A Journey to the South Pacific – Part 4 – Western Samoa

 

While looking for some documents, I came across a file from the 1990s containing notes on a trip I took in December 1994. I had previously included some of this material in an employee newsletter [1], but now I feel inspired to translate and expand upon these notes, as well as scan the necessary images.
Here are the details of the trip:
Oct 29 – Dec 15, 1994    Bali / New Zealand / South Pacific Islands
FRA – BKK – DPS – AKL – (WLG) – CHC – AKL – TBU – VAU – TBU – APW – HNL – LAX – FRA

Western Samoa
From Tonga, the journey continued to Western Samoa - which was what Samoa was called back then. I stayed in Apia on the island of Upolu. Upon our arrival, as we were taking a bus into town, a German remarked that his "refrigerator" still needed to be placed on the roof with the baggage; he actually meant a cooler bag, and the other travelers (myself included) laughed accordingly. I stayed at the Harbour Lights Inn, rather than the ritzy Aggie Grey’s. The area also served as a resting spot for taxi drivers. The kiosk at the hotel was run by a gay man - who, as is common there, was also a transvestite - and he was one of the organizers of a drag queen show. One evening, a boxing match between David Tua and an American was broadcast on television, which could be watched on the monochrome screen in the kiosk. While I also was interested in the boxing match, I was even more intrigued by the taxi drivers standing together with the transvestites. Unfortunately, David Tua landed a powerful blow, and the fight ended in the very first round - at which point everyone left the kiosk. What a pity! But I, too, headed around the corner back to my hotel room.

Robert Louis Stevenson
I visited Stevenson’s grave and read the famous poem [2], "Requiem," which begins: "Under the wide and starry sky, / Dig the grave and let me lie." Only after undertaking the strenuous climb - ascending some 400 meters under a tropical sun and high humidity - can one truly appreciate the deep respect the Samoan people must have held for Stevenson to have buried his remains up there.
The house has since been restored, having previously been repurposed - or rather, misused - as a governor’s residence or government seat. During a special festival week, the guided tour was free of charge; it has been 15 Tala [3] afterwards. From the veranda on the first floor, one can look out over the sea and the town of Apia. Directly below lies the garden, which the Stevensons once used not only for flowers but, more specifically, for agricultural experiments.
Vailima and the villages along the road to Apia had been decorated for the commemorative event - for instance, with floral arches. The Vailima Brewery (which proudly noted it was "under German management") had released an "R.L. Stevenson Special Issue" (see image).
In 1994, the correct name for the country was Western Samoa; in 1997, the state changed its name to Samoa - or, more formally, the Independent State of Samoa [4]. Today, it is home to just over 200,000 inhabitants.

The Closing Ceremony of R.L. Stevenson Week
By chance, I stumbled upon a tropical open-air celebration marking the end of R.L. Stevenson Week, held in front of the government building. I had been lingering behind the structure and made my way to the front by passing through the middle. At first, there was a light rain, followed by the scorching sun. I took a seat under the tents - there was still space, and no one stopped me; in fact, I believe someone even directed me to sit there. No, I am sure - someone must have assumed I belonged to an official delegation and ushered me under the tarpaulin. I didn't look like a typical tourist, having already developed a tan from my travels through Bali, New Zealand, and Tonga over the previous few weeks. Most tourists, meanwhile, were gathered in the marketplace. As for me, I felt quite comfortable in the front row; I was even filmed in close-up several times for the evening news - for instance, while listening intently to the Deputy Prime Minister speak about "Tusitala". This was followed by an extensive awards ceremony.
But then, things really got going. Approximately 120–150 girls performed dances. They wore dresses featuring tapa (bark cloth) prints and raffia skirts. Some held thick bamboo poles, which produced a deep, resonant sound when struck against the ground, while others clapped. The music was provided by older men and women. In addition to dances performed while standing or moving about, there were also seated dances involving intricate hand movements and various styles of clapping - a reminder of just how many different sounds can be created through clapping alone. Alongside the group’s synchronized, rhythmic movements, a few individuals were tasked with interjecting wild, chaotic motions. Afterward, the girls withdrew, and about 200–250 boys and young men entered from the sides, performing spirited dances and chants. Three or four of them took the lead, spurring the others on. Many of the sounds were produced by clapping or by striking different parts of their bodies.
Finally, following the last boisterous chant, the younger generation sat down, and the elders began to sing a Samoan ballad. Several dignitaries - notably some older women and the Deputy Prime Minister - danced to the music; the Deputy Prime Minister, incidentally, was also wearing a lava-lava (traditional sarong). Then, I was asked to dance. I am not a dancer at all - perhaps the least likely person to dance between the North and South Poles! Yet, how could I refuse the young ladies, especially since they had also invited the Deputy Prime Minister? And so, I found myself dancing alongside him and the young women in their raffia skirts.

