A feast for the senses in Samoa

GET your stomachs ready, because Sundays in Samoa are all about eating.

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SATURDAY afternoons are hardly an opportune time to be a pig with weight issues, or a rooster with tubby thighs, in Samoa.

But then Saturday nights don't get much better for luscious lobsters, flabby fish or overweight octopus. There's a better-than-average chance you'll end up dead; your corpse dismembered and served up on the plate of an extended Samoan family's umu tomorrow.

In a country of 180,000 where Sunday umus are as holy as Sunday morning's mandatory pilgrimage to church meat is the mantra. It's served up in prodigious portions wrapped in baby taro leaves, dripping with coconut milk and smothered in love.

"Sundays in Samoa are for eating," local man Anthony tells me.

"Then sleeping, then we wake up and we eat again, then we sleep, then if we're still hungry ... "

I think you're getting the picture; Samoans kind of like to eat. Truth be told, there's not much else to do on Sundays. The country shuts down, many attractions are closed to visitors, and if you have to walk through villages, tread lightly; remember everyone's snoozing and their houses or fales don't have walls (there's actually no word for "wall" in the Samoan dialect).

But fret not, Samoans are incredibly generous; they'll share their umu, although you might have to wake up early. On the island of Savaii, the largest of Samoa's two main islands, Sunday mornings begin long before sunrise. It's pitch black as we work outside, husking coconuts, grinding their flesh into cream that drips over everything. Chickens and pigs shuffle between our legs blissfully unaware they're in next month's umu; vegetables are brought in from nearby plantations and the night's seafood catch requires constant rescue from inquisitive cats.

This is man's work only it's physical labour - huge Samoans dressed in sarongs and inked with tattoos drip sweat as they light the umu. Smoke wafts across the scene, roosters crow, small children look on, it's Samoan tradition they watch and learn, when their time comes no one should have to show them the ropes.

When the feast is ready for cooking, locals jump in the lagoon beside us here to freshen up for church. At 9.30, church bells toll and Savaii's only traffic jam for the week occurs as rusted utilities overloaded with passengers dressed to the nines men in freshly ironed lava lava "skirts" and collared shirts buttoned to the neck; women in flowing floral dresses with fancy wide-brimmed hats, weighed down under necklaces of frangipani and sweating litres of coconut oil; small children, hair Brylcreemed sideways, saliva added by anxious mothers as perfect parts drop into young eyes pour into delicately crafted churches of limestone and coral.

Savaii is that postcard of paradise you've probably seen and fantasised about; the archetypal South Seas escape. It's the less populated of the two main islands of Samoa and simply arriving here is enough to make you realise your search is over.

There's no traffic on Savaii bar a few brightly painted trucks that double as buses, penned with names like Paradise In Heaven. The speed limit is set at 40km/h because piglets, chickens, dogs, horses and energetic children rule the roads.

We pass by villages of impeccably mowed lawns and trimmed hedges fronting on to endless blue lagoons. Pawpaw, mango, breadfruit, hibiscus and frangipani trees flourish by the roadside. Smoke wafts across everything; afternoon burn-offs are a way of life in Polynesia, Christian tidiness dictates no rubbish be on display to neighbours.

Locals sit by lagoons, and by the roadside; gossiping or simply staring out to sea, idleness is cherished in Samoa. Above us, Savaii's hinterland spirals to the heavens, impossibly green, shrouded in a cloud of mist.

We drive for an hour to Savaii's north coast, passing no other visitors, and just a handful of cars, arriving at Stevenson's At Manase.

Our home for five days will be a fale built 4m from the high-tide mark of a perfect white sandy beach. It's a simple affair think cold showers, geckos that run across mosquito nets that drape over mattresses, no walls, just bamboo blinds that fold down should it dare rain in paradise.

Dinner on arrival is waiting at the bar huge, freshly caught lobsters taken from the lagoon while entertainment is courtesy of an energetic local band.

As an encore they launch into John Lennon's Imagine. "Is he singing in Samoan?" I ask the barwoman. "No, it's English, he just has no idea of any of the words except 'imagine'."

Life slows on Savaii at night I swim in the lagoon beside my fale and count stars that shoot across the brightest night sky of my life, and as I drift off to sleep the waves on the nearby reef echo inside my bamboo blinds.

In the first light of morning I can't resist the lagoon beside a deserted strip of perfect white sand, as tiny kingfishers fly by the forest that lines the shore. Local men fish with nets beside the barrier reef, but apart from their shuffling to and fro nothing moves at all.

You could do nothing in Savaii but lay claim to this piece of paradise, never moving further than to the bar for fresh coconuts, lobster or cocktails. But Savaii is one of the most spectacular pieces of Polynesia, and begs to be explored. There's some of the South Pacific's best surfing breaks on its southern coastline, should you feel like risking life and limb, but far more tranquil locations are also on offer. There are mountains to climb and a volcanic rim that drops hundreds of metres below your feet, guarded over by a man who calls himself The Crater Man. This is Mt Matavanu. It erupted 100 years ago, spewing lava into nearby villages. It can be reached by 4WD and a walk that offers views over the northern side of Savaii. There are also blowholes beside the lagoon that shoot water 30m into the air and cooler freshwater swimming holes just a few metres from the salty lagoon.

But it's the morning before church that I find my own heaven on Savaii. On the island's southeast coast, not far from the ferry that takes me back to Upolu, I venture up a rocky path to the best waterfall in the South Pacific, Afu Aau. Like everywhere else on Savaii, it's deserted, mine to enjoy alone. I reach the first of the waterfalls, then turn a corner and discover a 30m waterfall cascading into a huge freshwater swimming hole ringed by 16 smaller waterfalls; above it a sheer, towering wall of greenery shuts the swimming hole off from the outside world.

In church on Sunday I wonder what it is these people seek beyond what they have already here on Savaii. Tiny children stare back at me open-mouthed from their pews; they giggle and wave shyly, only to be slapped into silence by their grandmothers. Baritone voices rise as one, reverberating off the limestone walls, while the smell of frangipani and coconut oil overpowers the stink of the storm brewing outside, which passes in minutes. After the service, as I'm driven past young boys carrying pigs on spits to a feast of proportions imaginable only to Samoans, I wonder if the dreams I'll have as I sleep after our umu feast will measure up to the paradise I see with my eyes open.

Getting there
Polynesian Blue has three direct flights weekly to Samoa's capital Apia, on the island of Upolu. Check out www.polynesianblue.com or call 131 645, then take an hour ferry ride to Savaii.

Staying there
Choose between basic fales on the beach (with bathrooms) or modern airconditioned Western-studio units at Stevenson's At Manase. Check out www.samoa.travel/accommodation/a37/STANDARD/SAVAII/Stevenson. Or, catch the best sunsets in Samoa at one of Savaii's finest resorts at Le Lagoto - check out www.lelagoto.ws

More: www.samoa.travel

Travel Tips: Samoa destination guide

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