The Kingdom of Tonga is an archipelago spread over 600 miles of the South Pacific, just east of Fiji and about 1250 miles northeast of Auckland. Tonga is the only remaining monarchy of the South Pacific, and the only island group to maintain indigenous rule through European colonization. Tourism infrastructure exists here as it does everywhere in the Pacific, but compared with areas like Tahiti and Fiji, it is still fairly undeveloped.
Of note, Tonga was once known as the fattest nation on earth, with obesity in over 90% of it's adults. This is often attributed to the shift from a traditional subsitence diet to consuming Western imports. If you're not concerned about stastical sampling issues, at least be aware that neighboring Nauru is far fatter, with nearly 100% of its 13,000 inhabitants being obese. However, if you need a more reasonable comparison of localised weight phenomena, please consider that the total population of Tonga is around 100,000, which makes it more comparable to the city of Kenosha, Wisconsin.
We arrived on a Saturday night, stepping out of our air-conditioned plane into the warm night air in Nuku'alofa. Our shuttle sped along an unlit road to the Heilala Holiday Lodge. We stayed in a traditional-style Tongan house or fale, with external bathing and toilet facilities, and well-behaved geckos ensuite.
Day One: After a wonderful Polynesian breakfast (toast, tropical fruits, coconut, etc.), we set out to find adventure. The Kingdom shuts down completely on Sunday for church, where Tongans spend nearly ALL DAY singing. Tongans are essentially split between Free Wesleyan Church of Tonga and Mormon churches, with a smattering of Seventh-Day Adventist and Assembly of God, and maybe the odd Catholic here and there. While initially we were leaning towards joining the Free Wesleyans, we instead found a non-practicing Brit named Toni who gave us a tour of Tongatapu.
We began by driving through a great deal of plantation land, where tropical crops like sweet potatoes (kumala), breadfruit, (mei), and taro (talo) cohabitate with coconut palms, roaming pigs, and slow-moving cattle. Toni's dry wit regarding Tongan politics and lifestyle kept us all on the brink of laughter as we made our way 'round the island, counting churches and making stops at landmarks such as Cook's landing, the Flying Fox sanctuary, and the Ha'amonga 'a Maui Trilithon; a massive prehistoric gateway made of incredible coral megaliths. A smartly-dressed and exhaustingly friendly Mormon man took our picture and warned us against the dangers of slippery rocks.
After a brief stop for lunch at magnificent Masi'ata Beach, we moved on to one of our favorite spots: the Mapu'a Vaea blowholes. This series of openings in the shorebreaks creates a spectacular aquashow, where the spouting water jumps to over ten meters as the waves slam against the reef. Kate chased enormous crabs around in the spray while Benji chatted with a massuese whose shop was the raised coral shelf.
Day Two: Hoisting ourselves out of bed around four ante meridiem, stepping into the quiet cool of the Tongan early morning and boarding a shuttle to the airport. Our flight, with maybe eight other people on a Harbin Y-12 twinprop, left for Vava'u just as the sun began to peek over the ocean. Some of the folks on the plane were the same ones we shared the shuttle from the airport with, a phenomenon which would continue for the rest of the journey. As we flew, atolls and islands spread out beneath us as incredible rings of green, white, and turquoise. Kate’s first aerial glimpse of the fabled tropical islands of the South Pacific left nothing to be desired.
A winding, slightly unnerving landing set us down on the main island of Vava'u, a few hundred miles to the north. We were greeted at the airport by an enthusiastic cluster of taxi drivers. 
There were at least as many taxi drivers as there were passengers on our plane! Unfortunately, we had to disappoint all of them by catching a ride with the proprietor of our little honeymoon flat, a white haired, bowlegged ex-pat named Larry who married a Tongan woman 20 years or so ago and never looked back. The road to our flat was hilly, winding, and lined with dense vegetation interspersed with small villages. Everyone seemed to have a little bit of yard or hillside where they were growing some of the food staples that we learned about on Tongatapu. The houses were for the most part, compact, colorful, and airy, to suit the tropical climate. Open doors and windows appeared to be mandatory fixtures in the homes on Vava’u, as was the presence of pigs, dogs, chickens, and children.
