From Here to There

You would think that an island with approximately 40 miles of roadway would have few cars. However, the island is jam packed with big, brand new SUVs and pickups. There are multiple new car dealerships on island. Markus and I marvel at how the population with a median annual salary of $18,000 (61% of the population lives at poverty level) can afford these expensive new cars. I think part of the ability is that house payments are virtually non-existent.



Even locals say (as they are driving around in their SUVs) that there are too many cars. It's not unusual for some families to own 3 cars. After paying my customs duty ($800 on my car with 190,000 miles!) I think there is an alternative motive behind the AS Government allowing all these expensive high-end vehicles to rattle around the island-the duties alone must be phenomenal on all these new vehicles! Above is a picture of your Samoan car dealership.

Since most of the vehicles here are pickups a popular way of traveling is piling into the back with your sister, cousin and newborn baby. If it’s Sunday and you don’t want to ruin your white church dress, sitting on the tailgate is preferred. An add campaign is running on the radio pretty much non-stop: Click-It or Ticket-threatening enforcement of this new seatbelt law. So far I think this is all talk and little action, plus I have no idea if this applies to passengers as well. There is no infant car seat law that I can tell either. I saw a group driving with a stroller in the back of the pickup truck. I would have put money on there being a baby in that stroller. I was surprised to find there wasn’t one when we passed by; however, Markus and I both thought that someone was probably in the truck bed holding the baby, you know, “to be safe.”



There is a large and highly utilized independent commercial bus system here. The ‘aiga (buses) are contraptions built from small pickup trucks taken down to the frame and built back up with wooden seats. The driver sits below the platform area of the bus, his head on the knee level of the passengers. The buses are named, brightly painted and usually have some airbrushed tablo painted on the tailgate. They boom out Samoan rap and reggae. They are usually jam packed too because the driver won't leave the stop until the bus is full.










Around town bus fair usually costs 50 cents and to the outlying villages $4.00. The favorite carrying method for one’s bus fair? The ear. You will often see people with quarters in their ears and know they are on the way to or from the bus. I guess this is because lava-lavas don’t have any pockets for change. One pays for the ride after the trip, throwing quarters onto the dashboard and making one’s own change. The bus trips are really slow and spine jarring but riding the bus at least once is an experience. Buses don’t run on Sunday or at night, except to the cannery where Starkist has some arrangement with certain bus drivers.

There is one major two-lane road that hugs the coastline. There are only a few stop signs where the small intersecting roads meet and there are no stoplights. The speed limit is 25 mph! Some days you are lucky if it gets up to that speed. Too many cars on island leads to major traffic jams. Or if there has been heavy rain you can drive through two feet deep rivers crossing the road. One crosses these tentatively, fearful that there is a hidden pothole underneath that is about to swallow your vehicle. And there are horrible potholes. The potholes get blamed for ruining cars, but I think the cars (in combination with the rain) are to blame for the potholes. It’s been raining heavily and for a while lately, so the potholes are getting out of control.

Some of the newer stretches of road have bike lanes and I’ve been working up my nerve to try to ride my bike to work. There are few bikes here and of course no one wears a helmet. The road is all curves which makes me worried that one of these big SUVs is going to smash me. I’m still set to do it though I am going to be prepared to arrive completely drenched with the rains the way they are here. Luckily, there’s a shower at work.




The day before Markus arrived I finally got my car and despite my dislike for everybody else’s cars—I was so happy to see mine! It’s all decked out now with the American Samoa license plate which matches my car beautifully and is so cool with it’s palm tree. My license plate has gone from the Oregon pine tree to the American Samoa palm tree. I got my driver’s license too!











PHOTO OF MY LICENSE REMOVED AS PEOPLE SMARTER THAN MYSELF NOTED THAT MY ID NUMBER WAS MY SS# AND POSTING IT ONLINE WAS A TERRIBLY STUPID THING TO DO. In an apparent attempt to one-up the U.S. chaos of the DMV, the American Samoa OMV ("Office" of Motor Vehicles ) does not take numbers. The system is to walk up to the counter with 20 other people and stand there until someone deigns to wait on you. Then you get told that you need some crazy paper from some other agency and to come back. Oh and they close at 3:30pm. So, next time you are at the DMV just tell yourself that yes, it can be worse. Markus thinks the AS could be easily forged. However, we came to the conclusion it would do no minor any good because wherever they would try to pass themselves off as of age the salesperson would know them, their mother and grandfather and probably be related in some fashion.



When Markus got his license, he said, “Now I’m Samoan.” I thought that was funny.
Oh and walking? Very rarely done here. Even by myself. Why? “It’s hot!” And not only is it hot, it’s so humid you are soaked by the time you get a hundred yards. Yeah I know, hardly an excuse, but you gotta live this humidity to understand completely.

And gas? Well it's about what we're used to in the states these days$3.00/gallon. But my how much longer a tank of gas lasts at <25mph!