Sunday, June 5

Today we spent the day at the beach!

The guy Gordon told us about as we left the embassy more than a week ago is off the island, but his son, Kenneth, is around, still doing the island trip, and would be tickled to have us. All of us. Gordon worked out that they should expect the five adults and a bunch of kids. We called the other families, let them know, and made a plan to caravan, meeting at our hotel.

Just as we were ready to walk out the door, the adopting mom from downstairs knocked and let us know the other couple was here and waiting in the parking lot. We grabbed our stuff and headed down, too. The others were all in the other couple's rental. They had a little red Kia minivan looking thing; not quite the Soul, but close. For a brief moment I had upright seat envy, but it passed. We piled into our sports coupe and set out first. The plan was to meet at the particular Payless “by Jerry's house,” and ask for more explicit directions.

We made it to the Payless without effort. I ran inside while everyone else waited outside. I asked the cashier, who pointed me to another guy, who got another guy, who seemed to know where Jerry's house was. He pointed down the street, indicating that way and said yellow and two story. The guy I asked asked the guy he asked to just go with us. It was literally a few driveways away. The yellow two-story house was actually next door to the driveway he had us turn into. He indicated as much as said we were in the right place, and took off back to work.

We knocked and rang the bell, but there was no answer. We had been told to look for the house with the boat behind, so after a bit we opened the gate and let ourselves, and a couple of dogs, into the back yard. We figured as long as we weren't actually poking around in stuff or looking in windows we could excuse our intrusion with ignorance safely enough. I mean, at worst, it's trespassing to let yourself in someone's yard uninvited, right?

The back yard was huge, and led to a bit of a dock, and there was a boat slowly heading that way. We were a little early, and thought maybe they were just bringing the boat from wherever it was kept over night or during low tide or whatever. Claire said they were smiles and waves from the boat as it approached, so we grew hopeful. Just before the boat made the turn to dock, a kid, maybe 10, appeared from behind a bush. I think really he had walked from one of the houses, but I hadn't seen him until he rounded the bush. I jokingly asked if he was Jerry, but instead of responding he pointed to the house we'd parked in front of.

The kid helped lash the boat to the dock, and set about hanging with the other lads in the boat. The guy driving the boat invited us aboard, but didn't really say anything else. The other dad and I returned to the cars, gathered our stuff and the other mothers, and we all returned to the boat. We tried to make small talk with the boys, but language, culture, or just shy made it difficult, so we just perched at the picnic table on the boat.

As time passed, more people arrived and came aboard. One of the early arrivals was a guy and a couple more boys, and a dog. The guy introduced himself as Ken, and welcomed us to the party. He went about making ready, and we helped the others as they arrived. Mostly they'd pause on the stairs and pass their bags or coolers or  whatever, and they'd continue and board with the boys' help.

After what Ken deemed to be everyone, he stopped by and said we were about to get underway, and told us to get comfortable. He pointed to one of the clumps of trees across the lagoon and said that's where we were going. He said the waves would make for a little bit of a bumpy ride for about half of the trip, but it'd be smooth after that. No worse than the roads in town, he said. It'd take about twenty minutes, and we'd be there. The ride was about as bumpy as riding through town. For about the first five minutes the waves were tossing the boat enough to have spilled a nearly full drink, if you had left it standing on the table, and a little bit of spray would splash on the edges of the deck. It was probably about as bad as you'd get on a lake if you circled your ski boat quickly and caught your own wake. All but one woman went forward or in the cabin, leaving us and the dog, Buster, in the covered area on the aft deck.

We pulled to a large dock at the edge of a clear sandy beach. Ken, that first guy who arrived with the boat, the boys, and some guys already on the dock took to getting the boat secured, and then started pulling the gear everyone had brought into a trailer. We disembarked and headed toward the large picnic building, as directed. Not wanting to lose anything in the shuffle, or burden anyone with what we could carry, we grabbed our stuff and just made our way together, one clump of adopting families.

Being a bit of a sun-burner (I go right from pale white to done-lobster red, and back), I hid beneath the large awning. The area was atop a bit of a hill, the hill being the sandy beach parts up to a coral graveled area. The area had a number of smaller huts made of bamboo, and one large covered area, all of which were topped with palm-thatched roofs.

We piled our stuff on one of the picnic tables, and followed some of the others in grabbing some plastic chairs from a collection at one end, and made a little sitting circle near the table. The infants were changed, and a few beverages were spread out. The little boy and other dad ran for the water, while the moms and I hid under the sun, feeding the little ones and just chattering. There were some chickens and pigs roaming around, which Buster would chase away every once in a while. From where we sat, we could see the calm waters of the lagoon lap gently against the sandy beach, and on the other side, see a gentle washing surf, which we could hear from where we were, a few hundred feet away. There was a large grassy area between the huts and the tree line closer to the surf, almost large enough to have a soccer or other kind of ball game going, but that never happened.

