Five months ago, I wrote this post with some of my observations about life in Micronesia.  Oh, I was such a little spring chicken, thinking that I had Palau figured out and could comment on all of its little quirks.  I continue to be amused and delighted by Palauan life.  Now that I'm more seasoned, I have a few more thoughts.

You know you're living in Micronesia when....

1. You can go barefoot around the office and no one bats an eye.  You can also go barefoot outside.  In fact, one of the coolest/most unusual things I've seen occurred last week, when it was pouring rain, and one of the public defenders was walking around outside, without shoes, on the pothole-addled road in front of the courthouse.

2. You are no longer surprised that no one has an answering machine.  If you really want to reach someone, call back "later." (Or the next day).  Or text.  Or go see them in person.

3. You no longer think, "ooh, it's raining, all of my activities will be cancelled."  Most things here happen rain or shine.  RAIN OR SHINE!

4. You see people you know everywhere--and for the most part, it's AWESOME.  The other day I did some errands at lunch.  I ran into two colleagues, the woman who works at the Thai restaurant I frequent, and a few others.  I love the feeling of community here.  Even just asking someone how their day is going does not result in the curt "fine" as it might in the United States.  Instead, I'll hear about someone's kids or at least see a tired smile.

5. You accept uncertainty as the norm for outer-island travel.  I'm trying to plan a trip to Angaur with my sister (who will be visiting soon, yay!), but despite my frequent phone calls to the State Office, I've been told to wait until two days before our scheduled departure to see if a state boat will be available.   

6. Little things, like a soursop milkshake after a hard-fought basketball game in the Women's National Basketball League (post to come), will make your day.  So will the little girls at the elementary school who shyly approach and want a turn at the basket.

7. You (still) never grow tired of a sunset like this:

The ladies at work helped me translate "Happy Mother's Day" into Palauan, and I wanted to take a moment to offer a little tribute to my mom, without whom my Palau experience would not be nearly as awesome!  I come from a long line of faithful correspondents, and my mother is the queen of them all.  From the time I entered school, and she started including little notes in my lunches, to the summers I spent at Girl Scout Camp and looked forward to her packages, my mom's notes and cards have always made me feel loved, especially when I am far away.  Even in Palau, my mom has sent me boxes with food from Trader Joe's, my mail, and funny newspaper clippings from my hometown paper.  

So, Mom, thank you so much for the wonderful cards and packages and for thinking of me here in Palau!  I love you!  Happy Mother's Day!

After I returned from Kayangel, I dashed downtown to the Fourth European Union-Palau Film Festival. The festival began on Thursday and included eight films from Western Europe.  I had been looking forward to this for ages, and I was happy that the festival ended Sunday night with an Italian film and a Spanish cartoon.  I really love film festivals, and this one was neat because I saw many friends whom I hadn't seen in awhile.  Also I had a celebrity sighting:  my landlady, who is Palau's first female presidential candidate and had actually earlier that day declared her candidacy, is married to an Italian man, and they sat in front of me during the festival. 

I think the coolest part about the festival, besides the microwave popcorn, and the fact that THERE WAS A FILM FESTIVAL IN AN AIR-CONDITIONED BUILDING IN PALAU, was that at the beginning of each film there was a short clip of that country's history and tourist sites.  I missed the one for the film I saw (about Italy) but caught the promotion for the film that followed (a Spanish film) and loved seeing the sites and hearing cheesy narration.

When I first saw the schedule of films in the newspaper, I thought, "Wow, how are Palauans going to relate to these films from Europe?" But the Italian film I saw, which came out in 2006, entitled "Salvatore, Questa è la vita," ("Salvatore, That's Life") was perfect for a Palauan audience.  It was the story of a little boy in Sicily who worked as a fisherman with his father. The father died in an accident, and Salvatore quickly became the man of the house.  In order to care for his sister and grandmother, he stopped going to school and worked full-time as a farmer and fisherman.  Salvatore's teacher, concerned about his pupil's absenteeism, started tutoring Salvatore at home.  Charmingly, they each taught the other about life and love and all lived happily ever after.   

 I realized how fitting the story was for Palau when, at one point, little Salvatore took a bag and walked to the road to collect snails to sell at the market.  In fact, this image is featured on the posters for the movie.  And such actions are exactly what Palauans do on the full moon, except they go to the roads to collect crabs scurrying to the sea.  But, somehow, seeing that little Sicilian boy put snails into a bag felt very familiar and comforting.  I also appreciated the value placed on blended families, which are big here. The young, idealistic teacher in the film ended up adopting Salvatore and his sister, just as many Palauans would do for orphaned children here.  Sadly, the high truancy rate in small villages, like the one in Sicily, is also a familiar concept or many Palauan families with school-age children.   I think the festival is a wonderful part of Palauan life, and it's nice to know we're not alone out here on our little island!  

I have now visited fourteen states in Palau, and while my official position is that the states of Palau are like my children (and I love them all equally), Kayangel is pretty special.

