The Artless Dodger

Last week, some scumbag(s) broke into our house and stole my laptop and Jamie's camera. We were home at the time, sleeping. The only windows we had open were in our bedrooms; everything else was locked. They took out the screen in our bedroom, quietly slipped past us while we were sleeping, went into the living room and took what they were after, then went back out through the bedroom window.

The dog that hangs out around our house was in heat and had been attracting a number of male suitors, all of whom had been barking like crazy all week, so they were of little help in alerting us to intruders. Not surprisingly, when we reported the break-in, the police were also of little help, and the best they could offer in terms of consolation was to tell us that this kind of thing happens all the time, especially to Americans. They also said that around Christmas, they tend to see a significant increase in the number of break-ins, so we should watch out.

They did say that every once in a while, the stolen goods are recovered, but it sounded like they were just as surprised as the thieves must have been. In any case, Jamie and I have taken a more proactive approach by putting up flyers all over the place, offering a reward for the safe return of our stuff. Several people have taken the tear-away phone numbers, but we've only gotten a couple of phone calls, none of which have yielded any leads. We've also taken to locking our windows at night, forfeiting a basic liberty that I'm not at all happy about having to give up.

It's a small island, so in theory, our stuff couldn't have gotten too far. However, in talking to other people who have had things stolen (I personally know of at least five other expat instructors at the college whose laptops have also been stolen since they've lived here), there seems to be a correlation between a regular increase in the number of break-ins and the arrival of a ship at the port. In other words, it's likely that these scumbags, who are probably kids or teenagers, steal stuff out of people's houses and then sell them on the ship right before they head back to Japan. It makes sense. In fact, there was a ship that came in the day after we were robbed.

It's sad to say, but it seems that if there's one thing that globalization and capitalism have taught the youth of Micronesia, it's to covet what they cannot afford. According to the police, in this case, it's likely booze, which was probably purchased after they unloaded our stolen goods for a fraction of their actual value, with no consideration whatsoever for their personal value. That's right. Every piece of writing I've done, every song I've written and every picture we've taken in the past several years is probably worth no more to these assholes than a bottle of bottom shelf liquor.

Nahlap Island

I used to have a small Japanese zen garden on a carved wooden tray in my office, the kind with

small stones and a little wooden rake with which to comb the sand. My board of directors gave

it to me and I wondered at the time if their purpose was to appeal to my design aesthetic or in

knowing I was too busy to take a vacation try to provide me with a tranquil environment.

Whatever the reason, the small tray was appreciated if not actually used.

Recently I had an adventure that made me feel as if I had stepped into a little zen garden surrounded by a clear, calm ocean and alive with tropical fauna.

Nahlap is a small island protected from waves by Pohnpei’s outlining atolls.

We journeyed with friends by car for 40 minutes from Kolonia and then by boat for 15 minutes before arriving.

My first impression was that it looked peaceful and I was happy we chose to spend the day there. I took my daughter out of school for the occasion because while academics are important to us, there are some things (making great memories being one) that are more important than school.

The island is speckled with little blue cabins and interlaced with paths lined by coral, shells and volcanic rocks. We walked through tunnels of trees on paths of

freshly combed sand on our way to the beach. The water is shallow for a long distance out and the kids had a blast finding shells, sea cucumbers and bright blue starfish.

We had a fun picnic before walking back across the island to use the ocean slide. The slide is little more than half of a large pvc pipe, but so much more in terms of fun with speeding down and splashing into the ocean then swimming to the ladder to repeat the process.

I jogged back across the island to tell the driver we were

ready and I noticed that the path was again freshly raked. In fact, upon my return to the dock the footprints I had made ten minutes prior were gone, replaced by even rows of mini furrows. It seemed a strange phenomenon, as I had not seen anyone on

the island hurriedly tending the sand. The boat driver told me a woman lives on the island to take care of it and she is the one who comes the sand after people walk on it. I wonder if she likes to erase marks in the sand or if she feels like I do after I sweep and mop and then something is spilled on and tracked over the floor to make my efforts useless unless repeated.

Then I wonder what the invisible caretaker would think of a tabletop zen garden and if it might look like more work to her. If someone is raised in a tropical paradise, do they see the beauty in it as much as an outsider, or more?

To plan a trip to Nahlap from Pohnpei: Contact A&P Construction( 320-6388 ) to reserve a boat to and from the island. The cost is $5 per adult and $2-3 per child with those under two being free. It is recommended to call a few times to reconfirm the boat appointment or they might not follow through. The small blue huts for rent are $10/night. You can have small fires for barbeques and there is a tank of fresh water for showers. Bring drinking water and camping gear. Camping hammocks (like Hammockbliss)with built-in mosquito netting and rain cover are ideal.

The Dog Without a Name

When we moved into the house where we currently live, our landlords asked if we wanted to keep the dog that they had tied up in back. We respectfully declined, but we soon learned that there was another dog that also came with the house, who lives there but doesn't really belong to anybody. Like a majority of the strays here, it's a yellowish mutt, and as is the case with most female dogs on the island, she had recently had puppies.

Our neighbors have continued to look after the puppies, and whenever Chloe and Alexander don't eat everything on their plates, the mama dog gets a treat. This is the extent of responsibility that we've taken for this dog. We don't want it to depend on us for food, but we also try to provide it with something other than vermin and street garbage whenever we can.

