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Of the four flights from Manila to Pohnpei, the second, departing Koror, Palau for Guam around 3am local time, was the most gruesome. But we made it! The Federated States of Micronesia! We arrived.
The island was vaguely round with little beachfront. After exiting the airport, we drove passed a harbor laden with old boats, often Chinese. As we climbed into town (this was no city); we passed the shacks and the stalls that mostly make up Pohnpei; buildings were few and old and weather worn. People, though not many, walked, mostly. It was hot. Little-experienced in the Pacific beyond the far wealthier Palau, the town reminded me mostly of smaller West African centers, places that sometimes seem to have skipped decades of development, where electric-less markets host advertisements for cell providers and Coca-Cola.
Lunch of fish we took outside, down a dirt path, beside a swamp: we drank beer, slow and tired, and left when the mosquitos began their bloody evening hunt.
The following morning we began our diurnal own. We walked to the market, bought a few stale American snacks from a woman crisping dollar bills with a hair straightener, and, after enquiring with tepid confidence, found a driver who would take us around the island to Nan Madol.
The drive started well, along clear paved roads, but became rougher until we were somehow navigating across dirt tracks into the depths of a forest. A car passed in the opposite direction and I thought I saw a blonde woman sitting alone in the back. Eventually we stopped beside what I incorrectly thought was an abandoned house. A dog coated in mangy fur preceded his owner in gloomy welcome. We paid something like $10 to park at his doorless house, the furthest a car could travel, from whence the trail led; through dark dense trees, over rocks and slimy, slippery logs, skirting muddy croaking bogs. That East Coast boy trod slowly, careful not to fall into what groaned below this regurgitative earth. We walked through until light emerged before us and we found ourselves at a pale water-lapped pebbled shore.
About fifty feet before us, across the water, rose the stone ruins of Nan Madol. We’d arrived. We’d have to cross.
To be continued…
More from this Series
About Travels with Charlie
Name a country, city, island, restaurant or ballet performance and you can bet Charles Rudish has been there. Follow along as he documents his adventures around the world with this ongoing series. Charles offers a humorous and insightful perspective on travel, culture and exploring the world around you.
