The Ladies of Weather Worn Way Take Palau

My mother and Sophie visited Palau during the first week of July.  I had been home during the last two weeks of June, so we all traveled to Palau together (well, most of the way, but that’s the topic of a boring story not worthy of a blog post).  On the flight from Tokyo to Palau, I sat with mom and Sophie.  Mom, the super traveler, has this uncanny ability to fall asleep, anywhere, anytime, no problem.  One minute we were chatting with her, the next I catch her fast asleep.  Sophie and I could not pass up the opportunity to document the hilarity: 

Mom is going to kill me for posting this 🙂

Palau is easily the furthest country either mom or Sophie have visited, and they managed the long hours of travel and jet-lag well.  Unfortunately, when we arrived inPalau, the country was in the middle of a rainy spell, which resulted in unending days of rain, gloom and rough waters.  We spent the entire first day catching up on sleep and driving around to tour the islands and pick up groceries.  We also began working on a 1,000 piece puzzle that I won at an auction several months ago.  This puzzle became the bane of my existence over the course of their week-long stay.  It haunted my dreams, and I would curse the creator (who happens to be my friend) for creating this beautiful torture device. 

On our second day, the gloominess continued.  But this time the weather could not stop us.  We went to PPR for Sunday brunch, which also meant bottomless mimosas!  Following conversation with my friends, some of us convened in the hot tub for an hour.  Many often ask, “Why do you bother with hot tubs inPalau?  It’s so hot there already.”  The answer is evident when it is overcast or raining and there is a breeze.  You can beat the rain and “chilly” air by sitting in a hot tub with a smile. 

Maxing at PPR

When we awoke on Monday, the rain persisted, and this time, it was coming down in buckets.  I had to call and cancel our reservation for a tour of the Rock Islands because the weather was so bad.  We continued working on the puzzle during the morning hours.  And then the sky began to clear, and it looked like the day might be salvageable.  We ventured off in search of an activity, and settled on an afternoon at the PPR beach and pool. 

"Be cool"

Unfortunately, again, we were met with an overcast sky, sweeping winds, and very rough surf.  Sophie and I willed it to be sunny and sat outside in our bikinis, praying for the UV rays to penetrate the clouds and tan our skin.  Sophie and I also entertained ourselves by taking ridiculous jumping photos and scenario photos (“act like you just caught your boyfriend cheating” or “you just peed your pants”).  Yes, we will forever be immature girls when left to our own devices.  Mom found solace in the hot tub and walking around the beach.  Somehow we managed to spend about 3 hours here, despite the ugly weather.  And yes, Sophie and I did get a tan and burn, respectively. 

On Tuesday, the early morning weather was iffy.  It had rained earlier, but it looked to be clearing.  Mom didn’t want to chance it and decided not to go on a Rock Islands tour that morning.  I had to go into work for the morning, so she and Sophie hit up a museum and then the Visitor’s Authority to learn more about Palau and what it has to offer.  Because mom was too afraid of driving on the right side of the car, she made Sophie cart her around town.  They even took the time for a photo shoot:

Sophie digs driving on the right side of the car

Mom and Sophie arrived at the courthouse before lunch so that I could introduce them to my coworkers and the the court staff.  A few folks even asked mom, “Is that you I saw running this morning?”  Even in Palau, mom is a running celebrity!  We then shared a quick lunch, and since the sun was out in full force, we decided to go to the Ngardmau waterfall for either a hike or ziplining.  Upon arrival, Sophie and Mom decided that they wanted to go ziplining.  Chris, the operator/manager of the zipline was kind enough to give us a generous discount on the zipline because I am the “model” for

Ziplining in Ngardmau

the zipline.  (A point of clarification: Chris had generously allowed Anna to bring a few friends to try out the zipline before it opened to the public.  In consideration for our ziplining experience, we allowed him to photograph our adventure for various publication uses.  A photo of me was ultimately used on the front page of a local newspaper and on a poster advertising the zipline.) 

Mom was gung-ho about the doing the zipline.  On each course, she hooted and hollered much of the way, fist-pumping her arm and kicking her legs the entire way across.  The zipline operators found her to be a fun customer, as they cheered her on with toothy smiles.  When we reached the end, Mom and Sophie went immediately to the waterfall and cooled off in its refreshing waters.  Then we all hiked back to the top, and ended our first true adventure together in Palau.

Ngardmau waterfall

On Wednesday, the day was (surprise, surprise) overcast.  But we went ahead with the Rock Islands tour anyway.  It wasn’t raining, and it didn’t look like it would rain.  It also didn’t look like it would be sunny.  And it turns out that it was a perfect day for what was in-store.  We began our day with a trip to Milky Way, where we spread the sulfur-smelling limestone mud over our faces.  Then we went to several snorkeling sights, including Jellyfish Lake and Clam City, where the jellyfish don’t sting and the clams are as big as a person.  Sophie was a snorkeling pro, jumping into the water with wild abandon and swimming alongside our guide Malahi as if she’d been snorkeling for years.  Mom, although

Milky Way

maybe not quite as graceful, was a champ in the water.  She secured her life jacket, and hopped in at every location not wanting to miss a thing.  Malahi towed her around with a line or a boogie board and mom got to see everything: sea turtles, a school of humpheads, squid, a blue sea star, a pincushion star fish, parrotfish, trigger fish, and a whole host of other colorful fish.  We all agreed that it was a perfect day.  We ended the day at the bar at Sam’s Tours, where we each had a beer and shared a plate of fresh fish fingers.  There’s nothing quite like a fish stick made from a fish that was caught earlier in the day.  YUM!

The Natural Arch, Rock Islands

Stars for the birthday girl

That evening, we went to dinner at Kramer’s to celebrate Alexis’s birthday.  We had a great time, just us girls.  The nice folks at Kramer’s even brought out some cake to sing Happy Birthday to Alexis.  (Ok, so the cake was leftover from July 4, the day before.  Still, it’s the thought that counts!)  Lucky (or unlucky) for us, the cake had blue frosting that turned our mouths a Willy Wonka shade of blue.  Happy 30th, Alexis!

Anna is fierce with a blue tongue

Holly is a little more timid about her tongue, but still a good sport!

On Thursday, I had to go back into work for a few hours, so I sent mom and Sophie on a kayak tour.  It was a HOT and super sunny day, and I was so glad that they finally had a day on the water where they could see the beauty of Palau as I get to see it on a regular basis.  From what I heard, their trip was fun and tiring.  I only wish I could have gone with them! 

That night, we went to dinner at Elilai, easily one of the nicest restaurants in Palau.  Sophie had fish steamed in a banana leaf, mom had the mangrove crab, and I had the basil pesto snapper. 

Dining at Elilai (palauan for plumeria)

Friday was their last day in Palau.  In the morning, mom and Sophie went for manis/pedis and massages at a local salon.  The bill for their services was under $20 each.  Yes, $20 for 2 hours of treatments.  Yes, there was a 50% off sale going on for the massages, but still….  That’s crazy good value.  I’m pretty sure they both tipped the same amount that the services cost them.  For lunch, my boss, the Chief Justice, took us to lunch at the Taj.  I made mom and Sophie believers of Indian cuisine with that meal.  That afternoon, they went to Dolphins Pacific to meet with some bottlenose Dolphins.