Fale
Most Samoans still live in traditional fale. These are open-sided structures that are closed off with mats only during storms or rain - a style of construction adapted to the climate. Small fale (traditional houses) stand along the beaches. A snapshot from late afternoon: the sun, hanging low, bathes a fale in intense yellow light, while the sky and sea - in shades of deep blue - vie with the various greens of the surrounding palms and trees.

Cricket
I saw small villages where the youth passed the time playing games - volleyball, for instance, or, even more commonly, kirikiti (Samoan cricket). I once spotted a group playing in the pouring rain at the start of a journey around the islands; later, I even witnessed a match played exclusively by young women.

Tattooing
Dr. phil. Waldemar Stöhr taught us that the correct term is "Tatauierung" (tatau-ing) rather than the German "Tätowierung." While Stöhr might emphasize the distinction between traditional Samoan or Polynesian culture and the adoption of the practice by the lower social classes in the West, I see it more as an aesthetic difference. These tatau are truly beautiful - much like irezumi in Japan, which is a recognized art form (though in Japan, such tattoos are typically associated with the Yakuza).
In Tonga, I twice met Danes who had gotten tataus on their upper arms while in Samoa. These circular designs wrapping around the upper arm were so aesthetically pleasing that I was almost tempted to get one myself - though, as a doctor working in a Catholic hospital, I couldn't very well walk around with a tattoo (or even a tatau). A friend of mine, however, did get one on his upper arm after securing a professorship - he claimed it helped him "stay grounded" (his words). I also saw young women with tataus, which looked equally beautiful. One of the female workers at the guesthouse, in particular, caught my eye. While her face lacked that certain something required for true beauty, she possessed a well-proportioned, slender figure - not too thin, but just right. She also had a circular tattoo around her right upper arm; it looked fantastic. Since the tattoo appeared fresh, I asked her about it, and she explained that the aforementioned Danes had paid for it as a tip.
And then there was a tour guide - he was tattooed from his knees all the way up to his navel. That, too, looked beautiful. It’s no wonder that, during the first voyages of discovery, observers mistook such dense tattooing for actual clothing (Roggeveen [5]). I also saw young women with extensive, large-scale tattoos.

Girl from Zaire
The girl from Zaire was a young woman on her honeymoon. She was married to an Australian man and spoke English with an Australian accent - a lovely, soft voice. She stood on the beach, reminiscent of "the girl from Ipanema". Her hair was braided into tiny plaits, which were then styled into an updo; the process took two ten-hour sessions; I had asked her of course. If she’s careful, the hairstyle can last up to three months. Her body was muscular - though not in an extreme, bodybuilder-like way; perhaps she swam a lot. She had a flawless face. The Australian man looked pale beside her - and not just because of his skin tone, which shifted toward a reddish hue as the day went on. "What could she possibly see in him?" I wondered - though, of course, it wasn't up to me to see anything in him. At that moment, I simply wanted to gaze at this beautiful woman and enjoy her as one would a work of art. Perhaps the allure of fashion models lies in this very artificiality - though, to me, most of them tend to come across as merely affected. 

The Ship
One day, I was awakened by a loud blast from a ship’s horn, followed by the sound of marching music. What had happened? A massive ocean liner had entered the harbor - even the government building (see above) was not as tall as this vessel. On the dock, a police band played marches and other tunes to entertain the guests. I had made my way from the hotel - which was just a stone’s throw away - to the harbor, where I saw throngs of young people disembarking; that was not what I had expected. But then someone explained to me that these were merely crew members. Only afterwards did I notice the doddering old folks - there is no other way to describe them, though I have nearly reached that age myself now ... well, not quite; I still have ten years to go. Even back then, I felt that such ocean liners have no business near islandsm - just as they have no place near Venice. Let them stay out on the open sea, and from there, passengers could continue by smaller boat to wherever they intend to "invade" the local towns. I once witnessed this in Ushuaia, where a landing craft arrived, and the passengers didn’t even know which country they were in. Appalling!

Oahu and the Rest of the Journey
The trip continued on to Oahu. I spent less than 24 hours there, though it did involve two “overnight” stays at a hotel. Furthermore, I had to switch airlines - not in Oahu, but later in Los Angeles. The flight was pushed back by an hour, and then the plane arrived another hour later, leaving me with only about 26 minutes in Los Angeles - a situation complicated by the fact that I wasn't just flying with Air New Zealand onwards, but had to switch to a Lufthansa flight, but - because it was considered an international connection - I also had to go through health and passport control again, collect my baggage, and travel from one terminal to another. I arrived just in time to see the shuttle bus pulling away. Deciding that waiting would take too long, I ran toward the other terminal with my baggage, calling out from a distance that I needed to catch my flight. Interestingly, Lufthansa played along; after a brief exchange, they told me not to wait, but to head straight to the security checkpoint with my bags, promising to bring my boarding pass over. The security officer grumbled, "I really don't like people trying to bring large pieces of luggage onto the plane like this," but I explained that there was no time left - the plane was departing in five minutes, which was, in fact, true. Just then, someone arrived running with my boarding pass; I cleared security with my luggage, we dashed to the gate and onto the plane, someone took my suitcase, the door was locked, and I sat down, buckled up, and we took off. I suspect that wouldn't be possible today - security concerns would certainly rule it out. But I was just glad I’d managed such an ambitious feat, as my vacation days were all used up and I had to be back at work the very next day.

