WEEK 1 HIGHLIGHTS
HEILALA
Whether it be frangipani, hibiscus, coconut or else a general array or languid tropical aromas as punctuated frequently by the local highway barbeque shopfronts, my virgin impressions of the Kingdom already are indelibly influenced.
My fale (thatched hut) at Heilala Holiday Lodge is suitably appointed both inside and out for the money. The interior selection of mod-cons has proved more than adequate; a free upgrade from management in particular has hit the spot - hammock inclusive, no less.
A veritable botanical pharmacopeia of the tropics exists beyond my louvre slits – bananas hang in green 30-stong bunches over the veranda on one side and a mango tree for the ages on the other.
Also scattered throughout are coffee, shea butternut, guava, breadfruit, betel nut, papaya and most likely a sneaky one I am yet to find.
Host Sven and his Tongan bride
NUKU’ALOFA
Nuku’alofa is the rusty, dusty Tongan capital – 20,000 something inhabitants and a 5-story skyscraper named the National Reserve Bank is the local champion of modernity.
It is also the largest commercial centre of the main island Tongatapu, so selecting itself as the starting point for my particular expedition.
As a city, the facts are that Nuku’alofa isn’t about to be short-listed in the world’s Top 100 – it would probably struggle to qualify in a Top 1000.
As a raw cultural experience however, it should be recommended as a place to celebrate.
Modern cities as they are continue to re-define themselves - multi-ethnic and culturally-diverse as never before and often at the expense of a singular cultural identity that may be forever lost, as the genetic pool mixes and re-mixes back on top of itself.
In the face of all this,
And even amongst the small tourist contingent are a number who have married into it, extending the Tongan family ever so gradually to other parts of the world.
Coconut Slurping
Tongan ex-pats are the most common breed in the outside world, as there is a fundamental human need to survive, and many quite rightly acknowledge this need by leaving what is basically an economically poor country and seeking livelihoods in wealthier nearby nations.
Natural skill combined with physical bulk and athleticism seems to predispose the Tongans and many of their Polynesian brothers to the body impact sports of Rugby League and Rugby Union.
And so it should.
Tongans are a large people – probably some of the largest of the human race.
They can be intimidating to look at and their sheer mass puts any idea of a physical confrontation into the fire.
In fact, the general energy of island existence seems to define most of the locals as a gentle bunch.
Possible exceptions to the rule constitute the involvement of alcohol and activities on the footy field.
My typical nut-crusher handshakes towards the warrior males of the species have been all but flaccid in response.
Quite a strange phenomenon.
My main tourist activities to date have involved visiting the excellent Talamahu markets and the most cultural of experiences is a ride into town on a dilapidated 1970’s Toyota Cruiser – crammed in with 30-odd fat Tongans at 120% humidity and blaring R&B on the stereo provided.
Just don’t forget to drop the 70c fare in the tin as you leave…..
Talamahu Markets
175 Tongan islands lie scattered north and south of here, so the clear plan is to use Nuku’alofa’s ports (air and sea) as a hub for other adventures.
Exact timetables are yet to evolve beyond the next few days, which probably means I have some research to do, however I do expect to be gaining familiarity with at least a couple more of the main island groups in weeks ahead.
Friday evenings are the time to visit ‘
The
A Hula band cranks the tunes – a well-paced compilation of reggae favourites and traditional Tongan love songs, which generally involve lots of stuff about mermaids and sweet damsels breaking the hearts of hardened warriors.
There is time enough before sunset for some Tongan Ikale ale or a buttery banana straight from the tree, at which time the host takes a break from the band to pray grace and welcome his guests to the Feast.
The Feast is pure Tongan hospitality.
Salad of greens, potatoes, seaweeds and other tuber vegetables such as kumara and taro provide the entrée, followed by the meats of choice – fish, chicken and not one, but two spitted pigs on this evening – completed by a dessert of watermelon and coconut bread pudding.
Unfortunately, on this occasion the quantity of the Feast was not quite enough, despite many reassurances of otherwise. Amidst what was a genuine amount of embarrassment, the host completed a full round of apologies to the person, including a number of offers of monetary recompense for those who missed out.
I was lucky enough not to be one of them, but felt some level of sympathy for the Chief as he appeared to be truly upset about caught short in such a manner for the first time.