In return, the dog no longer tries to bite us when we walk to our front door, but she continues to hang out around our house most of the time, which discourages people who don't belong there from entering our yard. I know she's also keeping a watchful eye on her puppies, which are already getting pretty big themselves. Unfortunately, this also means that whenever we have guests, we usually have to escort them through our yard so that the mama dog - and now the puppies - doesn't try to bite them. 

I wouldn't say that I particularly like the dog all that much. As I'm relatively certain that this animal is infested with insects and parasites, and since I know she has a predisposition to bite anyone who gets too close, we don't pet her. We also maintain an emotional detachment by not naming her or interacting with her beyond the occasional, "Hello, dog," or, "Stop barking, it's me."

Ever since Chloe was two, she's been asking when we're going to get a dog, to which we usually respond with the standard, "Dogs are a big responsibility..." Since we've lived here, though, she's stopped asking. Maybe it's because she's gotten to see some of the frustrations that come with having a dog without the return of getting to enjoy the benefits. Of course, maybe she also understands, on some level, that most dogs here aren't really domesticated that way that we're used to, and that perhaps it's the domestication that appeals to her. In other words, I think what she really wants is a dog who knows her name, too.

Postal Service

Micronesia, being a United States protectorate, enjoys the services of the U.S. Postal Service. Mail is not delivered door-to-door as there are no addresses, so a P.O. Box is highly recommended.

When mailing from the U.S., using the flat-rate boxes, it is not expensive to mail things here, especially considering the distance. It is important when filling out the customs form to checkmark next to air mail or it will take a two-month sea voyage before arriving at its destination. Being able to receive mail is excellent and of great comfort to us. Before we left the States we packed eight flat-rate boxes and when we got a P.O. box, my brother, John, was kind enough to mail them all to us. It only took about 16 days for the boxes to arrive. Air mail comes in on Sundays and Wednesdays so it would stand to reason that mail is promptly in its slot by later that day. This is not the case. Mail, like many things here in Pohnpei, will appear only when convenient for the employees. If there is a parcel, a notice of pi

ck up is given. A trip to the customs office behind the post office is in order. Customs closes at 3:30 while the post office closes at 4pm. I checked my mail slot for the second time one day to find a pick-up notification being slid through after the Customs office had closed and the box had been there all day. When I picked it up the next day, it had been ransacked by rats who ate their greedy little hearts out of all my dry beans, quinoa, wheat bran and herbs. When I mentioned this to the postal workers they looked at me like I was boring them and said, “Yeah, it’s a problem. We tried to get rid of them, but…” I waited for an inordinate amount of time for a conclusion to this, but there was not an end to that sentence. I wonder if this was the same woman that told me she could not tell me over the phone whether I had a package or not and I would need to check in-person. From our first house it was a 40 minute walk (more if Xander wanted to walk on his own and not be carried part way) and so we would usually take taxis.

My dear friend, Sandy, would also drive us to the post office to check for mail and took us to retrieve seven of the eight boxes we sent ourselves of which two had been gnawed open by, you guessed it, the rats.

Parcel Day

When a package from friends or family arrives it is like Christmas. The box is placed on the dining ro

om table to admire until Zach gets home from work and we can all gently shake it and make conjectures as to the contents before opening it together. I would have never imagined two people being so excited about a gift of cotton swabs. The few I brought did not last long and we refused to pay $12 for Q-tips so we asked our parents to send some. Popcorn kernels, chocolate chips for baking, dried yeast, onion soup mix (for seasoning sauces and soups a pinch at a time) and nuts, glorious nuts. Almonds, peanuts, you name it and we lov

e it. We just don’t love it enough to justify spending $25 on a small bag.

We mail letters. We make lots of letters and handmade cards and send them out weekly. It takes about ten days for a letter to make it to New York from here. We want everyone back home to know how very special they are to us and a handwritten note on a handmade card is a great way to display that affection. The Holidays are just around the corner and we are now assembling a few boxes to send to family. Finding just the right things and arranging them in just the right way to be efficient with space and sound when shaken is part art and part physical science. With the amount of care that goes into the packaged boxes we'll send, I hope they are enjoyed even half as much as we appreciate the ones we receive.

May all our cards and boxes arrive safely and post-haste.

Even the empty boxes themselves are used to organize our closets and for toy bins- very useful.

Getting Around

Before coming here I was adamant about bringing our bikes. It is a tropical paradise and it seems such a shame to pollute it with the burning of hydrocarbons. When we arrived, I then agreed with my husband that having bicycles here is a really bad idea. Unlike many places that we love, Pohnpei is not good for bicycles. I do not believe that civil engineers had much of a hand in designing Kolonia. It is not the very steep terrain that is daunting, but the fact that roads are narrow, winding and cars barely have enough room for two lanes, so they maneuver around potholes by crossing into the other lane. We see cars ditched or swerving that we commonly attribute to alcohol or sakau use. There are only a few sidewalks in town and certainly no bike lanes. I might be more willing to ride if our precious cargo were not in tow.

The first two months we walked most everywhere. Places that are too far can be reached by taxi, which is absurdly cheap at $1-2 for a 15-20 minute ride, but we have waited for over an hour for a taxi or, “Taxi Crab” as our two-year-old calls them. Being places on time is important to us, so we resolved to get a car. We bought one from someone at the college, but the engine seized five days after purchase. There is a long story therein which involves the seller agreeing to reimburse us, but failing to make the contracted payments within the agreed upon timeframe. So…

Buying from a dealer here is more expensive, but there is a warranty of one month and you can pick up your car right away. Ordering a car from Japan costs less, but is more hassle and you wait for one to three months to receive the car. We decided to order a car from Japan – who knows why, maybe for the experience. There are several websites we studied before deciding on a gas efficient Mazda Demio.

