Rugby Tour Diary:  An estate agent might describe it as a bijou airport in need of modernisation but the compact delights of Nuku'alofa international were lost on a tired Ireland rugby touring party at 2.30 a.m. on Tuesday morning last.

The tiny carousel groaned under the sheer volume of luggage that accompanies any rugby team. Having negotiated Customs and Immigration in a world record 35 seconds, the first inkling that the palatial facilities of Perth wouldn't be replicated in the Kingdom of Tonga was the mode of transport.

For the Ireland team a bus that coughed and belched its way to a standstill, probably on the second time round the clock. The close-knit media community that included RTÉ radio commentator Michael Corcoran, Ciaran Cronin, Kieran Rooney and photographer Billy Stickland had had the prescience to phone their hotel and arrange transport.

The hotel's representative stepped forward and explained that we would go in one van but our luggage would go in another, and with that an open-backed truck pulled to the kerbside. The bags were thrown into the back and the press party climbed into an eight-seater van.

Not two minutes down the road and the heavens opened. There is something slightly surreal about watching your luggage getting soaked while being able to do nothing about it. For good measure we were stopped for speeding, or rather the truck carrying the bags was, before being eventually waved on by the police.

The speed limit in the Kingdom of Tonga is 25 m.p.h., apart from two stretches of road where it rises to 40 m.p.h. About 45 minutes later we hit the main street of the capital, Nuku'alofa, pitching up to a hotel that we have since renamed Fawlty Towers.

On arrival we were told that our rooms had been given away because of an anonymous phone call that said we wouldn't be coming. The receptionist asked if the five of us could share two rooms because one had a double bed and a single and would accommodate three persons. We're not that close-knit a community.

Two hours later following a whistle stop tour of the penthouse apartment (don't ask) and a sobbing phone call to the International Dateline hotel (full-up), where the Irish squad were staying, five single rooms were miraculously produced.

Our relief was short-lived. The moist, chocolate-coloured sheets with matching pillow cases and a 40-year-old carpet that would keep the Vanish stain laboratory perplexed for a decade suggested the next eight days would be an endurance test. The toilet flushes occasionally, there is no hot water and on the first night two industrial-sized cockroaches (an inch and a half by an inch) scuttled into view in the bedroom.

For those of us on the third floor of three, there was the slightly disconcerting sight of two huge guys sleeping on the ground in a communal area outside our rooms. It transpired that this was the Tongan rugby squad's team room. Not many slept.

In the morning, a glorious sunny day, we rented a car, theoretically to explore our surroundings but more accurately to escape Fawlty Towers for a few hours.

It is difficult to convey the warmth and friendliness of the Tongan people. Nothing is too much trouble and everything is done with a smile. The pace of life - walking, talking, carrying out requests - is delightfully laid back. On the drive to the Tupou College, where the Irish squad was training, we were struck by the number of schools, from Seventh-day Adventist to Methodist to Catholic, the students dressed in beautifully coloured uniforms.

The boys of Tupou, a boarding school with 600 pupils, turned out in force to watch the Irish team training, as they would do oeach occasion. The squad was charmed by the spontaneous manner in which they applauded the most mundane moves.

The students sleep in wooden houses, dormitory-style, and at a certain age are expected to produce most of their food from carefully cultivated plots behind each dwelling. The pleasant, amiable demeanour of the people belies the fact that Tonga is a Third World country. Tongamatu, the main island, on which Nuku'alofa is situated, is home to 60,000 inhabitants, with another 40,000 spread out over the other islands.

The main street resembles what you'd find in a small Irish country town and at its northern end meets the South Pacific ocean. The highest point of this strikingly flat, verdant island is 70 metres above sea level, the temperature currently in the high 20s.

Another striking feature is the number of large, ornate cemeteries by the roadsides.

The population is besotted with rugby, its most famous son is the All Black legend Jonah Lomu.

Our arrival in the Kingdom coincided with the $3 million wedding of the King of Tonga's granddaughter to a local opera singer. As is the custom, the ceremony lasts five days, starting with the wedding and including a Tongan ceremony, a gala ball and, finally, a church service. Most of the guests not accommodated in the royal residences stayed in the International Dateline hotel, home to the Irish team, where the superb food and services, despite ongoing renovation, are in marked contrast to those afforded the Tongans at Fawlty Towers. Tonga coach Jim Lowry, a New Zealand Maori, was awoken one morning by a cockroach scuttling across his face.

On another occasion he returned to his room to find his phone gone. When he inquired why, he was told another guest needed one. Tonga's number eight, Usaia Latu, was awoken at 3.30 a.m. yesterday morning by a hotel employee showing a couple of guests to their "new room".

In fairness to the hotel staff, they are very helpful, from performing mundane services to alleviating the journalistic nightmare: communications problems.

In a microcosm, the financial muscle that differentiates the IRFU from the Tongan rugby union is perfectly illustrated by the respective headquarters of the governing bodies: 62 Lansdowne Road and a tiny wooden structure in a field. The Tongans' entire budget for the forthcoming rugby World Cup is exactly the same as New Zealand's proposed laundry bill.

Yet the Tongan players and management (including a former All Black physio, the Portadown-born Gary Sye) could not be more affable, prepared to sit and chat. One day when the bus didn't turn up, they simply walked to the Teufaiva International stadium. It's that kind of place, they're that kind of people. Sanitary issues aside, it is difficult not to feel charmed by the Kingdom of Tonga and its people.