Dolphins Pacific

 Later that same afternoon (I know, I packed in the activities!), we went to a presentation at Palasia Hotel, hosted by my friend Danka and her tourism students.  The students performed chants, shared Palauan stories, wove baskets from coconut palms, wove leis and crowns with flowers, and shared local foods, consisting of taro, tapioca, kangkum, and coconut water.  Mom and Sophie agreed that it was a nice way to meet local students and learn more about Palauan culture and history.

Photo by Danka Ledgerwood

Finally, that evening, we finished the puzzle.  When it was all over, it was worth the blood, sweat and tears.  I will probably feature it prominently in my next apartment in the states and never disassemble it.  Be on the lookout for it!

Entry to Disney Lake by Michael Glinski

Mom and Sophie – thanks for coming to visit!  It was so nice to share Palau with you, and to share you with Palau.  Love you both!

For The Love of the Game

Yes, my posts are LONG overdue.  No, I don’t have a decent excuse.  So, let’s cut the chatter and get to what’s important.  Let’s talk about MY LOVE OF THE GAME, the game being basketball.  Obviously.

The National Gym: Where the Magic Happens

The last time I played basketball was in either the fall of 1995 or the spring of 1996.  Regardless of the exact date, I can tell you for certain that I was 11 years old and in the 6th grade.  Basketball was one of our units in PE class, but I don’t really remember actually learning anything about basketball.  What I do remember vividly was going onto the courts in the back of the school and “playing” for the 30 minutes of our class (not including awkward changing time in the locker room).  Playing consisted of throwing the ball around at which ever girl you thought was on your team, and slamming your body into the girls on the other team to make it difficult for them to get the ball.  Several shots were made before the ball would go in, and when it finally did, girls began pushing each other around.  It was more like street fighting 101 than it was basketball.  After our requisite half hour of bruise-inducing battle (and no tutorial on the rules of the game or how to play), we’d re-enter the carpeted gym and head for the locker rooms to change back into our civilian clothes.  (A side note on the carpeted gym: WTF were you thinking,HowardCounty, putting a carpet on a middle school gym floor?!  Were you expecting us to crawl around like babies and need a smooth surface for when we fall on our faces after attempting to walk?  Honestly, to this day, I have yet to see anything more absurd in a public school.)

Playing Against Bring It On in the Semi-Finals

Fast forward to November of 2010.  I am now inPalau, working and living.  One of the justices at the Supreme Court who is a super-athlete, forwards me and my coworker Anna an email about the upcoming season of the Women’s National Basketball League of Palau.  The email is an invitation to join the team called Sam’s Kryptonite, coached by a woman named Jubilee.  Another court counsel two years ago played on this team, and she had told me how fun it was to reconnect with basketball after her hiatus since middle school.  After learning about her lack of experience and ability to still have fun on the court, I was convinced that maybe I, too, could “re”-learn the game and enjoy playing.  I say “re”-learn because I’m not so sure that I ever learned how to play basketball.  In fact, after actually LEARNING this year how to play basketball, I am convinced that I NEVER learned how to play in middle school or otherwise.

The Guards (minus Sasha, of course)

Now for a few words on the WNBL.  Don’t get too excited about the name of the league.  This is not a professional or super-selective league.  It’s very much “Come one, come all,” with its wide range of abilities and experience among the players.  One of the teams had a lot of high school aged girls, while others were chock full of women who were already mothers with multiple children.  There were six teams this year: Sam’s Kryptonite, Islanders, Spartans, Smooth Riders, and now for my two favorite names: Money and Bring It On.  I kid you not, these were the names sewn or screened onto their jerseys.  Aside from our team, Money and Bring It On were the two other toughest teams to beat.  Money had several national team players on its team and was the undisputed best team in the league.  This year they went undefeated, all the way through to the championship.  Still, we put up a good fight during many of our games against them.  Bring It On was the most physical team we played against.  Some of their players were the strongest women in the league and knew how to position their bodies (or slap you around) to shut you down.  We “Brought It” three out of four times against Bring It On, so we were obviously capable of handling their physicality.  The WNBL season was originally supposed to begin sometime in mid-late December but was eventually pushed to February.  Why?  Who knows why.  This is how island-time works. 

The Forwards

I’m quite thankful that the season did not begin so early because I had A LOT of catching up to do.  Most of the women in the league had been playing for many years, some of whom had played forPalau’s National Team.  On our team alone we had two players, Jubilee and Sweety, who had played for the national team.  What I’m trying to say is that, I was in over my head.  Which is ironic because I’m “tall” byPalaustandards, and therefore I should know a thing or two about basketball.  All the other girls looked like varsity players on the court, and I looked like a scrub on JV.  It’s a good thing my pal Ryan is a basketball coach/instructor and was willing to put in some serious time teaching me and his fiancé Holly how to play.  Jubilee was also instrumental in showing me plays on the court and the basics of the game.  I spent about two months learning how to properly shoot the ball (which still needs a lot of work, but is 1000% better than when I began), pass, dribble, etc; how to do a screen and roll (or a pick and roll); how to box out for the rebound; and so so so much more.  Once the season actually started, I continued learning about how to move the ball around the court, how to do a zone defense and play offense against one, and then finally graduated to man-to-man (my defense of choice).  Although, in comparison to my teammates, I was still woefully behind on my skills and general knowledge of basketball, I made it relatively high on the learning curve in such a short period of time.  Thankfully, all my teammates were also very patient and nice with me.  When I first began the season I felt like I was running around the court without any direction or sense of what I was supposed to be doing.  I simply didn’t feel like I was playing basketball, or any game for that matter.  But now, when I get into the game, I feel like I kind of know what I am doing and actually feel like a basketball player.  And damn it feels good! 

Sam’s Kryptonite 2011

Thanks for a great season, ladies.  It was so much fun, and I’m so glad I had the chance to play (and learn!) with you all.  Second place is great and all, but I look forward to learning next year that you’ve won the championship!

Mat’s Micronesian Menagerie

On September 9, 2010, I said goodbye to Maryland and began my trek west that would eventually end in Palau.  I said goodbye to my family, my friends, and my boyfriend Mat.  On March 9, 2011, exactly six months later, while still in Palau, I said hello to a piece of home that had followed me here.  I said hello to Mat, who made the 30 hour trip to visit me here in Palau. 

