Aside from the scenery, the vibe is a mix of island chill and European openness. It’s very laid back but unlike small town America full of low budget burger joints and diners, New Zealand had charming and tasty little cafes and restaurants that could have fit right in nestled in Greenwich Village, NYC. Life slows down and the pace and is more friendly and relaxed. I couldn’t believe when I entered a commercial airplane without taking off my belt, my shoes, my hat, tap dancing, and then bending over before being selected for additional screening. I simply handed the agent my ticket and proceeded. I kept waiting to turn a corner and find a long security line, but it never happened. I boarded the plane without ever going through a metal detector or search. In nearly one month, I never was asked for some spare change. The country is very safe, so much in fact, that there are several single female travelers.

I met people from France, Scotland, England, Austria, Germany, Israel, and the list goes on. I met more people from Argentina than I did from America. When I told people I was from the States I got responses like “Wow, we haven’t talked with an American for two months,” and “You’re the first American under the age of 60 we’ve seen in a while” or “Shouldn’t you be in an office working 60 hours a week?” Most times I heard someone with a similar accent and asked which State they were from, they responded, “I’m from Canada.” While my travels are quite banal in many other cultures, in America they are a rarity. People don’t usual take more than a week of vacation at a time. Two weeks is pushing things and three weeks is unheard of. Maybe it’s just a mindset of wanderers. And as sad as I was to leave I finally had to say goodbye to New Zealand.

I got on a plane heading for The Kingdom of Tonga. I quickly remembered what attracted me with the culture in the first place. I sent an email to my old best friend from high school, which I haven’t seen in 16, years and told him I was coming to Tonga and would be staying at a hostel. My flight arrived at 1:00 AM and there he was ready to pick me up and take me to his place. He just said don’t worry about Toni’s Hostel and that we can talk to them later. He had a whole guesthouse in back of where he and his family live. Now if I thought life slowed down in New Zealand in Tonga it simply crawled. The next day Sione showed me around the island.

The speed limit on what is akin to a freeway is 40 KPH. We constantly drove about 10 KPH under that, which equals about 20 miles per hour. Everywhere we went people waved and said hello. We stopped here and there to sit on lawns, talk with people he knew, and eat watermelon. When we got home his wife had the kids ready and we drove down to the local deserted South Pacific beach with images of Robinson Crusoe, and Swiss Family Robinson in my head. I slowly climbed into the bathwater. This was heaven. Walking back, I was struggling to get my socks and shoes pulled over my wet feet where the path became rocky. Another guy that I had known in Salt Lake kicked his sandals in my direction and just plowed through the stony path bare foot. Soon we would be back at the house and drinking kava. I will have to finish our adventures later because my limited time can't do my thoughts justice and perhaps never will. Never the less I would rather continue later.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on April 3, 2010 from Neiafu, Tonga
from the travel blog: South Pacific
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It would be a perfect opportunity to go since he would already be there, so he had one of his employees call and book the ticket for Jake Langi. Nervous about the different name, I asked him what will happen when I go to the airport and they ask for ID and the ticket doesn't match. He looked at me and laughed and said "This is Tonga, they don't check ID's". His flight was already booked to capacity so I took one later in the afternoon.

Another friend I knew from Salt Lake picked me up in the morning and showed me around Tongatapu, bought me lunch and a coconut to sip on as we ate on the pier before my flight. At the airport he told the ticket agent the listed name of Jake Langi. She handed him the ticket. He pointed in my direction. She looked at me and started laughing, knowing my last name wasn't Langi and that I just got the local rate on my flight and not the gringo rate. In 45 minutes I would land in Vava'u.

Sione and a cousin came to get me in an SUV with a back window broken out and plastic covering the empty space. The tropical island setting didn't disappoint, as we winded our way to town through palm trees and endless blue skies. Climbing a hill overlooking the island we stopped to drop off the cousin and owner of the car we were driving. I thought we would come back later to return the vehicle, but I never saw the guy again and we kept the ride nearly the whole time we were there. We meandered into town and found another guy I knew from home who we would be staying with. "Yeah most of the people deported back here are from Glendale (a neighborhood in SLC)," Sione said with a laugh.