This past weekend three events converged to create something awesome:  it was a pay-day weekend, so the state boats to the outer islands were running; it was a three-day weekend (thank you, Senior Citizens Day!); and it was a full moon. Time for a camping adventure in Kayangel!  Kayangel is a tiny state (population: 188) located north of Koror, and we would be staying on a small privately owned island that we had rented.

We arrived at the boat dock in Koror on Friday morning, with a warning to come early in case the boat left before the scheduled time.  Which it did. We had each packed rather light (the boat only holds 18 people, so we were told not to bring "plenty stuff").  I packed seven liters of water, canned and dried food, a hammock, a mosquito net, bug spray, my sarong, my swimsuit, and all of my sun protective swim clothing (we started calling the entire get-up (swim tights + long-sleeved shirt) the "Full Knize", while a long-sleeved shirt is just a "Half Knize"--I love it!)  The most important thing I brought was my machete.   (Thanks, again, Janice, for lending me such a great tool!) . . . .

Last week someone asked me to name some of my favorite places in Palau.  I immediately said, “Angaur,” a tiny island I was lucky to visit back in January with my friend Janice, a pediatrics resident, and the medical team.  As soon as I set foot on that lovely island, I felt like I was transported to my grandparents’ house in Ventura County.  There was something about the sun, the breeze, and the fragrant flowers that made me feel at home.

With the exception of the Southwest Islands (400 miles away), Angaur is the southernmost part of Palau.  The island is located outside of the reef, so part of our boat trip was on open ocean.  Later I would find out how dangerous the passageway can be from Angaur.  But we lucked out and had a pleasant trip on the way there.  Angaur is two square miles across and has the distinction of having monkeys.  The monkeys were brought by the Germans who mined phosphate (the monkeys served as the island version of canaries in the mines).

As we sped away from Koror, I looked around at our speedboat, which was staffed by several nurses.  Dr. J and a handful of other doctors and social workers were there too.  I felt lucky to be invited . . . .

On the third Saturday of every month, the Palau National Olympic Committee ("PNOC") and some other organizations host a "Walk for Life", which is a 5k run/walk and (sometimes) a 10k run.  The events are always a lot of fun and for $2, plus a little sweat equity, you can take home a small towel (indispensable here in Micronesia), eat some bananas, drink some water, and enjoy being up early. 

I hadn't gone to a Walk for Life event since January, so I was excited to get back in the running saddle.  Saturday's event was held in Ngarchelong, a state about an hour from Koror.  And the race started at 6 a.m.  And it was raining.  But it was a new place to run, and it was Earth Day weekend, so I figured:  Why not?

"May I be as good and beautiful to you as you have been to me."

My friend Mark and I met at 4 a.m. in downtown Koror to carpool up to Ngarchelong.  Ngarchelong is located on the northernmost point of Palau, so it felt like we were driving to the ends of the earth!  The rain was relentless.  
And it was . . . .

One of the best parts about being in Palau is having visitors!  Last week I was fortunate to welcome my parents to Palau.  Given the national tragedy that was unfolding that very week, I was comforted and blessed to have my parents on the island.

As many of you know, I am really close with my whole family, but I am especially close with my parents and my sister.  My childhood home, where my parents still live, will always be my favorite place in the world, and as I write this my heart aches to see a sunrise over the alfalfa fields across the street.  I have so many wonderful memories of being an adult and visiting home, usually during school breaks or in between  jobs.  I miss having a glass of wine in the backyard, going grocery shopping with my dad, or lingering over lunch with my mom.  And I am so thankful that, when I told my parents last January that I had applied to work for a court on a tiny island, they were enthusiastic and supportive.  They really are the best parents ever!

So on April 3, I picked up my parents at the airport, promptly burst into tears of joy at seeing MY PARENTS in Palau, and then we spent ten days having lots of adventures.  We met some of the Justices, we saw stone-faced monoliths (or, large pieces of stone), we drank fresh coconut juice, we waved to people we saw walking down the street (as one is wont to do on Palau), and we ate lots of good food.  We also had a great tour of Peleliu and saw some really interesting World War II relics, plus a lot of land crabs!  When I was at work, they visited the famous Jellyfish Lake, went kayaking, and spent some time at PPR Resort ("the most beautiful resort in the world").  They also fixed my car window, mopped my floor, did some laundry, and left the fridge stocked with food.  Did I mention they are the best parents ever?

On the last night of their visit, when I was feeling a bit of melancholy about my parents leaving, I said, rather dramatically, "But what am I going to do without you?"  and my dad said, "Enjoy this beautiful island.  And enjoy your beautiful life."  

And so I shall, thankful for my parents' continued support and health and their ability to adapt to Palauan life with true aplomb.  Mom and Dad, thanks again for coming to visit!  Next up:  my sister and her boyfriend will visit at the end of May! 