Driving through town

In typical Palau fashion, several ridiculous things happened during Mat’s visit, the first of which happened on March 11, which was Mat’s second day here and the date of the Japan earthquake.  At 4:30 pm that day, I had received a text from my friend Alexis informing me that Japan experienced an 8.9 magnitude earthquake and that Palau was on tsunami watch.  So what did Mat and I do?  We went to PPR to watch the sunset on the beach. 

post-tsunami warning beach shot

I know, I know.  Not very smart.  When we arrived, we ran into one of the justices and her family.  When I saw them there, I didn’t feel as worried about the threat of tsunami.  If she could bring her 3 and 5 year old to the beach when there was a possible tsunami on the way, maybe it wasn’t so bad that Mat and I were there.  Plus, the resort was still operating as if nothing was happening.  Folks were still walking along the beach, eating at the ocean front restaurant, and sitting along the ocean front pool.  Apparently, we had nothing to worry about, even though Alexis had sent me a second text informing me that the tsunami watch was now a warning set for 7:30 p.m.  After the sun had set, at around 6:30 p.m. Mat and I went on a walk to the gazebo on the far end of PPR; a romantic spot to sit quietly and watch the stars.  Not one minute after we hiked up to the gazebo, a security guard from PPR came sprinting up the stairs.  I recognized the security guard as Jack, one of my basketball refs.  He was entirely out of breath, hunched over with his hands on his knees trying to warn me about something.  “Ma’am…you must…*gasp*…go to the…lobby.” 

I said to him, “Hey, it’s Jack, right?  It’s me, Veronica.” 

He said, “Yes, I know…*gasp*…it’s not safe for you here.  You must go…*gasp*…to the lobby.” 

I replied, “Oh, are we not allowed to be up here right now?  I thought it was ok to come up here at night because the path is lit and so is the gazebo.  I’m sorry if we are breaking the rules; I just thought it was ok.” 

He said, “No, it’s ok to be here, but right now it is not safe.”  Well, I thought, what the hell does that mean?  Was he suggesting that it was not safe for me to be alone up here with a man?  Did he think that Mat was some strange man trying to take advantage of me?  I don’t think that Mat looks threatening, but maybe Jack had a different idea upon seeing this very tall, white guy with a cleanly shaved head. 

“Oh, Jack.  I’m fine,” I said.  “I know this guy.  He’s my boyfriend.”  I thought that these words would calm Jack down and that he’d realize that everything was ok. 

And then Mat, my very astute and emergency-management-minded better half, spoke up.  “Is this because of the tsunami warning?  Is that why we need to go to the lobby?”  Jack’s eyes lit up and he smirked.  His message had gotten across. 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I said.  “This all makes sense now.  Thanks for coming to get us.  We’ll go straight to the lobby.”  I felt like such a moron.  Mat later told me that he thought PPR management didn’t want guests to get worried by hearing the words “tsunami warning” and that maybe the staff were instructed not to use that language.  We left PPR and headed to my apartment, which is located on the highest point in Koror.  Thankfully, we were in a safe place and no tsunami ever reached Palau.

Playing with his dinner (plate)

During his visit, I tried to expose Mat to the beauty and adventures that Palau has to share.  We went diving at German Channel and New Drop-Off.  Although we did not see a manta ray at German Channel, we did see little eels poking their translucent heads through the sand, several fish swimming about, and Japanese divers waiting patiently along the sandy bottom also hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive manta rays.  Our dive at New Drop-Off was much more exciting, with various sharks, Napoleon Wrasses, a lion fish, a sea turtle and thousands of colorful fish passing through in large schools. 

Taro chips, reef fish garlic saute and kangkum saute

The diving was fun, but Mat confessed to me that his favorite of our adventures were the kayaking trip and the hike to the waterfall.  I won the kayaking trip back in November at a charity auction and was finally able to put it to use.  We were told to arrive at Sam’s at 8:30, which we did, only to learn that the boat had left at 8:15.  Great.  We’d have to wait for a shuttle to become available to take us to Nikko Bay, where the boat would pick us up to join the group.  As we waited, Mat and I generously applied our sunscreen.  Sometime just after finishing our upper bodies, the van was ready to take us and we hopped in.  The van dropped us at Nikko Bay and the boat took us on a 2 minute ride to where the rest of the group was snorkeling.  Jumping into the calm, warm water, we admired the beautiful brain corals and the many fish living in and around them.  Mat tried his hand at his new underwater camera, snapping photos of the marine life and of me splashing through the water. 

We caught up to the group, and piled back into the boat, which took us to the spot where we’d begin our day of kayaking.  The sun was already high and hot by 9 a.m.  Mat and I shared a double kayak, and he joked that he’d have to do all the work because I was too much of a princess to paddle.  (So not true!)  While the other folks wore shirts while kayaking, Mat and I wore only our swim suits, leaving much of our skin exposed to the sun.  I told Mat that if he did not wear a shirt that we’d have to apply his sunscreen frequently so that he would not get burned by the 7-degrees-from-the-equator sun.  We kayaked for the next two hours among the rock islands.  We learned about the natural history of the islands, their composition and their wildlife, in addition to the WWII history and war remnants that remain.  Jayden, our guide, taught us many very important things about natural remedies.  We learned about the healing properties of the Noni Fruit, and how it cures everything except cancer and AIDS.  Good to know.  What he failed to tell us is that Noni tea tastes like tea filtered through a dirty gym sock.  Jayden also told us that it’s very important to pay attention to your diet—that, this is the key to health.  Groundbreaking, really.  Despite Jayden’s questionable tips and information, he was still a very good guide. 

For lunch, we hiked up to a Japanese lookout point with a beautiful aerial view of Nikko Bay.  It was at this time that Mat realized that he had forgotten to apply sunscreen to his legs.  It was now noon, and his legs were already a fierce Coca-Cola can red that looked as if they had been stained with Kool-Aid.  And when he took off his sandals, his poor feet had the outline of his sandal straps burned onto his feet.  At the end of our kayaking day, all I could do was laugh at the magnitude of Mat’s burn.  Of course, I felt terrible about the pain that he must have been feeling.  But his burn looked so ridiculous and there was no controlling the giggles that escaped from me.  Only the fronts of his legs and the tops of his feet were burned a radioactive magenta.  The rest of his body was still Maryland-winter-white.  Thankfully, his burn did not blister or worsen any further during the remainder of his trip.

he spoils me endlessly with lovely jewelry

I am so thankful that Mat came out to visit me.  We shared a special 12 days together that I wish could have lasted longer.  Saying goodbye to Mat was difficult, but I’m ever more looking forward to seeing him again…hopefully in just a few months.

Going to the “Movies”

I was never a big-time theater-goer.  Sure, I enjoy watching movies on the big screen, but I’ve never enjoyed forking over upwards of $8 to see a flick that I may or may not enjoy.  This is especially so when I can wait and get it from the used-book store for 3 bucks or even the $5 movie bin at Wal-Mart.  Of course, if it’s a blockbuster with great special effects (ahemAVATARahem) then I’m happy to feed the Hollywood machine.  Like I said, I still enjoy the occasional jaunt to the movies.  And when you don’t have access to something, whether you like that “something” or not, you tend to crave it and want it more than you could have ever imagined.  That’s precisely what I am experiencing here in Palau: pangs for a movie theater because one does not exist here.