Our flat perched on the edge of a steep hillside overlooking the Port of Refuge (so named by the frazzled Spanish captain Maurelle who needed a
break from the rough and tumble seas of the Pacific and came upon the beautiful natural harbor just in time to save his ship and his sanity). We were the only occupants of the last official address before the Vaimalo Bridge, which spans the narrowest point of the Port of Refuge. The quaint, bustling town of Neiafu, which is the only commercial center on Vava’u, was just across the bridge and on the other side of a slight ridgeline.
The ride back to town was even more brutal than the ride out to 'Ano Beach, as we were parched, salty, and sunburned. So we decided to go a bit out of our way and follow a series of hand painted signs to see a “Lake in a Cave.” To our surprise, there was in fact a freshwater lake in a cave right on the edge of the ocean. There was also a lot of graffiti and trash in the lake in the cave. We went, we witnessed, we left without taking pictures.
Feeling that we had earned whatever we wanted for dinner after such a long day of sweaty exploration, we went back to Tonga Bob's. Why mess with a good thing?
Day Four: We were determined from the get-go to get out on the water that morning. We wrangled up breakfast at the Crow's Nest again, where we spent a wonderful morning chatting with the proprietors. It was nearly ten o'clock and we were due to catch our boat when we realized we'd left all our money at home. We rushed over to the booking office and explained our situation, and the woman told us that it would be fine as long as we dropped off the money the next day. Yes, you heard right: the classic "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today" ploy actually works in Tonga. We caught a ride with our friend Walter back to 'Ano Beach, where our vessel was waiting for us.
The Orion, a trimaran operated by another Larry, was the boat to take us out into waters of Vava'u on a chartered cruise with a handful of other tourists who we were now quite familiar 
with (it's a small country). The trip wasn't well organized, but for all intents and purposes, it was perfect for this honeymoon. Since winds weren't particularly high, we decided to visit one of the prettier but closer islands of the group, 'Euakafa, which was also home to some archaeological remains.
After disembarking at 'Euakafa, your authors and an Irishman named Connor were the only ones on boat willing to tramp through the jungle to see the ruins. Supposedly, this was a tomb for a beauty married to a Tu'i Tonga, whose premonition about a particular tree near their home was foreshadowing for infidelity and, eventually, murder. Romantic? You better believe it.
Day Five: Every good vacation needs a rainy day, and ours came just as our sunburns and jetlag were catching up with us. We awoke to occluded skies, and, counting on rain throughout the afternoon, we decided to make a quick sojourn to Mount Talau, the highest point in Tonga. Legend has it that nocturnal Samoan gnomes came to steal the top of the mountain for their own use. In the process of moving it, however, a Tongan goddess mooned them, and, mistaking her buttocks for the sun, they dropped the island and fled for home. This story accounts for the flat-topped appearance of Talau, as well as the presence of Lotuma, a small islet in the Port of Refuge. Our hike was a fun romp up the slick, rainforested slopes, providing more fantastic views of Neiafu and the inlet.
Making our way back to town, we had another fantastic breakfast at the Crow's Nest, and with no pressing activities, we stayed on for three hours or more, chatting with Tess about her childhood, Pacific politics, and Indian cooking. After noon came and went, we decided to wander around soggy Neiafu and pick up a few souvenirs, as well as drop off some cash for the Orion. Spending time in the market inspired us to pick up some local produce, including coconut and breadfruit, and make dinner ourselves. We caught a ride with our friend Walter again, and headed across the bridge for a lazy evening of fried breadfruit and cards. The sunset that night over the Port of Refuge was stunning, like a theatre of fire and water, burning clouds and beaches beneath the intensity of its glow.
