Place That I’d Like To Visit #11

Pago Pago, American Samoa

My wife has been hassling me to do a new place that I’d like to visit, so here we go. The capital of American Samoa, Pago Pago is a village located on the island of Tutuila. And yet another town where the harbour is surrounded by impressive cliffs for my list (I can’t help myself, I know).

Unlike Western Samoa, American Samoa appears to have limited tourist infrastructure catering mostly to businessmen, locals visiting from abroad and the occasional eco-tourist enthusiast seeking out the rainforests and archaeological sites. Thus, visiting offers a challenge and an opportunity.

The deep water harbour itself is a collapsed volcanic crater, and the town of Pago Pago holds less than 4000 residents, a couple of banks, some shops, restaurants, a museum with a collection of ancient Samoan artefacts and a few government departments, oh and there is the yacht club at Utulei.

Outside of town, you’ve got your tropical rainforest, fine beaches, swimming and snorkelling, as well as a few bars.

Apparently there is also quicksand on Tutuila, so that would something to amuse Henry, and porpoise or sea turtles lurk all around the island. Terribly inappropriate as well, but part of my interest is the Crash Bandicoot vibe that amuses me, I reckon that I could cope with jumping a few crates of nitro just to eat a few whoompa fruit.

Comments

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

This will hurt me...

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