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Published: August 21st 2008
Feels like a long time since the last blog, probably because it is...just been to lazy to do any major updating, and the lack of fast internet doesn't help either.
Most importantly, the world trip has continued after the extended break in Australia, I finally made it to Fiji and Samoa, and there's been some important stuff happening for me personally. Where to start? Fiji was pretty lovely, we had an amazing time on three of the Yasawa islands, splurging a bit too much, considering our tight budget. But there's just no cheap accomodation in Fiji, the prices are a shitload higher than in any European country. At least, we got to stay in a real Fijian village with the locals for a couple of days, which was a great experience, despite getting eaten alive by mozzies. We then went on to the aforementioned islands for five days, seeing all the stuff you already know from the commercials for coconut chocolate bars. Hammocks, coconut palms, crystal clear waters, that is. And kind of friendly locals, with some exceptions. Fiji is really a bit too touristy, and those five days were more than enough to make me feel more like an
average tourist, and less like a traveler. Oh well, the rest of the trip wasn't that exciting, just went back to the main island, took local buses to make our way around it, went to the capital, which wasn't that great either.
Then went off to Samoa, on a flight at 1:30am, which isn't necessarily the most convenient of times, but it was alright for what it was. Arrived in Apia, found our accomodation after some detours, and chilled out for the rest of the day to load up those batteries.
I tried to get an appointment with Su'a Sulu'ape Petelo, the most respected and well-known Samoan tufuga tatatau, or tattoo master, and chief of Faleasi'u village. After realizing that it's not him that owns the shop in Apia, but one of his sons, I managed to contact him, and we made an appointment for yesterday. The night before was a bit of an ordeal, thanks to an old, fat, obnoxious Polish guy, who arrived at our accomodation at 3am, and decided to talk in a less-than-pleasant-and soft-voice to the owner. I was so irate I couldn't sleep for another hour, and for some reason I didn't go out
to cunt-punch him because I thought it was the owner speaking, not him. Silly me. But then I realized that the night before I got my first tattoo was kind of similar as to insomnia.
So yesterday we got up early, went to the bus station to catch a bus to Faleasi'u, which is about 30km away from Apia. The bus had some serious character going on, complete with wooden benches and lava-lavas as wall hangings, and without windows and door. It appeared to be an old boat being transformed to a means of public transport. We asked the driver to drop us off at Sulu'ape's house (yes, that is possible here), to which he gave us a knowing smile. He appointed a guy who got off the bus with us to show us to the place, but he handed us over to some local bums, but they did a good job with dropping us off where we wanted to go to. But we weren't there yet. A lady, apparently a member of the family, took over from the bums, and led us into the palm tree forest towards the main property of the family. It took us a
good 20 minutes to walk there, it was literally in the middle of nowhere. We got greeted by the sound of tapping made by the traditonal Samoan tattoo instruments. We then were invited to the main fale (open house made out of wood), and met the chief. He was a but busy watching the Olympics, sitting cross-legged on the floor on one side of the fale with the other men, the women were sitting on the other side. His apprentice got us some coffee and a breakfast, consisting of some dry crackers and corned beef sandwiches. We nibbled on the crackers for a while, and then politely refused the sandwiches, saying we already had eaten. They got gobbled up greedily by one of the women, at least. The ensuing conversation proved to be a bit awkward, since Sulu'ape seems to be a man of little words. There was no discussing the design, he was in charge, and he made that clear to us. He then told us to go over to the tattoo fale, and wait for half an hour or so, while he went on to watch the Games.
In the tattoo fale, one of his sons was
busy tattooing a traditional full pe'a, with several guys stretching the sking of the victim, wiping away the blood and ink, and chilling out to Samoan islands bula-bula songs. We waited for a while, then the apprentice started setting up the second place for the tattooing. After another while, Sulu'ape showed up, his big belly hanging over his brightly coloured lava-lava. After everything was in place, he called me into the fale, and started looking and then drawing on my leg. Shortly after that, I found myself lying on the pandan mat, with two people stretching my skin, and another one hammering away with a chisel (or so it felt like) on my poor skin. I was a bit shocked first, it was a lot more painful than with a tattoo gun, and I was just hoping that the procedure wouldn't take too long. Little did I know...
After an hour or so of doing some outlines with precise strokes, he got annoyed at one of his helpers, for some reason. We didn't really understand what was going on, since he was talking in Samoan all the time, and not communicating with us at all. It appeared that he was
looking for his glasses, and nobody could find them, and when finally someone arrived with a set of spectacles, they were the wrong ones, and he threw them away angrily, cursing colourfully in a mysterious heathen voice. I was only worried about the quality of a tattoo done by somebody with bad eyesight. Plus the pain was on the verge of unbearable, and I tried to count the strokes that went into my skin before he paused, with 119 being the highest I counted. The music didn't distract me either, and I had to grit my teeth to be able to stand the pain.
At some point he really hit hard on my calf muscles, and I twitched, slightly moving my leg, which really pissed him off, and he told me if I kept moving, he'd make mistakes, which he had to correct, which takes more time, which means I pay more. Thanks for that, mate. It really felt like he was punishing me with even harder taps, and the tension was palpable, the helpers were embarrassed they got told off before palangi, I was embarrassed because I twitched, and the chief was in absolute brutal control. Words like 'pity',
'mercy', et al. went through my head. Oh no, not the fucking shin again. Why the hell are you punishing me like that? Stupid flies...oh hello, Mr. Ant, how was your day today, now die!
It took about two and a half hours for the first break, and I asked him if he was halfway done, and he said, no, not even a quarter, just look at it. There were some patterns on my leg, but given the fact that I went through so much pain for such a small part of my leg? Fucking hell, I won't be able to finish that. But a small tattoo on the leg is nice as well, right? Fuck no, I had been waiting for that for so long, and I wouldn't be owned by that evil Samoan village chief-cum-tattooist. Surprisingly, after the break, he did a couple more minutes, and then went off, telling his son to continue. That was the best that could have happened, his son Peter was a lot nicer and more open than his grouchy dad. It still hurt like hell, but I felt I was a bit more relaxed, and so were the helpers, relieved that the
feared chief had left.
Peter did a great job, he was quite fast, while I was wincing and winching, and trying to survive, seeing the tattoo would be there for a whole life. The only thing was, the hours just dragged on and on, and the tattooing didn't seem to come to an end. After a few more hours, there was another break, and the tattoo was only halfway finished. I seriously considered coming back the next day to get it finished, but somehow we just went on and on. The atmosphere got a lot better, there were lots of people watching, and fanning some air to me and Peter, and at the tattoo to keep away the flies.
The pain went from awful to excruciating to unbearable, and I did everything but bawl my eyes out at the bad world. After about eight hours and the last ta-ta-ta-ta, somebody cheered, and I knew it was over and done with. I sat up, had a look at my leg, and knew that I would be eternally grateful and proud of it for the rest of my life. Everybody was really impressed that I did the whole thing in one setting,
and we sat together for a while to relax after a full day of blood, sweat and ink.
Sulu'ape was there as well, at one point even lightly patting my hand to acknowledge the pain I was going through. After thanking everybody, and paying a steep but justifiable price, we went back to Apia in a taxi.
The healing is proving to be a bitch, but I'm endlessly happy about the tat, and I will go through that bit of aftercare, after suffering so much for it. We have another ten days in Samoa, and I think I'll definitely be back.
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city dactylic
jens
Big me
Ich will Footos sieje!!! .... also wemma mo mehr als e bludichi owafläch haut erkenne kann.