Day Six: Criteria for our Honeymoon Destination:
1) Avoid contracting serious illnesses such as malaria or typhoid
2) There must be hills/mountains
3) There must be cold beer
4) There must be at least one restaurant (preferably Mexican or Italian)
5) There must be things to do besides sit in the sun
6) Preferably things like hiking, biking, snorkeling, sailing, archaeology, wildlife viewing, and sea kayaking will be available
Many islands in the South Pacific were considered and discarded as inappropriate for a honeymoon because they missed one or two of the criteria. Vava’u met all of our requirements, and we managed to do almost all of the things on our list of preferred activities during our short stay. Including sea kayaking, which we saved for our last day in Vava’u. After saying goodbye to our friends at the Crow’s Nest, we got ourselves outfitted with an open sea kayak and all of the requisite equipment (including soccer mom hats to fend off melanomae). Apparently we were the first people to ever deem the PFD a necessary piece of equipment- we had to take ours out of the plastic packaging! Once on the water we established one rule fairly quickly: don’t tip the boat. This rule was followed closely by rules two and three: don’t tell Benji how to paddle, and don’t tell Kate where to go. Perhaps every couple should have to do a little sea kayaking before they can be deemed prepared to make decisions as a team.
We had a great time after working out the kinks. The ocean along the coastline is a turquoise color that surpasses anything the Caribbean ever dreamed of. The water is teaming with fishes of every color, shape, and size, and we were lucky enough to spot both the indigenous flying fox darting in and out of the trees along the coastline, and the evasive and endangered aquapig in its natural habitat.
As we neared the city center, we began passing landmark churches, such as the circus-tent-like Basilica of Saint Anthony of Padua. We stopped off for a cool drink at the Friends Café, which was completely packed with tourists, then made our way to our ultimate destination: the Talamahu Marketplace. Talamahu is a bustling two-story complex filled with local merchants, selling everything from fine jewelry to Chinese plastic junk.
As we wandered the stalls, admiring handicrafts and watching tapa cloth being painted, we became aware that we were the only palangi (foreigners) in the whole place. Kate picked out some bookmarks for her students, while Benji perused the woodcarvings.
What a charmed life we must lead to witness such incredible things.
Of note, Tonga was once known as the fattest nation on earth, with obesity in over 90% of it's adults. This is often attributed to the shift from a traditional subsitence diet to consuming Western imports. If you're not concerned about stastical sampling issues, at least be aware that neighboring Nauru is far fatter, with nearly 100% of its 13,000 inhabitants being obese. However, if you need a more reasonable comparison of localised weight phenomena, please consider that the total population of Tonga is around 100,000, which makes it more comparable to the city of Kenosha, Wisconsin.We arrived on a Saturday night, stepping out of our air-conditioned plane into the warm night air in Nuku'alofa. Our shuttle sped along an unlit road to the Heilala Holiday Lodge. We stayed in a traditional-style Tongan house or fale, with external bathing and toilet facilities, and well-behaved geckos ensuite.
Day One: After a wonderful Polynesian breakfast (toast, tropical fruits, coconut, etc.), we set out to find adventure. The Kingdom shuts down completely on Sunday for church, where Tongans spend nearly ALL DAY singing. Tongans are essentially split between Free Wesleyan Church of Tonga and Mormon churches, with a smattering of Seventh-Day Adventist and Assembly of God, and maybe the odd Catholic here and there. While initially we were leaning towards joining the Free Wesleyans, we instead found a non-practicing Brit named Toni who gave us a tour of Tongatapu.
We began by driving through a great deal of plantation land, where tropical crops like sweet potatoes (kumala), breadfruit, (mei), and taro (talo) cohabitate with coconut palms, roaming pigs, and slow-moving cattle. Toni's dry wit regarding Tongan politics and lifestyle kept us all on the brink of laughter as we made our way 'round the island, counting churches and making stops at landmarks such as Cook's landing, the Flying Fox sanctuary, and the Ha'amonga 'a Maui Trilithon; a massive prehistoric gateway made of incredible coral megaliths. A smartly-dressed and exhaustingly friendly Mormon man took our picture and warned us against the dangers of slippery rocks.
After a brief stop for lunch at magnificent Masi'ata Beach, we moved on to one of our favorite spots: the Mapu'a Vaea blowholes. This series of openings in the shorebreaks creates a spectacular aquashow, where the spouting water jumps to over ten meters as the waves slam against the reef. Kate chased enormous crabs around in the spray while Benji chatted with a massuese whose shop was the raised coral shelf.
