Not always greener in paradise. Niue, Polynesia.
It’s the age-old aspiration of many the world over: ‘I wish I could sell everything and move to a tropical island’
Well, I did. For reals. For the last year and a half, my partner, Dan, and I have called Niue - a tiny island in the Polynesian Pacific region – our home. With only about 1,500 people living on the island, it’s a small and close-knit community where the only thing brighter than the sunny weather is the smiles on the faces of the locals.
But how did I get here?
Niue is one of the friendliest and most laid-back countries in the world. We wear flowers in our hair and Havaianas on our feet. Everyone waves at each other when driving; seatbelts are optional; and riding in the flatbed of a truck is the norm. Television is limited; Internet is intermittent. There are no billboards, shopping centres, nightclubs, fast food outlets or movie theatres. Traffic doesn’t exist and you can count the number of main roads on your hand. Most food comes either via plane (once a week) or cargo ship (monthly); everything else comes from the sea or from family-tended bush farms.
From May-October we have the tourist season, so the population increases over this time. Visitors flock to our island to see the migrating Humpback whales who come to Niue to breed (Because, let’s face it, Antarctica gets pretty damn cold and even whales need a summer vacay). Niue is one of the only places in the world where you can experience in-water interactions with these magnificent creatures. I’ve been blessed to snorkel with a mother Humpback and her yearling offspring, and it was truly one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring moments of my life.
Basically, it’s one of the tiniest and most remote - but breathtakingly beautiful - nations in the world.
Dan and I decided to move overseas at the end of 2015; but as often happens in life, an opportunity came along 12 months ahead of schedule. Dan was offered a head instructor position a dive shop in Niue and decided to move to this small (and until then, unheard of) island for the tourist season. Apart from being a freelance travel writer and creative copy wrangler, I’m also a primary school teacher. Because a girl’s gotta’ pay the bills, amiright? So with little information about the country, I sent out my resume and within a few weeks was offered a teaching contract at the local school, commencing immediately.
Suddenly, our five-month visit had morphed into a two-year commitment. So that’s how in February 2015 we found ourselves quitting our full-time jobs; selling and giving away everything we owned; moving out of our rented apartment on Australia’s Gold Coast; and flying off to a tropical island in the middle of nowhere – all within four weeks.
Life as an Expat in Paradise
A lot of people ask what life on a tropical island is like and I always reply with this: Challenging, but rewarding.
I came to Niue with no knowledge of what I was getting into, and I’ve had to learn on my feet along the way. It’s been a year and a half of learning to teach a new curriculum; a new language; and a new way of doing things. What worked in Australia doesn’t always work here. I’m definitely a better traveller for the experience.
One of the most challenging days I’ve had was also one of my first. I remember walking into my empty, dusty, leaky, wasp-infested concrete classroom on the first day of work – after landing in the country less than 48 hours earlier – and feeling completely out of my depth. We came to Niue with just a suitcase each, so I had (very) limited means to turn that space into a functioning classroom.
I remember sitting on the concrete floor in the tropic humidity, staring at a dead crab rotting in the middle of the room, and (silently) crying. I’d never felt so filled with self-doubt, professionally speaking.
It was one of those times when you think ‘What the hell have I done? How am I going to make this work?’
But like all challenges faced when living abroad, you just gotta’ pull your shiz together – boot-and-rally style - and make it your own. The difference in culture, values and religious beliefs has definitely been a big learning curve.
There are many beautiful things about this island and it’s an honour to be a part of it. I love the way culture is openly celebrated and valued here in Niue. From cooking and weaving to building vakas and using traditional fishing methods, Niueans are fiercely proud of their heritage. I especially admire that people are encouraged to express themselves and their culture through song and dance. I love learning and witnessing the traditions and customs of the Niuean people; and although I may not always understand them from my (Australian) cultural viewpoint, I certainly respect and appreciate it.
However, the grass – or in my case, the coconut – isn’t always greener in paradise. The language barrier is especially hard at times; although Niueans are fluent in English, they don’t speak it all the time. This can make it hard when you’re the only palagi (‘white person’) in a group and can’t follow the conversation. I’ve been learning and speaking the language as best I can and I often understand the context of a discussion more than I can contribute to it. But still, there are times when I have no idea what is being said and that can cause cultural overwhelm inside me.
However, the ‘rad’ definitely outweighs the ‘not-so-rad’ When Dan and I aren’t working, you’ll find us snorkelling and diving along one of the pristine reefs lining Niue’s coastline. We get up to 100m visibility here, which - as any diver will tell you - is basically a scuba wetdream come true. We also spend our time exploring caves and chasms, sea tracks and hidden pockets of coral-crusted shore with our adopted island puppy, Willow. We live in a cottage that overlooks the Pacific Ocean. Coconuts, limes, chilies and papaya grow rampantly. We share our land with about eleventy-thousand chickens and geckos, but that’s just part of the charm. We even have a hammock.
Going out dancing on a Saturday night means wearing cut-off shorts, Havaianas and no makeup - not a high heel or fake eyelash in sight!
Sunday is the day of rest where pretty much everything shuts down and people attend church services. We usually hang out at our favourite local bar, The Washaway, where we gorge on homemade burgers, serve our own beers at what could possibly be the world’s only ‘honesty bar’, and watch the sun set over Avatele Beach.
Will we stay here forever?
Who knows what the future holds. There are so many islands and countries waiting to be explored, and I want to experience as many of them as possible while I can. Niue is such a remarkable and special part of the world and I’m pretty damn grateful to be able to call it my (adopted) home. For now, I’m just enjoying every moment I have here, soaking up the experiences – good and bad – along the way, and making this chapter of my life a story worth sharing.
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