This can be better understood in context that
The present owner (who just happens to be a
With the help of locals and some other novices, it is now back open to the public.
The FeastThe evening’s penultimate activity unfolds upon completion of the Feast, with the entire guest party retreating into
There is a male and female team of dancers, with the host leading the musical charge from the rear of the cave.
A combined dance is seated - male and female, followed up by a series of highly physical war dances (male) and more genteel dances of attraction (female); none of which were to be outclassed however by the spectacular male fire dances to conclude.
Various body parts (tongues, hands and feet) were set alight in the process to the complete rapture of the throng.
It really was impressive stuff and the sheer physical presence and skill of these fellows is astounding.
And moreover, I never felt as though any stage of the evening was a mere glossy tourist show.
Considering the performers are basically well-trained locals and not necessarily professional artists is even more credible.
Yes they are putting on a show, but it is staged to be shared with anyone who shows up; proof of this in the 100-strong crowd tonight, of which the demographic was around 75/25 – Tongans to tourists.
SUNDAY IN
Sunday is a sacred day of rest in
All businesses close and everyone goes to church.
When in
I didn’t attend to pray or correct my sins or anything else. I didn’t even listen very much because I can’t understand Tongan.
The singing is really what makes it worthwhile and I would go so far as to say that my plane ticket has already paid for itself on the strength of it.
The sound is so full and saturated with the purest harmony, it is difficult to determine where it all actually generates from.
It appears to come from 2 or 3 groups towards the front of the congregation – of the 300 or so present this morning, it was maybe 50 or 60 creating the sound.
More singing, standing up, sitting down, a short but animated sermon form the priest and then singing some more.
Another hymn as the offertory commences, before finally shaking hands with those around me as warm Tongan wishes of peace are exchanged.
I may even come back for more of this next Sunday.
My suspicion is that God may be proud of all this.
If I were Him, I would be……
Straight from church then and over to the wharf for 30 minutes of rest, before the midday boat ride across to
Pangaimotu is apparently one of the better choices on a Sunday for those not involved with church or other community gatherings.
Only a 10 minute boat ride from Nuku’alofa, once ashore there is enough to keep one occupied for at least a few hours.
There is some respectable coral reef and even a shipwreck to mess around with.
Jumping from the bow, which sticks its nose as good as vertically out of the shallow basin seems to be the done thing amongst the locals.
My activity of preference however, was a self-guided circumnavigation at high tide.
Knee-deep wading alongside narrow sandy beaches and through bug-infested mangrove was in order as the weather closed in.
A full day of Saturday rain had so far left Sunday spare, but the drifting blackness over yonder was not set to be so forgiving.
By the time I returned to my private banana lounge, the worst of it may have come and gone as I settled in for some lazing about, generally away from the crowds at the bar.
The thick droplets of weather persisted as did the inevitable mosquito dance.
Sunlight desperately tried to squeak through the high-cloud cover, but as the horn sounded for the 3 o’clock boat return, I was disappointed and done.
Disappointed to have missed some snorkelling (no equipment was for hire and I don’t have my own) and the subsequent dwall of boredom that onset soon thereafter.
Boarding to Pangaimotu
Hiker in the swamp - Pangaimotu
High Tide - Pangaimotu
‘EUA
Pronounced “AYA-WAH” is a 2-hour ferry-ride (or else an 8-minute plane flight) out of Nuku’alofa harbour and 30 miles or so from mainland Tongatapu.
‘Eua is
This is as good as it gets – acres and acres of unspoiled tropical rainforest and caves and pools and beaches all to myself until the next boatload arrives on Thursday.
Presently, there is the side issue of a wedding party set down for tomorrow evening – I’m not exactly invited, however it has accounted for probably 89 of the 90 passengers on the trip over today and they are mostly all out of here by Friday morning.
I just need to cope with a few gossiping women and some excitable teenage girls for the next few days.
I will survive.
THE PRE-WEDDING
It has taken just under a week to get a belly full of kava and a dose of pink skin.
A little too much basking on the deserted Tufuvai Beach this morning has resulted in my suffering.
I know an Aussie should be wiser, but this tropical summer sun is more penetrating than even I am known to.
Low tide snorkeling was a failure even by my humble standards, so I somehow feel as though the pain is for not very much.
