After a “sporty” entrance into American Samoa, we woke up to another windy day in Pago Pago (pronounced Pungo Pungo). Because of COVID, American Samoa is still relatively closed to travel and any international travel needs to be made through the adjacent nation of Western Samoa. To get James back to New Zealand, he needed to catch the ferry to Western Samoa, which only runs once per week. Since it had been blowing 30-40 knots in the anchorage, there was a good amount of wind chop rolling through the bay, meaning it would be a wet dinghy ride to shore. We threw on our foul weather gear and I grabbed the laundry bag. If we had to go to shore, at least we could run some errands.
By the time we got to the dilapidated marina, all three of us were soaking wet. I took a giant splash to the face which continued down into my rain jacket, drenching my base layers. As we made our way off the dock, I looked around at the state of disrepair. Not only was the marina falling apart, but almost every slip housed an abandoned-looking boat. It seemed several people left their boats there during COVID and sadly never returned. Since it’s an American territory, Americans don’t have to worry about time limits and import fees like in other countries. For this reason, the local government wasn’t particularly interested in the upkeep of facilities to house sailboats, like repairing the dock or installing mooring balls. They didn’t want to incentives any more people to leave their boats despite the potential income that could be made.
We said goodbye to James and made our way to the laundromat. After spending about $1,000 on laundry in French Polynesia, I was delighted to find that I could wash and dry my clothes for a measly $5 per load! There were also self-serve laundry facilities everywhere, something we hadn’t seen since Mexico. As I walked back to the marina with the laundry bag, I was once again offered a ride by a local woman, who in this case was the mayor of a nearby town. She insisted I take her number and offered to give us a tour of the island. Once she dropped me off, I was approached by another car, this time with the mayor of Pago Pago, also offering to take us around. So much hospitality!
Eitan and I waited out the weather on the boat for the next couple of days, and eventually things calmed down revealing a stunning landscape around us. Without the wind, the stench of the nearby tuna canneries wafted through the bay, occasionally overwhelming the boat with a nauseating smell. Because it had been over two years since either of us had seen a doctor and we were in American territory, we decided to head to the local health clinic to get a regular checkup and blood panel done. To get there, we needed to take a local bus which was quite an experience in itself. The nearby bus station was filled with old school buses that had been elaborately painted and decorated with all kinds of ornaments. After paying our fee of $1, we rode along with the locals, listening to rap music booming from the speakers.
The bus dropped us off at the clinic and we began filling out the paperwork. I asked how much it would be for the appointment and lab work and the office staff looked at me confused, responding that it was completely free. My consultation went well but I was disappointed to find that there was no dermatologist in all of American Samoa and would need to do a skin cancer screening elsewhere. Afterward, we headed to the hospital to have our blood drawn and waited for the results in the coming days. I suppose the service was worth what I paid for and since I failed to put an e-mail address down as the main form of contact (like Eitan had), I never received my results that came in after we left for Western Samoa and my local phone number no longer worked.
Although two different people had offered to give us a tour around the island, coordinating schedules with them proved difficult. Instead, I rented a car for us to explore the island on our own time. After picking up the rental in the afternoon, I drove us to the most western spot on the island. American Samoa is the last place to watch the sunset each day before it moves over the international dateline. Being a special bucket list item, I thought we would surely see others at the same beach to watch the sunset but were the only ones, making it seem even more special.
To give Eitan a break from navigating, I offered to do all of the driving while we toured the island. When we passed the tuna canneries, I felt a tingling sensation on my leg and looked down to find a cockroach! I screamed for Eitan to kill it while I tried not to hit any of the workers walking into the processing plants. It turns out the car was infested with cockroaches and the same scene kept happening over and over again. By the time we returned back to the boat, I emptied the contents of my backpack, trying to rid any potential stowaways. We did find one on the boat but luckily no more after that.
During our time in American Samoa, I was constantly surprised by the lack of tourists we saw, especially given the extreme beauty of the island. It was like being in Hawaii without any tourism industry at all. The stunning beaches were completely empty and there wasn’t a single sign advertising a tour operator. I saw only one hotel primarily used to accommodate visiting expats. Eitan and I repeatedly got confused stares and asked what we were doing on the island. Local children pointed at us and laughed, seeming to make fun of our (comparatively) pale skin and European features. Regardless, everywhere we went we were welcomed with warm hospitality.
As we drove around the island, I couldn’t help but notice the number of churches and temples we passed. Every single town had some elaborate place of worship that outshined the dilapidated houses and shops nearby. I read somewhere that it was common for the locals to donate up to 20 percent of their household income to the church. It was hard to recognize any relics of an older native religious system that existed before the introduction of Christianity. Unlike French Polynesia, I didn’t see monuments designating ancient sacred places or ruins. While I understand the missionaries thought they were doing what they thought was best, I couldn’t help but wonder how much of their culture was lost and forgotten as a result. Every day at 6 pm, a bells would sound throughout the island to commence a 15-minute period of prayer.
Before returning the car, I made a run to do some provisioning and found myself at Cost-U-Less, also known as Samoan Costco. I strolled the glorious warehouse isles and filled my basket with things I had not seen since being at home. I loaded up on all kinds of American products including containers of Bush’s Baked Beans, SPAM, and a tub of red vines, then finished my shopping in the refrigerated section. I stood in awe in front of the cheese selection. Not only was cheddar cheese an option, but there was mild and medium cheddar, aged cheddar, sharp cheddar, and even cheddar jack! Each kilo block of cheese cost $10 but would have been worth $50 to any cruising boat in the South Pacific. Not wanting to be too greedy and buy more than we would eat, I picked up a medium and aged cheddar and headed to check out. To my surprise, they rang up at only $1.25! I thought it must be a mistake until I saw the receipt. Given the length of the checkout line, I was already running late to return the car and fought every urge to run back for more. I still regret that decision to this day.
After a week in American Samoa, we were ready to head to our next stop: Western Samoa!