Around Christmas, Mat (the boyfriend back home) was kind enough to send me a lovely care package, complete with Rolling Stone, Us Weekly, and Entertainment Weekly.  There’s nothing like getting your fix of stupid Hollywood gossip when you’re a loyal watcher of E! and Bravo AND you’ve been deprived of high-quality reality programming for months.  Anyway, each of these magazines had snippets and reviews about Black Swan, starring Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis.  Entertainment Weekly opened its critique with “Darren Aronofsky’s backstage ballet thriller Black Swan is lurid and voluptuous pulp fun, with a sensationalistic fairy-tale allure.”  I was immediately intrigued by all of it: ballet (check), thriller (check!), lurid AND voluptuous (check, check!!), and sensationalistic (check!).  Unfortunately, Black Swan was just opening in theaters back home and we didn’t even have a theater in Palau.  Fail.

But then someone very wise reminded me: all the bootleg video stores here (to my knowledge, all but one video store sells pirated movies) carry films mere weeks after they premier over seas.  Score!  I hoped that Black Swan would be one of the movies that would make its way into Jellos (the store closest to my apartment).  And sure enough, it was. 

Some of the girls I hang out with—Alexis, Anna, and Holly—were all interested in seeing Black Swan, too.  We contemplated having a movie night at someone’s house, but all of us only own laptops, so watching would be rather uncomfortable for a group of four.  Even though Holly does have a television, we didn’t want to put out her fiancé Ryan who probably had some important Lakers game to watch.  So here we were, back at square one.  Thankfully, we remembered that one of the bootleg stores in town had movie rooms with projectors and small screens.  We resolved that for $6/couple, or $12 for the four of us, we would go to the “movies” to see Black Swan. 

Private room for 4

Upon arriving at the movie place, we quickly learned that these were not ordinary movie rooms.  Nope.  These were porn rooms.  Most of the store had your run-of-the-mill movies from various countries, all very family appropriate, or at least appropriate enough to watch in a theater.  And then there was the seedy little corner in the back of the store with a room divider blocking the view of the content of the movies behind it, and a prominent sign warning minors not to go back there.  It was the “adult movie” section, and it was situated conveniently next to the movie rooms.  Great.  We were about to have a girls movie night in a porn-tacular room big enough for only two people and a whole lot of naughty. 

Private (Porn?) Room

Peering into the room before entry, it actually looked quite tidy and maybe even clean.  The floors and seats were clean, and there was no trace of trash or debris anywhere in the room.  Of course, if we had taken a black light to the room, we may not have been so satisfied with our accommodations, but based on what we saw, we were ok with the situation.  Ignorance is bliss, right?  Thankfully, there was also no discernible smell to add further caution or mistrust of the room.  The walls were black, with scraps of foam padding stuck to the walls in random places.  Either there was not enough padding to cover all of the walls, or previous guests had picked it off.  It was a half-ass attempt at making the room soundproof, which proved useless because as we watched the movie we could hear if an unusually loud customer had entered the store.  There were two small brown leatherish seats in each room, but we outfitted our room with four so that we could all sit together.  The room was all of maybe 8’x10’in size, with a screen about 3’x5’ in size.  It was not the most luxurious or comfortable movie-watching experience, but it was better than huddling around a 17” laptop screen on someone’s floor.

Chicas gearing up for some bootleg Black Swan!

Despite having some technical difficulties with our first and second pirated DVDs of Black Swan, the third was actually quite good.  Although before we got the good DVD, we had to wait for about 30 minutes for the renter to return it to the store.  During our wait, the screensaver on the DVD player kicked in.  And wouldn’t you know, it was a bouncing oval that reminded us of that episode of The Office, where the crew was betting on when the oval would hit perfectly in the corner of the screen.  

Screen saver a la The Office

We fixated on the oval for quite some time, ooo-ing and aah-ing as the oval came close to hitting the corner yet missing ever so slightly.  We were sad to say goodbye to our silly game when the good DVD finally arrived for us to watch.  Although the good DVD was not close to Hi-Def visual or sound, the picture and sound were uninterrupted and clear.  In all, it was a successful venture to the movies, mishaps and all.

Super Bowl Sunday…err…Monday

After several weeks of not posting, I am resuming my regular blog posts. In all honesty, I took a breather because I had nothing new to write about. My days were veritable repeats of other experiences I had already described on this blog, and frankly, no one wants to write (or read) the same story twice. Now that I am fresh with new stories and experiences to share, I come to you humbly, asking that you, my audience, will have me back.

I begin this latest set of entries with the Super Bowl. In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a fan of football. This is not to say that I don’t enjoy watching football, especially if it’s a contentious game between two hated rivals, but I don’t ever seek out football to watch. Indeed, I’ll avoid it if I’m scanning the T.V. for something to watch and it’s on the tube taking precious time from my favorite network shows. My father and brother are New York Giants fans, but I never seemed to get the bug. Probably because they’re even bigger Yankees fans, and that’s the bug I preferred to catch. Still, if a friend invites me over for an afternoon of football and snacks, I will gladly attend, eating more than my share of snacks and getting into the game.

Given my borderline indifference toward football, coming to Palau for a year was going to have no effect on my football-watching regimen. But like I said, if someone invites me to watch a game, I’ll be there. And that’s what happened for the Steelers-Jets playoff game, when my boss, the Chief Justice, invited us (the court counsel) the morning of the game to watch it with him in the conference room. Hold up, I forgot to remind you of a very important detail which may or may not have come to light to you just now. I just said, “the morning of the game.” What I meant to say was, “the Monday morning of the game.” Palau is a cool 14 hours ahead of East Coast Standard Time, which means Sunday night football is really Monday night football for us. So when the boss came calling to watch the game, I was at work with a case of the Mondays. There’s no better way to brighten the day than by getting a free pass out of work from your boss to come watch a football game. Even though there was no food at this little event, I gladly went to cheer for the underdog Jets and extend my weekend a little bit longer.

By the time of the Steelers-Jets game, I think (I can’t remember—you know, I don’t follow football) we already knew that the Packers were going to the Super Bowl. My coworkers, Anna and Ben, are both from Wisconsin and big time cheese-heads. Wouldn’t you know that the morning they discovered they’re beloved Packers clinched a ticket to the Super Bowl, they filled out their annual leave slips and submitted them immediately. This was quite literally minutes after getting texts from their families back home that the Packers had one the game against the Bears. Given that one of the court counsel has to be in the office at all times, I was to be the one to fill that duty for Super Bowl Monday. And I did it gladly too. I could see how excited they were to have their team make it to the big game, and I didn’t feel like using my annual leave to go watch a game that I didn’t care for between two teams I didn’t know a lick about. Besides, I learned a few days later that I wouldn’t be missing the game after all because the boss had invited us to watch the Super Bowl in the conference room. And this time there would be donuts. Huzzah!

