September 07, 2012
When we headed off from Bora Bora, we hadn’t planned on our next destination being Samoa. Thus, we had not considered the implications of our arrival date. Arriving during a weekend is a bad idea because the customs and immigration people do not work, which leaves you unable to clear in, which leaves you stuck on your boat until they open on Monday. This would have not have been a problem for us had it not been for the fact that Samoa recently decided to be on the other side of the International Date Line. (They wanted to be on the same date as New Zealand who largely supports this “independent” country.)
Suddenly, we were in a hurry to get to Samoa after we realized we would be arriving on Friday. We had no help from the weather as the winds had died completely. As we motored along as fast we could, I noticed it was getting increasingly hot outside. It got to the point where we were hosing ourselves off to stay cool, but we didn’t give it much thought because it can get hot out on the water when the wind dies.
As we made our approach we radioed the port captain. Here, you have no choice but to stay in the marina: it is mandatory. A pilot boat came out to greet us and lead us in to our assigned slip. By 4:30, we were tied up in our slip. The bad news: we had just missed the customs and immigration people.
If a person were to pick the very worst time to arrive in Samoa, it would be about 4pm on Friday. It’s too late to check in, and you are then expected to stay on your boat until you do get checked in the following Monday. This might not be so terrible after a short passage or if we had arrived to a quiet bay. But it was a 9-day Passage, we were out of fresh food, and we were surrounded by restaurants just above the marina (and the food smelled good)!
I will mention here that we weren’t too concerned because the marina employees who helped us tie up had said we could check in tomorrow. But later as we talked to other cruisers at the marina, they all insisted that check ins do not happen on Saturday. We started to get concerned, but we held out some hope that the marina employees would arrange something for us. One very nice cruiser came over and lent us 50 tala, (about $25 US) in case we might want to sneak out across the street for ice cream or run up to the restaurant for a beer. He advised us to just lay low and be subtle about it, meaning wait until after dark and be sneaky.
Sitting there hot, tired and hungry while the smells of food cooking and the sight of people drinking cold beer on a balcony not far from us was torture. But we decided to play by the rules and stay on the boat that night. After showers, we made pasta and opened a bottle of pre-mixed pisco sours, which is like a Chilean margarita. That pisco made us much happier. As we ate, we got a nice tropical downpour, and that cooled things off. At the moment, we were having a very nice time.
We did have one fly in the punchbowl this evening: a cruising neighbor, a grizzly old guy who informed us, “If the heat doesn’t get ya, the mosquitoes will!” I wasn’t very amused. Rich and I were really looking forward some marina time here. Marina time means not having to worry about anchoring, weather, wet and/or windy dinghy rides to shore, or passage making. It also means having access to eateries, grocery stores, laundry service, plenty of water, and faster internet speeds. We planned to spend at least three weeks here (or more), so I dismissed his comments, thinking he was just a grump. Unfortunately he turned out to be right, and within a few days we would be “grumps,” too.
- Being led into the marina
At our slip 
The ramp to the street and freedom (the Forbidden Zone until we were cleared into the country) 
The restaurants above the marina.