Links and Annotations:
[1] The original had been printed in TAU (Magazin der Franziskanerinnen von Münster-St. Mauritz) 1995 and republished with other pictures on my blog:
https://rheumatologe.blogspot.com/2021/10/polynesische-impressionen-eine-reise-in.html 
[2] Robert Louis Stevenson [2a] is known for “Treasure Island”, but I referred here to his poem “Requiem” [2b], which can be read at his grave.
[2a] Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) was a Scottish novelist, essayist, poet and travel writer.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Louis_Stevenson 
[2b] Full poem here:
https://poets.org/poem/requiem 
[3] Today 1 Samoan Tala (WST) equals 0,36 US-Dollar (USD) and the fee for the museum is 20 WST today.
[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samoa 
[5] Jacob Roggeveen (1659-1729) was a Dutch explorer who found Easter Island, Bora Bora, Maupiti, as well as Samoa. 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacob_Roggeveen 
 

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A Journey to the South Pacific – Part 3 – Tonga

 

While looking for some documents, I came across a file from the 1990s containing notes on a trip I took in December 1994. I had previously included some of this material in an employee newsletter [1], but now I feel inspired to translate and expand upon these notes, as well as scan the necessary images.
Here are the details of the trip:
Oct 29 – Dec 15, 1994    Bali / New Zealand / South Pacific Islands
FRA – BKK – DPS – AKL – (WLG) [2] – CHC – AKL – TBU – VAU – TBU – APW – HNL – LAX – FRA

Tonga
The next stop on this journey hs been Tonga. Tonga - what lies behind this name? The Kingdom of Tonga, located in the South Pacific, consists of approximately 170 islands covering a land area of 750 km²; about 45 of these islands are inhabited. All the islands are scattered across an expanse of 700,000 km² of ocean. The capital, Nuku'alofa, is situated on the largest island, Tongatapu. Cologne and Nuku'alofa are approximately 16,685 km apart. The inhabitants of Tonga are Polynesians. Tonga is a constitutional monarchy, modeled after the British system.
Daily temperatures fluctuate between 23°C and 30°C, not much affected by the changing seasons. The rainy season lasts from November to April.
The greater Nuku'alofa area has a population of about 30,000 to 35,000, while Neiafu - the only town on Vava'u - has approximately 4,000 residents. Vava'u is the name of the main island in the archipelago of the same name, located about 300 km north of Tongatapu. The Ha'apai group lies roughly halfway between them. The Niuas - an island group whose inhabitants I had the chance to meet - are located another 300 km north of Vava'u.
In Tonga, there are 420 nursing professionals per 100,000 inhabitants (compared to 1,225 in Germany) and 100 physicians per 100,000 inhabitants (compared to 450 in Germany). The Tongan people are predominantly Christian: the Free Wesleyan Church accounts for 43%, Catholics for 16%, and other denominations for 41%. The national anthem is titled “Koe fasi oe tu'i oe otu Tonga”, which to my surprise translates to: “The piece of the king of Tonga”.

Christian Faith and History
In Western countries, the inhabitants of exotic destinations - such as Tonga - are sometimes wrongly associated with “savages” or “heathens”. This is a completely inaccurate perception. Tonga is inhabited by deeply devout Christians; most probably Germany has more heathens and savages than Tonga. The Sabbath (Sunday) is observed as a day for the Lord, celebrated in the biblical sense. Public transport comes to a complete standstill, and there are no international flights,  unlike in many other countries, where exceptions are made for the sake of tourism. The situation is similar in Samoa. On Sundays, churches in Tonga (as in Samoa) are filled with people, and one can listen to the polyphonic Polynesian hymns. Christian missionary work began with the London Missionary Society; however, initial attempts in 1817 and the following years proved unsuccessful. In 1826, the Wesleyans launched a new effort, which culminated in 1829 with the baptism of seven young men by a group led by Nathaniel Turner. One of these men was the nephew of the young ruler Taufa'ahau, who was himself baptized in 1831 and took the name George (Siaosi). Under his influence, the local population gradually converted to Christianity. During this period, other denominations also began their own missionary activities. King George reigned until 1893, followed by George Tupou II. In 1918, Queen Salote ascended the throne, and her son, Taufa'ahau Tupou IV [4], who passed away in 2006, was only the fourth monarch to reign over a span of more than 150 years.

Blowholes
On the way from Waikiki toward the western part of Oahu, or, for instance, on the island of Kaua, one is often shown a "blowhole" near Hanauma Bay. These formations occur when the sea undermines the lava rock and eventually breaks through to the surface. When the water level and wave conditions are just right, a fountain of water shoots high into the air. Here on Tongatapu, the entire coastline is honeycombed with hollows, and one blowhole follows another.

