A final word

Departure day - Wearing ceremonial marmars


It has been over two months since I returned to the U.S and I thought I should post a final blog entry. As many of you who know me on a personal level know, concerns about my in-laws health led Wenonoa and I to return to the U.S earlier than expected.

Our last days on the island were filled with both excitement at beginning a new chapter of our lives and sadness over leaving so many close friends. Micronesia is located in the middle of the Pacific somewhat near the edge of the world; it is not a place one might find oneself passing through on the way to somewhere else. Thus, as we looked at the island from the window of the departing plane, we knew it might be our last glimpse of Micronesia.

My first day back I gained an appreciation for what Dorothy must have felt upon waking up post-tornado in her bed in Kansas. I woke up in a Seattle airport hotel room feeling as though the whole Micronesian experience must have been a dream. The Seattle airport had a bookstore (which Micronesia doesn’t) and more dining choices than the whole island of Pohnpei had. Flipping through the channels on the hotel TV and salivating over all the menu choices on the area delivery dining guide it seemed unreal that the last year and half of my life was spent on a quiet little island just over 100 sq. miles in size that lacked so many of the amenities we take for granted.

The next few days back continued to fill us with awe and appreciation. On our first trip to a supermarket we must have appeared to the other shoppers to be recent refugees. We just stared and pointed in disbelief. Never before had tomatoes appeared so big, so red, and so bountiful. The same held true for almost every other fruit and vegetable in the produce section.

Conversely, our waltz down the seafood section was shocking and disappointing. Having gotten use to paying $2 a pound for fresh tuna the amounts being charged for tuna, salmon, and all other fish seemed like pure robbery. Our sashimi days are gone!

As exciting as the supermarket was, my first driving experience was equally as terrifying. Having gotten use to speeds that seldom exceed 30 mph, my fingers tightly squeezed the steering wheel as I accelerated up to 60 mph during my first entry onto the freeway. I can’t recall 60 mph ever feeling so fast and I was certain that death was near. With so many cars flying by and changing lanes I was almost certain that one un-attentive driver either dialing his/her cell phone, sending a text, changing a CD or lighting a smoke would drift into the next lane and an ensuing 50 car pile would result. To my delight and disbelief, we made it off the freeway with no unfortunate mishaps and for the next few days my speed and comfort increases. I am no longer fazed by the freeways and nor expect to see chickens crossing the road.

Of the questions I am asked, two are repeated frequently, “Are you glad you went; are you glad your back?” To the first, the answer is an unequivocal YES for many reasons. To live somewhere else among a culture that doesn’t view the world we do is a wonderful learning experience. To live a different lifestyle provides an opportunity to re-examine our approach to life. For those and many other reasons, especially the friendships I made, I am most definitely glad we went.

To answer the question as to whether I’m glad to be back causes me to stop and pause. I can say this – Life for me was fun in Micronesia – Tuesday night was ultimate Frisbee, Wednesday poker, Saturday scubadiving, and Saturday night bridge night. We worked until 5pm and then responsibilities ended and playtime began. It was fun but it wasn’t always comfortable.

85 degree weather complimented by 85% humidity is not always pleasant, especially if the apt. only has just one window air conditioner. To put it one way, in America housecleaning involves dusting, in Micronesia it involved wiping off the mold that grew basically everywhere. No joke, one night we opened up the box of a board game that had lay unused for a few months and found that mold had started to grow on the playing board.

I can’t really answer the question. I’m back. Certainly I enjoy the creature comforts, the culinary options, the cultural opportunities that are here and I miss what I miss from there. The ending of each chapter leads to the beginning of a new chapter. Without knowing where this chapter will end or how the next will begin, I can’t even begin to ponder whether I’m glad to be back. When asked whether I’m glad to be back I just shrug. After all, to borrow Popey’s famous line, “I y’am what I y’am...”