As the day drew to a close, we stopped in at the only shopping facility open that day: a bakery. Kate requested a slice of coconut bread, and the woman behind the counter accidentally knocked over an entire tray of cookies, which represented nearly half the stock available. Oops. Thank goodness that she was able to recover them before the five minute rulte went into effect. Phew. Afterwards we retired to the lodge, where an outstanding dinner awaited us. Geckos chirped overhead as we sat and sipped the local brew, Royal Tongan Bitter, and we retired to prepare for our early flight to Vava'u.
Day Two: Hoisting ourselves out of bed around four ante meridiem, stepping into the quiet cool of the Tongan early morning and boarding a shuttle to the airport. Our flight, with maybe eight other people on a Harbin Y-12 twinprop, left for Vava'u just as the sun began to peek over the ocean. Some of the folks on the plane were the same ones we shared the shuttle from the airport with, a phenomenon which would continue for the rest of the journey. As we flew, atolls and islands spread out beneath us as incredible rings of green, white, and turquoise. Kate’s first aerial glimpse of the fabled tropical islands of the South Pacific left nothing to be desired. A winding, slightly unnerving landing set us down on the main island of Vava'u, a few hundred miles to the north. We were greeted at the airport by an enthusiastic cluster of taxi drivers. 
There were at least as many taxi drivers as there were passengers on our plane! Unfortunately, we had to disappoint all of them by catching a ride with the proprietor of our little honeymoon flat, a white haired, bowlegged ex-pat named Larry who married a Tongan woman 20 years or so ago and never looked back. The road to our flat was hilly, winding, and lined with dense vegetation interspersed with small villages. Everyone seemed to have a little bit of yard or hillside where they were growing some of the food staples that we learned about on Tongatapu. The houses were for the most part, compact, colorful, and airy, to suit the tropical climate. Open doors and windows appeared to be mandatory fixtures in the homes on Vava’u, as was the presence of pigs, dogs, chickens, and children.Our flat perched on the edge of a steep hillside overlooking the Port of Refuge (so named by the frazzled Spanish captain Maurelle who needed a
break from the rough and tumble seas of the Pacific and came upon the beautiful natural harbor just in time to save his ship and his sanity). We were the only occupants of the last official address before the Vaimalo Bridge, which spans the narrowest point of the Port of Refuge. The quaint, bustling town of Neiafu, which is the only commercial center on Vava’u, was just across the bridge and on the other side of a slight ridgeline. Of course, the bridge was out, but this fact did not dampen our honeymooning one bit. The bridge was still open to foot travel, and the reduction of car traffic only increased our pleasure in our location. Plus, we had the unlikely pleasure of watching from our balcony as the locals took the bus to one end of the bridge, parked, and then walked, non-plussed, across to a waiting bus on the other side. Larry told us that before they decided that the bridge really was unfit for vehicular travel, they declared the busses too heavy for the bridge when laden with passengers. So the passengers had to unload and hike across the bridge and then reload. Of course, everyone was still ON THE BRIDGE at the same time.
We settled happily into our little flat, then made our way into town where we purchased a few essentials; salad fixings, peanut butter, and snorkels. We also wasted no time in locating our favorite restaurant. Tonga Bobs had a suitable music selection (Manu Chao, Katchafire, and a handful of beachy American Classics), a view of the harbor, reasonably priced beers, and most importantly, $2 Tacos. We ate a few too many and then slowly made our way home in the tropical afternoon heat. By the time we reached the flat we were more than ready to sample our new snorkel gear and cool ourselves in the clear aquamarine waters that waited serenely only a few meters below our balcony. Check out the bright blue sea stars!
We settled happily into our little flat, then made our way into town where we purchased a few essentials; salad fixings, peanut butter, and snorkels. We also wasted no time in locating our favorite restaurant. Tonga Bobs had a suitable music selection (Manu Chao, Katchafire, and a handful of beachy American Classics), a view of the harbor, reasonably priced beers, and most importantly, $2 Tacos. We ate a few too many and then slowly made our way home in the tropical afternoon heat. By the time we reached the flat we were more than ready to sample our new snorkel gear and cool ourselves in the clear aquamarine waters that waited serenely only a few meters below our balcony. Check out the bright blue sea stars!