We received the car six weeks after ordering it.

Before we could pick up the car we had to get local drivers licenses. You are required to study the small book of road laws for one full week before getting a license. There is no test involved, just a nod when asked if the book was studied. The speed limit on Pohnpei is 25 miles per hour (even though the speedometers are in kilometers per hour), pedestrians have the right of way, use common sense and don’t park in the middle of the road, except for all the people who do. That is the gist of the booklet that took fifteen minutes to read. Once we had the form from the police station, we went to a different location to pay a $6 fee for a stamp at the Treasurer’s Office, then went to a printing company to get photos before returning to the police station with the stamped form and picture needed to make the paper driver’s license. In a place that rains as much as Pohnpei, a laminator would be a useful tool.

The Five Stamps of disorganized bureaucracy

After your car arrives, but before you can pick it up you must retrieve the golden fleece. Not really, but almost as epic and painstaking are the gathering of the five stamps from five different mostly unmarked buildings on the island. On the Bill of Lading sent by the car dealer you need the following stamps, in order:

1. Pohnpei Transfer and Storage. This is the only marked building but a bit tricky to find in the maze of buildings behind the airport. No fee for this stamp.

2. Shipping Company Office. Pay a fee based on the weight of the shipment.

3. Treasurer’s Office. This unmarked office is at the end of a long corridor of doors without signage.

4. Custom’s Office. This is not the customs office at the airport or the one behind the post office. It is located across from Wall Mart in an unmarked building. There is a duty of 4% of the cost of freight (CIF.)

5. Pohnpei Port Authority [shown below].

Located behind the airport and where the minimal wharfage fee is paid.

With all said and done this will take the better part of the day and you can then pick up the vehicle – if the port is still open. Do not leave the car too long or an additional storage fee will be imposed. We are grateful to our awesome neighbors who drove me around to get the stamps. Thank you Lloyd and Juvelina!

Driving on Pohnpei is not so bad once you learn where the potholes are (they are some of Pohnpei's most famous landmarks). Drivers often stop to allow for other people to turn left, and traffic is easy going. Car horns are only used to signal that you are passing or that your taxi is waiting. Our bank has a drive-though designed for cars with the driver on the left, but our car and most cars on the island are Japanese with the driver on the right side. Everyone using the drive-through actually then has to get out of the car and walk up to the window. It is a bit odd to drive on the same side of the car as the driving side. It is safer for the driver to be closer to the opposing traffic so as to ascertain the distance between. In this case each driver is on the opposite side of the cars from one another and guessing as to the amount of room they have between the two.

Car Safety

People do not generally wear seatbelts here, which is to say that I have not seen a single native person use a seatbelt.

Here in Micronesia it is considered safest for a baby to be in the front seat of a vehicle in the

arms of an adult. On more than one occasion, I have seen an infant sleeping against the shoulder of a driver. Kids hang out of the windows or stand up in the back of pick-up trucks all while in motion, on the road with other drivers. This is very much opposed to my culture of car seat restraints and over protection. I am not saying the Micronesian custom in this case is wrong or bad, but so different from what I am used to that it is difficult to get used to.

We are thankful to have a car. We no longer have to walk 30 minutes each way to retrieve our five-year-old from school, which has substantially brightened my outlook on life here. We have also done a driving tour circumnavigating the island with the kids buckled into their little booster seats. It is great to be free to go places. Without a car, this small island seemed more claustrophobic than it does now with a car.

Safe driving to all.

Cash Power

I found myself pondering the necessity of the tiny light bulb in the refrigerator. The freezer does not have a light bulb and I am able to find things in there. Both are organized. Could I possibly do without the fridge light and retrieve perishables from memory and feel? As you can imagine, we have become hyper-conscious of our power consumption. For years I have done what I thought was my best to decrease our carbon footprint, but only now am I making a significant improvement.

There is a hydroelectric power plant that sits dilapidated with disuse. No one I have asked can provide a reasonable answer for the closing of the hydroelectric plant. Maybe during days of draught several years ago it did not generate enough power to keep it going. Here on Pohnpei, electricity currently comes from diesel burning generators. You can only smell the horrible stench of it when very near the power plant. Some off shore wind power would be ideal, but to date is just a dream.

Power is paid for in advance by giving the meter number to the teller at the power company and then typing the number from the receipt into the control panel of the meter. You can actually see how many kilowatts of energy are used per day and the red panel light will blink faster with more energy expended. Does the light next to the frowny face illuminate when you run out of power or just before? In our first house on Pohnpei, we would turn off the water pump when not in use and saved a lot of energy at the cost of annoyance every time we went to wash our hands.

We do not use our water heater or air conditioners, we turn off lights as we exit a room, we occasionally enjoy candlelight dinners (usually during power outages), our room light bulbs are fluorescents, sometimes our nightly story time is by flashlight, we have a propane stove/oven, and we rarely use the dryer, opting to hang our clothes to dry. Hanging clothes on our covered back deck reduces wrinkles and we don’t need to use an iron. Good thing, too, because while in my mind the phrase ‘domestic goddess’ is something to aspire to, this does not include ironing.