Beach House
In Nuku'alofa, I stayed at the Beach House, a place recommended by every guidebook I came across. How could anyone choose a luxury hotel over such a charming guesthouse? It was frequently claimed that if W. Somerset Maugham [5] had known about the Beach House, he surely would have stayed there. Perhaps one person came up with this idea and everyone else simply followed suit, but it really does ring true! During the First World War, Maugham spent several months on various Polynesian islands. The impressions he gathered during that time found their way into short stories such as "Mackintosh," "Red," "Honolulu," and "Rain" - arguably his most famous story, which is set in a small guesthouse in Pago Pago (American Samoa) amidst a downpour. I watched the young girls on the veranda as they spent their day - doing a bit of their chores, joking around, braiding each other’s hair, lounging, sleeping, and chatting. The atmosphere on the veranda feels just like something out of one of Maugham’s short stories. When it rains, you can almost feel the spirit of "Rain" in the air, and images from the film adaptation starring Joan Crawford come to mind. From the veranda, you look out over blossoms, palm trees, the sea, and distant islands - though, despite all the South Seas romance, you also see the occasional car driving by. Alternatively, you can cross the street and join the young people playing ball under the palm trees, or sit on the quay wall, laughing and talking. Upon returning from "town" (Nuku'alofa is, in reality, more like a vast village - likely with a larger population than Apia, which, by contrast, has the character of a small town), one is greeted by a tree with red blossoms (a "fire tree" or "crimson glory") standing before the open veranda and the rusty corrugated-iron roof.

Dances in Tonga
In Tonga, too, I attended a tourist-oriented evening. There were dances to watch, songs to hear, and a museum to visit, featuring a meal with traditional dishes. There was also a kava ceremony, consisting of two sips of kava per person, which was more focused on the ritual itself.
The staff from the Visitor’s Bureau were also working in the evening at the Tonga National Center; they expressed their gratitude for the tourists’ visit, as it provided them with employment (quite literally!). I particularly enjoyed the women’s seated dances, which involved many rhythmic hand movements and various styles of clapping.

M.S. Olovaha – The Ferry
I had decided to travel from Nuku'alofa to Vava'u by ferry, a journey of approximately 300 km. There were two ferries to choose from: one nicknamed the "floating coffin" and the other known as "orange vomit." I opted for the "orange vomit", the M.S. Olovaha, which proved to be a seaworthy vessel. As I later learned, the Olovaha was launched in Bremen around 1980.
The M.S. Olovaha set sail a day later than scheduled; one certainly needs a bit of flexibility when embarking on trips like this!
The vastness of the Pacific, with a gentle swell amidst the rain! About an hour after departure, we crossed paths with a cargo ship heading toward Nuku'alofa; it would be the only other vessel we encountered on the open sea during the entire crossing. Occasionally, we encountered seagulls and other seabirds, sailing against the wind through the troughs of the waves.
I had a window seat, and a family had set up camp around me and the space in front of the rows of seats. The area all the way to the emergency exit was packed with crates, suitcases, plants, and other agricultural stock. The family consisted of an elderly gentleman, who suffered from elephantiasis in his right leg, a younger man, two women, a boy, and two girls (listed in the traditional order!). The old man lay down on a massive bed, the kind that brings to mind the command, "Rise, take up your bed, and walk!", wedged between two rows of seats. The women and girls slept on mats in front of a stair railing. Every now and then, they would wake up, turn their heads toward the stairs, and vomit downward. The boy, who was sleeping right in front of the stairs, also vomited down into the same space. In fact, everyone around me seemed to be vomiting from time to time, though there didn't really seem to be any good reason for it. I felt sorry that the descendants of one of the greatest seafarers were suffering so much from seasickness despite the only mild swell, but my own high spirits remained undampened.
By evening, we were anchored off Ha'afeva, an island in the Ha'apai group. The island’s embankment loomed high before us, illuminated by the ship’s spotlights. Small boats circled the “Olovaha” to take on cargo and passengers, though some, it seemed, had simply come out of idle curiosity.
Later that night, amidst a torrential downpour, we docked at Pangai (on the island of Lifuka in the Ha'apai group). Heavy items - tractors, most likely - were unloaded, making the “Olovaha” noticeably lighter. It seemed to me, at least, that this only made it even easier for everyone to vomit. Having experienced seasickness myself on the Irish Sea about 15 years before this trip, I could empathize with the people who were vomiting.
By this time, the people on the aft deck were completely soaked. The tarpaulin over the seating area, torn in places, barely held back the lashing rain. In some spots, the tarp sagged so low that 100 to 150 liters of water had pooled there, waiting to cascade down onto the people below all at once. The cardboard boxes containing goods purchased in Nuku'alofa had become so waterlogged that they tore at the slightest touch. I didn't see how they managed to transport their belongings any further. And actually I was glad, that I went down into the hull instead of staying on deck.
The following morning, we docked in Neiafu (Vava'u) just as the rain let up; I spotted some yachts, though I didn't have any interaction with the sailors. Only minutes after our arrival, another tropical downpour began. Drenched to the bone, I found a guesthouse on a small rise, near the Fangatonga royal residence and the primary school of the same name. As the saying goes, sunshine follows the rain, and that is exactly what happened: the small coral islands, lush with palm green and edged in white sand, floated in a turquoise sea beneath a deep blue sky filled with brilliant, sun-bright clouds.

