The Tourist Part 1

Finally a chance to catch up the waiting masses on our first visitor. Dad arrived last Tuesday after the usual whirlwind tour of Apia in the middle of the night. We knew Survivor is filming two series in Samoa and has fully booked the main hotel closest to the airport for four months (the day spa is still open though) but someone else has been having a lot of whanau to stay, as all the hotels between the airport and Apia were booked too. At least Dad did get into some motel out the back of beyond; the swim coach from Australia ended up staying at the taxi driver's aunt's place because his booking fell through (true story).

So, Dad has been our guinea pig visitor: what he has done, so will the rest of you. The first couple of days were spent introducing him to the wonders of grocery shopping and finishing the barrel of pork rinds. Thursday, we went to lunch at Maliu Mai and walked along the rocks by the airport to admire the blowholes. At one stage, a truck drove along the inside of the airport fence very slowly, checking to see which way the cameras were pointing - making sure we weren't taking photos of the stealth bombers on their secret mission (sorry, an in joke. The radio station's April Fools prank, telling everyone there were stealth bombers parked at the airport. A surprising number of people rang in to say they'd heard strange loud noises the night before, and now they knew what it was). Dad's photos of Maliu Mai are very flattering; it almost looks like a real holiday resort, and not some seedy dilapidated shack with big men nursing 750ml bottles of Vailima in the corners.

Jane was horrified at how little I'd seen of the island, so the next day we all took off to Vatia and the Cock's Comb. It took about 90 minutes to get there, by the time we stopped at McDs for coffee, dropped off a pair of shorts for Matt and his community cleaning that afternoon, and stopped at a vantage point to take the attached photo of Pago Harbour. It was very picturesque, although Taine has to learn he doesn't have to do a silly pose in every photo. When will he grow out of that - 17? The road was very windy and bumpy, and only one mad garbage truck careening round a corner on the other side of the road.

Once we got to Cock's Comb, we stumbled across the rocks to see the end, had morning tea, and turned round to come back again. There was an element of haste as I'd foolishly volunteered us to look after 11 children that afternoon when the swimming coach was teaching the coaches. It went as well as could be expected. I did like the 9 year old boy who brought his book, sat on the corner of the couch and stirred two hours later.

Saturday was a very rainy day so Dad got to wear his rain jacket. We went to Ace to buy a Topsy Turvy Tomato Planter and was most disgusted that the infomercial lied, and you had to buy the tomatos separately. Of course we didn't discover this until we'd got the thing home. As we were driving home, a driver pulled out in front of Matt and got called a plonker. Taine piped up from the back seat, "How did you know his name? Is that Mr Plonker?" And the rest of the day was mooching. We've introduced and converted Dad to Mah Jong. It's been funny listening to Taine teach him the rules. He's got them all right but there's not a lot of logic in the way he tells them. Helen: Taine can add up his own score and work out his doubling tiles! Makes up for watching him play rock paper scissors with himself: "It's ok, I'm not cheating, I'll close my eyes".

Sunday Dad ventured out to the golf course with some of the local businessmen. Jason's comment of "he's not bad for an old guy" summed it up I think. Dad can give you more details, but I don't think he'll be rushing back to play for the club champs.

Today we shopped! Well, marvelled at the weird and wacky things you can buy, but decided we really wouldn't bother.

Tomorrow we're off to Sailele after swimming lessons, for a swim at the beach. Then it's really just fitting in meals for the rest of the week. So many great restaurants to try, so little time (that's a joke).

Sorry to Dad for ruining his holiday stories. Luckily he's got heaps of photos instead. The next blog will be suggestions for what visitors need to bring; watch this space. And I promise I'll learn how to use punctuation properly too.