Electricity here is very expensive, but due to our efforts we have a comparatively low electricity cost at about $65 per month and at $0.56/kilowatt hour, we are using about 116 Kilowatts per month. There is one state-run company from which to purchase power known as PUC (Pohnpei Utility Company, AKA Cash Power). Cash Power has undergone strategic policy changes resulting in a 60% increase in the cost of power over the past year. It is a publicly owned company, which can be of great benefit to a nation’s people if and when said people have shareholders rights, votes and opportunity to elect board members. I suppose the second part of the equation is forming a protocol and forum for people to voice their concerns, votes and comments. It is easy to stand by while World Bank mandates (however good in intention) change in public services and utilities into for-profit machines incapable of hearing damages caused. A good business model is not interchangeable with a good social services or utilities model without harming the public to the benefit of the powerful. O.k., stepping off the soapbox…

[The congratulatory award display from Pohnpei to Cash Power with love.]

I find myself thinking of ways to reduce carbon emissions even further and looking at little things in a new light. We brought a battery back-up for the computer which displays the power draw of whatever is plugged into it. Luckily, a fan only draws 25 watts at each setting and I can have it blowing air on high without feeling the impulse to suffer through low speed for The Cause. I am thankful for the energy efficient LCD nightlights we brought, but in hindsight realize that we should have brought our LCD camping light and head lamp as well. Even though I don’t have a hair dryer, dish washer or vacuum here on island, I know there is still more I can do to improve our cost to the planet. We walk or carpool whenever possible and coordinate errands with other families as well. The clothes washer is safe in fulfilling its function – I don’t want to wash clothes by hand. The refrigerator and its tiny light are safe too. There is a limit to what I am willing to endure. I do still need to function in raising the kids, working on my projects, socializing and working my way toward being crowned a goddess of domestic wisdom amoung other goals.

Now tell me, don't you want to preserve this too?

Halloween

For some reason I was surprised to learn that Halloween is celebrated here on Pohnpei. For me, Halloween was always about getting candy and being amazed at the the transformation of whole houses - inside and out. Families transform the night and whole neighborhoods into a magical realm of mystique. Styles range from autumn-themed scarecrow-topped haystacks togiant spiders crawling over a haunted house with a creeping fog that covers the porch. The Halloween costume has developed into a show and symbol of one's self. You can be anything you want on Halloween. What do you want to be for a night of pretend?

On Halloween, kids here recognize the "costume" as a means to an end, the end being candy. Most kids I saw were not dressed up, but instead were sporting marker or make-up on their faces. Not pictures or the sort of face-painting that results in looking like somethings else, but a few lines or half the face painted as an extreme sports fan might display. The question of, "What are you for Halloween" resulted in some confusion on the parts of the kids and teenagers I asked. Maybe they did not see themselves transformed for the experience as the second most popular response to "I don't know" was "We put the paint because you have to do paint to get candy." "Happy Halloween" is the chosen phrase over "Trick-or-treat" (and the optional "smell my feet, give me something good to eat").

We received a head's up from our neighbor that many truck loads of kids would come to the house for candy. We stocked up on a enough candy to fill a great big bowl. Due to the prevalence of major tooth decay in children, I wanted to throw in some tooth brushes as well, but was told these would not be used let alone appreciated. I do care about their teeth, but I don't want to tick off the neighborhood kids especially since I do not know if the practice of Halloween tricks has been adopted here as well.

On the night ofthe holiday we ate dinner early (sesame seared yellow fin tuna steaks and ginger noodles) and went to a fun Halloween party before venturing out to a couple of houses for the big night. No one was coming to our house and I did not want to be left with a mound of candy, so I took the bowl to the street and handed it out in person. Most of the "costumes" maintained a peculiar similarity to one another. I just hope that wasn't permanent marker on their faces.

Over the years, some of my own costumes have included: tooth fairy, mother nature, queen bee and when I was a hobo at age three. Zach was once Edward Safety-Scissors Hands. Now I concentrate more on the kids costumes than on my own. In an effort to allow my children to be anything they want to be for the occasion, I ask them for their requests. Alexander's was the simpler of the two as he wanted to be Superboy Alexander. Not Superman, not Superboy, but Superboy Alexander which I guess is a version of himself with a cape. It is nice to think that even at age two, he is self-assured enough to want to be himself, more or less.

Chloe first said she wanted to be a waterfall. A waterfall? How on earth would I manage that?Thankfully, after a trip to the fabric store, she was inspired by a particular fabric and decided instead on being a mermaid. Fabric is inexpensive here, between $1-3/yd. The creation of the template involved her laying down on top of the fabric allowing me to measure and mark it where necessary. My sewing machine is in storage in the U.S., so I took the cut fabric pieces to a seamstress (MJ Tailors) who did a much better job of sewing that I did of designing. $5 for fabric and $6 for sewing, the costume ended up being less expensive and of a much better quality than a store bought option (and roughly the same price as a pack of permanent markers).

