What would you do if you traveled halfway around the globe to visit the ultimate South Pacific island of dreams, the world’s newest island, only to be told by locals when you finally reached your obscure destination–a little-visited, tiny country called Tonga–that your island had sunk?
Lateiki, the mysterious newest island, had risen in the South Pacific after an underwater volcano exploded in 1979. Little Tonga, the last Pacific monarchy–comprising 176 islands with a total land mass of 270 precious square miles–annexed the rare earth. By phone, slow mail and temperamental fax, I had learned from the polite and encouraging Tongan tourism officials that no one had visited Lateiki in many years, but if I wanted to, it could be arranged.
It was a long trip, with stops in Hawaii, Fiji and Western Samoa. Driving toward downtown Nuku’alofa, the capital of these “Friendly Islands”–named by the British explorer Captain Cook, who visited this group in 1773–I learned the truth about Lateiki from a cheery Tongan cabby who assured me there would be plenty of other things to do. “In Tonga,” I was told later by a British-educated government representative who spoke perfect English and made no sense to me, “it would be impolite to discourage an enthusiastic potential visitor to Lateiki simply because it no longer existed.”
Tonga’s more accessible islands, in three main island groups, brought to mind what Hawaii must have resembled 100 years ago. Very small islands are ringed in white sand and surrounded by vast reaches of open water. Somewhere out there, in Tongan waters, is where mutineers from the H.M.S. Bounty launched Captain Bligh and his men in a long boat. Bligh scrupulously avoided landfall in Tonga, preferring to steer clear of the premissionary, cannibalistic Tongans.
Even today, although Tongans no longer eat guests (they called that epicurean delight “long pig”), there are few tourists. There aren’t many hotels, and it’s still rather inconvenient to get here. Without daily international flights, Tonga receives only around 10,000 visitors yearly, primarily from Australia and New Zealand.
For me, it was almost possible to ignore civilization here. Banks didn’t keep regular hours and, incredibly, could not always exchange American dollars–it’s not easy to find somewhere on earth where U.S. greenbacks don’t rule. At Nuku’alofa’s Dateline Hotel, one of only two hotels in the capital, I awoke every morning to the sound of crowing roosters. Pigs, goats and chickens scuttled around fenced yards of downtown homes, in the shadow of the Royal Palace, a rambling, wooden, Victorian edifice facing the sea. Standing near it, trade winds raking coconut palms, I could easily imagine Polynesian drummers pacing giant war canoes, slicing through the waves.
It is harder to imagine that this was just a few years shy of the millennium. That date will be important to Tongans. The Dateline Hotel is so named because Tonga is the first country across the International Dateline, the imaginary belt that circles the globe and signifies the beginning of each day. Tonga will be the first place to usher in the new millennium on Jan. 1, 2000 (or, for millennium purists, Jan. 1, 2001). Cruise ships are already planning to carry passengers into Tongan waters that day. No doubt the entire country will be a popular destination, however briefly.
I was daydreaming about Tonga while flying low via Royal Tongan Airlines in a 22-seat Sea Otter owned by the royal family. The flight had been delayed several hours; the pilot could not be found. Eventually, I was weighed, along with my baggage, before boarding the venerable craft that looked like a Studebaker with wings.
Below us were occasional clusters of small islands, low coral or volcanic atolls spiked with palms. Encircling shades of blue and emerald green Pacific surrounded reef-ringed beaches. It looked idyllic. So what if it did not function efficiently or predictably? A happy visitor here learns to accept the ease with which plans are ignored in easygoing Tonga. Without preconceptions, one could experience something in which Tonga excels, a profound sense of something like utter calm. The Kingdom of Tonga plays by its own rules. A sense of distance from the familiar, including logic, conveyed unusual feelings of peace.
Landing on the hilly island of Vava’u, a sailor who looked like Hemingway claimed that Lateiki was still geologically active and the waters above it warm. “It could rise again anytime,” he said, apparently reading my mind. “Be patient. You know it’s a crime to hurry through Polynesia.”
But my time was growing short. In Nuku’alofa, on a Sunday, the day before my flight home, I wasn’t even thinking about the world’s newest island anymore. I was just a little surprised once again, this time by Tongan commerce, which is casual at best, but unique when the whole country closes on Sundays, a legacy from missionary days. No shops, no street markets and, most important to many tourists in the steamy tropics, no bars are open. Even the commercial cruise ship port and the international airport do not operate. Only businesses catering exclusively to tourists, such as hotels, are allowed to open.
Tongans make a great show of going to church. Streets are silent. Portliness bespeaks prosperity here, and the Tongans are large people anyway. On Sundays, plump, well-dressed Tongan women tower over trailing lines of children, all dressed neatly, walking like ducks from every corner of the city, to services typified by great bursts of singing. At the king’s church, these articulations are accompanied by a brass band. Afterward, you can smell barbecues fired up for family feasts, but the city remains almost eerily quiet until after sundown.
