A Day in the Life of this Palagi

So, since I'm living in it, I don't find my life here particularly exciting, but I think my family is interested in it to some degree, so I could go through 'a day in the life', I guess.

I wake up in my fancy double bed inside my modern house. The developed side of Apia is a world away from the villages - which are actually just half an hour away. The house I live in is actually a big step up from where I last lived in Australia - in a tent or sharing a caravan on the farm. Except for the absence of hot water (boo hoo, in the hottest country in the world, surely) I am totally safe and comfortable. The water goes off sometimes and you can't drink it straight from the tap but the electricity so far is constant and the Samoan family in front of us mean that we feel pretty protected (you can't even see our house from the street). And anyway our particular village (only one street) is pretty quiet. Except for the dogs...

So, I suck it up and have a bloody freezing cold shower (past the swearing, cursing stage, almost through the grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it phase, on the way to enjoying it!) I don't know how they get the water so cold like that, must be deep underground. I walk to work, or I walk to the bus - oh the bus, a beloved pasttime - (I am still working on the photo situation) The buses are wooden, they play Samoan music very loudly and they fill up so far past capacity you are just waiting for the scraping sound. 'Si'i' means 'get up so I can sit underneath you'. They stop whereever you want, just bang your coin against the window loud enough to be heard over the pumping tinny r&b, and have a guess at the fare charge. One tala should do it (about 50 cents).

On the way to work (a 40 minute walk) I get to have a look at how Samoans live. That's another thing, privacy is a big joke here, no one lives alone, and traditionally the houses are completely, unreservedly open for all to see inside. Something else, Samoans are incredibly houseproud. Or garden-proud, at least. Often they take a broom to the garden bed, and SWEEP it 'clean'. They then proceed to burn all loose organic matter on a regular basis. This is part of a different rant, soon to come when I gather enough information. Suffice to say for now this practice sucks.

At work, for the moment at least, I write. I write and write and write, and right now I've got writers block and I can't write anymore, alright? In the end I will post what I have written, but it's got a long way to go yet.

In the afternoons, I become sporty now! (sortof). I play netball Tuesdays and Thursdays, outrigging on Wednesdays, I try to get in some Serious Dancing on Friday nights (which must involve Vialima, the national beer - you don't understand, the music is so ridiculously bad you have to get drunk to dance to it) and Saturday usually involves some sort of swimming activity. I should go down and play Ultimate Frisby with everyone on Monday, but I'm not so keen on it because I'm so unco. Sunday enforced rest, or sometimes a disapproved-of beach mission. I am devouring the books I can get, which is a limited supply.

My good friend gave me his yoghurt maker to borrow while he's in Germany, so I'm making yoghurt which is very exciting. I'm going to make a full inventory of everything you can get in the supermarkets here one day - American imports, different kinds of transfats and glucose and salt. The healthiest thing is baked beans. But nutritional awareness and obesity is a whole separate entry again.