Later that night as we sipped wine, watched the sun setting behind a long ridgeline that slopped into the sea, and caught snippets of choir song carried to us on the swift Viapua Inlet wind, we had to give that bumbling Captain some credit. We had indeed found a port of refuge here in Tonga.
Day Three: The Crow’s Nest Café is located, rather unexpectedly given its suggestive name, at the bottom of a long hill, on a short side street that ends at the ferry landing. There is not much of a view from the cafés’ plastic deck chair seating, but what it lacks in panoramas it makes up for in character, efficiency, and general friendliness. Also, they have good strong coffee and NY style bagels. We found ourselves deep in conversation with the charming Aussie/Kiwi owners, Tess and Steve, about topics ranging from Tongan environmentalism and the whaling industry, to African uprisings and racism in Australia. We ate breakfast at the Crow’s Nest everyday afterwards.
We lingered so long over breakfast that first morning that our plan to rent bikes for the entire day turned into a half day jaunt. Which may have been for the best, given the hilly, tropical character of Vava'u. We rode about 8 kilometers to the southernmost tip of Vava'u (actually another island, barely distinguishable from the main island, called Pangaimotu) to 'Ano Beach, a little strip of coral and sand with views out to a number of smaller islands, a few swaying coconut palms, and a barbeque pit. We swam, picnicked, discussed the pros and cons of living on a sailboat, and tried, but failed, to stay out of the sun.
Day Three: The Crow’s Nest Café is located, rather unexpectedly given its suggestive name, at the bottom of a long hill, on a short side street that ends at the ferry landing. There is not much of a view from the cafés’ plastic deck chair seating, but what it lacks in panoramas it makes up for in character, efficiency, and general friendliness. Also, they have good strong coffee and NY style bagels. We found ourselves deep in conversation with the charming Aussie/Kiwi owners, Tess and Steve, about topics ranging from Tongan environmentalism and the whaling industry, to African uprisings and racism in Australia. We ate breakfast at the Crow’s Nest everyday afterwards.
We lingered so long over breakfast that first morning that our plan to rent bikes for the entire day turned into a half day jaunt. Which may have been for the best, given the hilly, tropical character of Vava'u. We rode about 8 kilometers to the southernmost tip of Vava'u (actually another island, barely distinguishable from the main island, called Pangaimotu) to 'Ano Beach, a little strip of coral and sand with views out to a number of smaller islands, a few swaying coconut palms, and a barbeque pit. We swam, picnicked, discussed the pros and cons of living on a sailboat, and tried, but failed, to stay out of the sun.
The ride back to town was even more brutal than the ride out to 'Ano Beach, as we were parched, salty, and sunburned. So we decided to go a bit out of our way and follow a series of hand painted signs to see a “Lake in a Cave.” To our surprise, there was in fact a freshwater lake in a cave right on the edge of the ocean. There was also a lot of graffiti and trash in the lake in the cave. We went, we witnessed, we left without taking pictures.
Feeling that we had earned whatever we wanted for dinner after such a long day of sweaty exploration, we went back to Tonga Bob's. Why mess with a good thing?
Day Four: We were determined from the get-go to get out on the water that morning. We wrangled up breakfast at the Crow's Nest again, where we spent a wonderful morning chatting with the proprietors. It was nearly ten o'clock and we were due to catch our boat when we realized we'd left all our money at home. We rushed over to the booking office and explained our situation, and the woman told us that it would be fine as long as we dropped off the money the next day. Yes, you heard right: the classic "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today" ploy actually works in Tonga. We caught a ride with our friend Walter back to 'Ano Beach, where our vessel was waiting for us.
