When we were bouncing between the islands of French Polynesia the size of the population surprised me a bit. There aren’t a lot of people now. Still, when I have heard and read about the high population of pre-colonial times I can’t believe that they all fit here. The landscape does not lend itself to building up the mountains because they are steep to volcanic structures that essentially have cliffs once you get a mile or two inland. You are either on the beach (think hurricane here) or at such an angle that building on the incline would be difficult at best and exposed to high winds from time to time. It is just amazing that such a complex society was based here.
The closeness of the people to the sea surpasses anything I have seen before too. I bought a small symbol of this in a shop here. It is a representation of a hook, a fishing hook, with designs built into it that are common to the tapas we have seen. I wore it during a party where Tongans were present and the first Tongan person to approach me asked if I was a fisherman. Since I definitely identify with fishing I said, “Yes,” and we were off and running in conversation. It turns out too that all of the necklaces here have a specific meaning as well. The stylized hook is just one way the people see the fact that they are surrounded by water as a status symbol. It is amazing that every child we see is so comfortable around the water. Of course I can say this about the cruising kids as well. They can handle their dinghies as if they are extensions of themselves.
Given the amount of rain we have seen since we arrived in Tonga (Vava’u) there is no reason that the surrounding islands are not green! They are very much so. Even when it is bright and sunny you are never very far away from a squall. All across the Pacific we have been drenched from time to time. It is a warm rain but just as wet as any other rain! In Bora Bora we were soaked on our first dinghy ride into check out of the country and on several adventures as well. Across the voyages we dodged a few squalls but mostly just had them roll over us cleaning the boat. Several days in Vava’u had the gray appearance of rain be the main feature of the day. It does not deter us though as we go about our shore visits and general business in a warm, damp way.
We have spent time just sitting from time to time. For instance, today (as I write) we had lunch at the Aquarium Café. Not a complicated thing to do but I found myself drifting along on a thought wave pondering the anchorage and sailors in port. The temperature was idyllic and the conversation sparse as we waited for our waitress to return with the order. No matter, I speculated about the boat we are on here, the abundance of the Tongan’s lives we have seen, the lushness of the vegetation, the other boats in the anchorage… especially the unlikely ones, the dinghies and their variety and “What are you thinking about?”, asked Sandy in the midst of the revelry. “Oh, nothing, really,” I said. It is easy to get lost in thought, or what passes for it. At the back of my mind for all the time since we left San Carlos has been the list of things to acquire to make the boat better and the last several days have held the issues of the hurricane Jimena in the foreground as well. When my mind wanders like it does so often all of that is the sub-theme. We have time here without anything we can actually do about what is going on “back home” there is a huge amount of time to be dealt with. There are no choices that make a difference yet except to write down as we think of them the things that we need to do or get.
This is Sunday here (Saturday in the U.S.) and NOTHING happens here on Sunday. It is truly a day of rest. We are waiting for tomorrow, I guess. One funny thing that will happen when we leave is that we will lose a day in going back across the Date Line. As a result we will arrive roughly a half an hour before we leave Nieafu.