The Procession
In Neiafu, the day before the King’s visit, I encountered a procession. The participants were heading toward Fangatonga Primary School, the very same route I needed to take to reach the Hamana Lake Guest House. Before I even saw them, I heard their singing and their joyful shouts. Then I saw them in their ceremonial attire, a black “lava-lava”, a white shirt or blouse (instead of a black one), the traditional mat, with fresh pandanus leaves layered over it, and garlands or “leis”, and flowers as further adornment.
The Catholic priest was also traditional in his appearance, though dressed entirely in black. The celebration was held to welcome the new chaplain. A pig and some kava were pulled along on two carts, attached by long ropes.
Early in the evening, from my guesthouse, I could listen to the singing—the school is located right next door. The vowel-rich languages of Polynesia sound particularly pleasant, and even beguilingly beautiful, when sung. The singing was accompanied by clapping, and I was fascinated by the sheer variety of sounds that can be produced just by clapping one’s hands. But then I had to tear myself away from these impressions, as I had already planned to attend another celebration that evening.

Kava
A delightful evening unfolded when I went out to drink kava. The Free Wesleyan Church was hosting this Friday night a kava session to raise funds for a construction project; the end justifies the means. The new church is beautifully situated above the yacht anchorage. We held our gathering in the old church, which now serves as a hall for sports and meetings. The kava session lasted four to five hours.
Before I continue, I must say a few words about kava. Kava is the ritual beverage of the South Pacific. It is sometimes called "kava kava"; on Pohnpei (Micronesia) it is known as "sakau," and in the Fiji Islands, it is referred to as "yaqona." It consists of the root of the kava plant (Piper methysticum) - a type of pepper shrub - which is crushed and softened in water [6].
In the past, the root used to be chewed and then spat into a large communal bowl, but that is no longer done today. The reason for this practice was to create a slightly more potent drink, as the alkaloids are more effectively extracted from the root through the action of salivary enzymes (alpha-amylasis). The German name Rauschpfeffer ("intoxicating pepper") might suggest that Kava is an intoxicant, but that is not the case - unless one were to also classify coffee and tea as intoxicants. Drinking kava fosters a sense of contentment and sociability; it does not lead to aggression or the kind of hangover associated with alcoholic beverages.
Beyond its social role, the plant also has medicinal uses. In Polynesian folk medicine, kava has been employed to treat bronchitis, bladder ailments, rheumatic complaints, and various other conditions.
Returning to the story in Neiafu: I sat with a group gathered around the band. There, I met the school principal, Sayad; the vicar, Makisi; the pastor, Viseka; and others. I discovered that Makisi knew Reverend Jovili in Suva (Fiji), having once been his teacher, a man I had also met during a previous trip to the South Pacific.
We sat in a circle on pandanus mats. To one side stood the kava bowl, which was replenished from time to time from large vats. We passed coconut shells among ourselves, drinking the kava from them.
A three-man band played throughout the evening, with only brief pauses. The three elderly gentlemen played guitar and banjo while singing songs from the South Pacific, songs from Tonga, as well as English-language tracks and songs from Hawai'i, including "Drinking Rum and Coca-Cola" by the Andrews Sisters. It was indescribably beautiful.
As previously mentioned, these Friday gatherings are organized for the purpose of raising funds. Around 100 to 150 men sat together in various groups, talking, laughing, singing along, or simply drinking kava. Later, three or four spirited young women were permitted to join; they were allowed only to serve the kava, a role with which they seemed perfectly content. At the end, Viseka offered a Tongan prayer of thanksgiving, asking that "God bless the givers and the gifts" in reference to the 324 Pa'anga (T$) that had been collected. I still use those same words quite often in our church today, and sometimes, as I do, my thoughts drift back to Vava'u. Afterwards, I made my way through the dark lanes of the small town back to my guesthouse; above me the stars were twinkling and the Magellanic Clouds, and within myself, I felt a sense of joyful contentment. The festivities at the Fangatonga Primary School had also come to an end.

The following day, I flew from Lupepau'u Airport, passing over the small islands and atolls, back to Tongatapu, and a few days later, I continued my journey to Samoa.

