On the rocks Samoan style

Katrina Lobley gets wet with the kids in daylight hours and finds the island's best fiafia come nightful.

"STAYING at Aggie Grey's?" the cabbie asks, cruising hopelessly for a fare. It's Sunday in Samoa, when you could shoot a cannonball through downtown Apia and not get arrested. Church-goers have disappeared home for lunch. The shops are shut, save for Macca's. There's no reason for anyone to wander the streets in the heat, unless you're a tourist who's having a first look around.

The cabbie's right - I'm at Aggie Grey's, about one kilometre away along the waterfront - but it's hardly a wild guess. There are other hotels in the capital but only one that's the epitome of old-fashioned South Seas glamour. The legendary half-Samoan, half-Scottish Aggie Grey started the business in 1933. It took off during World War II when she served hamburgers and hot dogs to homesick GIs (you can still try her 1943-style burger for lunch).

Today's guests can choose between three styles of digs: the new wing with harbour views, motel-style wings stacked around the pool and perimeter (the Mango Wing is the quietest) or one of 26 fale-style oval garden bungalows. As if the bungalows aren't alluring enough, with their decorative timber ceilings and island decor, some display the names of famous past guests: Marlon Brando, William Holden, Gary Cooper, James Michener and the like. Grab one of these if you can.

Past the bungalows, an open-walled dining fale (traditional thatch hut) overlooks the pool. Most guests head here for meals. Service is attentive - a little too attentive if you're a woman alone - but you soon learn Samoans are friendly and outgoing and not averse to asking personal questions.

Mid-afternoon, I join two Samoan siblings for a jaunt to Papaseea Sliding Rocks - a series of mossy waterfalls six kilometres from town. We pay Tala2 ($0.86) each and pick our way down the zigzag steps lined by teuila - the spiky red national flower. At the bottom, it looks like Apia's entire teenage population is squealing and daring each other to slide, surf and throw themselves over the falls.

Egged on by a sassy 10-year-old, I conquer the smallest slide in a two-metre whoosh. Water shoots up my nostrils and the cossie is wedged, but I survive. The child then takes me to the top of a petrifying five-metre drop. Teenage boys point out the least bumpy route, saying they've seen 80-year-olds do it. This time I hold my nose and squeal as I scrape over the rocks. Then I figure I should complete the trio - who knows when I'll be here again - so it's off to the final waterfall. The bruises take a fortnight to fade.

We cap off our adventure with ice-cream from Scoops, around the corner from Aggie's and decorated with flags from two Survivor series filmed last year on Upolu. Before I know it, it's my last night in Samoa and I'm at the other Aggie Grey's - the beach resort and spa built between the international airport and the ferry to Savai'i.