Upolu Island is the main island of Samoa.  The country used to be called Western Samoa.  Apia is the capital and the airport is about an hour drive away.  The island's coast has some of the most beautiful virgin beaches in the world.  Away from the coast, you will find swimming holes, waterfalls, jungle, mountains and lots of small villages.  Samoan villages have communal sleeping areas called fales, pronounced FAL-ehs.  I've heard some Australians call them "fal-ees".  The typical Samoan fale is large and left empty during the day.  It has no walls and allows for some form of breeze during hot evenings.  Fales are also smaller thatched roof structures you will find along the beaches.  My first night in Apia, I actually stayed in a fale in someone's backyard in the middle of town.  I'm not sure how traditional that is.

I chose to visit Samoa because of two reasons: 1) My close friend from college, Tamé, is Samoan. 2) My Aunt Sherri and cousins Megan and Danielle used to perform traditional Samoan dances they learned from their family friend Lorna, who is Samoan.  

Like so many other people, I got my inspiration for my Samoa itinerary from the amazing travel web site X Days In Y.  The writer is so wonderfully objective.  He does his best to give you simple facts and opportunities to make informed choices.  Travelers to Samoa should be aware that there are no ATMs at the airport.   There is a currency exchange though.  If you want to buy a SIM card for your cell phone, you need to exchange money.  I did not want to exchange my only $20 USD because that's for emergencies!  A taxi driver came up to me and told me he'd let me borrow 50 Tala and we would drive to the bank and I could pay him back.  How nice!   After checking into my accommodations, I went down the block to a quirky restaurant where the owner greeted me and made me feel quite welcome.

My first night, I chose to stay at a proper inn that also has fales in its backyard.  I would later realize that this isn't a thing.  Fales are usually along the road in front of the living area of the house or alongside the beach.  I met two guys from Buenos Aires who spoke some limited English also staying at the same property.  They told me they were planning on paying a taxi driver to drive them around the island tomorrow to see the highlights.  After some rum, they invited me to join them.  This was a relief.  I did not want to hire a taxi by myself after the fiasco.  Also, I figured I could save some money this way.

The first night in the backyard fale, some Australian tourists arrived at midnight talking at full volume, clearly drunk from the flight.   They were in the hut next to mine.  Remind you, fales have no real walls.  So they wake everyone up at midnight.  I walk over and I ask them politely to whisper because we have no walls.  Their response: "well, we just arrived."  My response: "yes, we know."

At 2am, I'm not sure why, they decided to start a full volume conversation.  At this point in my backpacking, I know that there is no other option but to be aggressive in situations like this.  There are very few other cultures like the New Yorker.   We are direct and we can help other people deal with situations that make them uncomfortable.  Sometimes the aggression makes everyone feel even less comfortable and it might just be better off for everyone to simmer in their own anger and frustration.   This time, I went full New York on them.  I walked over to the hut and I raised my voice and I said, "Shut the fuck up!  It's two o'clock in the fucking morning!  There are no fucking walls!" Walking away, I loudly mumbled in continuation, "fuckin' disrespectful...".   I got some snarl noise response.  It indeed did shut them up.  And, indeed, I am a crazy New Yorker.

The next morning, we had the hotel receptionist negotiate a taxi fare with a driver she said she trusted.  The island has a ring road.   We got in the car and we made a stop at a waterfall for photos.  Then we were on the road for 40+ minutes.  From there we saw the famous Ocean Trench.  It resembles a Mexican cenote.  It is called a "swimming hole" in Samoa.  We climbed down a horrifying ladder and swam for about an hour.  The ocean trench is surrounded by beautifully manicured gardens and incredible rock formations on the coast.  The ocean water was blue as all hell and the waves were even bluer.  Pictures below:

The rest of my time in Samoa would be spent making new backpacker friends at the various beach fales.  I stayed at Faufau Beach Fales first.  Pictures below:

The best fales are at Lalomanu Beach.  Taufua Fales are run by the local extended family.  The village is nearby.  They do a traditional dance every weekend and then throw a disco style party at the bar next door.  At Taufua I met Alejandro and Ximena from Queretaro, Mexico.  I also met Pablo and Joha from Montevideo, Uruguay.  I also met Fred and Farina from Bonn, Germany.  Each of these couples let me into their world for a few days.  We were able to bitch about the food, enjoy the ocean and compare mosquito bites.  Our travel stories occupied our dinner time.   On Saturday night, the family would perform a traditional dance performance for us.

When they all left and I had to make new friends, I knew it was time to go.  A whole bunch of crying babies and awful parents who let their children take over the communal dinner table seemed to replace my mature, international friends.  It was time to go.  My instinct from Fiji kicked.  When I had enough beach time in the Yasawas, I went into the mountains and I felt so much better.  Why not try the same thing in Samoa?  I got on the bus at 6am into Apia Town, went to a bunch of clinics and pharmacies to get antibiotics for my infected mosquito bites, got breakfast and then caught a 2pm shuttle into the mountains.