Links and Annotations:
[1] The original had been printed in TAU (Magazin der Franziskanerinnen von Münster-St. Mauritz) 1995 and republished with other pictures on my blog:
https://rheumatologe.blogspot.com/2021/10/polynesische-impressionen-eine-reise-in.html 
[2] I forgot -: WLG isn't Weilaghiri [1a], a fictious location, in fact the city of hell, but Wellington, which is hard for airplanes to land because of heavy gales.
[2a] „Wehe uns! Wir sind verloren; denn dies ist Weilaghiri, die Höllenstadt!“ Arno Schmidt [“Woe betide us! We are lost; for this is Weilaghiri, the city of hell!”]
[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonga 
[4] Tāufaʻāhau Tupou IV [Siaosi Tāufaʻāhau Tupoulahi] (1918-2006) was King of Tonga from 1965 until his death in 2006. He was previously Prime Minister of Tonga from 1949 to 1965.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T%C4%81ufa%CA%BB%C4%81hau_Tupou_IV 
[5] William Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) was an English writer. 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._Somerset_Maugham 
[6] „Kava or kava kava (Piper methysticum: Latin 'pepper' and Latinized Greek 'intoxicating') is a plant in the pepper family, native to the Pacific Islands. The name kava is from Tongan and Marquesan, meaning 'bitter'.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kava 

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A Journey to the South Pacific – Part 2 – New Zealand

 

While looking for some documents, I came across a file from the 1990s containing notes on a trip I took in December 1994. I had previously included some of this material in an employee newsletter, but now I feel inspired to translate and expand upon these notes, as well as scan the necessary images.
Here are the details of the trip:
Oct 29 – Dec 15, 1994    Bali / New Zealand / South Pacific Islands
FRA – BKK – DPS – AKL – (WLG) – CHC – AKL – TBU – VAU – TBU – APW – HNL – LAX – FRA


Gopal's Restaurant
The Hare Krishnas [1] are still around - even "down under". While walking through Christchurch, someone handed me a flyer for an inexpensive lunch. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time and just tucked it away, continuing on my path since it was still far too early for lunch. Around the corner was a mall, to which I returned a little later. As I sat there, two Hare Krishnas - dressed in Indian-style clothing and carrying a "mridanga" (drum) and cymbals - came chanting through the mall. They approached the person who had handed out the flyers, whom I only then recognized as a fellow Hare Krishna. I looked at the leaflet and - lo and behold - discovered "Gopal's Restaurant" [2] nearby; I immediately knew exactly where it was. I headed straight there to feast on vegetarian food - "prasadam", in fact. I wasn't disappointed; the dishes were genuinely vegetarian - a far cry from the unrefined, thoughtless cooking that used to be common in Hare Krishna circles. It seems enough "health enthusiasts" must have converted to Krishna, bringing a more mindful approach to food. Otherwise, maintaining a meat-free diet during my travels would have been quite difficult. By that time, I was already living a meat-free life, with the exception of family gatherings; my last non-vegetarian meal was a fish in Baldersheim (Norway) in 1995, which my youngest brother had caught there.

This picture has been shot in 2013.

Kea
One of the bus drivers spoke about the "kea" - a species of parrot he described as "mischievous little birds". The driver had worked on the construction of a road - a project spanning 120 kilometers - where the keas would frequently steal tools and other items left lying around. One of them would get fed every morning through the kitchen skylight - specifically, biscuits spread with butter and honey. One morning, the butter and honey were missing, and the biscuit came right back through the skylight. I first encountered them at the transfer point for Doubtful Sound. Warning signs there advised people to watch out for the keas, and the guidebook noted that they would even tear through tents with their sharp beaks to get at food. I found myself glancing back and forth between the birds and a young Asian-American woman - she possessed such perfect proportions and beauty in her figure, face, and movements. I had to make an effort not to stare too intently. Well, the keas were staring too, but they certainly weren't interested in aesthetics.
I returned there again in 2013 [3].

Fox Glacier
Without rain - a rarity, it seems, for the West Coast - the landscape looks magnificent. Bathed in the vibrant colors of the morning sun, I gazed out at pastures, forests, and the snow-capped mountains, which loomed not far away.
As we approached the glacier, a rain began to fall again. However, we had been equipped with rain jackets and waterproof, hobnailed mountain boots - heavy, those boots! Each of us was also given a walking staff tipped with an ice pick. On the way to the glacier’s face, we had to wade through several streams—and would you believe it, there were even tourists heading that way in white tennis shoes! Afterward, the route led up over slippery rocks to an entry point about 150–200 meters higher in elevation. Once on the glacier, we continued our ascent, and the valley below grew smaller and smaller. At times, the rain would freeze upon the ice. Deep blue lay within the glacial crevasses.
By 2013, the glacier had already retreated by 2–3 kilometers - a process that continues due to climate change.

The Bridge
After spending a long time traveling through areas with only 100–300 inhabitants, I found this small town to be a true marvel. A few kilometers further on, however, we reached a single-lane bridge decked with timber. Railway tracks indicated yet another use for the structure. Yet, contrary to what one might have expected, there was no traffic jam.

Paihia
In the Far North, the colors shifted back to something subtropical. The weather was perfect for a voyage aboard the "R. Tucker Thompson", a sailing ship [4]. Propelled solely by the wind, we glided across the turquoise ocean. Dolphins broke through the water’s surface. The uninhabited islands rose from the sea, adorned in the white of their beaches and the green of their forests.

