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.  

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.

Keep on Rockin' in the Free World

As Jamie mentioned in one of her posts, we put a lot of thought into what to bring with us to Micronesia. For me, however, the biggest issue was in determining which musical instrument to bring.

I've played piano almost all of my life, but it didn't seem very practical to bring a keyboard. Last time I brought it on a plane, from Chicago to L.A., the baggage handlers beat it all to hell, and ever since, it sometimes gives me error messages.

This was also enough to rule out bringing my banjo, which my parents unexpectedly got me for Christmas last year and that I had been playing quite a bit ever since. I was even starting to get the hang of it, but seeing as how it's a fairly fragile instrument and I only have a soft case for it, I didn't think it would be a good idea to try to take it on an airplane.

Frankly, I don't know why it is that we, as a society, simply accept that baggage handlers are going to be as rough with our luggage as humanly possible. (And which comes first, getting a job as a baggage handler or being a sociopath with no regard for other people's property?)

In any case, this left me with two choices as far as what instrument to bring, as these were the only two that have hard cases that are deemed "airline safe." These are: my Fender Jaguar electric guitar and my Fender Sonoran acoustic/electric. Despite the fact that the Jaguar is a surf rock guitar, and it almost seems silly to move to an island in the Pacific Ocean (where people actually surf) and not bring it with me, I opted for the acoustic/electric, just because it's more versatile. That is, I don't have to have it plugged into anything if I want to hear it, but I also can plug it in if I want to record.

I keep a bunch of desiccant (silica gel) packets in the case, which the guitar is always in when not actively in use, but I am still a little worried about the humidity. I changed the strings shortly after we got here, and within a week, they were already corroded and dull. I have to clean them with WD-40 once a week and change them every three weeks or so, and I've noticed that the action on the guitar has already been affected somewhat by the climate here. This could mean that the wood is starting to warp or simply that the truss rod needs to be adjusted. I'm hoping for the latter, but either way, it's got me a bit concerned.

On a sidenote, what is it about silica gel packets that necessitates that the words "DO NOT EAT" be printed on the side of every package? Is there something especially appetizing about them? I mean, there are a lot of things that we shouldn't eat, so what makes these so special? Should "In God We Trust," as written on American coinage, be replaced with the somewhat more pragmatic, "Do Not Eat"?

In any case, about a week ago, I was lamenting to a friend of mine here about missing my banjo, and he said that he happened to have one in his closet that someone gave him two years ago but that he had only played a couple of times. After I changed the strings (there were three sets left with the banjo), he asked if I wanted to borrow it.

Well played, universe...
Well played.

The Micronesian Weight Loss Plan

In the month and a half that we've been here, I think Jamie and have each lost about ten pounds. I say this despite the fact that we've never owned a scale, but I can tell you that I feel a hell of a lot skinnier - not in an unhealthy way, but rather, quite the opposite.

Consider that we eat fresh fish and rice just about every day, we consume very little processed foods and we tend to do a lot of walking. Most of what we need is within a manageable distance and walking just about anywhere is usually enough to break a healthy sweat.

The kids, on the other hand, are still growing at the same rate that they always have. We make sure that they get all of the nutrients that they need, and since Jamie's culinary skills are considerably more advanced than mine, she's done almost all of the cooking since we've been here, which I think has been to the advantage of all of our health.

I tend to cook like most guys, that is: based on what sounds good, letting the primary ingredients carry most of the flavor, whereas Jamie takes the nutritional value into far more consideration and creates combinations of raw ingredients that make for interesting and often unexpected flavors. Basically, she's a much better cook than me, so despite that I really do enjoy cooking, with Jamie's blessing, I defer this responsibility to her, at least for the time being. Frankly, I've come to the conclusion that my culinary repertoire is of little value here, considering that I tend to overcook fish and my rice is usually either swampy or burnt… or sometimes, oddly, both.

