Heidi and Peter the Goatherd

I know you're just dying to see my kids in Halloween costumes, so here they are.


Ella read the book about Heidi of the Swiss Alps and chose to be her for Halloween. Isaac really had no choice.

I sewed the costumes last week from scraps I had. Isaac's lederhosen are from a pillowcase.
We just cracked up all night at the little Alpen Kinder wandering around our Primary party.

Discovering Tula

On Discoverer’s Day we went with the Peters to a BBQ in Tula (see map). It’s 22 miles away and takes an hour to get there.

I scraped a coconut for the first time.


We got lunch from the piggery in the back. Respectful thanks to that little piggy for providing us a lovely meal with friends and family.


Ella hung with her girls.


Isaac relaxed with his aunties.

Lita served an appetizer of papaya and coconut. She said it’s a winning combo, “like cheese and apples”.

After swimming and eating, Pae and Lita took us on a hike up the hill to the NOAA observatory station.

The views were beautiful.


Sister Pae welcomed us to come back when we want to escape the “hustle and bustle” of the west side of the island.

Pisupo

As you may have guessed by now, the blessed day came when our “ship came in.” On October 2, we finally got our stuff—washer, dryer, dishes, computer, but most helpful, our car. It is such a blessing to have a car that fits our family, keeps us dry in the rain, and gets from point A to B with AC.

While we didn’t have our car, our friend Mark Hales was kind enough to lend us his truck affectionately known as “Pisupo”. I’ll explain the name, then I’ll explain the truck. Pisupo (pea-soup-o) is what Samoans call one of their favorite dishes: corned beef in a can. I’m not really sure why they call corned beef pisupo. Are pea soup and corned beef synonymous? No. Similar? Not really. I could theorize a logical explanation, but instead I’ll just accept it as another interesting Samoan quirk.

This Pisupo is a black 94 Toyota truck. The odometer stopped (over a year ago) at 240K miles. When Mark dropped the truck off, he ran down the list of things that were broken: the drivers tail light, the parking brake (it’s a standard), the radio, the tailgate, and the rear suspension. Then he ran down the list of things that were almost broken. One tire had a slow leak and needed air once a week. The radiator coolant leaked, so the car overheated and needed water at every stop. The drivers door opened from the inside only. The passengers door opened from the outside only. I could probably go on, but you get the idea.

In spite of it all, Pisupo was a joy to drive. With those wheels we could go to the beach, the store, across the island, and to the ice cream shop. How liberating! People assumed we were “locals” cruising in the battered beast with it’s-nighttime-in-here tinting. And thanks to loose enforcement of seatbelt laws, the truck was a great family car. Ephraim drove, Ella sat in the middle and Isaac sat on my lap.

One evening when we were driving home from KS Mart, Ella and I sat in the back with all the groceries. Riding with no roof, no windows, no restraints, with the constant risk of things flying out of or into the truckbed—riding as cargo basically—for me is always a fantastic feeling. I’ve felt that before, but this time was special because although it was night and we were driving, it was warm. Warm night breeze, no jacket, no blanket, no chill. Just the stars, moon, and swaying leaves overhead. Dogs running, folks waving, cars whooshing by. And cuddled next to me, my cute little 3-year old snitching chocolate chip cookies. That's a feeling I hope to remember when I remember Samoa.

I think it’s because of trucks like Pisupo that we moved here.

P.S. I regret to inform you that Pisupo has sadly moved on to truck heaven. But it’s okay because so has Mark. He’s in Utah.

Falepalagi

Little Samoan language lesson: Fale (fah-lay) means house or building. Palagi (pa-lah-ngee) refers to white folks like us. So here's a photo of our fale and three of the four palagis that live there.

Now, in this "adjustment period" I've made just a few observations of our new surroundings. I'll share some with you:

First, currency circulation. We use American money in American Samoa. But since the currency doesn't frequently have the chance to enter or exit the island, our bills and coins become overused, wilty, flimsy, dingy...you know, yucky. They really need to be retired, but who's going to throw away money? What is to be done about the poor monitary circulation? So we'll just keep passing it around and washing our hands a lot.

Next, addresses. Believe it or not, but there are no house numbers and no street names. People who get mail have P.O. boxes. So, it's new challenge for Mapquest. Not to mention the pizza delivery guy.

Next, moisturizing. My hands have never felt softer. No more cracked bleeding knuckles of my BYU days. And my hair stays moist for hours. I suppose 80% humidity is good for something.

