• Visit date: August 30 2023
• The visited post office: Wallis Post Office and Wallis Philatelic Center
• Cost of sending mail: 85-115 XFP (CFP Franc), everywhere less then 1 EUR
• Postcard availability: At Mata Utu Post Office and Philatelic Center
• Postcard delivery time: fastest: 9 days to UK and Germany

Wallis and Futuna – a remote French collectivity with its own philatelic identity

Wallis and Futuna, a small French overseas collectivity in the South Pacific, is rarely on the typical traveller’s path. It lies 360 km west of Samoa and 480 km northeast of Fiji. The territory consists of two main island groups—Wallis (Uvea) and Futuna—each with its own distinct culture and traditional leadership, yet unified under French administration.

Despite its remote location, Wallis and Futuna has maintained a functioning postal system for over a century. The first stamps specifically marked for the territory were issued in 1920 as overprints on New Caledonian issues. By the 1930s, stamps began to feature local imagery, reflecting both the islands’ Polynesian heritage and their French ties.

Since 1961, when Wallis and Futuna became a French overseas territory, and later, in 2003, an official French overseas collectivity, postal services have been managed by La Poste, the French national postal operator. The territory issues its own stamps with local themes, and all mail is routed via New Caledonia.

Our journey to Wallis and Futuna

We landed at Wallis’ Hihifo Airport — a small, utterly charming place that smelled better than any other airport I’ve ever been to. There were more people waiting to greet passengers than actual arrivals, many of them holding and wearing fresh flower necklace. Men and women alike were adorned with these fragrant leis, a traditional Polynesian symbol of hospitality.

Directly across from the airport was a shaded area with flower necklace for sale. But we picked up our pre-booked rental car and drove the 6 km to our accommodation in the capital Mata Utu.

I must admit, ever since arriving in the Pacific, I had been eyeing those flower necklaces with admiration and, yes, a bit of envy. Too proud to buy one for myself, I hoped to earn one instead. In Polynesian culture, receiving this as a gift is a honor. But no such garland awaited us at Hotel Lomipeau, though we were warmly welcomed and shown to our room. Fair enough — I hadn’t earned it yet.

In front of the hotel, a tree pua keni keni (Fagraea berteroana) was showering its blossoms on the ground. I picked up one perfumed flower and tucked it behind my ear. There’s a custom here: a flower behind the left ear means you’re taken; the right means you’re available. Curiously, it’s the exact opposite in Futuna.

We didn’t stay long at the hotel. Our first mission: find the post office, of course! It was open, with a modest selection of postcards. The woman at the counter, herself wearing a garland, greeted us cheerfully and explained the mailing rates. Postcards in hand, we set off to explore more of Wallis.

The entire territory of Wallis and Futuna has fewer than 12,000 inhabitants, and the capital only about a thousand. Still, Wallis and Futuna has not one but three kingdoms, despite being a French overseas collectivity. Anyone who knows me knows my fascination with royalty — and right across the street stood the royal palace. Of course, I had to go investigate.

The gates were closed, no one in sight. I would’ve loved even a glimpse of the king.

A bit of local history revealed that the current monarch, Patalione Kanimoa, has been in power since 2005 and was reaffirmed in 2016 — despite another king being chosen just two days earlier. One had been elected by royal families, the other by local chiefs. Protests broke out at the palace itself, but eventually, the French government recognized Kanimoa.

The next morning, we returned to the post office. Though it was just a kilometer away, walking seemed unusual here. This time, we noticed another sign next to the post office: the Philatelic Department was around the corner in a separate building.

Inside was a spacious room with displays tracing the postal and philatelic history of Wallis and Futuna. What caught our eye most was their special date stamp — one of the most beautifully designed we’ve seen. Though the last date on it was from months ago, they promptly updated it for us.

A large table in the center of the room hinted that we’d be back again tomorrow. We shared some Estonian Kalev chocolates with the two kind women working there and asked about the king.

“He doesn’t live in the palace,” they said. “His home is on the other side of the island. Just a regular house — like everyone else’s.” And yes, they assured us, it’s entirely possible to spot him in town.

Energized by this, I returned to the palace. This time, the gate was open. I stepped into the courtyard where two casually dressed men were sitting and smoking. I asked about the king. “Not here right now,” they replied. My French is nonexistent, and I don’t understand the local language — and really, what would I have said to the king anyway? That I just wanted to see him?

We set off on a tour of the island instead. We visited Lake Lalolalo — a volcanic crater at least 80 meters deep — the remains of the 15th-century Talietumu fort, the Mata-Utu Cathedral, several Christian monuments, endless scenic views, and admired the distinctive boats. In the island’s northern part, the villas were much more impressive than in the capital, but we never figured out which one belonged to the king.

The next morning was our final visit to the post office. This time, I received a surprise. One of the women from the philatelic office gave me a wonderfully fragrant flower garland — the exact kind I had admired around local necks.

Just ten minutes later, another surprise: a five-person delegation entered the philatelic room. They studied the exhibits and even our postcards, nodding approvingly. I gathered my courage and asked if I could take a photo. As if expecting it, they all lined up and posed. After they left, I asked who they were. No king among them, but certainly prominent and respected figures.

We finished writing our last postcards, hugged the two lovely women who had helped us, and said goodbye to the post office.

The next morning, our Aircalin flight departed at 6:30 AM. Despite the early hour, the airport was bustling. One local told me that since flights are only twice a week, the airport doubles as a social hub — more than just arrivals and departures.

Though I never met the king, there was something royally graceful in the people of this island. Wallis definitely found its way under my skin, and I was in no rush to board the plane.

I left my wilted flower garland behind at the airport with a heavy heart. Instead, I bought a seashell necklace — a Polynesian symbol of goodbye.

Bye for now, Wallis and Futuna. Hard to believe I’ll ever make it back. But if fate offers the chance — I won’t hesitate for a second.

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