Our experience on the water today brought us all back to reality. Under dead-calm glassy seas, there isn’t a whale in sight. Cruising around the protected area formed by the 2 small islands that dogleg out from our island, we search in vain. When whales are spotted and they appear to settle down, they silently swim off once we enter in the water. A few of us have glimpses of a whale on the edge of the water clarity, but nothing remotely close to previous encounters.

36 Whales-7188 Swimmers getting a close up view of a playful whale

Tonight’s dinner is a traditional Tongan feast, that’s usually served on Sundays. However, since Sunday is a non-working day for Tongans and everyone is off, we enjoy it today, Saturday. This feast is made completely by the local Tongans that work here, and it’s essentially a potluck with each of them contributing a dish. A donation of $40 is requested which goes to help out their little community and pay for the food.

Several hours before our feast was to be served, a fire is lit and a small but whole pig turns slowly above the hot coals and low flame. While the little suckling is roasting, the kitchen was busy with its own contribution to the festival. As the afternoon sun melts like sorbet into the horizon, we all gather down by the fire, not for the warmth, but to exchange stories of past days on the water and of other life tales. With the piglet approaching consumption readiness, we retire to the open-air dining room.

Roasted Pig 2-7224 Dinner is almost ready

Singers-7226 The kitchen staff singing songs of love and family

Before I attempt to devour the entire spread of food single-handedly, the kitchen staff pauses to sing a song of love for family and good friends. Then with cold beer at the ready, we indulge in succulent pork with crackling skin, 2 different recipes of chicken, crab salad, coleslaw (a Tongan staple), raw fish in a creamy coconut sauce, corned beef stuffed taro leaves, baked plantains, and hotdogs. Why they spoil this lavish meal with hotdogs, went unasked. We finish off the meal with dumplings in a caramel sauce for dessert. And yes, I tried it all (except the hotdogs), and even went back for seconds! And then seconds and a half, which if phrased just right, really isn’t thirds!

After our gluttonous feast, one of the ladies from the kitchen performs a money dance. Dressed in time-honored Tongan clothing and with oiled arms, back and shoulders, the spectators shimmy up and stick money to her oiled skin as she dances. Now don’t be getting visions of spring break in Ft. Lauderdale or topless dancers with half-drunk sailors hooten’ an’ a hollerin’, this is all very much ‘G-Rated’. The money she’s stuck with is used to help the families in the local village, much like the donation we made for dinner.

Sunday morning we awake to the sound of rain hitting the tin roof on our beachside villa, but only if villa means “sparse on the accommodations, but perched above a white sand and palm tree lined, coral-reefed, South Pacific lagoon”. Even in paradise, it has to rain sometimes.

Wiping sleep from my bleary eyes, I head to the communal bathrooms, just up the sandy path from our fale. Although it does have a roof, the walls stop about 2’ short of it to allow fresh air to flow through. With this wide-open space and lights on all night, going in there in the morning is always interesting.

Ignoring the numerous moths and other jumping, crawling or stationary insects that seek nightly refuge in the bathroom, I notice something in the corner. “What the hell is that thing?” I ask myself. “Is it a tarantula? I don’t think so. Some other type of really big and nasty looking spider?” Looking more closely, I realize it’s a crab. With a shell about 3” across, and legs & claws adding another 4”, it's just a big ole’ funky looking land crab hanging out in the toilet stall. As I study this crustaceous creature, I wonder what the #2 Rated Tripadvisor resort has in its bathroom? I think I’ll pass on finding the answer to that one!

With today being Sunday, Tongan tradition dictates that all businesses be closed, except very minimal activity inside the resorts, so we get a much needed rest day. Schlepping cameras and snorkeling gear, maniacally swimming after whales (and sometimes just as maniacally getting out of their way) and repeatedly getting in/out of the boat all day long, gets tiring after 4 days. And with another 4 days in the water coming up, a rest day is welcomed.

The rain quits around breakfast time, but the skyline remains the dreary color of dead fish for most of the day. One of the staff recommends we go to church, not for the redemption of any or all past sins, but for the singing. Dressed in our best flip-flops, we hike down the 1.5km road toward one of the villages and its variety of churches.

Passing cows, horses, chickens, pigs and piglets, lots of dogs and wide-eyed kids staring at these strange white folks along the way, we get closer to town and can hear the sound of song filling the air, which is still thick from the morning rain storm.

The music is pleasant in an off-key sort of way, and every church we pass seems to be singing. The first one sounds as if it's mostly women as the pitch is higher than the deep baritone booming out from another. As we continue through town, we notice that church services are being held in buildings either newly rebuilt, or in tin shacks that make you wonder how they remain standing.

The rest of the day is spent catching up on sleep and chatting with other guests.

42 Whales-7204 Who's imitating whom?