Next, smoking. There's lots of it. The anti-tobacco campaign just hasn't reached us yet. People even smoke in the bus! In Oregon they don’t even like it if you smoke outside at the bus stop. I remember a rare bumpersticker plastered on an old minivan in Newport, OR: “At least I can still smoke in my car!” Pack your bags, minivan, you're welcome here.

Finally, cost of living. Are things more expensive in AS? Well, that depends. Many things are more expensive because they have to be shipped in. Gas is about $3.15-3.50 a gallon. Cold milk is about $8 a gallon. (We maintain our cereal addiction with long shelf-life milk that only needs refrigeration once it's been opened. It's about $4 a gallon and tastes surprisingly sweet.) Cars are subject to a 10% tax when imported, so that hikes the cost by about $3000.

Some foods are locally grown and less expensive than in the states, like coconuts, bananas, papayas, and taro. They’re cheap as free if you pick up from your tree. (Taro doesn’t grow on trees--it’s a tuber). At the roadside stand I paid $1 for each of these items: one husked coconut, one hand of 20 minibananas, one papaya, and 3 taro roots. But that could’ve been palagi price.

There are many import shops with cheap Chinese and Korean goods. Like a pair of Nikes for $5, or a babydoll whose hair and arms fall off instantaneously. These stores are good if you need a new set of chopsticks or clever Asian clothespins. Or kimchee.

That's all for now. Stay tuned for more observations from us here at 170 West, 14 South.

Afio Mai!

Talofa! Afio mai i Amerika Samoa! That’s what the sign at the airport says, so I bet you can guess what it means. It means we’re not in Oregon anymore, Toto!

I’d meant to start this blog weeks ago, but in true Samoan style, it’s taken awhile to get all the pieces in place, namely computer and internet. We’ll work on luxuries like couches and cars later.

If you’ve ever moved across the ocean, maybe your process was smoother than ours. I’ll describe it briefly:

July 2 – Ephraim found out he had the job, starting Aug 1.

July 3 – We applied for passports—expedited.

July 5 – We bought Isaac a minivan for his 1st birthday. We traded in the ’89 Taurus for a ’04 Sedona.

July 15 – We bought a washer and dryer on craigslist for $200.

July 27 – Ephraim’s 30th birthday and storms of bad news. We found out we couldn’t ship our car or our washer and dryer, and Ephraim’s passport application hadn’t been processed. And we bought tickets to leave in less than a week.
(Shortened long stories: The car couldn’t be shipped out of the country with a lienholder—which spoiled our plans to never paying off the loan—so we had to make other speedy financial arrangments. The washer and dryer measured 2’ 2” thus exceeding the newly estimated 2’ of remaining container space after our car was loaded, but we just prayed and lo and behold they fit fine. And the unsigned passport application zipped around from Hawaii (his boss) to Oregon (got signed) to D.C. (processed) to Hawaii where we got it with plenty of time.)

July 31 – Movers packed what was left after garages sales, craiglist sales, boxes shipped to mom, etc. We prayed it would all fit in the 20’ container, but wouldn’t find out it did until Aug 31. And wouldn’t actually see it again until October 2nd.

August 1- A tear fell as the plane left solid ground at PDX. Just five days after the opening of Portland Ikea. Somethings are just not fair.

August 1 -15 – Can you imagine getting paid to stay in Waikiki for two weeks? Well you’d have to pay me to do it again! Our strong aversions to Waikiki were made stronger, but we really can’t complain because, well, complaining is unhealthy and because if you had to be homeless and stressed out, wouldn’t you prefer do it in Hawaii?
We played a lot with family and friends in sweet, familiar Laie. Ephraim got to spend a night on the Big Island with his folks. Ah, sweet Hawaii.

August 15 – HNL to PGO. Ephraim’s boss lived here for three years and accompanied us here to help us get situated. We were greeted at the airport by ASCC (American Samoa Community College) folks and taken to our new home in the village of Mapusaga.

That’s the end of that chapter, and there’s much more to come, trust me. But I’ll conclude by telling you our current conditions. Our container should arrive on Sept. 28 meaning we’re carless and stuffless until then. We have what we came with: a pot, a pan, 4 cups, 4 plates, 3 knives, a clock, some toys and books, suitcases of clothes and shoes, and a couple of towels and sheets.
And you know? We’re doing just fine. In fact, compared to some people here, we’re living in luxury.
I’m just glad we’ve made it far enough to see the sign: Afio mai! (Welcome!)