Telecommunications

There are no addresses here in Pohnpei. Our first day on island we signed up for internet and phone service and in lieu of an address gave the name of the landowner from whom we were renting. I am amazed at the cab drivers knowing all the land owners names and
locations. Imagine jumping into an unknown taxi and saying, “take me to Robert Wilson’s house please” and they just take you there no questions asked. Without addresses the national phonebook, with three additional islands’ phone numbers in it, is but a small magazine. All of the land-line phone numbers on Pohnpei begin with 320-. When recalling a number you need only memorize the last four digits. Cell phones cannot call landlines and landlines cannot call cell phones. I have given up asking why this is as it does not seem to bother locals and telecom employees say, “that is just how it is” much like a mother ending a child’s string of questions with, “just because.”

Getting service…

When we first moved here we met other professors at the college who had been waiting for up to four months for internet service and still didn’t have it. Telecom is the state run communications company and we would go there everyday to ask about internet service and everyday we were told “maybe tomorrow”. After three weeks we had made such a nuisance of our selves that we were given service. We moved a week later and so the ritual of visiting the telecom began again. We waited an additional three weeks for service. What they were not willing to admit to us was that there are not enough modem boxes on the island for all the people who want service. Instead of ordering more to accommodate new customers or replace broken boxes, the waiting list is to assume the boxes of the people who do not promptly pay for service. An employee told me that once someone is on the waiting list they must call or visit telecom at least once every two weeks to renew their request or be removed from the list.

Paying for service…

The cost of Telecom’s services was recently increased by 60% across the board. There are a few hypotheses for the reason behind this exorbitant adjustment. For example, FSM telecom has been exempt from taxes for the last 20 years. Soon they will start paying taxes and have not put aside money or gradually adjusted rates to prepare for their new taxes, hence the steep and sudden price increase.

Keeping service…

We first ordered the basic internet package which was as slower than a sloth race up a tree. I requested and upgrade and paid the upgrade fee to seal the deal. Only afterward was I told that if connectivity speed was not increased to my liking I would have to wait a full year before I could downgrade. What? It is literally the press of a button on their end to change the speed.

As I write this, our internet service has been down for the past three weeks. There is a short on the line and started to have sporadic problems whenever it would rain. It rains everyday, so this is a problem. When I go into Telecom the lovely women at the front smile at me and greet me by name. Each know my husbands name, landowner’s name, telephone number and our adsl number by heart and they know why I am there. They are friendly and do their best to coax the repair and tech departments into looking into our internet situation. I have, by Telecom’s preference, waited

at home for four full days waiting for line repairs that have not come. I am told it is not policy for technicians to call first, but I can make a request. Request made, but I won’t hold my breath for a call.

The scenery is breathtaking and the people are friendly here, but it is not a place to require or expect that things happen on a diligent schedule. I don’t want to scare people

who wish to visit or live on Pohnpei, many places do not have any trouble with their internet. I just seem to be in the process of learning lessons I must be in need of.

For example, the phrase “island time” has new meaning for me it is more about exercising patience than about kicking back and relaxing worry free. I have a new found appreciation for so many things I have previously taken for granted.

P.S. Thank goodness for small miracles. I will post this today, three days after writing it. I love you internet and will not soon forget it.

Musical Interlude

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to participate in a Mid-term Musical Respite at the College of Micronesia by performing a few songs. Here I am playing "The Perfect Space," by the Avett Brothers: 

That, ladies and gentlemen, is my best approximation as to how one might rock a conference room.

If they do this again next semester, I'd like to perform some original material that I've been writing on a borrowed banjo. Stay tuned.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

In many ways, teaching at the College of Micronesia is very similar to teaching at a college in the U.S., but there is one notable distinguishing characteristic that I'd like to point out. In my relatively brief tenure so far as a college instructor, nowhere else have I ever walked into my classroom to find a stray dog sleeping on the floor.

I tried whistling. I tried clapping loudly. I even poked it with my umbrella. Nothing seemed to work. The dog, while clearly still alive, wasn't going anywhere. Of course, it just so happens that I was holding my class in the computer lab that day and just needed to write that on the board so that the students would know where to go. I also included a note that they should probably leave the dog alone.

Stray dogs are pretty common here, much like they were in Moldova. In fact, it seems that the further you are in the world from Bob Barker, the more of an issue said dogs become.

If anyone is interested, I'm considering writing a series of essays about the disparities and congruencies between the two aforementioned nations, each an orphan state of twentieth century superpowers, situated on opposite ends of the western world. Both physically and metaphorically, I think the idea of American culture resides somewhere in the middle, while the similarities between Moldovans and Micronesians (and Michiganders, while we're at it) may indicate something about our common human nature - beyond my own personal, inexplicable affinity for places that begin with the letter M that the spell-check doesn't seem to think are real.

Outside of the [Idiot] Box

Right before we came to Micronesia, we moved all of our belongings from one storage location to another. It was all rather anticlimactic, and since there was only limited space in the moving truck, we had to prioritize. As a result, our TV was among the casualties, as we left it sitting next to a dumpster with a small sign indicating that it was free to anyone who wanted it. Maybe we'll buy a new television when we get back the U.S., or maybe we won't. At this point, I have to say, though, I don't really miss it.

Granted, we have a computer for watching the occasional movie or letting the kids watch Curious George or Bill Nye, the Science Guy, but for the most part, other than when I'm listening to or playing music, it tends to be relatively quiet around our house... considering, of course, that we have two young children. Conversely, when we lived in the U.S. (and Moldova, for that matter), even though we weren't exactly couch potatoes by any means, it had become all too easy to just turn on the TV whenever we weren't actively doing anything else and then leave it on for far longer than anyone originally intended.

