A Slice of Savaii Samoan Sandwich

“Wait here; I’ll get the tickets“, our Samoan driver instructed out at the long bench, which people had already filled. We squeezed between a mom and her kid and a significantly older man with a huge black plastic bag.

It was 7 a.m. We were at the ferry terminal, which felt like a central bus station. It was loud, dusty, and busy. We both were sleepy; my brain hadn’t been fully loaded yet, and on top of all this, Jik was sick. Our vibe was the opposite of the hustle and bustle of what was happening around us. And as the only brown (I was with additional sunburnt brown) tourists, we got starred at. In a word, we were uncomfortable.

Eventually, the driver returned with two tickets and two small cups of black coffee. Seeing our faces, he offered to get us breakfast and walked before turning back and said, “why don’t you choose your breakfast?“. So we followed him silently, trying to dodge the traffic of people who walked with a complete to-do list and determination. Thankfully, he was tall enough to be seen in the sea of people.

Eventually, he stopped before one of the ferry terminal stalls and explained, “This my aunty shop“. He then introduced us to the lady in front of the counter. He asked her to add milk to our coffee and told us again to pick breakfast. Jik went with a bag of muffins, and I, for some reason, chose the plastic-wrapped sandwich bread. Never in my life have I chosen a sandwich over something else, but there I was, slept-deprived, uncomfortable, vulnerable and decided on a whim to grab the whitest sandwich bread. “Just one?” he asked me. “I don’t eat breakfast usually”, I offered a meek explanation.

Minutes later, we waved him goodbye and boarded the ferry to Apia. I sipped my coffee, and Jik offered me a muffin. “How is it?” I asked. “Not good” she replied. I looked at the small bread, the so-called Samoan sandwich I had been holding onto and thought I should just gulp it down and get done with it.

I unwrapped the plastic, took a bite, and, to confirm, took another bite. Oh my god, it was THE BEST sandwich I had ever eaten, so much so that I finished it immediately without thinking of offering it to Jik or pausing to take a picture. I didn’t even note what was in it except for a huge dollop of mayo (homemade?).

Writing this, I don’t know whether the Samoan sandwich truly was as delicious as I thought it was when I ate it or whether it was the combination of the relief from a hectic early morning, the calmness of motion sickness and the prayer of an empty stomach. And it matters not – because the memory of the Samoan Sandwich is forever etched in my mind.

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