Tufuvai Beach
If there were to be some self-prescribed pain relief however, then perhaps tonight was it as the wedding party arrived for a night of pre-emptive indulgence, constituting a full-blown kava session for the men and some short but demonstrative shennanigans by the women.
With the women burning out well before acceptances, the men remained to sing and smoke and kava long into the small hours.
My kava constitution is frail at best - 16 years at last count since my previous Fijian imbibe - but I'm happy to have stayed solid for at least half a dozen bowls this evening.
In all seriousness, I am lucky to be here.
There are only about 2 weddings per year on 'Eua and my timing couldn't have been better for this one.
It appears to be going in true Tongan style, rich with food, drink, culture and festivity.
If this is the warm-up, tomorrow could be one for the record.
Pre-Wedding
Party with the ladies
THE BIG DAY + TAKI’S WEATHER REPORT
Sitting about the other night chewing the fat (a lot of this goes on around here) with Taki, Commandeer of the Hideaway, which is my lodging of choice on ‘Eua.
Taki is a big, bald man with a big, bold laugh and has spent some time, years in fact, living in
We also share the heartfelt desire to see the nation of
Facts are that tourism probably needs
This is the very reason people who are interested enough should choose to come here before the inevitable occurs.
In the case of ‘Eua, its national park would not currently cover ¼ of the island’s total area so there must be a major case for creating a national park of the entire island, given that most of it is reef fringed virgin rainforest.
Taki is a man who takes his cause seriously enough and lobbies his own government, largely without success.
Not in his lifetime, he says, seeing himself more of a cog in the process of conservation – one who must pass the baton to the next generation as the need demands.
Not shy of a weather prediction either, as a cooling ocean breeze increasingly punctuated our conversation, Taki began sensing the likelihood of a following storm, of which the offshore gusts are often indicative…..
Meanwhile, there has been a wedding in town.
Once or twice a year at most it takes place on ‘Eua, as I have previously alluded.
Proceedings were set down Thursday morning, 10 am and I had no particular inkling of actually being there.
The women and families had retired early from the prior evening’s celebration, although there must have been some doubt as to whether the hardcore Kavaists were capable of backing up.
I not being of either persuasion had actually planned some cave spotting yesterday as a means of biding the daytime hours.
My holiday schedule is largely void of urgency about anything meaning that I am generally glad to be visiting a part of the world that sanctions this philosophy for the greater good.
This said, a wedding is a wedding and the majority must mobilise at some organised juncture no matter where it takes place.
The majority so mobilised yesterday at an appropriate hour, which also happened to synchronise with me dragging my lazy arse out of bed.
And no more than 10 minutes hence, I was being whisked off with nothing but a camera in my hand, amidst a convoy of honking car horns and other crazy locals through but one of a hundred deluges in the past 48 hours.
It seems Taki knew best.
First stop was a small office in the town; bride and groom checking in to visit what could be presumed to be a registrar of sorts – a book was signed and vows may have been exchanged in privacy.
A few more honking horns later as the party travelled some distance uphill to the church with the best view in
Traditional Tongan dress was the order – this, despite me being resplendent in shorts and a black T-shirt.
Traditional dress and a traditional ceremony – emotionally charged and full of huge singing, happy tidings and family gatherings.
Down the aisle
Signing his life away
Family Portrait
Groom & Bride
Happy DaysThe ceremony however was not yet inclusive of the Feast, which was to be held at another location.
The Feast is as traditional as everything else that had gone before on this stormy day.
Catering such an event stops short of becoming an art form – the basic philosophy is for every 100 people present, there should be enough for 500.
This seems to be the gist anyway.
More singing, dancing and a traditional Kava ceremony before the commencement of the Feast, in which the bride is presented with a bowl of Kava by her groom and permitted to consume it for possibly the only time ever (women are traditionally prohibited from drinking Kava in most Polynesian cultures).
In all the kerfuffle, I had missed any semblance of a breakfast, so by 1 pm I was kind of glad the Feast was ready to begin.
Any opportunity to eat one’s self rancid is a good opportunity by me and I did not restrain.
There was always going to be enough for today and tomorrow and maybe a few more after this, even if everybody present had twice their share.
The day concluded with dancing and some extended speeches by bride, groom and celebrant – highlighted with deep sobbing by all concerned.
Tears began competing with weather outside and I almost went myself at one time or another.
It was plainly a relief when it all came to an end and my belly was full, along with my camera’s memory card.
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