Off On A Lark!

Air New Zealand Flight 474 approaches Tonga from the south, flying over bluffs interrupting the roll of the South Pacific. Waves smash on rocks to object as we turn east to approach the runway on Tongtapu, the largest of the Kingdom of Tonga's 60+ islands. We pass over palm trees, water towers, small farms and land. They open the doors, and warm, balmy, tropical air flows into the plane. Dogs greet us as we de-plane and one takes a passing interest in the pocket in which I keep dog treats when at home. She doesn't sit down, thankfully, or I suppose I'd be writing this in the Tongan jail. Drugs? Explosives? Tonga is a conservative, very religious island and I'd guess drugs. "No, I don't have a return ticket; I'm leaving on a sailboat." "No, I don't have a letter from the captain. (Why didn't I cobble one together on the airplane?)" "How much?" "I don't have $34.50 Tongan." Ultimately all is resolved as I trade my $30NZ, for, would you believe it, exactly $34.50. The perfect exchange rate. I gather my bags and head out the door, looking for Linda and Brad. Clearly I'm wearing a big red T, for Tourist, on my shirt because every young man in site offers me a taxi ride, or a hotel room, or something. It's hard to tell in the din of the hundreds of people who have turned out to greet the 50 or so Tongan passengers. A family-oriented culture. "The sun went down like thunder." Thackeray? Kipling? I don't recall. But no lingering sunset this close to the equator. The sun goes down and it's dark. Where are they? Do I have the right day? I've got $17 USD. What's a good plan if I can't find them???? Aha! I spy an energetic, bright-faced, platinum blonde-haired woman (rare in that crowd) shouting my name! A big hug and off we go to find Brad and the rental car they've taken for a tour of the island tomorrow. That's car taken in the broad sense of the word. I see Brad driving on the wrong side of the road, sitting on the wrong side of the car, hiding behind a window-spanning star-burst of cracks in the windshield. A car that gives no lie to the term rent-a-wreck. But what fun we had! Sunday in Tonga The next morning, Andre, Claire, and their grown son Snorri greet us at the 'car.' Hard not to be drawn to this French family that's been cruising the world since the mid 1960s. It turns out that Andre and Claire are on one boat and Snorri is sailing alone on another. I never learned if they planned to meet in Tonga or if it just happened. Andre's other two children are taking a boat from Madagascar to Cape Town. The cruising family! Andre's eyes sparkle as we shake hands. Clair exudes cheer and warmth gained from cruising 45 years in the sun. Sun that hasn't been kind to her complexion but seems to have been good for her soul. They both speak English with a charming French accent, Andre a bit more fluently than Claire. Snorri speaks little English, but he speaks more English than I speak French so we point and bob and weave in English. Maybe 30? Andre has marked a map with sites for us to visit on our 50 mile-ish tour of the island's perimeter. Off-we go! Brad seems to have mastered the ability to drive on the left side of the road. Well, except when Linda says, "Brad, pull over I want to take a picture." At that point (does the spousal directive bring him back to his US roots?), he forgets all, pulls over on the wrong side of the road and stops on the right. Many helpful reminders from the rest of us. Too much to recount. Rock monument from the 1400s that indicates, Stonehenge-style, the summer solstice. Andre points out an ipe tree (ironwood, he calls it), Snorri climbs a tree for 4 green mangos. Claire hands me one, showing that it's bleeding white milk and demonstrating to hold it upside down, away from my shorts. The biggest spider I have ever seen! I mean the size of a small rat, black with yellow and orange. Pigs on the beach. One big gal out to her ham hocks in the water rooting for something. Piles of mud around her. And dogs, dogs, dogs. All we met were friendly, the result of unbridled back-lane passion. Breeds like the beagle-bulldog-collie combo. Strangest looking dogs I've ever seen, but, hey, I have a three-legged Labradoodle; who am I to fuss? Down the road, and crawling in a cave on the beach, I keep thinking of the spider. "Hey," Linda yelps as small bat flies into her. "Knock it off," as another one hits her in the shoulder. "I thought bats had radar!" Sunday on Tonga means church. We must have passed 20 churches with congregants streaming in and out. The ladies wearing gorgeous, bright- tropical colored dresses. Men in tailored-fitting, recently-pressed black suits, wearing a straw mat skirt around their waists. Walking with perfect posture and quiet dignity and grace. And the singing! When we stopped the car, we'd hear the voices of one (sometimes two) church choirs. Mixed male and female voices in gorgeous harmony, perfectly in key, all a capella. Easy to lie under a palm tree and listen all day long. Not us. We're off to a family resort, on the beach. Meeting room in a cave open at the top. Benches sitting on the sandy floor, palm trees growing through the opening. Well-groomed sandy beach in front apparently there's a hotel as well. We picnic in a grassy park. Nearby, a small group of Tongans does the same. Their children off to the side, circled in a group, singing (in harmony) and laughing. Progress has not yet brought them the 10 year old's isolation of video-games and Internet surfing. So much more. Blowholes where the swells meet beach cliffs, water surges underneath, and explodes in geysers 20, 30 feet into the air. The northeast corner of the island, where Tasman landed in 1640. He called it Amsterdam because of the plentitude of hogs, fruit, and vegetables. And, finally, more bats. But this time, fruit bats. Hundreds of them hanging in trees. Linda's favorite part of the day, which seems odd given her bat experience in the cave. But she's mesmerized at these black purses hanging upside down in the trees. Andre stands underneath the trees and returns to exclaim "They shat on me." I told him it was good luck. "Then you stand over there." Later we learn the bats are the King's personal property. Back to the boat, with a stop for beer at the warfside restaurant.