Links and Annotations:
[1] The Hare Krishnas are devotees of ISKCON [1a]. I was interested in knowing more about them in the 1970ies, when I met with a journalist (Hans Conrad Zander), who worked for STERN magazine at the time; we developed a lifelong friendship, travelled together and are still in contact, actually he called me from Switzerland today. Recently I looked up A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada [1b], the founder acharya of ISKCON, as I knew that he was buried sitting upright in sugar. And actually the Hare Krishnas were also active in Cologne, Germany. I found out later as they were and are still operating a temple near Layla, my Afghan hairdresser.
[1a] The International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), commonly known as the Hare Krishna Movement, is a Hindu religious organization.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ISKCON  
[1b] I met him and Hans Conrad Zander in 1974, when Zander wrote a critical and widely noted article for STERN magazine (issue 28/1974) titled “The God Who Devours Money and Hair” [„Der Gott, der Geld und Haare frißt“].
[2] I just realize that ISKCON had a Restaurant also called Gopal's in Cologne, where they now have the temple.
[3] Details of the 2013 trip:
Nov 9 – Dec 8, 2013  New Zealand 
Cologne – DUS – DXB – BKK – SYD – CHK – Akaroa (Flea Bay) – Lake Tekapo – Queenstown – Manapouri (Milford Sound) – Nugget Point – Lake Hawea – Okarito – Arthur’s Pass – CHK – BKK – DXB – DUS – Cologne 
[4] Still operating in the Bay of Islands for instance.

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World Day of Prayer and a Visit to the Cook Islands

 

The World Day of Prayer is also known as the Women's World Day of Prayer. This is because it is committed to girls and women so that they can live in peace, justice and dignity. It is an ecumenical project. For this year, women on the Cook Islands had prepared the World Day of Prayer. And on March 7, 2025, we were able to hold a service in Schleiden (Eifel, Germany) under the motto “I Made You Wonderful” [1].

You might now ask yourself what I was doing there? Yes, men are often hesitant at events organized by women. But that was not the case with me and I also believe that men must stand up for women's concerns.

I had been to the Cook Islands in 1988 and 1995 and so I am taking the opportunity to do some reminiscing [2]. The pictures are from the second trip. The flight took off from Frankfurt 8 hours late due to a problem with the thrust reversal. Therefore, all connecting flights from Los Angeles could not be reached. We passengers were asked to stay on this flight and so I did not fly to the Fiji Islands, but instead flew past the Fiji Islands to Auckland. The entire detour was the same as the route from San Francisco to Havana or from Berlin to Timbuktu. But that was not important to me, as I had a very long vacation. The larger part of my visit to the Cook Island has been on Aitutaki.

World Day of Prayer
I was just about to start with the settlement history, but the figures are inaccurate. The 8th to 10th century AD is given, while the beginning of Polynesian settlement is probably around the 15th century BC. [3] Be that as it may, the Cook Islands had a long history before the Europeans invaded the Pacific. Captain Cook was only on the uninhabited island of Palmerston, by the way. Reverend John Williams of the London Missionary Society was the first to christianize in the region. The first to accept Christianity were the islanders of Aitutaki. There are a few books about Christianization that have also been reprinted [4].
The service began with the sound of the sea to get us in the mood. We called out the greeting “Kia orāna!”, which Mana Strickland [5] translates as “May you live!”, but which in the current context was more broadly understood as “May you live long and well, shine like the sun and dance with the waves!”
The core was Psalm 139 (verses 1-18) [6] and the stories of three women. The motto goes back to verse 14: “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” My favorite verse is verse 9 and you can now look it up for yourself.
After the service we showed a short video about the Cook Islands and then we ate, as far as the cuisine of the Cook Islands can be imitated here; Schleiden in the Eifel and Avarua on Rarotonga are 16,541 km apart. I would like to thank the organizers of the ecumenical service for their commitment.

Reminiscing [7]
I don't look at my analogue images nearly as often as at my digital images and eb´ven though I have already digitized large parts of my archive, these were the APS films, an even larger parts are in albums and still wait digitalization. So I gladly took the opportunity to get out the old albums about this trip and scan some pictures.

It had rained a lot on Rarotonga, but the mountains collect clouds and then you have better conditions for agriculture. But there were also sunny days. I passed by St. Joseph's Cathedral [8] and was surprised at the time that this beautiful but modest church was called a cathedral. I went so far as to say in a monologue: „But they have to write it down!“ But they did, as you can see. The cathedral had only been completed and consecrated the previous year. I only found out later that the name had to be like that because it is a bishop's seat. The altar is designed like a boat. Burials take place not only on cemetaries, but also on private property. This is not permitted in Germany, for instance.