I sat through a service watching the king of Tonga, then wandered from church to church in the small downtown area, enjoying the enthusiastic singing. I could still hear echoes in the humid air as I reached the local docks in time to catch a ride on a small sailboat headed for an island four miles offshore. The vessel carried around a dozen fun-seeking tourists who were eluding Nuku’alofa’s pious Sunday restraints by sailing to someplace called Fafa Island. Onboard, I learned this island was the site of a modest Tongan-style resort run by a German couple.
Forty-five unhurried minutes later, the island came into view: eight palm-covered acres rimmed by shell-covered sands, fire coral reefs and clear, emerald-colored waters. Several small huts, actually traditional bamboo and thatch-roofed Tongan fales, were barely visible among the thick cover of palm trees. Gentle waves and a flapping sail made the only sounds. It was not Lateiki, but Fafa Island looked fine to me, like a Robinson Crusoe fantasy and Treasure Island wrapped up in one. It could easily fit the bill as the South Pacific island of my wildest, exotic dreams.
For lunch, slabs of red snapper, the best I’ve ever tasted, were served in an open-sided fale among a circle of modest dwellings. Afterward, while others snorkeled or wind surfed, I asked Fafa’s proprietor, 53-year-old Rainer Urtel, “What is it really like? Practically everyone has fantasized about living on an isolated South Pacific island. You are doing it.
“How does reality measure up?”
“It is a lot of work,” he said in heavily accented English, “and a lot of fun. As for measuring up to dreams,” he went on, with a sweeping gesture encompassing the island, including the newest deluxe units facing private beaches and equipped with electricity and private baths, “it is even more.
“When I came here 12 years ago with a 99-year lease, it was just a bare island. We cleared the land, chopped coconut trees for building up the place. We are finished building, with 16 fales, that can accommodate about 30 people. That’s it. We want to keep it small because it would spoil the atmosphere and we want to live on the island–for the next 87 years.”
He was joking, of course, but serious enough to do what many dream. Fafa, though not the world’s newest island, had a unique charm.
“It is a pleasure to live on an island,” Urtel continued. “Take Europe, for example; you can’t afford to live anywhere on the coast, have a clean sea around and a beautiful climate. Here you can get out of the rush.”
“Laying on the beach and sucking down coconuts?” I suggested, looking around at other guests sunbathing or splashing in the surf.
“That’s boring. Okay, maybe I can lay back here for three or four months, but that is not our life here on the island. Wherever in the world, if you start a business you have to work hard. In a country like Tonga you have to work even harder because you have to rely on yourself. If something breaks, you can’t go in a shop and replace it or get any spare parts.
“My needs are simple but they are not modest. I want to live in a quiet place, in a good climate, with a clean environment, good food, nice wine. I want to have sports around and nice people, and that’s not very modest. It’s very hard to find in one place. It’s not possible to live on the coast in Europe. This is possible. There are a lot of islands. If someone wants to work hard. If you know how to use your hands and your brain. Yes, it is very good here.”
Returning wistfully to Nuku’alofa, a full moon rose faintly above a perfect sunset casting highlights on the tops of Fafa’s swaying palms. Suspended between ocean and sky, day and night, the island shone in the mellow glow. The newest island in the world will always be out there, I thought, waiting for each of us to find his or her Lateiki.
DETAILS ON TONGA’S ISLANDS
Getting there: One hundred twenty-nine of Tonga’s islands are uninhabited. Tonga is less Westernized than most of the South Pacific, with fewer deluxe tourist amenities than Tahiti or Fiji. It’s also a lot less expensive when you get here (a hotel room for two ranges from $50 to–for a penthouse–$185), although flights are costly (round-trip air fare from Chicago is about $1,200 to $1,500).
Air New Zealand (Tonga is 1,400 miles northeast of New Zealand) and Hawaiian Airlines serve Tonga from Los Angeles. Air Pacific flies routes connecting Tonga with other, smaller South Pacific countries, as well as Fiji, which is larger and may be easier to reach than Tonga.
Information: Contact the Tonga Visitors Bureau, Box 37, Nuku’alofa, Kingdom of Tonga, or Pacific Asia Travel Association, 1 Montgomery St., San Francisco, Calif. 94104 (415-986-4646, fax 415-986-3458; e-mail: patacom@ix.netcom.com).
An excellent resource for current information on Tonga that may not be so readily available elsewhere is a private tour operator, Sunmakers, 100 W. Harrison St., Suite 350, Seattle, Wash. 98119-4123 (800-841-4321 or 206-216-2900). The company specializes in remote areas of the South Pacific and organizes group tours and individual itineraries in Tonga.
To contact Rainer Urtel at Fafa Island Resort phone 011-676-22800 or fax 011-676-23592. A room for two costs $75 to $140, including meals.
