties to early forties and was incredibly forthcoming in his slow and considered Tongan English. He told me all about his life as a marine engineer and the various places he had travelled to on the boats that he had worked on. This culminated in him describing in riveting detail the sinking of a huge container vessel that he was on out in the South China Sea that had been loaded badly by an 'Idiot Captain' and found itself in a typhoon. Even though the ship ended up on its side and eventually went down, no one died in the incident.
He also talked about the difficulties he faced in his career because he was from Tonga. He really wanted to study the higher education needed to become a chief engineer, but it wasn't something that was taught in Tonga, and so New Zealand would be the only place he could go to do it, but the tuition fees would be thousands and thousands of pounds. He asked me if I had any ideas about how he could get a huge amount of money quickly. Sadly I wasn't much help.
The kava kept on coming throughout the night, and although not as strong as our Vanuatu experience I did start to feel the buzz. I was astounded at just how much they got through. There was about 10 of us in the circle and they had two oil drum sized containers that had been prepared in the day that we worked our way through. At midnight the generator went off, but the boys had hurricane lamps ready go. The soft light really added to the tranquil atmosphere.
Eventually conversation slowed and slowed until it was almost silent. Then out of nowhere, one of the men started singing in a deep bass voice, then they all broke out into song, harmonising beautifully. It was absolutely stunning, a moment that will stay with me for a long time. Lo said to me that it was only when enough kava had been consumed and the time of silence and quiet contemplation had been reached when they would feel like singing these songs.
At one am the kava was finished and we went our separate ways, but for me it was really lovely experience of Tongan culture.
The next day was still a bit overcast, but me and Clairy rented some snorkelling stuff and got in the water to check out the wrecked boats just off shore. Clairy took some great pics from the water. There are actually two boats. The big one is My Lady Lata 2, and has been there for ages. The second one in front is a more recent addition. We didn't find out if they had ended up there by accident or otherwise.
It is actually resting flat on the sea bed, but the bed drops off so sharply that the boat ends up pointing up at his crazy angle.
Timber rotting on the deck.
Lots of pidgies seem to have made it their home.
Oh hi!
I love the look of the rusting metal.
There's me.
I swum around underneath to get some piccies from down there. Clair had a momentary freak out about swimming around something so large with bits poking out, but quickly got over it.
Loads of fishes.
Even more!
Looking up as it stretches out of the water.
We could hear some baby pidgies in this hole.
'Look...I found another one!'
Big starfish, or...
...face-hugger?
Rusty beast.
There were various little bits of coral, and all sorts of fish about.
The other wreck... not sure what its name was.
I was tempted to swim through it, but in my head I couldn't help thinking of the casualty theme tune, imagining myself becoming trapped under some heavy piece of debris.
Later we swum off the east side of the island and found yet more glorious starfish.
And sand dollars, with this groovy pattern.
This has to be the best starfish shot though. Check out those colours.
Not quite as handsome...sorry.
Rope-swing tied to a tiny branch. Surely a funniest home video moment waiting to happen.
The second last picture of the wrecks that I allowed Clair to take.
We decided as it as was our last day on the island and it was obviously not going to stop raining that we should attempt to walk all the way around the island. Our first rain sheltering stop was this delightful swing-seat.
Tapu. Meaning Taboo. Meaning stay off.
Some huge sand piles made by crabs. They always pegged it back in their holes when they saw us coming.
A rather tragic canoe.
I loved the look of this gnarly old tree.
Its roots seemed almost totally exposed, but it still seemed to be doing fine.
More nice textures for Clairy.
And again.
'We've just walked round the island...and its much smaller than we thought.' It only took us twenty minutes and fifteen of them were Clairy taking photos.
Some butterflies...'At it'.
Clairy is endlessly obsessed by any form of weaving, so we had to have a shot of this discarded temporary shopping bag. Clairy looks nice mind.
After our tiny walk round the island we got back in the water with the camera for our last bit of snorkelling. Immediately we came across these hilariously bizarre little eels. They're totally harmless but Clairy really didn't like the way they looked at her.
A nice little starfish (unmolested - the lucky bugger) and sea slug. There were some enormous sea slugs over a metre long.
'I've got my beady eye on you!' Absolutely hilarious little things, they totally look like they are smiling.
Nice geometric patterns on this fella.
More beady eyes.
The last picture of the wrecks....in the rain.
And finally we figured out why the lonely planet said the place had a pirate's lair feel. Imaginative writing at its best.
Annoyingly as soon as we left Pangaimotu Island the sun came out, but it wasn't the end of the world as we enjoyed having the place to ourselves for most of our time there.
1 comment:
What is a 'Rimmins'? Looked lovely and the Kava sesh sounded really special. Great pics of the starfish too. They are amazing xx
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