Back page of the newspaper showing the Super Bowl party hotspots for Monday morning

Fast forward to the week before Super Bowl Monday. One of the local papers, The Island Times, ran a full-page ad for the specials that local bars were having for the Super Bowl. Most places were set to open at 6:30 a.m. or 7:00 a.m. and planned to have breakfast buffets or specials. This is what I was truly missing out on by being at work for the Super Bowl. But again, I was somehow rewarded handsomely for being at work because true to his word, the boss brought two boxes of donuts from a place called Best Coffee and Donuts (and indeed, they were). There were also breakfast sandwiches and bowls of fruit being passed around. I have forever associated the Super Bowl with 7-layer dip, tortilla chips, wings, other artery-clogging foods, and Budweiser (c’mon, those Budweiser commercials from the 90s with the frogs were the best). I would have never thought that I’d be in a place where I had to watch the Super Bowl the next morning with a breakfast spread. It was almost sacrilegious, yet very much a welcome change for me because of my love of all things breakfast. Plus, I felt much less guilty indulging in these foods knowing that I had the rest of the day to burn them off.

Close up of the specials in the paper

So here I was, in the conference room at work at 8:00 in the morning. I was quickly joined by the boss, and nearly every other man who works in the court. Nearly all of the Marshals were there (because who needs security?), the maintenance workers, and the guys from the clerks office. Only one other woman made it into the conference room, and she stayed for all of 5 minutes to cheer for her home team Packers. (It’s no wonder so many Wisconsoners and Midwesterners come to Palau; I’d leave those brutal winters for a tropical climate, too.) Just me and the boys, watching the game, with donuts, at work, on a Monday. What a good life.

Ok, I’ll stop rubbing it in now. Let me tell you what was not so great about watching the game outside of the states: the lack of Super Bowl commercials. I think the Super Bowl was shown on Fox this year, but we don’t get Fox in Palau. Instead, ESPN purchased the rights to show the game in this part of the world, and we got our feed from ESPN Australia. That meant all of the commercials back home were replaced with commercials from ESPN Australia. And let me tell you, one great form of torture would be to show, on repeat, the same commercials, in thick Aussie accents, break after break after break after break. We saw the same “Plays of the Week” from rugby and football (ahem SOCCER). I learned a lot about the upcoming Rugby World Cup in New Zealand. And apparently there was some tennis tournament coming to either Aus or NZ sometime soon. Whatever.

In the end, Super Bowl Monday was a fun change from the usual Super Bowl Sunday hype. The game was enjoyable to watch, and I’m glad the Packers won. Despite eating a breakfast sandwich of egg, sausage and cheese and a chocolate glazed cake donut, I did make it to the track after work. Yes, Super Bowl Monday may be my new favorite way to watch the Super Bowl.

Mantas, Mantas, Everywhere!

Two weeks ago I went on a snorkeling trip with a bunch of friends.  We had won the trip at an auction back in November, and we were finally able to make it happen.  We began the day at 9am, with several coolers of food and beer, our snorkeling gear, and not enough sunscreen.  The sun was out and not an angry cloud was in sight.  This had the makings for a perfect day on the water. 

We had initially asked to go to German Channel first to find the manta rays, but for some reason we didn’t stop there.  My guess is that the current wasn’t right for a manta sighting and we’d spend our time some place else before trying German Channel again.  Instead, we went to the trusted Big Drop-Off, which is a great snorkeling and diving spot for its great diversity of fish and corals.  A few folks even spotted a turtle and a small reef shark.  We spent just under an hour kicking around and following the brightly colored schools of fish.  (This site provides a good map of the dive/snorkel sites to which I am referring: http://www.loren-jim.com/German-Channel.htm.)  

After hopping back in the boat, we passed through German Channel a second time.  German Channel is a passageway through the reef that was created by the Germans during their occupation of Palau in the 1900s.  This channel allows for large vessels to pass through the southern part of Palau without damaging the coral or risking the sinking of the vessel.  German Channel is home to a manta ray “cleaning station,” which is where cleaner wrasses (fish) gather to clean off manta rays.  For that reason, divers and snorkelers travel here to catch a glimpse of these beautiful creatures. 

Manta view from above

The manta ray is the largest species of the rays, the largest known specimen was more than 7.6 meters across.  They are black on top, white underneath, and have a large mouth for capturing fish larvae, plankton and other nutrients from the water.  While manta rays have a tail, they do not have stingers and are safe to be around.  The mantas are easily startled by bubbles, which is why they can be tricky to lure near you when scuba diving. 

On our second visit to German Channel, our boat operator, Jefferson, spotted a manta ray for us.  This was my first one EVER to view!  He slowed the boat, and a dozen of us jumped off the boat, masks and snorkels affixed to our faces, and some with cameras hanging from a rope off their wrists.  The manta ray was about 50-60 feet below us, and from the top of the water it looked quite large.  Jefferson estimated that it was about 5-6 meters across.  The manta was fluttering its wings gently to propel it through the water below us. 

Belly shot of manta ray

We could even see divers beneath the manta, watching it from below.  To get a better view of the manta, I skin dove down about 10 feet, but the pressure on my ears was too great for me to comfortably hover and watch the manta.  So I resigned to watch the manta from the surface of the water, moving occasionally to block out the sun’s glare and refocus my eyes on the large black mass below. 

When the manta had swum off, we loaded back on the boat to look for another manta ray.  This next one was in shallower water of about 10 feet.  When Jefferson pulled up next to the manta ray, I strapped on my mask and awkwardly jumped into the water.  When I had adjusted my mask from the fall, that’s when I saw the manta ray less than 20 feet away from me.  The tall sea grasses reached the belly of the manta ray, as it grazed through the watery forest.  The massive wings rippled in the water, allowing the manta to glide effortlessly.  I tensed myself and kept my eyes glued to the ray, unsure if it would change direction or what would happen. 

Side view of gliding manta

When I finally snapped myself out of the trance, I started swimming like a mad woman to keep the manta ray in my line of sight.  I pulled out the most ferocious freestyle I could muster, but the current was too strong.  I was swimming directly into the current, but I wasn’t moving forward at all.  In fact, it felt like I was moving backward.  Although I never got any closer to another manta ray that day, my close encounter was enough to keep me in awe all day. 

After chasing mantas for over an hour, we stopped the boat in a shallower part of German Channel where we could wade around in the water.  A few of us played 500 (only the best pool game ever, now the best open water game ever!), while others continued drinking on the party boat.  We then rode around on the boat for a while, looking for an empty beach to picnic for lunch and relax in the water.  Because one beach was not enough, we visited two, both of which were entirely secluded on tiny rock islands. 

Beached boat

This trip felt like the wild spring break trip I never had, only better.  Life does not get much better than chasing manta rays, playing 500 in the open ocean, lounging on Anna’s floatie, chatting with new people, getting my daily dose of Vitamin D, and tossing back a few brewskis on a gorgeous day.  I feel for all of you back home braving the bone-chilling cold.  Hit me up if you need an escape!

Beach on a rock island

*Credit to Ron and Holly for their awesome photos!