The Orion, a trimaran operated by another Larry, was the boat to take us out into waters of Vava'u on a chartered cruise with a handful of other tourists who we were now quite familiar 
with (it's a small country). The trip wasn't well organized, but for all intents and purposes, it was perfect for this honeymoon. Since winds weren't particularly high, we decided to visit one of the prettier but closer islands of the group, 'Euakafa, which was also home to some archaeological remains.After disembarking at 'Euakafa, your authors and an Irishman named Connor were the only ones on boat willing to tramp through the jungle to see the ruins. Supposedly, this was a tomb for a beauty married to a Tu'i Tonga, whose premonition about a particular tree near their home was foreshadowing for infidelity and, eventually, murder. Romantic? You better believe it.
Kate led the hike through the jungle, fending off spiders with a large stick. The trail led us up to the highest point on the mountain, where retaining walls, prehistoric coral pavement and the remnants of an underground stone vault were all sticking out from beneath the overgrowth. Benji ran around the site, interpreting structures and generally nerding out. Kate, meanwhile, called out the names of trees and chased after skinks. Connor was trying his best to deal with two crazy Americans on a deserted island.
After catching a unique glimpse of the archipelago from a lookout, we returned to the boat for some lunch and snorkelling. The coral heads, standing tall against the soft, white, sandy bottom, provided a breathtaking playground for fishes of all sizes and colors. We felt very lucky to see these healthy reefs, knowing the plight of reefs elsewhere in the world. Boarding the Orion for further touring, we both reflected on our good fortune.
Word got 'round the ship that Benji was an archaeologist, and other tourists came to espouse their own theories about Polynesian prehistory. Of course, he was more than willing to indulge them. Meanwhile, Kate sat perched on the hull with binoculars at the ready to watch terns as they dove at incredible speeds into the waters, seeking fishy treasures. When we returned to 'Ano beach, we were ferried over to a floating art gallery, known as the "Ark Gallery," where Larry's wife, Sheri, sold artwork and tended to several swimming cats. The color of the water in this photo has not been altered, and it was so tempting that Kate dove right off the gallery for a swim back to the Orion.
Day Five: Every good vacation needs a rainy day, and ours came just as our sunburns and jetlag were catching up with us. We awoke to occluded skies, and, counting on rain throughout the afternoon, we decided to make a quick sojourn to Mount Talau, the highest point in Tonga. Legend has it that nocturnal Samoan gnomes came to steal the top of the mountain for their own use. In the process of moving it, however, a Tongan goddess mooned them, and, mistaking her buttocks for the sun, they dropped the island and fled for home. This story accounts for the flat-topped appearance of Talau, as well as the presence of Lotuma, a small islet in the Port of Refuge. Our hike was a fun romp up the slick, rainforested slopes, providing more fantastic views of Neiafu and the inlet.
Making our way back to town, we had another fantastic breakfast at the Crow's Nest, and with no pressing activities, we stayed on for three hours or more, chatting with Tess about her childhood, Pacific politics, and Indian cooking. After noon came and went, we decided to wander around soggy Neiafu and pick up a few souvenirs, as well as drop off some cash for the Orion. Spending time in the market inspired us to pick up some local produce, including coconut and breadfruit, and make dinner ourselves. We caught a ride with our friend Walter again, and headed across the bridge for a lazy evening of fried breadfruit and cards. The sunset that night over the Port of Refuge was stunning, like a theatre of fire and water, burning clouds and beaches beneath the intensity of its glow.
Day Six: Criteria for our Honeymoon Destination:1) Avoid contracting serious illnesses such as malaria or typhoid
2) There must be hills/mountains
3) There must be cold beer
4) There must be at least one restaurant (preferably Mexican or Italian)
5) There must be things to do besides sit in the sun
6) Preferably things like hiking, biking, snorkeling, sailing, archaeology, wildlife viewing, and sea kayaking will be available
Many islands in the South Pacific were considered and discarded as inappropriate for a honeymoon because they missed one or two of the criteria. Vava’u met all of our requirements, and we managed to do almost all of the things on our list of preferred activities during our short stay. Including sea kayaking, which we saved for our last day in Vava’u. After saying goodbye to our friends at the Crow’s Nest, we got ourselves outfitted with an open sea kayak and all of the requisite equipment (including soccer mom hats to fend off melanomae). Apparently we were the first people to ever deem the PFD a necessary piece of equipment- we had to take ours out of the plastic packaging! Once on the water we established one rule fairly quickly: don’t tip the boat. This rule was followed closely by rules two and three: don’t tell Benji how to paddle, and don’t tell Kate where to go. Perhaps every couple should have to do a little sea kayaking before they can be deemed prepared to make decisions as a team.