It's amazing what a healthy diet and even a little physical activity can do. Strangely, though, a lot of people here do tend to be what I would consider slightly overweight, but I suspect that has a lot to do with the prevalence of processed import foods that provide a break from the staple diet that has perhaps become a bit too routine over the past thousand or so years.

Spam is very popular in this part of the world, which I suspect is because for a lot of people in this region, their first exposure to western cuisine came to them through G.I. rations, which included things like canned meat. I can see how when the basic ingredients are as limited as they are here, something that breaks the monotony could seem like a real delicacy, even Spam*.

* which for those of you who don't know, stands for: Slime Passing As Meat

  

The Sandman Cometh

For the first month that we were here, I don't think any of us got a good night's sleep. There were three main reasons for this:

1. Even in the summer, we're used to it getting a little bit cooler at night. Seventy-five isn't what I would consider good sleeping weather. That has taken some getting used to. In fact, this blog could also reasonably be called, "a life without pajamas."

2. The bed that Jamie and I had in the first house that we were renting not only smelled like a cheap motel room, but it was also hands down the least comfortable mattress I've ever encountered. If you've ever seen a mattress sitting out by a dumpster and thought, "If I put sheets over it, the stains won't even be visible," then you might have a lot in common with our previous landlord.

3. Chickens. Just like how there are wild turkeys in Michigan, Pohnpei has feral chickens. Every morning, without fail, somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00, one of the roosters would start out the competition as to which of them could crow the loudest. Inevitably, at least one of them would be right outside our window, cock-a-doodle doing when I'd wish more than anything that it would cock-a-doodle don't. To be honest, I didn't think I had it in me to harbor such an intense hatred for chickens. I'm only vaguely familiar with the book, "Chicken Soup for the Soul." Does anybody know if it included any recipes for wild roosters?

In any case, I'm happy to report that we have since moved into a new house. We've now got fans in our bedrooms, Jamie and I have a much better mattress, and since we're living in a slightly more "urbanized" area, the wild chickens aren't nearly as much of an issue. That is to say that they travel in smaller flocks here. 

I will say that every time I've had barbecue chicken since, I think the sweet taste of revenge makes it all the more delectable. Of course, now we have the barking packs of stray dogs to deal with…  but even though man's best friend is also considered man's fourth best source of protein here, don't expect a blog post called "Dog, the Other White Meat," anytime soon.

A Damp Word on Humidity

As it rains 200 inches of rain per year on the outskirts of sunny Pohnpei, Micronesia and 400 plus in the inner rainforest, things are likely to be a bit humid. We brought along an excellent thermometer/hygrometer (measures temperature and humidity) device mainly out of concern for the electronic equipment that should not be in humidity levels of 90%. I can report with assured accuracy that the temperature during the day is between 80° and 98° Fahrenheit (26.7 -34.4° Celsius)  in sunlight, a fairly constant 82° in the shade and 75° F at night, the temperature is between 73° and 82°F (22.8- 27.8° C). A quantitative response to, “So what is the humidity like?” is that it is between 78% and 90% humidity. There you have it. Unless you have been here or somewhere like India during Monsoon season, the humidity percentages are meaningless, so a better response is a qualitative one represented by anecdotal evidence of humidity.

Top ten reasons I know it is humid…

10. Even if it is not raining my skin feels damp.

9. My son set a potato chip down on the kitchen table and 30 minutes later I went to steal it to eat myself, but by then it was soggy and floppy.

8. When we first moved in I had to bleach the house. Ceilings, windows, walls and floors. Not everything was moldy, but the few spots were enough for me to go all Mr. Clean on a Rambo mission. Note: wear protective eye gear when bleaching ceilings.

7. The guitar strings need wd40 every week to keep the rust at bay and the pick guard has slowly slid three inches from its original spot. 

