Author: richwest3

September 10, 2012

When Monday came around, the parade of officials started to come by the boat. By now we had decided to tell the truth about being off the boat as so many people had seen us out and about. They did ask, and we pretty much blurted out that we’d totally been off the boat, that Health had told us we could leave the boat so of course we did, and it was great! I think they weren’t used to such an upfront and aggressive admission. There was a moment of confusion, then they headed on to other topics.

We still had marina people and Immigration to see but we felt comfortable enough now to go to the restaurant above the marina and have lunch while keeping an eye out for them. When the marina people showed up, we just trotted down there and did that process quickly enough that our beer was still cold when we got back.

When the immigration people hadn’t shown up by 2pm, we went downtown to find them. That took some time, but it was a relief to be done with all this and to be truly free. We decided to go celebrate by getting a coffee drink at a nearby cappuccino place. The heat was getting oppressive; so we ended up finishing our drinks quickly and then fleeing to Mc Donald’s, which was nicely air conditioned.

Over our days here, we ended up in town quite a bit as it had decent-sized markets, hardware stores, ATMs, and the place where you had to buy your internet time (for some reason you couldn’t do it online). Town was about a half-mile walk from the marina, and we had a tendency to end up there in the heat of the day. Mc Donald’s became our oasis of cool in this heat as it was one of the few places that was air conditioned. If it was really hot, we might start out there and get cooled off, then quickly run out to the other places we needed to go, then head back to cool off again. We’d then head back to Aggie Grey’s and sit in their coffee house with a large water to cool off again. Then we’d head to the boat, try to find a spot with a bit of breeze, and wait for evening to cool us off yet again. Thankfully it was much cooler here after dark. -Cyndi

(How hot was it? In the boat’s cabin, the one time I looked, I saw it was 98.6F – perfect body temperature. Funny how it didn’t feel perfect. Maybe it was the million percent humidity? -Rich)

September 8, 2012

We arrived in Samoa Friday afternoon and this is the first chance we’ve been able to get internet access to post news of our arrival.

First impressions: officious, HOT, mosquitos, salesmanship.

What we thought might be a three of four week stay is now looking like it may be less than a week.  We’re already plotting our escape.

More soon. -Rich

September 08, 2012

Our first night here, I was awakened by the mosquitoes I’d been warned about. Our neighbor had told us that the bites don’t really itch much. Well they do itch initially but the itch fades quickly; so by the next morning the bite is gone. That’s not much comfort, though, when you wake up scratching in the middle of the night. After the third wake-up, I sprayed myself with insect repellant and sprayed sleeping Rich, too. This was the beginning of a new bedtime ritual: spraying ourselves with mosquito spray.

On Saturday morning, we waited hopefully for the marina to contact us regarding the check in as they had promised to do. But the radio silence made it apparent that the cruisers were right: no one was coming to check us in. Around 10, Rich called the marina, and we were told that customs does not work on the weekend.

When we first arrived, I had asked the guy who led us in if we could go to the restaurants right there. He asked if we had food, and I muttered something about being down to the very last of it (I am not a good liar). After he told us to stay on the boat, I wished I had lied. Today, Rich decided to try telling the marina that we’d run out of food (since they seemed concerned about this possibility yesterday). After some discussion amongst themselves, one of the marina people told us a ferry was coming in today from American Samoa and customs will be working on clearing in those passengers; so they would get one of those guys to come and check us in.

About an hour later an official showed up as we were making some tuna salad for lunch. We told him to come aboard, and I thanked him for coming out to see us today. He looked at me solemnly and slowly shook his head back and forth, and said, “We do not work on Saturday,” making it clear that although he was here, it was a grave breach of their customs. He said he had to leave church to do this. I didn’t say anything like, “Didn’t you guys just check in ferry passengers?” or “You have church on Saturday?” but instead apologized over and over for this terrible thing we were asking him to do just because we were out of food (quickly adding that the tuna salad on the counter was the last of it). He said someone has to pay for his overtime and cab fare, and I said we will do that, and he solemnly said, “Yes, you will.”

He then sat down to fill out the paperwork with us. It turned out he was the Health Inspector. The normal check-in procedure here involves a parade of people who show up your boat throughout the course of a day and fill out paperwork. The health inspector comes first, then the quarantine people, then the marina/port people, then the customs people, and finally immigration (although this last group has a tendency not to show up, forcing people to go find their office downtown). We still had to see all these people on Monday, but once we saw the Health Inspector, we could leave the boat, and that’s what we needed.

One part of these encounters with Samoan officials is that they all ask you if you’ve “been off the boat,” and then look at you suspiciously as you answer, knowing full well that many of the cruisers are lying through their teeth when they say no and trying to determine if you might be lying, too. Our official asked about 3 times, narrowing his eyes at us. It was so frustrating—if we were leaving the boat, we wouldn’t be paying extra to have him out here! I finally told him he could ask the guard! (There is a guard stationed at the marina, but I don’t think he pays much attention).

Finally we were done with the paperwork and he determined that we were healthy (by merely asking “are you healthy?”). We apologized for about the 57th time and asked him how much he needed for this special service. He said 50 tala, and as it happened we had Samoan money and were able to give him that (the money the one cruiser had lent us plus some money we exchanged with some other cruisers who were pulling out shortly after we got in). I had to give an explanation about how we had money and it sounded lame, and he narrowed his eyes again but accepted it. It’s a good thing we did have Samoan money or it probably would have cost us $50 US dollars. He finally told us to lower our quarantine flag and then we could get off the boat. Hooray!

We did get off the boat right after he left and headed straight for Ooh La La across the street, which was said to have great ice cream. It was true, the ice cream was really good. After that we took a walk around town, where we encountered the third drawback of Samoa: the relentless sales harassment from some of the locals. They have a technique: walk up to you, ask how you are and where you’re from, and then engage you in friendly conversation. That’s when they strike, trying to high-pressure you into buying whatever it is they’re selling and forcing you to be firm and a little rude in saying no.

The worst one was a cab driver who gives island tours. He befriended us before we realized how these guys operate and that they need a firm “no.” We had said “maybe later” to his proposed tour, and over the time we stayed here I nicknamed him “our Stalker.” This whole thing was not only annoying but sad in that this is actually a culture of warm and friendly people. But it got to the point if anyone on the street tried to talk to us, we’d have to beat a hasty retreat as those guys generally were trying to sell something.

As the afternoon wore on, we noticed it was getting amazingly hot. The guy on the boat next to us was right about this, too: it’s especially hot here. Hotter than anyplace were in French Polynesia, and according to him, hotter than American Samoa, which was only 80 miles away. By the time we finished walking around town, we were overheated and thinking we might not be staying in Samoa as long as we had planned.

That evening we headed straight for the restaurant where we ordered cold beer and three appetizers that were amazingly tasty. I have to say that Samoa has its drawbacks, but the food is not one of them: it is surprisingly good.

I wish I could say we were completely comfortable with all of this check-in rigamarole, but it seems that the rules are not very clear. The Health Inspector said we could get off the boat, but rumor had it the customs people would probably not agree with that, and so we should probably lie to them on Monday. I was happy to be free, but paranoid about being spotted by off-duty customs officials, or any officials.

That night before bed, we doused ourselves with mosquito spray. Closing up the boat is not an option here as we need all hatches open to catch any breezes that happen by. Thankfully, with the help of our fans, it was almost cool enough to sleep. -Cyndi

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.