I am eating a macadamia nut ice cream cone, staring out the window onto an overcast sky in Koror, and feeling more contemplative than usual.  Today is my six-month anniversary of living in Palau.  I have grown to love this place, despite, and perhaps because of, its shortcomings.  I feel lucky to have six more months here, and I hope I can also return for a longer period of time one day.  Palau will always have a special place in my heart, and I will always think of myself, at least a little bit, as dil ra Palau (a lady from Palau).

At the moment, my heart is breaking for this little country.  Against the backdrop of last fall's power outages and this year's tough economic conditions (gas prices nearing $6 a gallon and minimum wage at $2.50 an hour); and a spate of assaults and one murder involving machetes, we have the latest and most tragic incident.

On March 30, what started as an enforcement action in the waters north of Palau turned into a deadly tragedy.  On that day, a Friday, some fishermen spotted a Chinese fishing vessel fishing in a protected area north of Babeldoab.  I was later told the fishermen had captured several kim (giant clams), and possibly sharks and turtles.  Capture of these creatures, especially from a protected area, carries stiff penalties.  

According to a report on Oceania TV's website, a Division of Fish and Wildlife patrol boat went out to investigate and the Chinese vessel started ramming the patrol boat.  A police officer shot the boat in an attempt to disable it.  The bullet ricocheted off the engine and hit one fisherman in the thigh.  The fisherman later bled to death.  The fishing vessel was offloading fresh fish onto a "mother ship"; later, the fishermen burned down the mother ship and escaped to a smaller boat.  Palauan authorities then captured twenty-five fishermen.  The men are currently being held in custody in different parts of Palau.  

The next day, Sunday, March 31, an American pilot and two Palauan police officers got into a small plane around 3 p.m. to try to look for evidence of the mother ship and take photos.  The pilot, Frank, was someone I met a few weeks ago.  I was standing at the bank and saw another haole (foreigner), so we struck up a conversation.  “This is the craziest place I’ve ever lived,” Frank told me.  I asked what brought him to Palau, and he quipped, “About twenty years ago, I stopped by Sam’s [the main dive operator and home to the Belau Yacht Club] for a hamburger and a year later I had a wife and a baby.”  He promised to tell me stories about Palau, but we never had a chance to do so.  The other two passengers were two of Palau’s finest policemen, both of whom are members of the court family.

And so these three men were in a Cessna.  And then the Cessna was gone.  And we don't know much else.  We know they had a faulty GPS and repaired it (or didn’t repair it) and took off again.  We know Frank was disoriented for awhile and asked that the lights of the baseball fields be turned on so he could see something in the inky blackness.  We know he flew that plane until he ran out of fuel, declaring Mayday at 8:16 p.m.  And we know that in the last phone call, made by some kind of radio telephone from the plane, one officer asked that his mother be told not to worry and that they were gliding to a water landing.

The U.S. Coast Guard searched for five days, combing an area of 6,500 square nautical miles.  Paul Allen, the co-founder of Microsoft, was in the area and sent his helicopters to help search.  And all week, we kept hoping for news.  "Well, a few years ago someone went fishing and then they found him later in the Philippines," someone said.  "Miracles can happen."  Or, "I'm not too worried, one time two divers were lost at sea for three weeks and they were found, sunburned and dehydrated, but they were alive," another person told me.   


And so we waited and hoped.  And we've heard nothing.  [Update from 4/12:  I've talked to a few people about this, and apparently all three navigational systems on the plane failed and some experts assisting with the search said the plane's disappearance was on the level of a Bermuda Triangle mystery].

I think all of us, as we went numbly through our daily routines, kept wondering, “Are they alive? Are they floating on wreckage?  Are they at peace?”  One coworker said she fixed dinner for her young son last Monday, and he turned to her and said, “Mom, do you think they have food?"  They both lost their appetites after that.  

Another said, "I’m not much of a crier . . . . but I’ve been crying all week.”  And it's true:  when we weren't wondering, we were crying -- crying for the families, crying for being isolated on a tiny piece of land and not having access to technology that could have helped, crying over the confluence of factors that contributed to cause this accident.

These are the stories and sentiments that, even now, move me to tears.  In my experience, most Palauans are much more comfortable with death and with the notion of people simply disappearing into the ocean:  "If it was their time, it was their time," many people have said.  People do disappear here.  But still, I can only imagine the bone-crushing loss the families (and, here in Palau, pretty much everyone is family) are feeling right now.  

I'm not really sure what's next.  I know there will be a service in the coming weeks, where there will be lots of food.  And jokes.  From what I understand, people here deal with death by laughing and making jokes and "talking story" about the deceased.  Still, this tragic news has cast a heavy shadow over everyone and everything here.  It will be awhile before we recover.


 

Hello everyone!  I've been busy with life on and off-island recently.  I'm currently in Cambodia on a two-week holiday, but when I return next week to Palau, I'll have lots of updates!  Stay tuned for tales of:

- A visit to the island of Angaur (monkeys, medical teams, and more!)
- An update on the wonders of moot court in Palau (my team took fourth by only 0.8 points!)
- Visits to Korea, Thailand, and Cambodia!

Ma rul!