We had a great time after working out the kinks. The ocean along the coastline is a turquoise color that surpasses anything the Caribbean ever dreamed of. The water is teaming with fishes of every color, shape, and size, and we were lucky enough to spot both the indigenous flying fox darting in and out of the trees along the coastline, and the evasive and endangered aquapig in its natural habitat.
Our final destination was the Tongan Beach Resort (it sounds far more luxurious than it is) on the island of 'Utungale, where we had a delicious lunch on the edge of the ocean, then went for a quick swim before paddling like crazy back to Neiafu. A quick trip back to Bayview for our luggage and we were jetting off into the late afternoon sun for Tongatapu, on a tiny plane packed nearly full of familiar faces. Our landing was only slightly less perilous this time, and once again we found ourselves at the Heilala Lodge, setting up shop in the fale across the yard from where we first stayed (slight upgrade: this one had curtains!). We decided to dine at a Chinese karaoke restaurant up the road, which turned out to be the worst mistake we made on this trip. While Benji's dish was the chicken teryaki he requested, it had a distinct chemical aftertaste. The actual meat in Kate's BBQ chicken will remain a mystery for the rest of our lives, but it was much enjoyed by the dogs of the house.
Day 7: Waking up in Tonga for the last time, we took our time with our Polynesian breakfast and then reviewed the map to see if there were any sites on Tongatapu left to investigate. It immediately occurred to us that our tour completely avoided the capital city of Nuku'alofa, so we decided to go on foot and see what urban Tongan life was all about.
Day 7: Waking up in Tonga for the last time, we took our time with our Polynesian breakfast and then reviewed the map to see if there were any sites on Tongatapu left to investigate. It immediately occurred to us that our tour completely avoided the capital city of Nuku'alofa, so we decided to go on foot and see what urban Tongan life was all about.
Saturday morning is probably the best of all days to go exploring in Nuku'alofa, because all of the markets are in full swing. Just a couple of kilometers down the road we ran into an enormous flea market, where European, Chinese, and American castoffs were being sold on the cheap. We perused the assorted wares to the sounds of Tongan DJs, and came away with a couple of shirts 
and a crazy foam-dome hat from Utah. We walked further down the road and passed numerous vendors hawking fruits and vegetables, mostly taro and manioc.
and a crazy foam-dome hat from Utah. We walked further down the road and passed numerous vendors hawking fruits and vegetables, mostly taro and manioc. As we neared the city center, we began passing landmark churches, such as the circus-tent-like Basilica of Saint Anthony of Padua. We stopped off for a cool drink at the Friends Café, which was completely packed with tourists, then made our way to our ultimate destination: the Talamahu Marketplace. Talamahu is a bustling two-story complex filled with local merchants, selling everything from fine jewelry to Chinese plastic junk.
As we wandered the stalls, admiring handicrafts and watching tapa cloth being painted, we became aware that we were the only palangi (foreigners) in the whole place. Kate picked out some bookmarks for her students, while Benji perused the woodcarvings.After having shopped until we dropped, or at least shopping until our shopping urges were satiated (not a long span of time), we moved down to the coast, and walked along until we came to a rugby game. We sat and watched for an hour or so, still unsure of how the game is played despite the numerous explanations we'd received in New Zealand. After stopping for pizza, beers, and cards at a local restaurant, we decided to bid Tonga a fond farewell.
What a charmed life we must lead to witness such incredible things.Cheers,
Kate & Benji
2 comments:
Best entry ever. feel like i've been there (not really), but certainly feel like a place i'd like to go. wonderful links. loved the list of things every honeymoon must have. would love to read a travel book that the two of you wrote (oh wait; that is what i'm reading, isn't it?).
Envious Bill
What do you mean "the odd catholic?" I was under the impression that my new son in law was very politically correct.
I'm glad to hear you continued the Saturley family tradition of card playing on the honeymoon.
XX E-Mama
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