Guam, USA 1

March 24
Well Chuuk (which we discovered is pronounced “Chewk”) was a notch up from Papua New Guinea but just a notch. They had been pounded by driving rain for the previous three days (we seem to be just missing these bad storms) and the main street through Weno (the major town on Chuuk) was under two to three feet of water and mud. They have a storm system (we saw manholes) but it was woefully overrun by the amount of water. The buildings were in similar disrepair as those we saw at PNG but some—notably the government buildings and churches—were in fairly good condition. We took a shuttle out to “The Blue Lagoon” which was a fairly nice (by Chuuk standards, at least) divers’ resort. This island group is a diver’s paradise, with literally dozens of Japanese ships and planes submerged just offshore and now teeming with coral and fish. The Allies bombed the heck out of the place on Feb 17-18, 1944 and drove the Japanese from the island. I’m sure for the locals those were the worst days (bombs pounding them night and day) and the best days (liberating them from the Japanese who were rumored to have been brutal—beheadings were common—to folks who wouldn’t get with the program).

Today we’re sailing rough but do-able seas on our way to Guam. We are really looking forward to Guam. First of all, they have a K-Mart (ha!) and we need to stock up on toiletries and pretzels. And secondly, when our son Thom was in the Navy he was stationed on Guam for many years and Dad Tom was all set to go visit him (even had a plane ticket!) when 9/11 happened and then schedules got all messed up and before we knew it Thom was back in San Diego and the trip to Guam never happened. Anyway, we’ve heard a bunch about Guam and we want to see it.

March 25
Back in the good ol’ US of A! Say what you want about American Imperialism, the Yankee dollar is the only thing that makes Hawaii and Guam a hundred times more livable than Papua New Guinea and Chuuk. Guam is lovely, with genuinely warm and welcoming people and staggeringly beautiful pristine beaches. It’s not Hawaii—a bit scruffier than Hawaii, I suppose you might say—but it’s a lovely place even given the constant battle with salt air and typhoons, and tourists (especially huge numbers of Japanese tourists) tramping over this rather small island day-in and day-out.

Tom was disappointed in the lack of memorials and marked sites of the massive (and deadly, nearly 18,000 Japanese killed and 8,000 U.S. Marines) invasion of Guam that took place in the Spring of 1944. The ship showed the History Channel version of the story on TV and it was another D-Day type invasion (it was called “W-Day” but I don’t know why) where our troops came ashore while the enemy had dug in on hills overlooking the beach and slaughtered troops before they’d even managed to reach the land (supposedly some 11 large troop landing craft were blown up in the water, and just like Tom Hanks, the men had to step over their comrades and scramble up the beach to safety.) Anyway, it’s all “kumbaya” now—very little in the way of public displays of sacrifice and loss. On the way back to the ship it hit me—the number one country pouring tourist dollars (or, in this case, yen) into the local economy is Japan. They aren’t too keen on dwelling on WWII and especially on humiliating defeats like the battle for Guam. So, everything’s kept pretty low-key. I’m sure on the U.S. bases here (and Guam boasts the largest Naval base in the Pacific) and in the museums you’ll find plenty of remembrances, but public displays are kept to the bare minimum.

We took the local bus to the big K-Mart (whoo-hoo, it had everything we were looking for—hair gel, pretzels, American wine!) and then continued on a “hop-on, hop off” bus to the beach area of Tumon, where if you’d been dropped there by a UFO you would have sworn you were in some remote, tropical area of Japan. The Japanese tourists outnumbered U.S. five to one, and the signs and menus are printed, Japanese first, then English. But hey, we need to get our balance of trade numbers up, so “arigato” for your money—come on over.

Back on ship, the local indigenous people, the Chamorros, came aboard to do some native dancing and singing. They had met the ship as it docked so we were prepared for the rather scanty outfits (they’ve already taken a few cruisers off this ship for heart attacks and I figured these barely-dressed folks might cause a couple more to get hauled off). What we weren’t prepared for was how wonderful they were. They sang beautifully, and danced and danced—really vigorous hula-type dances with sticks and athletic moves—for over an hour! They invited us to join in one dance, so of course I had to do it. I danced with a very patient little 10-year old (I’m guessing her age but she was about 50 pounds or less) who hugged me and thanked me after the dance. (I felt it was truly sincere). They were amazingly polite and even stayed on dock for an hour after being booted off so we could sail. They sang and danced and waved good-bye until we had cleared the harbor. Unbelievable. I never saw money change hands, but I hope the ship gave their school a donation because they provided the most heart-felt “aloha” spirit I’ve ever seen.

I could go on and on, but you’ve been patient enough to read to this point and I don’t want to push it. Tonight we sail for Nagasaki. This port will be our opportunity to show respect and sorrow. Both Tom and I have endured giggling Japanese girls at the Pearl Harbor Memorial in Honolulu (why do they even bother to go out there?) so we’ll get to see what it feels like to be the “bad guy” at a war memorial. No matter what your politics, war memorials are always sad, always sacred ground.

I will post Chuuk and Guam photos on a following post. This website has limits with regard to amount of bits and bytes it will endure, and the bandwidth on this shipboard satellite wi-fi is less than puny. So, I’m going to play it safe and cut this post into two parts.

Miss you all. Thanks for checking in!