My point here isn't to come across as some elitist television-hating snob, but I will say that in the absence of a TV, we do get an awful lot of reading done. In fact, it seems like we all have significantly more spare time to do all kinds of genuinely rewarding activities - like talking to one another, writing and making minor works of refrigerator art - as a direct result of not having a television in our house. It's almost as if there are more hours in a day without it.

Consider, too, that one way or another, many shows are also available online, so if we really want to see something, it's not like we're really missing out. If we want to watch The Daily Show or Community or whatever, we can do so on the computer. For the most part, though, it's pretty easy to forget about the inane distractions that could easily consume an idle weeknight. This may be obvious, but I tend to be of the opinion that the vast majority of television shows are absolute garbage.

Frankly, though, it wasn't even the shows that bothered me so much as the constant advertising. Of course, television is a medium that was built around commercials, with which it has maintained a symbiotic relationship ever since. Television, as a whole, exists for the express purpose of selling stuff. Any entertainment that may fill the space between advertisements is merely a byproduct of the original objective.

I know I'm not alone in the degree to which I loathe the audacity of commercials, the entire function of which is to try to trick people into buying more things that they don't really need. This is especially true now that we have two young children that we really don't want exposed to that kind of crap. Yes, call me irrational, but television commercials make me angry, as does any actual human being who blatantly lies to and/or manipulates the masses for his or her own monetary gain.

On a sidenote, though, I do miss our Wii, but then again, I'd probably rather not think about all of the wasted hours I've spent playing Excite Truck or You Don't Know Jack. However, if anything compels me to buy a television when we return to the U.S, this would probably be it. Who knows, though? I can't help but feel like our kids might be better off if they grew up not coveting the crap they see advertised on TV or subscribing to the images promoted by mainstream media. Maybe we all would.

Higher Education

The College of Micronesia, where I teach, is accredited by the Western Association of Schools and Colleges, which means that they are expected to maintain the same academic standards as colleges in California, Oregon, Washington and Hawaii. Roughly ninety-nine percent of the students here qualify for Pell Grants through the U.S. Department of Education, as it is income-based, which in turn provides the school with much needed funding. The students then take home the difference between what is covered by the Pell Grant and what the school actually costs, which can mean a refund for as much as a thousand dollars per semester. This helps offset the economic reality of inflation and extremely low wages by providing what amounts to a supplemental income for families with one or more members of the household attending college. I have no problem with that. Unfortunately, though, it also seems that the Pell Grant refund may be the single most significant motivating factor for a large number of the students here to attend college in the first place. I say this because after the checks were issued, attendance in a couple of my classes diminished considerably.

Granted, this is mostly speculation on my part, but the timing is rather hard to ignore. Meanwhile, since the college is also desperate for revenue, it would seem that they have little choice but to be complicit partners in this exchange. Quite frankly, without the Pell Grant, the College of Micronesia would cease to be. However, as I suggested, this also makes for a larger percentage of students who don't really want to be here. In that sense, it's almost more like high school than it is college, and when you consider how ill-prepared many of these students are for college-level writing, I have had my work cut out for me, to say the least.

Of course, now that my classes have been whittled down to those who actually do want to be here, this has considerably changed the dynamic - and those that do want to learn have proven to be relatively adept at it. With that said, I maintain hope that all of my remaining students will be writing at a level indicative of a college education by the end of the semester, and also that those who dropped out may see a value in higher education that goes beyond the instant gratification of a refund check - before it's too late for them to receive continued financial aid.

If I didn't believe that there was a benefit for these students to learn this stuff, I wouldn't be here. However, and this is probably true just about anywhere, on some level, I can only effectively teach those who genuinely want to learn, who are ready for the responsibility of being college students. I recognize that it's not for everybody, but for those who choose to get more out of this than a mere refund check, it provides a rare opportunity for long-term upward mobility, and from a broader economic perspective, it can also be viewed as an critical investment in human capital. I only wish that more people would take advantage of the education as opposed to simply taking advantage of the educational system.   

Driving in Circles

I can't say that Jamie and I were all that surprised when Speed Racer, our borrowed/abandoned car with a duct tape racing stripe, failed to start. The ignition was one of the last electric functions of the car that still worked, and even then, it was pretty temperamental. Luckily, it was parked in front of our house when it quit, which is where it will likely remain indefinitely, at least until our landlord wants to do something with it. Like many other parts of the island, our front yard is starting to look like a place where cars go to die (particularly because the people who own the house have another non-functioning car parked there as well).

On the bright side, last week, we finally got the car that we ordered from Japan. Now that it's all said and done, I can admit that I was a little worried about having sent nearly three thousand dollars via wire transfer to a company in Japan with whom I had never before done business for a car of which we had only seen pictures. The closest thing we had to a guarantee that we would ever see the vehicle that we ordered was an emailed receipt, but based on the luck we had had so far with cars here in Micronesia, I wasn't all that confident.

For our Mazda Demio's maiden voyage, we took a trip around the island. Considering that there's just one main road that runs the entire perimeter of Pohnpei, it seemed like it would be difficult to get lost. However, that didn't stop us from inadvertently turning down some side roads that led nowhere, one of which involved driving in reverse for about a half mile between rows of parked cars with about an inch of clearance on each side, made all the more complicated by pedestrians who were curious what this family of white people was up to. 