A Palauan Funeral

Like any country, Palau has a rich history of customs and traditions. Last weekend, I was invited to attend my first Palauan funeral. The deceased was the wife of Nelson, one of the maintenance workers from the courthouse. Typically, a Palauan funeral takes place outside the clan house, which, in this case, was next door to the deceased’s home. Several tents are set up around the clan house, under which chairs are aligned in rows. Different groups of people will sit together in what seems like pre-designated areas. When I arrived the morning of the funeral, the church service had already happened that morning, and a small group of women were gathered underneath one of the tents. These women were in their 50s, 60s, and 70s, many of whom were chewing betel nut, drinking beverages, and chatting amongst themselves. No one greeted us (me and my Palauan coworkers) upon our arrival. Somehow we knew that we were not to sit under the tent with the older women, but to sit under the tent next to theirs. I later learned that these women belonged to the community group to which the deceased belonged. This was her social network paying their final respects to her.

Within minutes of sitting down, I noticed a few younger people in their late-teens, early-20s walking around with trays of drinks and food. They promptly offered us water, canned coffee drinks, juice, and a bento box of breakfast food, which included rice, scrambled eggs, sausage and canned peaches. In keeping with everyone else, I graciously accepted my tray of food and a beverage. I noticed that underneath another tent, there were several dozen trays of food being organized by several women. I was told that we would be staying at least through lunch, and that those trays were our lunches.

We continued to sit for at least an hour, simply chatting amongst ourselves and watching other folks trickle in from the road. I did not see Nelson until we had been there for a while. A few of my coworkers said hello to him, and he sat with us for a while. Although I do not speak Palauan, I did not get the impression that anyone offered their condolences to him. No hugs were given, no pats on the back. Just a few nods of the head and a simple greeting. It was as if no words needed to be said; it was enough for us to be there. Earlier that week, one of our coworkers had taken up a donation for the funeral. It is traditional in Palau to make a contribution to a funeral. Typically, those closest in relation to the deceased (particularly on his/her father’s side) are expected to donate the most. In some cases, the expected donation is well into the thousands of dollars. The purpose of these contributions is to help with the expenses of the funeral, and to assist the remaining family members of the deceased to carry on with their lives. (In early January, a Palauan senator passed away, and the total dollar amount of the donations made at his funeral exceeded $100,000.) Once the funeral expenses are covered (e.g. tent rental, food and beverages, casket and preparation/maintenance of the body), the remaining money will typically go to the children. Also, money is not the only form of contribution that one can make. Occasionally, valuable turtle shells or Palauan money beads will be donated. At the funeral, there is a person who will read off the contributions of each individual (or group) for everyone to hear.

The casket of Nelson’s late wife was sitting inside the clan house, which was situated in front of our tent. I had a clear view of the closed casket, and I noticed several women sitting around it, in what looked like quiet prayer. I learned that the women sitting around the casket were not to leave the casket’s side for the duration of the morning and afternoon until it was buried. If any of the women needed to move, they had to find a pre-designated replacement to take their seat in their absence. For whatever reason, the casket simply could not be left unattended, and these women took their roles very seriously.

Over the course of the next few hours, we continued to sit underneath the tent, chatting, eating and drinking. One woman came around with wine (apparently the deceased enjoyed her wine) for us to drink. I was told that this woman wanted for us to all have a good time, and so she returned several times with wine and insisted that we refill our cups. In time, the group of older women began to sing a cappella. Although I could not understand the words of the song, it sounded very happy and jovial; the voices of the women sounded like young girls on a schoolyard singing a jump rope song. The song sounded like it was teasing the woman who was handing out the wine, and she quickly ran over and started dancing. Not long after, she pulled out her dollar bills and started handing them to the women who were singing. I was told that the purpose of the singing was to lighten the mood of the funeral and to help distract the family from their mourning. The dollar bills are a showing of gratitude of the family toward the singers.

After being at the funeral for a few hours, our lunch trays were handed to us. We had a bento box of FOUR different types of protein (fish, chicken, pork and beef), in addition to rice, cucumber salad, taro, peaches, mochi, M&Ms, and a few other things I am forgetting.

Lunch Bento

The purpose of all the food is to keep the funeral attendees happy and well-fed. This is the family’s opportunity to show its gratitude to family, friends and the community, and the expectation is that there will be lots of food and drink. After eating lunch, I left the funeral. I believed that the burial occurred about an hour or two after I left.

Attending a Palauan funeral was very different from any funeral I have ever experienced in the states. Back home, funerals tend to be a very somber occasion, with very little happy singing and lots of hugs and kisses for the mourning family. I found the Palauan funeral to be a very impersonal and informal event. No one dressed in black, and no one—that I noticed—shed a tear. There was no guestbook to sign, no person whose hand I had to shake or whose body I needed to hug. The funeral was more of an open house for friends and family of the deceased to gather and remember her. I’m sure that many of the elements of the funeral were lost in translation, but I know for sure what I saw. If I did not know that there was a casket inside the clan house, this could have been a picnic, a family reunion, or a birthday party. I wouldn’t mind if people threw a party in my memory; in fact, I might prefer it.

Reality Check Part 2

I left you last with stories of the natural world. We pick up now with the societal, human-influenced differences that stand out to me the most, beginning with customer service.

Hospitality. Apart from foreign aid, Palau’s number one economic driving force is tourism. Thus, it should not have been a surprise to me that customer service here is excellent and pervasive. I expected that hospitality would be limited to hotels and restaurants that cater to tourists, yet it extends to all commercial activity in Palau. Shopping at the grocery store provides the best example. When I am checking out, the bagger will very carefully organize the bags, placing like items with like items, and separating eggs, bread, or cleaning materials from the rest of the food. The items are carefully placed in the bags, and then the bags are divided into two sets, both weighing about the same amount. I suppose this is for making the carrying of the bags easier so that the weight is evenly distributed on both sides of the body. But wait, I am not the one to carry the bags. No, no, no. God forbid I lift a finger! The bagger at the checkout stand ALWAYS offers to carry my bags to the car. And it’s not so much an offer but a demand, “Show me to your car, I will carry the bags.” When I insist that I carry my single purchase of toilet paper, the young man will still take the bag and follow me out. Of course, when he places the bags in the car, they are set down so gently and carefully, as if every bag contained fragile eggs (only these eggs are rolling around in the bag and are not secure in a carton). At Surangel’s, one of the grocery stores here, the slogan is “Where the Customer is King.” I had one bagger say this to me once when I tried to carry my own bags. Because this practice is customary here, and I shouldn’t feel ashamed and like a lazy idiot for allowing him to carry my bags, I still feel dirty or as if I’m taking advantage of him for his kindness and generosity.

Back home, the only store where I’ve ever received this kind of treatment is Harris Teeter, which is a grocery store with southern roots (I believe). No surprise that its customer service is key, what with Southern Hospitality having such a good reputation. But hospitality is the exception to the rule in the States. People don’t think of New York City and think: Gee, what a kind, welcoming place. (As much as I love NYC, no one ever smiles at me on the street or makes space for me on the sidewalk.) And folks certainly don’t think it of Washington, D.C., heart of the rat-race that whisks yuppies away to a life chained to a desk. (And don’t get me wrong, that’s where I’m headed after this blissful year in paradise, and I look forward to it with reserved optimism.) But here in Palau, at least in the consumer world, hospitality is the rule. It will be a rude awakening when I return home to find my bread smushed underneath a can of Goya gandules and no one to help me when I am carrying 50 pounds of groceries.