I then flew to Aitutaki and arrived at Paradise Cove; it was a small guest house. The reception was no longer manned, but one of the guests said to me: "Just pick a room." And so I did. The next day Tutai came to keep things tidy, which usually took an hour a day. From the second day on I was the only guest in this guest house. The next guests only arrived the day before I left. It was a beautiful, huge property with access to the lagoon. It was as close as you can get to any dream of the South Seas. Today there is a whole holiday complex on the property - the dream is over. I could get coconuts from the palm trees or papayas from the trunk. In the nearby village of Amuri or a little further Arutanga there were shops where I could buy more fruits or something to eat. Nearby was also Mount Maungapo. It is only 125 meters high. But from there you had a great view, especially of the sunset. Then there were also performances with dance and music, as you would normally expect from large hotels, once in the Rapae Hotel and then in the restaurant/bar Ralphies, whose show I liked even better. You have to imagine that it were amateurs who performed there and not professional performers that you find in holiday resorts elsewhere in the world. That was pleasant to see and especially because towards the end the audience joined in, regardless of whether they were tourists or locals.

One day I went as far south as a village that you could reach via a dirt road. It was called New Jerusalem. Another traveler, Dr. Georg Giebel, who had been there a few months before me and had written extensively about his trip after completing his studies [9]. He is a physicist and has posted his travel diary online, which is much more extensive than my own notes, but just as idiosyncratic and erratic as mine. In any case, he writes about this place, because it is a sect that worships Mary and Joseph in addition to the Trinity. I cannot get used to this idea, but I did not meet anyone there, so I could not ask anyone and there is nothing else on the Internet. Below is a quote from his text with a translation. A map in a brochure showed "Faith Healers' Church and Village". Everything was made of natural materials, but they wanted to rebuild later with concrete. I found out what became of it from a TikTok post [10]. All that is left is the dirt road and everything else is gone. The TikTok post was about 25 years later. Nevertheless, it was extremely interesting to see the utopia or vision that had been realized.

The trip to the small islands of the atoll was also very impressive, especially because you could see that survival on these islands is almost impossible. You simply need more land mass to be able to grow anything other than coconuts. A British caretaker once wrote about a time he spent on one of the islands, but he claimed to have lived on snails with his children and wife. I can't find the book anymore because I had thrown it out because it sounded too improbable.

Hopefully I will be reminded of this holiday more often and start reminiscing.

Links and Annotations:
[1] This is a quote from Psalm 139:14
[2] 02.07.-28.07.1988:     CGN – FRA – LAX – HNL – AKL – NAN – RAR – PPE – DFW – FRA – CGN
10.10.-28.11.1995: FRA – LAX – AKL – NAN – ULI – NAN – RAR – AIT – RAR – PPE – LAX –FRA (08. Nov. Rarotonga, 13.-22. Nov. Aitutaki, 25. Nov. departure from Rarotonga)
RAR – Rarotonga / AIT – Aitutaki
[3] https://cookislands.travel/islands/history-people „Polynesians arrived in Rarotonga around 800 AD ….“ And a contradiction in the next paragraph: „The Maori migrations to New Zealand began from Rarotonga as early as the 5th century AD.“
https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cookinseln 9th century AD
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cook_Islands 10th century AD
[4] The Rev J. P. Sunderland, The Rev A. Buzacott, B.A., eds.: Mission life in the islands of the Pacific. John Snow, London 1866. Reprinted by: Institute of Pacific Studies of the University of the South Pacific (SUAV) & The Cook Islands Library & Museum Society, 1985.
William Wyatt Gill:  Myths and Songs from the South Pacific. Henry S. King & Co., 1876.Reprinted by: Institute of Pacific Studies of the University of the South Pacific (SUAV), 1995; but you can read the book here:
https://archive.org/details/mythsandsongsfro013889mbp/page/n7/mode/2up?view=theater  
[5] Mana Strickland: Say It in Rarotongan. An Instant Introduction to the Common Language of the Cook Islands. Pacific Publications, Sydney, New York 1979. ISBN: 0-85807-041-3.
The author lived from 1918-1996. Te Ariki Terau Mana Strickland was a Cook Island educator and politician. "He was the Minister of Education in the first Cook Islands government after self-government was obtained in 1965." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mana_Strickland
[6] Ps 139:1-18 https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%20139&version=NRSVUE
[7] I like the word reminiscing as much as the song. Little River Band - Reminiscing (1978) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBETVhHpcPk. BTW, John Lennon also loved this song. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reminiscing   
[8] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Joseph%27s_Cathedral,_Avarua
[9] "... und nach New Jerusalem: das ist ein Dorf im alten Stil; ich traf dort zwei Frauen, die gerade dam it fertigwaren, Palmenblätter zu Hausdächern zu flechten und jetzt darangingen, Besen zu flechten. Das ganze Dorf formt die sog. Free Church, die 5 Götter anbeten: die klassische Trinität plus Josef und Maria."  ["... and to New Jerusalem: that is an old-style village; I met two women there who had just finished weaving palm leaves into roofs and were now busy weaving brooms. The whole village forms the so-called Free Church, which worships 5 gods: the classic Trinity plus Joseph and Mary."]
http://www.drgiebel.de/Reise/cook.htm
[10] https://www.tiktok.com/@decomte/video/6995479429841472769

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