Although I admit that it was interesting to see more of the island, that which we saw wasn't really that different than anything else that we had already seen, at least superficially. That is to say that a house on the south side of Pohnpei looks remarkably similar to a house on the north side, and virtually anywhere you go, you're likely to encounter potholed roads surrounded by rainforest and the occasional village, each of which seems to differ only in its fluid multi-syllabic name. Alohkapw, anyone?

Of course, it only cost us about a half of a tank of gas to drive all the way around the island, plus one entire afternoon, but it was an excuse to get out of Kolonia for the day. Having been without a car for most of our time here so far, I will say that our immobility only increased the overall sense of being stuck. That is, not only are we on a tiny little island in the middle of a vast ocean, but we were also confined to the areas to which we could comfortably walk with two young children. It was a very small world indeed.

Now that we have a more reliable vehicle, if we start to get stir crazy, we can at least go for a drive. Granted, the extent of this is the aforementioned sixty mile circle around the island, down some terrible roads marked by a severe shortage of public places to stop and rest, but it was at least something a little different for a change, and it provided a much-needed break from what had been a series of automotive misfortunes.

With that said, I should note that we did get a flat tire about ten miles from home, only to learn that our new car had not been equipped with a tire iron when it left Japan. A local guy was kind enough to help us out, but by the time we had the spare on the car, rather than go out to eat, we decided that we were ready to go home. We had had enough adventure for one day.  

Like taking ripe fruit from a tree

Ripe edibles are plentiful here. There are multiple growing seasons and if you know what to look for and how to prepare and eat it, with minimal effort you will have plenty to eat.

The house we lived in for the first month we were here had papaya, coconut, something-like-an-apple and lime trees in the yard. I love to cook with lime, so this was a blessing. We learned the hard way that the variety of lime tree on Pohnpei is loaded with one-to-three-inch thorny barbs. Yikes!

In our new house’s yard we have breadfruit, lemon, guava and banana and noni trees. When the breadfruit is overly ripe it falls to the ground with a thudding splat. The smell of the rotten fruit is surprisingly pleasant. The base scent is of ripe passion fruit and the underlying scent of that of sweet rotten apples. I would literally wear the scent as a perfume. Eau du Ferment anyone?

I have never been a big banana fan. It would have to be a near empty fruit bowl for me to select one for myself to eat.

For me, both of the varieties that are common in U.S. supermarkets do not have a super flavor and the texture is pasty, almost chalky. I wish I could have seen my own expression the first time I tried a banana here in Micronesia. Wow, hello multiple facets of flavor and silky mouth feel! Where have you been all my life? There are over 33 different kinds of bananas grown here and the few table bananas I’ve tried have multiple notes to the palate that range from lime to sugarcane.

To harvest bananas the whole tree (technically a rhizome) is cut down. And the banana stem is cut into sections to hang from a strip of hibiscus bark as a makeshift rope. A very strong rope. The banana flower can be cooked and eaten.

This is the karrot banana and it is so good it'll knock your socks off clean and into the washer. It is ripe when mushy to the touch, red on the outside and bright orange on the inside. It is delightful plain and is the best banana I have ever baked with.

I have always enjoyed fresh pineapple. Micronesia has the sweetest pineapples I have ever tasted. At the market I smell the bottom of the pineapple to determine ripeness. That’s right, I’m not too proud to sniff a pineapple butt. A pineapple should smell like a ripe, juicy pineapple. To eat it, I lob off the top and bottom and cut off the outer skin removing as little of meat as possible. Then, using a small flathead screwdriver, I pluck out the hard to digest seed pockets. To grow a pineapple tree. Simply plant the top of the pineapple.

There are many more fruits here I have yet to explore. I have heard of avocados as big as a softball. There are Noni and Starfruit trees across the street at the botanical garden and the market has several other interesting offerings that I have yet to investigate. One fruit at a time.

Fruit for breakfast, fruit for snack, fruit for dessert. Life is sweet.

Come Again Another Day

I really cannot overemphasize how much it rains here. It makes sense, though, if you consider how much direct sunlight there is, combined with the fact that Pohnpei is surrounded by water for thousands of miles in every direction. That, and the interior of the island is mountainous, which affects the weather pattern in such a way as to empty the clouds.

Every day we get hit with at least a couple hours of what can be accurately described as a torrential downpour. If they got rain like this in Michigan, they would close schools and tell people to stay off the roads. There would be flash flood warnings. Bingo games in church basements would be canceled. Similarly, if they got rain like this in Los Angeles, the local news would call it Rain-mageddon, or something equally stupid. The city would unequivocally shut down. Indeed, one of my least favorite parts about living in L.A. was the fact that it never rains. Now I suppose I'm making up for that.   

In Pohnpei, the rain is just a part of daily life. It never sprinkles, and the weather rarely even gives hints that it's going to start raining soon. One minute, it's sunny, and the next, you are completely drenched... and it may also still be sunny. I've never owned an umbrella before, because frankly, I've never considered myself the kind of person who is bothered by a little bit of rain; here, however, I take an umbrella with me to school every day, because just about every day, I actually need it. Otherwise, I'd show up to teach in clothes that are completely saturated or have a laptop that no longer worked.

The drinking water in Kolonia, logically, comes from the rain. There are big reservoirs that catch the precipitation, where it is then dispensed through the city pipes. Personally, I do drink the tap water when I'm at work, but for the kids' sake, we also buy purified water for use at home. It only costs $1.50 to have a five gallon container filled, and some places even deliver.