6. People here keep the cereal, flour and most dry goods in the refrigerator. The dry spices need to be kept in the icebox to prevent caking, or bricking rather.
5. Moss grows on concrete and asphalt and Mold grows inside quite easily, hence the bleach. Counter intuitively, it is worse inside places that leave the windows closed with air conditioning. Since I bleached the house we have not had any mold grow back in over a month.

4. The glue holding the soles of shoes on seems to slowly melt away

3. Paint does not stick well to things. Wall paint blisters and slumps away from the walls.*

2. All of our unused envelopes have sealed themselves and the toilet paper set to the back of the tank actually molded.

1. I know it's humid beacuse 10 - 22 percent more and we'd be swimming.

There is an upside to humidity.

There is less dust.

Zach's allergies have not once bothered him since we have been here.

My lips don't feel like they need lip balm

and the bottoms of my feet are soft like a baby's bum.

No complaints, just need to get more t.p., again.

Drinking coffee from a cereal bowl

Our new landlord came over to our furnished apartment on the second night we were here to take all the decorations, plates, glasses, the Cars themed mini chair and table set that the kids loved and wanted, the curtains and broom. The decorations were not my style and the curtains looked like they belonged in a funeral parlor, but these things were here when we looked at the house and we were not told about her de-decorating plan. Poor Xander, our two-year-old, really did not understand why she was taking the little table and chairs he had been playing with for two days and he called out the door to her “be careful with meine table please.” Even though it is so cute when he sounds like German is his first language I could not help feeling bad because his voice sounded so vulnerable.

I think the worst part was that she took the ¼ roll of toilet paper off the dispenser. This is the toilet paper that I took from our hotel room in Hawaii so we would have something to start out with when we arrived in Pohnpei. I do not think this is indicative of the culture here, but what do I know? Maybe taking toilet paper from someone who is new to the country, who has no way of getting to a market to buy more is a welcoming, initiating gesture. Somehow I doubt that is the case, but I do like to look on the bright side.

On day three it somehow feels like we’ve been here much longer.

We have a few disposable plastic cups I kept from the airplane, but the hot coffee would melt them, so I made the coffee in cereal bowls. It feels a bit like the tea ceremony scene from Karate Kid I. All I need is a clean little old-fashioned shaving cream brush to stir with and this coffee could almost feel steeped in tradition instead of instant granular.

Things are looking up as we look down over this amazing view of the valley. (View shown is from the other side of the mountain we live on.)

Greetings, from the future...

Our plane left Grand Rapids at 6:00 am and landed in Chicago at 5:54. From the beginning of our journey, we were already time travelers. 

The following day, when we flew from Honolulu to Guam, we crossed the international date line, propelling us exactly one day into the future. For all intents and purposes, from our perspective, July 31 never happened.

Considering our proximity to the easternmost longitude of the planet, we are the pioneers of every tomorrow. What's the future like, you ask? 

Mostly sunny, with a ninety percent chance of rain. 

Actually, in many ways, it feels like we're living in some parallel version of the not-too-distant past, where family names stand in place of physical addresses, and women walk barefoot along the side of the road with a naked baby in one hand and a rusted machete in the other. 

Meanwhile, gas costs a constant $5.10 a gallon and the internet comes to us by means of a thousand miles of underwater fiber optics cable. Micronesia is an anachronistic anomaly, trying to find its place in the future while maintaining its connections to the past. The products that populate the shelves of local stores are reflective of fifteen more years of added inflation, despite that most items are already well past their expiration dates. 

A box of cereal costs about eight bucks. A package of ten disposable razor blades costs seventeen fifty. A can of parmesan cheese goes for about fourteen dollars. Conversely, products that originate here are ridiculously cheap, though limited in variety. Fresh tuna, pineapple and coconuts are a tiny fraction of what they cost in the U.S., while Budweiser, the self-proclaimed king of beers, is at a price reserved for royalty. 

As poor as many of the people are who live here, frankly, I don't know how they can afford it. Globalization, in this case, seems like less of a blessing than it is a curse. But hey, at least there's no McDonald's here.