Crabbing. Being from Maryland, I know a thing or two about crabs. I even know a little bit about crabbing, having spent four years at a college located on a river that feeds into the Chesapeake Bay. When you say you’re going “crabbing” in Maryland, you mean that you’re getting up early in the morning, preparing your crab pots with chum (the innards and gross parts of the chicken and other animals), and dunking those suckers in the water with a rope attached to them. When the rope tugs, you pull it up and voila: crabs in the pot going after the chum.

I learned recently that there is also “crabbing” in Palau. However, it is a far cry from the crabbing we know in the mid-Atlantic. Here, crabbing is done at night, on land, with a tween boy, a flashlight, and a burlap sack. I know, I know. This sounds very silence of the lambs. But it’s real and everyone survives—except for the crabs. In Angaur, one of the outer islands south of the main islands of Palau, one can find many land crabs. Angaur has a small population and much of the island is untouched wilderness, so the crabs are bountiful in their natural environment. The crabs are most active at night, which is why crabbing happens most often at night. I’ve also heard that a full moon is helpful as a light source on Anguar, where the light pollution is non-existence and total darkness prevails. You go out to harvest the crabs as a group, and when you spot a land crab, the teammates prepare to fill their roles: the catcher positions himself to grab the crab’s body, careful to avoid the claws; and the sack-holder shines the light on the crab for the catcher, and then holds open the sack to receive the irritated crab. The reason a tween boy makes an ideal catcher is because of his combination of fearlessness, quickness, and small hands. There is one young man living on Angaur now with the unofficial record for number of crabs caught and held at one time: six! He had one pinned under each foot, and two in each hand. I think that calls for a BOOYAH!

Canned foods. I’m no stranger to canned food, especially if it says “Goya” on the label. But aside from that, I try to avoid the cans and instead choose fresh items from the store. Well, in Palau, sometimes you don’t have much of a choice in terms of fresh items. If you wait too long after the shipment of fresh fruits and vegetables from Thursday, you’re out of luck until the next shipment. That is of course, unless you like to eat molding green peppers and wilted lettuce. (And never mind that meat is always sold as a solid frozen brick.) I think that it is partly for this reason that the Palauan diet relies very little on imported fresh foods and instead prays to the God of Spam. The only fresh items I usually see in the Palauan diet are coconuts, taro and tapioca (carb/fat, carb, carb), and sometimes kang kum, which is a Chinese spinach. (In the interest of full disclosure, there are many more fresh foods available in Palau, but I’m trying to be dramatic, people. Work with me!) Aside from that, the typical diet consists of rice, Spam, canned mackerel and other assorted fish, Vienna sausages, and other canned meat products. As tasty as all those highly processed, artery-clogging, blood-pressure-rising goods are, they’re not exactly good food choices for anyone.

There are a few levels of irony to the canned food reliance in Palau. First, the climate here is ripe for farming. Although there are a few farms in Palau (at least one of which is organic), most of this fresh produce is purchased by restaurants and hotels, making it entirely unavailable to the public consumer in a grocery store. Regardless, it is not as if Palau is unable to feed itself fresh foods from the lush environment. If more of the land here were cultivated for farming and livestock, the local population might not have to rely so heavily on imported cans of salt-laden, congealed meat-type items and a limited array of root “vegetables” that are more on the potato-end than the carrot-end of the vegetable spectrum. Fresh eggs are plentiful in this country. Is it so much to ask that we slaughter a few of those chickens so that I can buy some fresh chicken without having to defrost it for hours? I understand that in countries where the land and climate are not conducive to farming, that importing non-perishables is the only option. But this is not the case in Palau. There must be a better way. The second irony surrounding the canned-food craze is that some of the fresh fish actually caught in or near Palauan waters is shipped elsewhere, processed, and then resold in Palau in cans. This strikes me as ludicrous. Like I said, there must be a better way.

Although Palau is rocking my reality in some regards, I stand firm that I have not yet been culture-shocked. If it was going to happen, it would have happened already. I hope that I am not forecasting some brutal Palau’ing that is yet to come.

Reality Check Part 1

My life in Palau (in the most general sense) is not much different from my life in the states.  I still have internet access and a cell phone.  My paycheck is deposited directly into my U.S. bank account.  Gasoline is insanely expensive.  I can find most any cuisine at a restaurant within 10 minutes of where I live.  And I still have trouble getting up in the morning.  Yes, the daily routine of my life has not changed very much since moving to Palau.  However, there are parts of my experience here that very much remind me that I am living in another country with values and customs very different from those of the Mid-Atlantic United States.  The next few blog posts will be about these distinctions that are most striking to me.  For this one, let’s talk about the natural world of Palau and how it’s rocked my reality. 

Palau is hot and humid.  But I know hot and humid from Maryland summers and vacations in Puerto Rico.  What Palau brings to the table unlike any place I’ve ever been is rain.  Sure, it rains everywhere, but not in that sudden, the-roof-might-collapse-any-second sort of way.  On any given day, it’ll be sunny without a cloud in the sky.  And even if there are clouds, they are the white, fluffy kind that remind you of bunnies and cotton balls, not like the pesky black rain cloud that follows around Winnie the Pooh.  I’ll be at work, cranking the air conditioning and drawing the curtains to keep out the hot sun from beating down on me and glaring my computer screen.  And then it begins.  Tap tap tap on the roof.  The taps are very slight, and I’ll quickly glance outside to see if it’s raining.  It doesn’t look like it is because the sun is still out and I can’t see any rain drops.  And then out of nowhere, the sky opens up and dumps bucket-fulls of ice-cold rain on the steamy pavement below.  The tremendous force with which the rain pounds on the roof creates a noise similar to a power washer.  Well, more like a power washer aligned every ten feet across the roof.  You can hardly hear yourself think, much less speak on the telephone without the person on the other end asking if a herd of elephants is stampeding through your office.  And as quickly as the rain began, it will stop suddenly after 10 minutes.  I like to think of it as a cloud’s temper tantrum.  It’ll be an intense few minutes of uncontrollable, unreasoned rage, which stops suddenly when the cloud realizes that we are all safe inside and can still go about our business. 

