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| CW: Me, Caty, Amber, Jack, Linda, Jim, Bill and Susan |
Everyone was delightful and Amber and Jack were definitely the most exuberant (youngest, besides Caty, too). It was a fun group, whose company we truly enjoyed.
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| Jack, Susan, Bill, Amber, Linda, Caty, me and Jim |
We had our initial briefing over a leisurely breakfast at the Goat Island Café. I do mean leisurely. The food was great, but the service was slow, with food arriving as it was made, sometimes meaning Amber would get a meal 15 minutes after Susan.
Lavalava
Peter filled us in on the general itinerary and handed out a lavalava to everyone.
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| Ours were just lengths of fabric |
The lavalava (also written as lava-lava) is a Polynesia’s traditional wraparound garment – a single piece of rectangular cloth worn like a skirt or kilt. It’s not a ceremonial outfit; it’s what most Samoans wear everyday, usually with a tee shirt and shorts.
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| Typical Samoan dress |
For dressier occasions, men wear lavalava with matching suit jackets, which are generally made at one of the many “Sewing Stores” we saw throughout Tutuila.
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School boys; Patricia, Harry (you'll learn about him later) and Peter; NPS employee
Lavalava are also known as an 'ie, short for 'ie lavalava, and the word is both singular and plural.
Lavalava are secured around the waist by an overhand knotting of the upper corners of the cloth; women often tuck the loose ends into the waistband, while men usually allow them to hang in front. Women often wear ankle-length lavalava while men's wraps often extend to the knee or mid-calf depending on the activity or occasion.
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| The National Park Head Ranger’s uniform even featured a lavalava |
Prior to the arrival of Europeans in the Pacific, the most prestigious lavalava were finely woven textiles of pandanus or siapo (tapa cloth), which is made from pounded and painted paper mulberry or wild hibiscus bark. The Samoans also created lavalava from traditional materials such as flower petals, leaves, feathers and seashells tied to a wrap-around backing of plaited plant fibers.
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| Dancers wearing lavalava; Photo: American Samoa Through the Years |
Loomed cotton cloth has largely replaced woven or barkcloth lavalava as articles of daily use (though 'ie toga and siapo wraps are still used today for ceremonial and festive occasions and dance performances). Samoan men who bear the pe'a body tattoo and Samoan women who have malu leg tattoos often roll the waistband of the lavalava or tuck in the sides and rear portion(s) of the lavalava to expose their tattoos during dance performances or ceremonial functions (such as 'ava ceremonies).
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| Pe'a and malu; Photos: Frost City tattoo, The Orange Explorer |
Change of Plans
Once we finished our introductions, we got our first disappointment: we would not be gong to Aunu’u Island, a small volcanic island off the southeastern shore of Tutuila, because seawall repair was still not completed.
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| Aunu'u from Tutuila |
Peter mentioned that there was a ferry and I wondered why we weren’t traveling there by that boat. That afternoon we drove to the ferry dock and it was pretty obvious why we weren’t taking that tiny boat over.
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| Oh, hell, no! |
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| And, yet, the passenger is so calm! |
It’s a shame though, because Aunu’u, with its pink lake inside a crater, sounded interesting.
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| We did fly over Aunu'u a couple of days later |
Instead of doing what the agenda listed, we spent the day doing many of the same things Caty and I had done with Lou the previous two days ...
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| ... driving through the National Park ... |
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| ... viewing Pola Island ... |
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| ... strolling along the beach ... |
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... seeing the Flowerpots ...
 | | ... and visiting a different tree with White-naped Bats roosting in it ... |
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At the Bat tree, I picked up a new lifer: a beautiful Samoan Myzomela ...
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| This pretty bird is also called a Cardinal Honeyeater or a Cardinal Myzomela |
We also saw ...
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| ... another Pacific Imperial-Pigeon; Photo: Caty Stevens ... |
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| ... graceful soaring Blue-billed Terns, up close; Photos: Caty Stevens ... |
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| ... and soaring far above us ... |
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| ... and, a couple more Pacific Kingfishers in better settings ... |
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| ... and better lighting than our first bird-on-a-wire sighting |
Umu
The highlight of the day, however, was the umu held at Peter’s home.
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| Before the cooked meal, we had some very sweet fresh-picked mini-bananas |
Our itinerary indicated we would do this later in Ofu with warriors demonstrating dances and chants and a buffet dinner pf pork, chicken, fish, yams and taro wrapped in banana leaves and cooked with hot volcanic rocks in an underground oven. But, as I said, the local guides were working off another plan.