Now Andrew lived in a home without running water or electricity. Not because there isn't the infrastructure, he just didn't want to pay utility bills. Each night we would light candles to walk around. There was a toilet, but to flush you had to fill up a bucket of water from a sima or rainwater storage tank to pour into the bowl. There are no rivers so each home collects their own water. The doors were never locked or even closed for that matter, even at night. Every day it seemed like there was some new person crashed out on couch and another one gone. I slept with a mosquito coil on the bed with me to try to repeal the worst creature on the planet. Still, they had a feast on my feet. But each night before bed we headed to town to drink kava.

I was surprised to find out we were drinking on the lawn of the police station. A couple of pick nick styles benches sat parallel with a mixed bowl in the middle. We sat down with the on-duty officers and others, and began drinking. The phone rang inside and one guy sprang up to answer to call. When he came back he had a nice sit-down chair with a back and arm rests. He brought it down to me and told me to sit. I felt uncomfortable sitting in a nice chair with every one else on benches but knew it a wonderfully kind gesture and thanked him. Similar small acts of kindness were the norm around here. Everyone made me feel welcome and everyone shared everything. From the police station we moved on.

Next, we headed to the firehouse next door where a larger gathering was assembled. This party had a to'a or a woman that was serving the kava, hence the large turn out. I looked around and wanted to take some pictures but didn't dare to pull out my camera. The guy sitting next to me was the fire chief and had forearms almost the size of my thighs. No exaggeration. Most people were very friendly and spoke to me in various levels of English.

The to'a always shot me seductive glance each time she poured my coconut shell. I knew why there were more people here than the police station where one of the cops was pouring. Woman are forbidden from these parties, so to have one flirting, while feeling the effects of the drink was nice. It's bad odds for the 25 guys drinking, but they have a fun way of making it a battle of wits, cutting each other down in a manner of friendliness, trying to get the to'a to laugh or just talk with them. They had me laughing sometimes without even knowing what they were talking about.

The next day me Sione and some other guy crammed in the front of a small truck because I didn't want to risk sunburn driving around in the open bed. Agents confiscated my only sunscreen from my carry on bag in New Zealand and no one sells sunscreen in Tonga because the locals don't need any. (I did finally find some 15 SPF.) We cruised down dirt roads, stopped while someone would climb a coconut tree and throw them hurling directly at us. Everyone laughed at the person who had to dodge the latest round. Taking a machete, they whacked off the tops and we hydrated in the hot sun before heading on the dusty island road again. People jumped off at various points and others flagged us down to jump in the back, heading into town. When we arrived, someone had cooked us a meal. I never had to pay for food because different random people were always feeding us or cooking us a meal.

We took the sheep and kumala down by the water and listened to the surf gently splashing. We finished the meal and just laid out looking at the stars. Sione looked over and noticed one guy asleep.
"Funga go take the plates to the car put it neutral," he said.
"We're leaving?" I asked.
"Yeah but be quite."
"What about that guy sleeping? How will he get home?"
"He knows the rules, if you snooze you lose. Funga go."

We all started creeping slowly to make any loud or sudden movements.
We put the rest of the stuff in the car and put it in neutral and started pushing. Just then the guy woke up. Everyone started laughing and he ran over to the car so he didn't get left. A couple of nights before I heard a story of someone falling asleep at a card table and the guy telling the story took his cigarette and gave the one sleeping "an Indian dot on his forehead."

The guy sleeping protested, saying he just had his eyes closed for a minute and responded with dousing flammable liquid on the offender and lighting his clothes on fire. Each escalation has everyone listening to the story laughing harder and harder. The grand finale ended with the Indian dot giver, lighting two bags of garbage on fire in the kitchen, because it was the sleepers' girlfriends apartment. The moral of the story is don't fall asleep if you're partying with Tongans.