At some point, during the comings and goings, when we were all under the canopy at once, we commented that if the trip were peppered with days like this all along, it wouldn't be so hard to wait. Of course, it was total tropical vacation day, complete with booze, for those wanting to partake. We've had a spot of beer here and there, but, while we like tasty beer, we're not much in the way of partying, especially on a base of beer, so the whole island party thing escapes us. Today, though, it found us and brought us cheerily along for a day of fun and festivities.

After a while, Claire threw together some bologna sandwiches. Again, not knowing what to expect, we under-packed. We did follow a little bit better the example of the other family from our Lora beach excursion and brought a loaf of bread and fixin's instead of just a set of prepared sandwiches, but no one else wanted any. Our gallon of lemonade, however, was kind of a hit with our crowd. Curiously, there isn't any lemonade on the island, not even the Coke-bottled Minute Maid stuff. Lots of iced tea, but no lemonade, and therefore, no Arnold Palmers.

Claire went to the beach to look for shells and other interesting things that wash ashore. The adopting mother from the other hotel joined her hubby and boy on the beach, and the other mother from our hotel and I stayed with the sleeping kids under the shade of the palm canopy. It was warm, but not hot, and there was a gentle breeze, so it was very comfortable. With that and the surf and splashing and children and conversation murmur was just about enough to fall asleep, if not for holding an infant.

After a while, Claire returned with a shirt-basket filled with beach finds. She told me I should join the other guys at the table talking politics. I deferred, whining about the sun, and helped her tend with Grace, who had just started stirring. A handful of moments later, the other dad came over and also invited me, citing that they have fish and rum. I said it'd be impolite to turn down rum when offered. He agreed that I wouldn't want to be rude, so I followed and joined in.

Of course, they were all jovial, chatty, good guys. John introduced himself first, reminded me I knew the other father and Ken, and then introduced the other guys. Everyone was happy to have us and conversation swung in with full force, and I was instantly a little embarrassed to be such an introverted turd. After a while Ken and some of the others said it was time to swim, and about half of the table went out into the water. Again, fearing the horrible sun, and still chatting with the half that didn't go, I stayed under the relative shade of the giant palm under which the table was set.

Conversation waned just a little, but more importantly, someone noticed the rum had gone with the guys in the lagoon, so we just had to follow. The water, while a little gritty right at the bottom when you step and kick up the sand and coral, is clear and clean and so warm. Like a tepid bath, kind of warm. I noted that water doesn't get that warm in Minnesota, as they all mock shivered and complained that that first moment is always so cold.

I was introduced to and chatted with a few more guys. It clicked in my head then that most of the guys were ministers or chiefs or deputies to or assistants of persons in charge of something. I joked that when I was told they were talking politics that they were really talking politics, and not just a bunch of guys lamenting or complaining about things, like I would be if I was to be involved. They chuckled and shrugged it off. It struck me, that of course, if you're in the family of people who own lots of the property on the island, including about half of the stores, an the biggest construction company, that you're likely to rub elbows with some doers and shakers.

The guys gave me a little Marshallese perspective on U.S. relations, all casual and nice like. From involvement in WWII, through the nuclear testing, and about the military base on the other atoll. We chatted about Marshallese history a little bit, and what it took to aggregate so many islands so far apart into one nation. What I'd consider to be “one” island, at the Majuro atoll, is evidently more like 26, around the same lagoon, and there are a dozen or so more atolls like this one, some as close as tens of miles, some hundreds of miles away.

We chatted a little about ancient navies, because we can see models and artwork of the traditional outrigger-like boats, and I was curious if they had larger ships to help with that ancient conquest, defense, and general country supply and maintenance. They had some larger, multi-hulled sailing ships, but, of course, they don't have the hardwood forests like the Europeans or Americans, so they never got that big. I suggested perhaps something the size of old Greek or Viking ships, but they said not that big.

We chatted a little about modern threats. No offense intended, I noted, but on such a spread-out and sparse lands with only fishing waters and coconuts as literally the only natural resources, was there any reason to fear changing the countries borders or fighting off invaders. There aren't pirates here, right? At least not of the type or scale as are happening off Somalia, they all agreed. Occasionally some cargo might be stolen from smaller transports, or very rarely an individual yacht or sailboat might be harassed or stolen, but nothing on a national scale.

I queried if they thought that “land grabbing” out here was necessary any longer. There are uninhabited islands, which they said were uninhabited for a reason, probably that the land was too small or to shallow to survive tides, or that they were overrun with unpleasant animals and not worth conquering for the hut or two that might be able to be put there, and that few if any of them had the potential to be used even as the weekend escape we were enjoying just then.