Hot date and a cold shower

Zach and I celebrated our wedding anniversary and not knowing any babysitters we brought the kids out to dinner with us. You know: a date with the kids where, being without a car, we hike up a long, very steep mountainside road to arrive looking like sweat-drenched beggars. Good times. If there is anything that will make you appreciate the civilized essence of ice cubes, it is a hike like that.

The view from the restaurant patio is beyond spectacular and after taking a few pictures, we sat down to order. Our waitress, a pretty, local young woman with a dazzling smile approached to greet us. Before she said anything, our five-year-old daughter announced, “I’d like a cocktail, a tall one!” She said it with such confidence and sounded like she says this all the time with ordering it, "tall." We all looked astonished. The waitress looked to us with raised eyebrows and slight look of panic. I quickly realized that there is a plastic table tent displaying a luring picture of a tall, iced beverage adorned with fruit and a cocktail umbrella under the large caption ‘COCKTAILS’. Back paddling, I quickly say, “Oh, we don’t give her cocktails, um, uh.” I pointed to the sign and after a brief awkward moment told the waitress that Chloe reads. We all shared a relieved chuckle followed by deep belly laughs that come with the kind of shared moments that become inside jokes.

We oohed and awed at the gorgeous sunset while we ate our food. When I eat I sometimes daydream and could not help thinking of a shower. We do not have a water heater. Let's pause to consider this. In the morning and evening it is not particuarily hot here and a cold shower is a most affronting and daunting task. Taking a cold shower when you don't wish for one requires a certain amount of pep talk before hand. Little Engine on the count of three, one…two…three, GO! It is can be difficult to maneuver girlie tasks in a cold shower and sometimes I don't rinse all of the soap out of my hair in my haste of getting out and getting warm. We have a plastic tub for the kids that we top off with hot water from the stove so that their experience is less shocking. Being clean is worth the effort of two to three quick cold showers a day, but I will love a hot bubble bath that much more when I am reaquainted with it.

At Cupid's restaurant the service was great, the food good and the prices decent. Zach had a burger and fries, I had fresh fish (what else?) and the kids ate quesadillas. Everyone enjoyed their meals and we even treated the kids to a strawberry soda to ease any disappointment about not getting cocktails, and because family date night was a special occasion.

Struggling to get to dinner was a physical reminder that sometimes life’s treasures take hard work and perseverance. It is not always an uphill effort, but if we give all of ourselves, we get even more in return and we might even get to coast for a while. I will say that going back down the mountain was much easier that going up.






All in all, it was a good date to celebrate a great marriage.

Mango Lips

Mango has been my favorite fruit since I can remember. Living here in Micronesia is the first time I have had a mango tree in my front yard, an at least 80 foot tall tree. Sounds of a baseball falling through broad green leaves followed by a slightly metallic thud of the fallen mango hitting the jagged metamorphic rocks in a plink, plank, plunk down the steep slope is great music to my ears. A game we’ve devised is called ‘mango hunting’. Picking up fallen fruit might not sound like much of a game or an exciting hunt, but when you are playing ‘duck and cover’ at the first sound of the mango falling and then dodging the ripe fruit that is gaining speed until it crashes, ideally not on our heads, is great excitement for the kids and me.

(Pictured is a woman selling sugar and kool-aid "pickled" papaya and mango.)

Needless to say, I have been eating at least two fresh mangos per day. Not the large, far-traveled, orange when ripened mangos we are used to seeing in U.S. supermarkets, but smaller and stringier dark green mangos with tougher skin and sweeter juice. Every time I eat one of these delectable, heavenly treats I can barely believe my good fortune with every slurping, scraping bite.

Apparently, I had too much of a good thing. At a pot luck I indulged in a glorious mango and within minutes, to my dismay, I developed an itchy burning sensation all around my mouth and chin, everywhere the mango juice has kissed my face. What is this? What is happening? Surely my sweet mango could not be the culprit. Maybe it was rolled in something terrible before it was served on a shining platter. Maybe this particular mango tree is infected or sprayed with chemicals. Maybe the mango was stung by a bee, the only allergy I’ve ever known. Maybe…

Spare yourself the Google search on mango allergies- it ain’t pretty, but it is pretty common and I have the symptoms to the letter. Currently my lips are swelled to twice their normal size. Not in a sexy Angelina Jolie kind of way, more like a collagen lip plumping injection gone horribly wrong. The symptoms of a mango allergy are the same as poison ivy with blistering, itching, burning, swelling and spreading. I am not allergic to poison ivy – I know, it hardly seemed fair until now as I basically have poison ivy reaction on my lips. I have to talk to people with these lips and ask that my kids take me seriously with these lips and want to kiss my husband with these lips. The allergy medication and hydrocortisone helped. I feel confident that raw honey, if I had some, would help. Coconut oil did not help!

There goes another mango now. That one sounded especially juicy. Sniff.

Farewell dear mango, it was lovely to know you. I will try to remember the nuance of your taste. As I try to remember I wonder, what if I didn’t touch the skin or touched it to my lips, but allowed it to be fed to me as a baby bird is fed. I remind myself that allergic reactions can get worse with subsequent exposures and as my plump and bumpy itchy lips would have me remember, it is all too soon to try again.

This is a picture of a hairy spider with a three inch body and four inch legs. I did not take a picture of my mango lips, but find this crazy spider living outside our back door to be equally as disturbing.