As we went home all the car died on a huge hill. We tried rolling it a ways and then starting it from neutral. That didn't work, so we pulled to a flat driveway. Popping the hood, one passenger took his shirt off wrapped it around his arm and started sticking it under and around the hot engine. Finding what was the starter he found a huge nut and bolt and began wailing on the metal trying to get a spark. Andrew kept turning to key to no avail.

The person whose driveway we are were in turned on some porch lights and came out to see what all the commotion was. They began to speak in Tongan for a minute and the guy with the shirt wrapped around his arm hands the new guy the super sized nut and bolt. Guy number two reaches into the same spot and begins pounding away. Still nothing. So he goes into his house and comes back out with battery cables and charger. That didn't work either and he disappears into his house again.

"Alright we're going to push it up this hill to Kentonis parents. Jake you're the lightest so you get in and steer. Turn on the hazard lights, and be ready to hit the brakes when we tell you," Sione said.

I climbed in as three guys started pushing the SUV up a hill like upper Virginia Street in Salt Lake. I cranked the wheel, where the driveway met the main road and thought there is no way the three of them are going to push it up this hill. They rocked it back and forth a couple of times to get over a dip and then started up the hill. Slowly the car started moving as I could hear them grunting and panting for air.
At various point one would yell 'Brakes' and I would stop the car while they regained their breath.

Pushing it uphill a good 150 feet, one guy started saying he couldn't go anymore. Sione just kept commanding "Go Go Go" in Tongan. The grunts and breathing became stronger. Each body was slumped lower to the ground. I was scared one would just quit, so had my foot hovering over the brakes just in case. Finally, we reached the home and I cranked the wheel and rolled it into the owners parents driveway.

I wanted to just burst out laughing at the whole scenario, not believing they actually did it, but thought it might be rude since I was sitting inside the whole time while they were still panting for oxygen. We walked back home not knowing how we would get to the airport tomorrow. But sure enough there was some random guy I had never seen before, there to pick us up before the clock struck 7:00.

Back on Tongatapu Island, Sione's younger brother was set to arrive in town, and the party doesn't start until he walks in. Sione's house is like a community home where there were always different kids and or cousins staying there for a night or three. Loud and boisterous with smiles and laughs to uplift a morgue Keli showed up with bags of candy one morning. All the children flocked to Keli to collect their bounty as I chomped on my breakfast of Twix and Snicker bars. We ended up driving around visiting family and Keli would always hand them over a few bills folded up. Within a couple of hours he proclaimed he was already out of cash and had to go back to the ATM for a refill.

We ended up at a bar while we waited for Sione and his wife to drop the kids off back home over twenty kilometers away and come back into town. We started talking about what we've been up to and though I knew he was into some good things I didn't know to what extent. Aside from running a resort outside of the Grand Canyon, he owns three bars in Salt Lake, and another in San Francisco besides owning homes in three different locations. I was intrigued but shouldn't have been too surprised. Later that night he took about ten of us out to dinner. By this time we had been drinking for a few hours.

Sitting at the table was a mix of family and then some of the old boys I used to run with. A couple had done prison time and had the tattoos to show for it. They were hard and crazy gangsters back home but now were getting clowned on by Keli.

"Remember when we were kids and you guys all used to go out but you all would never take me anywhere? Well now look at all your fat asses now. Who's footing the bill now, bitches?" he said followed by roaring laughter.

Then he started picking on each one individually, like the opposite of a celebrity roast, as all of their wives doubled over from laughing so hard. Each character smiled sheepishly when it was his turn. My how the tables had turned. We stayed laughing into the night before I got the heebie jeebies scared out of me.

As we drove home Keli started talking with Sione about some kid. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard the end.

"Wait, wait, wait. You saw what? Sione is this true? You saw him too?"

Sione in all manner of seriousness, looked me in the eye and simply nodded. My eyes grew bigger.

"So what happened again Kel?"

"We would drive down this road every day and their were always these two kids on the side selling a little fruit and peppers. Small things like that, ya know. They were way out in the middle of nowhere between towns and I always felt sorry for them, so I began stop and buy a few things from them. So for like three or four days I stopped and bought some of the little fruits they had."

