The Anniversary.

I spent two years living in the middle of nowhere, so I wasn’t surprised when I came back to the US and things seemed different. It’s been almost a year to the day that I’ve returned and some things still amaze me.
I simply cannot get over all of the airplanes and helicopters in the sky at all times. Back on my island, seeing an airplane caused so much excitement among the children in my family that they would run around the yard pointing at the sky and shouting “Oak Sohk! Oak Sohk!” (Literally, flying boat.)
When I moved back to Sacramento I was astounded by how many planes flew over my parents’ house every day. It turns out that the house I grew up in is only a few miles from an air force base; I just never really noticed all of the air traffic before.
Now that I’m in DC I’m constantly fascinated by the air traffic coming from DC National that flies so close to the Washington Monument. I’m also regularly distracted by the parade of helicopters from the military, local television stations and occasionally Marine One.
The other big change has more to do with living in a small isolated community than living in a foreign one. I had to relearn the basic rules of city life: don’t talk, don’t smile and don’t make eye contact. On my island everyone knew who I was. It was an unusual day when I walked all the way home without being offered a ride in someone’s car or truck.
Getting a ride home from work today is something that no one I know would ever even consider. Besides, I’m sure I’d be too busy talking on my phone or listening to my iPod to even notice if someone offered.

A World Apart.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I'm one of the only people in the world that accidentally mixes in Kosraen words with Arabic. The look on my teacher's face when I drop words like 'fasr' and 'mutacn' in the middle of my Arabic class is priceless.

It took a while.

I miss the rain. I miss the sky-darkening, roof clattering rain storms that would roll in off the ocean so quickly that I could watch the ripples on the water racing towards me.

I miss the way the rain would fall so heavy on the sheet metal roof that it would drown out all possible conversation. All that was left to do was listen to the sound of the storm and wait for it to pass.

I even miss the times I would get caught in a storm while on my bike. The warm raindrops would get whipped by the gusts so hard that they would sting my arms and legs. Small muddy rivers would form on the road, run-off from the mountain. I would have to pay extra attention to the coconuts that came thudding down. As miserable as I would be later in the day sitting damp at my desk, at least during the rain I was guaranteed a few minutes of completely dog-free bicycling.

I miss the moments after the rain too. Not the inevitable humidity or the way steam would rise from the street the moment the sun came out, but the aftermath of the storm. The palm leaves and coconuts that crashed down. I miss seeing the banana trees on the ground that finally gave way to the combination of heavy fruit and high winds.

I miss the rain during church. The clatter on the roof would drown out the mindless droning of the Pastor. If I happened to be sitting near the windows, I would get a light sprinkling on my arms when the wind changed direction. It was always such a nice relief from the stifling heat, my shirt stuck to my back with sweat.

I miss swimming in the ocean next to the causeway when the rain would come in. The fat drops would splash against the water so hard it would get in my eyes. We’d have to hide under the concrete of the pier, shivering in the cold wind and warm water. There was no point in trying to get out before the storm ended, it’s not like we could get any wetter. I would just have to stand there, chest deep in the warm salty water, hoping that my backpack was still waterproof enough to keep my CD player dry.

The Way.

On the main road just past the Dollar-UP Store is a dirt road that heads back into the mountains. About a quarter of a mile down the road you’ll pass several houses. The very last house has two of the meanest dogs on the island. Not only that, they’re sneaky too. They like to hide under the broken down minivan on the side of the road next to the house. Be sure to fill your pockets with good throwing rocks and carry a stick. Last time I was there I hit one of the dogs with a rock, but that only seemed to make him madder. Only after the owner came out and kicked the dog in the throat did it stop snarling at me.
Once you pass the bad dogs, you’ll cross a small concrete bridge and the road will start to climb gently back towards the mountains. Keep going. Soon you’ll see small banana farms and orange trees along the side. The road gets a bit overgrown in places but you’ll be able to see where you’re going.
Another quarter of a mile or so and the road comes to an end in a small clearing. This is where it gets fun. On the left hand side you’ll see a small trail that heads down a steep muddy hill. The mud is soft, so try not to get your sandals stuck. It’s not uncommon to find yourself suddenly calf deep in dark red mud. Good luck trying to get your cheap plastic sandal out of there once it’s in.
Fortunately the trail twists through the mud and thick jungle for only about 50 yards. First you’ll hear and then see the river. It’s a pretty good place to rest for a moment and wash the mud off your legs.
Here’s where the trail ends, but it’s not the end of the walk. Step into the river and start heading up stream. Even after a pretty heavy rain, the water won’t be much deeper than mid-waist in most parts. Just hold your bag over your head while you wade though the deeper parts.
Follow the steam upriver for about 20 minutes. In a few spots it will pool up and be deep enough to swim in. There’s a section where a pool forms along a steep rock wall. The thick Tarzan vines that hang down from the wall into the water can hold your weight and are fun to swing around on for a bit.
A little bit further up stream and the jungle will suddenly open up. The canopy will still keep you in the shade, but now it will be 200 feet overhead. The river will split here. If you follow the spur to the right, about 100 yards further you’ll find a small waterfall with a pool you can splash around in.
To the left of the other spur the jungle rises pretty steeply for about 20 feet. If you scramble up the slope you’ll find what’s left of an old settlement. In at least six different places you’ll be able to find the stone foundations for local houses.
But don’t tell anyone I told you about it. The anthropologists haven’t found this spot yet. Let’s let them be surprised when someone finally bothers to show them where it is.