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| Our "warrior" was 10 years old! |
An umu is both a traditional above-ground Samoan earth oven filled with volcanic stones and the large meal cooked in the umu.
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| Building the umu and cooking our lunch |
In some Samoan villages, an umu is laid three times a day to cook the family meals, but in more westernized places like Pago Pago, the umu is generally reserved for family gatherings after church on Sunday.
The stones are heated in a fire before the food is placed on top, wrapped in banana leaves or coconut fronds or put into half coconuts. More banana leaves cover the top to seal the umu.
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| Putting the food on the fire |
Food cooked in an umu usually includes fish and other seafood such as octopus, along with pork, chicken, lamb, taro, bananas and other vegetables. Coconut cream is traditionally used in most of the dishes.
Before I traveled to American Samoa, I looked up local cuisine and “must-try” foods. I found a list of 22 items. And, 20 of them had coconut or coconut cream as a primary ingredient!
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| When you see that the islands are covered with coconut palms, it makes perfect sense |
It also makes perfect sense that Peter started off the umu with a demonstration of how to ...
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| ... select, crack ... |
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| ... husk ... |
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| ... extract the water ... |
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| ... and grate the coconut |
One thing he showed us, which I had never seen before, was coconut “cotton candy” (also known as a “coconut apple”). Nope, this was not a confection made of spun sugar. Rather, it’s a weird spongy, fluffy material that forms inside a coconut shell after it germinates.
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| Coconut cotton candy, upper left, coconut cream, lower left, and coconut meat |
This happens when a mature coconut resting on the ground sprouts over 3 to 6 months and the internal seed absorbs all the sweet coconut water. This transforms the solid inner meat into a porous sphere that feels a lot styrofoam. We tasted it. I thought it was meh. In fact, over the course of our visit, we tasted a lot of coconut, including chilled-in-the-shell coconut water. Not my favorite, either.
In addition to showing us how humans extract goodness from coconuts (and, despite my mehs, coconut is full of goodness), they also showed us the pre-eminent coconut eater, the Coconut Crab.
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| A pretty frightening local animal that they pulled from a nearby tree that morning |
I will tell you more about these critters when I discuss Olosega, where we saw another one.
We started with a demonstration on how to wrap palusami for cooking. Palusami is a traditional Polynesian dish made from taro leaves, coconut cream and onions (sometimes with canned corned beef added – we’ll talk about canned corn beef when I cover our meals in Ofu). I volunteered to help build one of the pouches made of fresh young taro leaves.
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| The leaves are known as lu'au in Samoa (that's where the feast name comes from) |
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| I had to overlap and stack them |
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| The ingredients are poured in and the leaves are twisted to form a pouch |
Then the pouches were each wrapped in aluminum foil (yeah, that’s not traditional) and cooked in the umu along with the rest of the meal. Once cooked, the taro leaves become very tender and the coconut cream solidifies into a custard. It is sooooo delicious.
The other stand-out for this luncheon was faiai, a concoction of flaked cooked fish (at this meal it was a fresh, sweet white fish), coconut cream and onions (basically palusami with fish) that is poured into hollowed-out coconut shells that are placed directly among the hot volcanic rocks of the umu.
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| Moving a hot rock |
As they cook, the husks char, imparting a delicious smoky flavor. I cannot tell you how good this was.
We had it again in Ofu, made with canned fish (I think mackerel) and it was not as good.
Oh, while the food was cooking, we made our own plates by weaving coconut palm fronds, which then had another leaf laid across them.
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| Caty showing off her meal and the homemade plate |
The rest of the meal was salad with bottled salad dressing, corn, chicken baked with yams and breadfruit and mature bananas cooked in still more coconut cream. I was not overly fond of the last dish; the breadfruit was dry, flavorless and a bit stringy and I found the mature bananas served frequently by Samoans to be too hard and not sweet enough.
But, who cares? The palusami and faiai were *chef’s kiss.*
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| Umu! |
After we had stuffed ourselves, Peter’s 10-year-old daughter, Ariel, performed a traditional Samoan dance.
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She learned the dance by watching TikTok |
I thoroughly enjoyed the umu, which was probably a more authentic representation of how present-day Samoans eat on Sundays instead of the manufactured spectacle that was advertised.
It was after that massive lunch that we headed out to contemplate Aunu’u Island and why going there might not be a good idea.
