A brief scientific explanation of Palolo worms: Palolo (Palola siciliensis) are a polychaete worm that are a local delicacy and cultural symbol. They live in burrows of the limestone part of the coral reef and stay in those burrows (thankfully) for 99.9% of the year. However, 7 days after the full moon in October or November, they emerge from their burrows to mate in a mass spawning event. (This, evolutionarily, increases the sperm and eggs chances of meeting up and making new palolo babies: if they spawned at random intervals, who knows when of if the teeny little eggs and sperm would ever find each other in the ocean.) In the early morning hours, just before sunrise, the blue-green ladies and light brown gents (if you could call these spaghetti-like worms gentlemen…) detach their egg- or sperm-filled tail segments, which all swarm to the surface and spew their gametes all over the coral reef. Inexplicably, the Samoans of thousands of years ago, to Samoan’s today, eagerly anticipate the arrival and subsequent consumption of palolo worms. Most are eaten raw, but often they are sautéed with butter and onions and spread on toast.

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I was lucky enough to participate in this annual ‘hunt’ with my fabulous counterpart, Tavita. He invited me to join him and his village of Matautu-uta last week for the big event. I felt completely honored to join him for this, although I was hugely dubious about the fun of eating worms. To better allow you all to picture the fun of palolo hunting, what follows is a pictorial story of the two mornings of worm hunting. (And eating.)

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Day one: After driving out from Apia the night before, and hanging out with his family for a while during the loudest, most dramatic thunder and lightning storm I’ve ever been in, we went to bed early only to wake up at 3 am (way too early) to get ready to drive the ten minutes down to the beach. I had planned ahead (of course) and brought my traveling french press and fresh coffee, which was highly necessary at this hour. We drove down to the beach, picking up lots of villagers along the way, also headed to the hunt.

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Once there, we walked through bushes and palm trees in the pitch-black pre-dawn to a ‘secret’ spot on the beach. He’d discovered it a year before, and had caught a healthy amount of palolo, so wanted to try his luck here again. The rest of the village all stuck with the tried and true spots on the other side of the lagoon, much farther away. By now, it was about 4:30 am, and you could sense the impending dawn, although couldn’t see a thing except random people waving flashlights on far side of the lagoon. Tavita’s Samoan palolo-radar kicked in, and he decided it was time to get in the water and start fishing. It was complete blackness, but Samoans have amazing night-vision, and he knew the lagoon well, so I stuck right behind him, crawling over underwater coral chunks and swimming through big waves through tiny reef passes. Eventually, we found a shallower spot on the coral and I was able to stand. Almost immediately, I could feel teeny little strands of wormy nastiness hitting my bare legs in the water. I let out a modest shriek, trying to play it cool, and suggested (calmly?) to Tavita that perhaps the worms had arisen from their burrows. He hadn’t noticed the little buggers hitting his legs yet, so was happy that I’d noticed. (Yeah, you’re welcome.)

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We spent the next hour or so swooshing our dragonfly wing-shaped nets through the water, sifting out lots of wiggling worms. (Tavita’s mom, Tusi, had made me my very own palolo net (tapalolo) by sewing a piece of mosquito netting around a looped branch and tying the ends with a bit of fabric). During this time, the sky lightened, and I could see all the villagers at the other side of the lagoon fishing with us. We caught about 3 tablespoons worth (which wasn’t a lot, but apparently everyone decided the next morning was going to be the big thing, and we decided to return the next day to try our luck again) and made our way back to the rocky shoreline.

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After we got back to Tavita’s house, he and his mom excitedly shared fingerfuls of the still-wiggling wormy goodness and I watched in discreet aversion. They knew that I’d never eaten palolo before and laughed at my suspicion of the worms. I promised to try one the next morning, and knew that I’d have to stick with it. I think I needed a day to gear myself up.

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We both drove back to Apia for work, although we were exhausted from our early morning. That night, we went back to his village and shared a few beers, and unfortunately didn’t make it to bed until about 2 am. We stayed, along with Tavita’s little brother Faleto’ese, in the family’s beach front fale so that we’d have an earlier chance at more worms.

I’m waiting with Faleto’ese in the WEE hours for the matai’s signal (waving flashlights) to begin fishing for palolo. I’m holding the nets for scooping the little buggers out of the water.

Tavita and I waiting in the darkness for the fishing to begin. Note my very own palolo net that Tavita’s mom made for my first palolo hunt!

Me fishing for palolo.

Palolo in Tavita’s net- the males are the light brown, the females are blue-green. They ranged in length from about an inch to about 9 inches.

I tried to be tough, but it was pretty gross. I’m not a big worm fan. Starfish, crabs, sea cucumbers, algae, jellyfish, clams, fish- all good. Worms? Nope. But I did ok!

Ok, it was a REALLY long worm. I tried to find a short one, and picked up one that I thought was about an inch long, but unfortunately when I lifted it off the net the rest of the worm was hidden in the pile of other worms and it ended up being about 7 inches or more long. But I’d already picked it out and just had to do it. Note the teeny bottle of vodka I had at the ready to chase it with! (Thanks mom! Bet you didn’t think they Schmirnoff was going to go to such a use!!) By the way, the vodka is not fa’asamoa. Samoans are much braver than me.


Yes, it was that gross. I could feel it wriggling on my tongue. Until the vodka hit it and it went down.

I survived. But one was enough.


Tavita is smirking. I think he’s probably thinking what wimps palagi are.


He wanted to finish my vodka. He didn’t need it to chase his worms though. I think the vodka may become a part of his future palolo fishing.

Tavita and I.

Swimming back from palolo hunting.


Up close shot of a female worm for the scientifically inclined. The little dark specks are the eggs.

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With apologies to the village of Matautu-uta for the significant part of their coral reef that I may or may not have crushed under my feet as I swam through the darkness and kicked erratically and then jumped and leapt all over in my efforts to catch palolo.

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In closing, this was one of the neatest experiences I’ve had yet. I absolutely love my counterparts- Tavita and Fiau’u, and their family. I feel SO lucky to have such great people to work with, and am so honored that Tavita would take me out to his village’s palolo ‘hunt’, and deal with my histrionics over eating a live (long and wiggling) worm. It was so amazing to be out on the reef in the darkness, watching the sun come up over the mountain, and see dozens of villagers all participating in this old tradition. It was a completely memorable experience and I am so glad I got to be a part of it.