The Pipes, the Pipes Are Callin’…

It’s Friday evening in Nuku’alofa.  Driving home from work.   Nine thousand, nine-hundred and fifty-two miles from Scotland, deep in the swells of the South Pacific. Two exceptionally cheerful bagpipers (and one reticent, kilted lass) march out of The Billfish fisherman’s bar, bagpipes roarin’, heading to the International Dateline Hotel to play for the Princess. This is…

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A Frenzy of Tapa-Making

Today is perfect. The weather couldn’t be better: cool, breezy and the sun shines between fringes of palm fronds and glossy, green banana leaves. A light stream of smoke wafts through the air, but it is pleasant. Like a cozy fire at Thanksgiving. All around me, neighbors pound their wooden clubs on paper mulberry bark, making the renowned Tapa cloth…

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