We discovered that a mythical South-seas charm can still be found on Samoa.

Our plane descended between Upolu and Savaii, the two largest islands of Samoa. Dramatic volcanic craters towered high with exaggerated cartoon-like profiles, and the jungle below, dense in coconut palm trees, looked lush and steamy even from the air. We had arrived to spend a week in Samoa, opting for the natural and simple rather than the luxurious, not that there would have been many options for the latter.

Until recently called Western Samoa, and distinguished from its wealthier and more westernised neighbour American Samoa by it independence and stronger adherence to its traditional roots, Samoa is a unique combination of South Sea paradise and traditional culture. Paul Theroux, the renowned travel-writer, wrote of Samoa "Take this place seriously and you're dead!". Not much danger there - how could one take seriously such surreal contrasts as children walking everywhere without shoes, yet carrying brand new and expensive rugby boots; or villagers, living the simplest of rural existences in the jungle without electricity, meticulously preening their plots with diesel grass strimmers, tending to immaculate gardens that would put most of Hampstead to shame.

We had chosen the Seipepa Samoan Travel Home as our base for exploring both Apia and the island of Upolu. This unique hostel is almost always full thanks to the cult status that it is acquiring among travellers. It is run by Mats and Sia, a Swede and his Samoan wife. Having been overwhelmed by the friendliness and hospitality of the Samoan people, Mats wanted other travellers to experience the same hospitality. The home is a tranquil haven in the Apia back-streets, set among Banana and Hibiscus plants, and is on the same plot as most of Mats and Sia's family - some 30 or so Samoans of every age. Each morning we rose to a shared breakfast of local tropical fruit served on a Banana leaf, washed down with fresh Samoan coffee in a coconut-shell - admiring the floor beautifully decorated in flowers and leaves - a different design every day. The originality of this authentic experience is reflected even in the price - there isn't one! Visitors are asked to pay whatever they feel to be a fair price on departure. But how do you put a price on a stay in paradise?

The sleepy steamy port of Apia, the Capital, is a scraggly collection of buildings around a harbour. Heading for the main market, often the best way to absorb local colour, we passed locals fishing in traditional outrigger canoes or standing immersed up to their chests. By the water's edge others sold long lines with ten or more fish attached. In the very centre of the town, Samoa's only cash-machine stood guarded by a security man, not to protect tourists from theft, we were told, but rather to stop the local inquisitive children playing with the buttons.

The market was hot and dusty, and packed with locals selling produce of every description. Piles of coconuts, tarot root and paw-paw filled every available space, whilst clusters of bread-fruit filled beautiful hand-weaved Pandanus-leaf baskets. Whole branches of Bananas, may be 300 or more, sold for 8 Tala (around £1.75). Beside the market was the bustling bus-station, where the beautiful brightly-coloured wooden buses, with loud music blaring, came and went with great regularity. In a moment of rashness, with no idea of its destination or of the protocol for being a passenger, we boarded a bus and set-off for a mystery journey. At first the bus made several journeys between the two bus-stations, filling up the available places. When we finally left Apia, we were immediately thrust into the lush interior, passing small villages full of happy Samoans playing Kirikit (the local cricket) among the fale. These are the traditional Samoan houses - and are unique in that they have no walls. The sides have only ebony pillars around a metre apart. All the possessions of a Samoan household are in full view of the entire world. Chests of drawers and cabinets with the family heirlooms stand open to the elements, protected from rain only by thatched blinds that can be lowered when needed. There is no privacy in a Samoan village. We would often walk through the Apia suburbs in the evening, passing open fales where entire families watched television, ate or slept behind invisible walls.

Having left the bus before disappearing for ever into the interior of Upolu, we wandered back into Apia, admiring the beautifully manicured lawns. And so we explored Apia and the island of Upolu for a couple of days, swimming on pristine beaches, passing dramatic jungle waterfalls tumbling into beautiful pools, and snorkelling over vibrant coral in our search for clown-fish.

Apia has two historic buildings famed throughout the South pacific. Samoa drew Robert Luis Stevenson to settle for the last four years of his life, and his beautifully restored home, Vailima, is rich in evidence of the special place that the locals held for the great story teller. Tutuila ("Storey Teller") they called him, and so saddened were they by his death that they carried him to the top of a local mountain where his tomb stands to this day. A sticky one-hour walk takes you to the tomb, with stunning views over Apia and the surf breaking on the reef beyond. At the other end of Apia is Aggy Grey's Hotel, with legendary status comparable with Raffles in Singapore or the Savoy in London, where movie stars and soldiers escaping the drudgery of American Samoa sipped cocktails and watched exotic Polinesian dancers. Talk to the doorman or the receptionist, and they will tell you of personal meetings with Princes Andrew and Edward.