"Like you handed him money and he took it and you got real fruits from him?" I asked with my jaw dropping.

"Yeah, just like small little things of fruit. Then one night I was driving alone and saw them walking. I knew it was this kid because he always carried this little machete and he was always with his sister. So I pulled over to give them a ride and rolled down the window and said 'Mafi."

"How did you know his name?" Sione asked.

"I just asked him what his name was one of the times we stopped there" Keli responded. "So anyway I rolled down the window and yelled 'Mafi come here I'll drive you home', and he just looked back at me and kept walking. So again I'm said 'Mafi come.' The next thing I knew they started running. The brush on the side of the road was really high and they just turned into it and like disappeared."

"What do you mean?" I asked

"I mean it was like they started slithering through the grass lightening quick, like Children of the Corn shit and just disappeared. It scared the shit out of me and I screamed and sped the hell out of there."

" They slithered through the grass? Oh my God. You're creeping me out," I said.

"I'm still creeped out but that's not it. When I went to pick up Sione I told him what happened and some lady overheard our us and said that there was a boy named Mafi from Houma who was killed by a drunk driver, along with his little sister, a few years ago."

I could feel chills racing up and down my neck and I looked over and all the hairs on Keli's arm were standing straight in the air with big goose pimples underneath. A surge of chills went through my body and had to ask them more questions. I haven't heard a story like this for a long time. Soon we pulled over on the side of the road while Keli exorcised the ghosts of too much alcohol and frightening experiences. We made it home with one last day before I had to leave.

We ended up going to the beach a ten minute walk from Sione's house. There were about five guys all together and as soon as we got there, the clouds burst open and it began to rain. We just waded further out to sea and found deep tidal pools to relax in. We were already wet so what the hell? One guy didn't know how to swim and was teased and goaded into going further out by all the others. He finally did we he saw the others diving down and coming up with mussels or sea urchins.

"Here hold this," one would say as I felt the hundreds of spines moving asymmetrically in the palm of my hand. Handing it back over I watched as he took a small, flat, pointy rock and began cracking it in half. Some guts and juices poured into the sea water.

"See those orange parts? Take your thumbnail and scrap it out and eat it."

I ran my nail along one of the five the fleshy stripes and popped it in my mouth. Tasted kind of like a salty cantaloupe. The rain began to come down harder and harder. A tour bus pulled up but no one got out. All they could see were the five of us way out near the reef eating shellfish like popcorn. The winds and rain picked up to the point that each droplet stung the skin. Ripples of wind rode across the surface of the water as the waves rolled to the sand. We sauntered back to shore. A few of the tourists had got off the bus too but now most were huddled under a huge canopy. We walked down the beach and stated climbing the hill back to Sione's.

In New Zealand they have a saying "There is no such thing as bad weather, you just have the wrong gear." In Tonga all the gear you need is a swimsuit. One guy looked at me and said "This is fun, huh Jake?" When we arrived back at the house all the little kids were splashing around and playing in the waterfalls spilling off the rain gutters and pools of water collected in low spots. We joined in. And it was fun.

I was sad to leave the next day. I showed up around noon only to discover it had been rescheduled without notice for one O'clock in the morning. As the day turned to evening, everyone fell asleep but me. Finally, a cousin woke up and proclaimed it's go time and went to wake up Sione. He and his wife came out and along with the cousin and Keli all piled in the car to wish me farewell at the airport. I felt a lot of emotion and was sad to leave. It had been about 16 years since we last saw each other.

Now he has a wife, home, and partial ownership in his company. I saw the patience, discipline, and love he had for his kids. I said my goodbyes and went through customs. The agent couldn't find my entry stamp until I showed her it was over an existing one. I climbed on board my flight heading to Fiji wondering how long it would be to we cross paths again. A part of Tonga will always be etched in my heart.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on April 11, 2010 from Fua'amotu, Tonga
from the travel blog: South Pacific
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