Destinations west of the date line may advance the clock by a day but notions of time and the demands of its passage seem willingly and selectively ignored by the South Seas island nation of the Kingdom of Tonga.

Absent the trendiness and South Pacific chic served up by Tahiti or Bora Bora, spared the daily witness to the second World War’s legacy of fractured and corroded landscapes of Kiribati or the Solomon Islands, and successfully having evaded economic depravity and civil strife, Tonga, like the muse in some Homeric epic, seduces with a charm that evaporates time and ensnares with a promise to reverse it.

A place where an accommodation is confirmed with an offer of duty-free tobacco and rum (“It’s the cheapest in the Pacific!”), the nation’s queen motors to state functions in a sleek, black SUV and her niece charges to a table of acquaintances to offload her cargo of gin and join in the barroom banter, Tonga’s casual atmosphere greets each visitor and suggests the pace and air of informality that has beckoned legions to the South Pacific for centuries.

Indifferent to political persuasions or national origin, Tongans welcome the papalangi, or foreigner (specifically white foreigner), with a smile flecked with the geometric patterns of ornamental gold dentistry and a cultural mosaic steeped in venerable customs and styles swathed in the Christian values imposed by 19th and 20th century missionaries and the unavoidable insouciance that is life in the South Pacific.

Against a backdrop numbering cell phones and Internet cafes amongst the randomly visible 21st century talismans, skirted men in the traditional tupenu join women in complementing daily dress with a pandanus mat worn about the waist for professional interactions or formal exchanges. Effortlessly alternating between their native Tongan and English, they retain a cultural identity while yielding to the growing demands of a slowly encroaching modern world.

The demands willingly are staved off by the eager consumption of the much heralded kava. As much a part of Tonga’s cultural identity as is its monarchy, this mildly intoxicating beverage derived from the root of the kava plant has punctuated social and ceremonial occasions for centuries. Routinely seizing many on a Friday evening to hold them hostage well into Saturday, its numbing effects ultimately surrender to an enthusiasm for lengthy Sunday church services.

A fleet of twin-engine prop planes links the four island groups – Tongatapu, Ha’apai, Vava’u and the more remote Niuas – that define the planet’s last true traditional monarchy. Regular flights depart from airports where security is virtually nonexistent and ground crews enjoy idle hours of laughter, newspapers and checkers. Ping-pong paddles replace illuminated fluorescent signal batons and umbrellas shield escorted passengers from tropical drenchings. More vulnerable to weather than to violated security protocols or color-coded alerts, a facile network routinely brings a population dispersed over more than 400,000 square miles of ocean to daily accessibility.

Unique in its status as the only Pacific island nation to have eluded the once advancing grip of colonialism, absent are any hints of Western imperialism. Flights from New Zealand, Samoa, Fiji and the United States lull a weekly complement of visitors into quiescent indifference while hypnotizing with the enchanting beauty of some paradisiacal reverie.

The capital city of Nuku’alofa, which dominates Tongatapu, is a natural albeit deceiving introduction to the multifarious essence that is Tonga. Resembling more a tired, threadbare beach community than an economic hub and seat of government, this city of 22,000 is less a destination and more a comfortable setting to get acclimated, ultimately becoming a jumping-off point to exploring Tonga’s many physical and cultural jewels.

A colorful market lending a vitality and vigor to the town, a sparse museum and cultural center and Tongatapu’s randomly dispersed archaeological sites offer little enticement to keep visitors from defecting to nearby ‘Eua. The rugged beauty of its national park and a network of hiking trails and caves appeal to the outdoor enthusiast, and limited commercialization has allowed traditional culture to flourish.

North of Tongatapu lies the serenity found in endless stretches of deserted beaches edged with swaying coconut palms that whisper to the fantasies of jaded executives and are an elixir for winter’s frozen clutches. The island slivers of the Ha’apai group are the essence of a South Pacific idyll. Faded wood-frame buildings line streets more familiar with the traffic of livestock than with the occasional automobile. A drowsy tranquility is awakened violently each Sunday with the vigor and enthusiasm of the faithful whose spirited voices fly from churchyards and, cascading into streets, meet with the thunderous applause of aqua blue surf that slams against the coral reef. Seemingly deserted towns and villages are surrendered for a day to armies of pigs that patrol yards, roadsides and beaches savoring their once weekly sovereignty.

Vava’u’s picturesque coves and inlets have been a magnet for those taking to the sea and a convenient anchorage makes Neiafu, the group’s administrative center, readily accessible. A rough but truer picture of Tonga, however, lies across the harbor in the remote village of Utulei, where bored, precocious children eagerly will entertain with a tour of graveyards, school grounds and the narrow, winding footpaths that are its streets.

The hibiscus, signature flower of the South Pacific, grows like a weed in Tonga, adding a dimension of color to the dense green hues of a tropical landscape and mirroring the beauty and warmth of a hospitable people. A casual smile or an invitation to a Sunday feast evidences the openness that genuinely defines them. Invisible to most Americans, Tonga is a nation that loves its king, embraces it guests and is well deserving of its moniker, The Friendly Islands.