The second natural phenomenon that has turned my reality on its head is the omnipresence of geckos.  When I lived in Baltimore, we had several mice inhabiting our rowhouse, especially during the painfully chilly and snowy winter last year.  Thankfully, my wonderfully brave roommate Kathleen was not afraid to handle the disposal of the mice after we’d caught them with a trap.  I can’t handle rodents or other small, unpredictable animals or insects, especially if I have someone around who can do it for me.  Anyway, I have yet to see a mouse in Palau, no doubt because the dogs catch and eat them.  After all, that’s why there are very few cats roaming free in Palau.  Instead of finding mice in my apartment, I am forever being startled by geckos.  And my reaction to their presence is similar to that of mice: I’ll let out a yelp (read: scream of bloody murder) upon seeing it scurry across the floor/table/counter and then quickly close any open container of food and put it in the fridge.  Yes, this includes rice, sugar, bread, chips, or any other carb that has no business being in the fridge unless you’re terrified of having a gecko make its way into the packaging, only to have it jump out at you when you’re pouring yourself a bowl of cereal.  (True story: this happened to my friend Ryan, and I think the gecko met an unfortunate demise at the hands of Ryan’s, well, hands.)

As for the geckos in my apartment, I’m not sure how the first one got in because I almost never left my doors or windows open.  And even when the windows are open, I have screens to keep out critters.  So I’m still very much perplexed as to how that sucker got inside.  Although, it’s possible one snuck in from the posse that chills outside my front door by the night light.  But even those ones often run away when I approach the door out of horror from what I might do to them.  (In fact, I tried to take a picture of one for this blog post, but its sneaky translucent-cream-colored body shimmied away before I could snap a photo.)  The first one I ever saw was in September.  It darted across the kitchen counter from behind the coffeemaker as I pulled it out to fix my morning java.  The surprise was shocking enough that I probably didn’t need the caffeine to wake me up.  Since then, I can’t say that I’ve gotten any better at playing it cool when I see a gecko inside.  I don’t bother to catch them because they’re so quick and I’m as terrified of them as an elephant is of a mouse.  (I guess that makes me an elephant too.)  I just make sure that they stay confined to the kitchen and living areas.  As long as they’re not in my bedroom crawling on my face while I sleep, they can stay.  I hear they’re good for insect control, and so far they’re earning their keep in my home. 

Next on “Palau is Rocking My Reality”: crabbing defined, customer service in stores, and canned foods galore.

Christmas in Palau

Having grown up in Maryland and spent nearly every Christmas in a chilly climate, it has been a strange experience living in a warm climate for the holidays.  Despite the insane Christmas decorations adorning every business and nearly as many homes, I have not once felt like it is the holiday season.  (Ok, except for Christmas Eve morning when I spoke with my parents and then with Mat.  I opened Mat’s Christmas gift to me: a box full of wrapped gifts, including Christmas music, a Santa stocking, and a Boh-Man ornament.  The box was overflowing with Christmas cheer and love, and I felt every warm and fuzzy that I get around the holidays.)  The weekend before Christmas, Alexis and I went to high tea at

Super excited for tea, I mean coffee!

one of the resorts.  Alexis had won it at a raffle (surprise, surprise) a few months earlier.  Although we did not have any tea, we opted for coffee instead, we enjoyed our afternoon of snacking on sweet treats of scones, little cakes, Madeleines and fruits.  On our way out, we hammed it up with the Christmas decorations. 

I did not make that

I saw Alexis kissing Santa Claus

There’s definitely something to the change in seasons that reminds me of the time of year and gets me in the proper mood.  Truth be told, my mood is usually very grumpy on Christmas morning, and my family will confirm this.  I think it has to do with not being a morning person and having my siblings wake me at 5am to open gifts.  Never wake a sleeping dragon.  Anyway, I didn’t have a chance this year to be my usual grumpy-self when I awoke on Christmas morning.  Instead, I awoke with a smile to a sunlit room on the second floor a beach house nestled on the northeast shore of Babeldaob.

View from the yard of the beach house in Ngiwal

My friends (Jonathan & Sarah, with baby Adam, Ryan & Holly, and Sir Ben) and I rented a beach house in the state of Ngiwal (Knee-Wall) from Christmas Eve to Christmas Day.  We all had off Christmas Eve from work and made the 40 minute trip to the house.  The grand total cost of renting the house and one of the kayaks for the day was a whopping $80.  The house literally sits on the beach; we had to park our cars in the sand.  The house is clearly a

Tree House

party house because the grounds are full of seating areas and tables.  A few swings hung from the large trees lining the shore, in addition to a hammock and chair swing.  The house also came with a bona fide tree house!  We could have easily fit 15 people up there for card-playing, chatting, or throwing back a few brewskis.  Of course, this is exactly what we did.  Several times we’d all announce, “Merry Christmas!”  I think we were all still in disbelief that it was Christmas.  Our time at the house was very relaxing and felt nothing like Christmas was approaching the very next day. 

On Christmas day, we took turns taking out the two-seater kayak.  Ryan and Holly took it out first, all the way to the reef.  Palau is entirely surrounded by the reef, so waves never make it to shore.  Instead, about half a mile off-shore, you can see waves breaking on the reef.  They look very small from far away, but they were fairly high when you approached them on a kayak.  After Ryan and Holly returned, Sarah and I went out for a ride.  We paddled for about 10 minutes and finally made it to the waves.  The waves came in steadily at about 5-7 feet.  With ten feet of water below us, the waves seemed even bigger and more dangerous.  We backed off a little and dropped anchor so that we could get off the kayak and swim a little.  The water was so clear that you could see straight through to the bottom.  It was covered in seaweed and very few fish were around.  We treaded water for a while before heading back.  We expected that our ride back might be easier that the paddle out because we had the waves behind us.  Alas, the paddling was actually much more difficult and trying than we expected.  We continued heading for shore for about 2 minutes when Sarah finally realized: we hadn’t pulled up the anchor.  Oops!  At least there wasn’t much coral below us to destroy by dragging the heavy anchor across the sea floor.  We picked up some trash from the ocean before we made it to land, so hopefully we restored our ocean karma. 

Mom-n-baby swing

For Christmas dinner I went to Ron and Danka’s house for dinner.  They’ve been living in Micronesia for several years.  Ron is a lawyer, and Danka teaches at the community college and is a well-known photographer in Palau.  Danka made a tasty dinner of soup (sausage, mushroom, potato and egg), ham, taro bread, and a fresh green organic salad.  Danka gave me the intel on where to find local, organic greens, and I will be forever in her debt!  I brought over my garlic mashed potatoes and an apple crisp.  We feasted for a few hours, and I called it an early night.  I was completely wiped from my two days at the beach house. 

In all honesty, I think part of the reason it did not feel like Christmas is because I was not with my family.  I’ve always spent the holidays with my family, and this was my first time without them.  Although I was surrounded by some wonderful new friends whose generosity and company I cherish, they were no replacement for my mother, father, sister and brother.  I missed being a grump on Christmas morning and lounging around in my pajamas all day long, changing only to go to Bruni’s house for some tasty asopao.  I miss you all back home! 

On that note, I leave you with the Christmas lights of Palau:

The Rock Island Cafe

Let it snow? Really?

Drive-by (camera) shooting

"Fireworks" outside WCTC

Atop the Seventh Day Adventist grocery and department stores

The PIDC Convenience Store next to my apartment

Alexis investigates the Avatar-esque lights at PRR