I asked what they thought of middle of the ocean strategic land grabbing. In WWII, for example, when the range of ships was on the scale of weeks, and even airplanes was in the hundreds of miles, it made a lot of sense to pepper the ocean with safe shores and airstrips. Today's modern navies, however, are made of ships capable of cruising for months, with support from other, larger ships, and of course airplanes capable of crossing the entire ocean in hours, especially military ships with in-air refueling. The range of guns and missiles and aircraft on the navy vessels made it so you didn't even have to be able to see the targets any more, so would there be purpose in taking someone else's land? Supply stores, of course, and denying the haven to the enemy are still crucial reasons to have such concerns.

We chatted a bit about growing up the agriculture on the islands. Of course, I'm not the first person to think of it. I had no such delusions, but other than learning they didn't have any agriculture, I couldn't find any information on it. I was reminded that the atolls are basically really big, stable, sandbars. For the purposes of our conversation, anyway, it needed to be remembered that while the land separated the ocean from the lagoon, fundamentally the water went all the way through beneath the island, through the sand and coral. Essentially, then, the only potential arable land was that above the level of high tide. Allowing for wicking and seepage, that left only a foot or two of potential land above the unusable sea water. The palm trees and smaller bushes thrive, as they've learned to both cope with the salt water, but also have wider, flatter root systems, which is why they're not clumped together so tightly.

Composting or importing dirt would be a tremendous effort, and desalination would be necessary to make fresh water, as there isn't enough consistent rainfall, nor are there any kinds of springs or mountains or anything to naturally collect water. I queried about other tropical plants, like mangos or bananas, and, of course, they weren't viable here because of the tremendous amounts of ground nutrients they used, as well as the copious water consumption. One thing that I said that made for a little pause was hydroponics, as they did seem to have big enough tracts of land, could probably capture or desalinate enough water for that, and, maybe would in short order be able to refine a system of nutrient replenishment through import or composting. Someone put an end to that saying that no one from agriculture was present.

I also spent some time chatting with the guy in charge of ship registration, and their comings and goings. Of course, while flights are an important tool in keeping the islands supplied, ships carried far more cargo in and out. We chatted about the small flotilla of ships permanently anchored in the lagoon. Evidently they're owned/leased/operated by the people that feed the fish to the likes of Costco. Smaller ships go out and gather the fish and bring them to these processing ships to clean and even package, and then they're sent to those companies. I didn't bring up what I understood to be the case that the Marshall Islands had leased away their fishing rights to the Japanese, as the conversation seemed to have peaked already, and I didn't want to open another “what about” like I had the ocean strategery conversation.

As the day wound down, we were invited to return again any or all of the Sundays we're still here. When I asked if there was anything I could bring to contribute, I was told I could bring beer. I suspect a couple six-packs won't cut it, so I've got to find a way to grab a few armfuls of cases without breaking the bank. From what we can tell, beer is sold by the can in the grocery stores, at about two-bucks per. That's a lot of cash for a whole case! If it means all we need to bring otherwise is good attitude and a fair supply of diapers, I'll be happy to contribute.

On the way back the other dad and I were invited up to the wheelhouse to get a little tour of the lagoon on our return. To take advantage of the current and the waning sunshine, we slipped eastward a while, then turned south to cross the lagoon in smooth waters the whole trip. Before I knew it, we were back at the dock. Ken pointed out his house, a few doors down from his father's house. We were told not to be so early next week, but he reinforced that we were welcome, if not almost expected to be there. We don't need to call to confirm, as they were going to go with or without us, but if we're not there by about 12:30, when the boat leaves, they would leave when the time came.

We lugged our stuff back to our cars, all smiles and rejuvenated. We agreed to hit our hotels, do a quick clean-up, and then head to the RRE for a day-capping dinner and more socializing. We took the other mother who's staying at our hotel, to help make the time work out better, so everyone would have about the same time to clean-up before regathering. Our companion thought she would pass on the restaurant run, as she and hers were a little bushed, and would need some recovery and relaxation from the day.

We took a couple of showers, gave Grace a quick bath, and dressed for dinner, which is to say in clean clothes. We checked one more time with the other mother, who passed still, and headed to the RRE. I tried the fish & chips, which at their suggestion I requested the wahoo to be sure it wasn't tuna; it was a little greasy, but tasty.

The other family is in their fifth week on the island, just ending their third since their visa papers made the trip to Manila. I think it's a little optimistic to think the “four plus or minus two” is ever going to fall on the “minus” very often. The fastest we've run into since becoming involved is five weeks.

I've mentally prepared myself to spend more than a month here waiting. I hope I've prepared my company and client for the same. I've got enough vacation, I think, to last that whole time, and I'm confident that if I exceed my vacation that the company will at the very least let me have my job when I do return. Probably the client will, too, but I think my replacement has shown them that my proclamations of being more-or-less interchangeable might have them interchange someone else if I'm gone too long.

We had some dessert and all tired and stuffed, made our ways back to our rooms, us first to our hotel. Claire had such a good time and was so happily bushed from the day-long adventure that she didn't have time to feel homesick, so we didn't break out the DVD and watch any TV from home, but just turned in.