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| We stayed on Tutuila |
Church
The next morning, we attended a local church service at the historic O le Ki o le Malo o le Lagi Congregational Christian Church in Fagatogo. I was expecting the “cultural and ceremonial performances” advertised on the itinerary, but, it was just a basic Protestant service delivered in Samoan by a minister wearing a coat, dress shirt, tie and matching lavalava. O le Ki o le Malo o le Lagi means The Key to the Kingdom of Heaven.
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| The church interior |
The church, one of many we saw in American Samoa, was in the typical architectural style of Pago Pago: wooden structures with big porches, lots of columns and gingerbread trim, sometimes painted in bright colors (in this case white with red trim).
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| The brightly detailed white church |
The original structure was built on a different site in 1904 by the London Missionary Society, then relocated and rebuilt, with construction completed in 1949 after delays from World War II.
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| The ceiling |
During the service, I was initially puzzled because the central front of the sanctuary was occupied exclusively by women and the left by men. Separating men and women in church is not unusual, but our group wasn't separated and the right section of the congregation wasn’t. Was this based on church membership? Preference?
Nope. It was the choir. Instead of standing on the dais or in a balcony, they sat in the pews, singing from where they sat/stood. The center was sopranos and altos and the left was tenors and basses. They were, by the way, quite good.
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| Stained glass |
The church attire varied with some men in suits, but most in what would be termed business casual. Many women wore conservative sheaths made of brightly colored and patterned tropical fabrics.
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| And, many wore hats |
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| Caty (and I) dressed up, too |
Peter did not accompany us to church because he was doing one of his many other jobs. In addition to running a tour company, he is a master diver who cleans and repairs ships (working underwater) and manages emergency services. He took his own boat to Aunu'u to deliver supplies that people hadn’t been able to get because of the high waves (apparently the weather had been bad for awhile).
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| He made four round trips in this kind of surf (but a better boat) |
He also ferried an elderly woman and newborn baby to Tutuila for medical treatment. He took his own boat because it is better than the ferry. So, while we were in the peaceful church, he was braving ferocious waves and lifting crates of chicken, eggs and produce.
That afternoon we were supposed to go out on an outrigger canoe and tour the Blunts Point Battery on the west side of the mouth of Pago Pago Harbor, which was part of the fortification of the Samoan Islands after the attack on Pearl Harbor. We didn’t.
Instead, cruised by the StarKist plant (not busy on a Sunday) to pose with Charlie the Tuna ...
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| Sorry, Charlie! |
We had a leisurely lunch (every meal at the Goat Island Café is leisurely) and took the road up to a high ridge overlooking Tutuila, where we stopped at the Aoloau Overlook on Mount Olotele in A'oloau village.
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The Aoloau Overlook; Lou had not taken us up here
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The overlook provides wide views across the lush tropical island and out to the open ocean. The local name A'oloau means "Fog Village" because the high elevation often brings a cool, misty climate (and, it was downright cold!)
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| Giant trees at the overlook |
Mount Olotele is also known locally as "Telephone Mountain" because of the radio and communication towers at the top.
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| The view of Tutuila |
Back down to where it was warmer, we enjoyed the sights.
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| Pago Pago |
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| Fatu from another angle |
While at the beach I managed to get photos of two Paciifc Reef-Herons, a bird I had seen but not photographed earlier.
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| A lifer for the trip |
Very similar to our Little Blue Heron, these can be all white or dark gray. The ones we saw were on a sea wall braving the wind and surf.
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They were unfazed by waves
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The last evening in Tutuila, we had to completely repack because there are weight and baggage restrictions on the small planes going to Manu’a. OTBP did a nice job with this, giving us a place to safely store everything we didn’t take with us.
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| We ended up on an even smaller plane than planned |
The next morning, we were supposed to fly 80 miles to Taʻū, the largest inhabited island in the Manuʻa Islands and the easternmost volcanic island of the territory.
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| Taʻū; Photos: A Perez Voyages |
Taʻū also has the highest mountain in American Samoa, 3,054-foot-tall Mount Lata, as well as 8.3 square miles of National Park lands and 1.5 square miles of waters separated by some of the tallest sea cliffs in the world, some rising 3,000 feet.
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| Taʻū; Left: Manu'atele Community Worldwide; Right: A Perez Voyages |
Then, after spending the morning, we would ferry over to Ofu for a three-day stay.
I was looking forward to it. But, the sea was too rough for the eight-mile-long boat trip, so had to go straight to Ofu.
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| Darn wind! |
We’ll talk about that next time.
Trip dates: June 7 - 29, 2026
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