Leaving Palau

So my last month tour in Palau ended up lasting a couple of weeks. It was appropriate after all because an improvisational tour of SE Asia should have a spontaneous beginning, right? I told a few friends that I was just waiting for the right feeling, and to my surprise, it came.

My last few weeks were good though. It turned out that the people on Kayangel Island were having a New Year’s celebration on February 10th, because for some reason they couldn’t celebrate it on THE day. This was a great example of island time for me, and a good excuse to visit the place where I started working when I first came to Palau, but that I hadn’t been to in more than two years. Through a Peace Corps friend of mine, we ( me and my buddies Julian and Angus) arranged a homestay for the weekend, and hopped on the small, Kayangel state boat early Saturday morning. At this point I knew that I would be leaving soon, so I felt blessed to be a witness to the beauty of the coast of Babeldaob island, as we made our way through the reef channels and passages north along it and out of the barrier reef and towards the atoll that is Kayangel.

There’s nothing really like being out on the water in nice weather cruising along in a boat in Palau. There’s so many different hues of blue as you pass over different depths with different substrates, and they’re always framed by at least a dozen brilliant greens of the islands’ forests and the powder white of a few puffy clouds in the blue blue sky. And yet somehow the colors seem to become even more intense and magical when you approach Kayangel, and they never seem to fade. Even when you’re on the main island you can look out over the lagoon towards its barrier reef edge, or along the beach towards the three other, smaller islands, and you feel like you’re in a masterpiece.

I missed the island more than I had realized: The small village, sparsely laid out along two parallel coral roads, lined with trees and house gardens, the footpaths between houses and to the beach or taro patches, and the people, so laid back and friendly, especially if you speak a little Palauan. I missed the smell of the place especially, a mixture of sea breeze, barbequed fish, lemon trees, plumeria flowers, cooking taro, smoke, leaf litter and sand. I guess if you don’t live there, it makes for a great walk just strolling to one end of it or the other, and right after we arrived we walked along the forest path to the north end. The view from the curving beach at the tip was sublime, as always, and we spent a few hours sitting in the shade of a tree, or swimming in the current going past the tip, but mostly just absorbing the calm beauty of the place, waves, sky, clear water, wind.

Back in the village we spent the rest of the day napping in hammocks, down at the edge of the beach across from the house were we were staying. Awaking at dusk, we wander over to the house, where we mumble a few Palauan phrases, make jokes, and are provided with some fish soup and rice. I am amazed, as usual, by Palauan hospitality and humor, and in a good mood we stroll over to the village meeting house, or abai, where the “New Year’s” festivities will take place. People are sitting on benches and in plastic chairs, underneath open-sided tents used in almost all Palauan gatherings. Some people are sitting in the grass, and an old friend who I used to work with offers me his chair. The schedule for the evening is announced in Palauan over a microphone, and we stroll down to the end of the newish concrete dock to have a chew of betelnut and watch the end of the sunset.

In time we go back to the party, sit through some short speeches, and are then invited to help ourselves to the food laid out; barbeque pork, chicken, and fish, taro, tapioca, rice, taro leaf soup, coconuts, and a few local deserts. We stuff ourselves without a trace of bashfulness, go back for a choice item or two, and then sit back satisfyingly full, rubbing our bellies and sitting on the grass listening to Palauan music. We sit around long enough to see a few silly dances by men dressed as women, and then go back to our hammocks, ready for gentle swinging and dreaming in the ocean breeze. Normally we would sit around longer, watch with amusement and dance the occasional cha-cha, and drink a few Budweiser or Asahi beers, but the night before we had a big night at one of the karaoke bars in Koror.

We had gone big, feeling, but not quite knowing that it would probably be the last of so many fun nights had Kororokeing (the special blend of karaoke in Palau with Chinese or Filipina-usually-hostesses, buckets of beer on ice, “ladies drinks”, tagalong and English songs sung badly, the Palauan cha-cha to both Palauan and American hip-hop songs, and weird conversation while yelling over the noise) for me. As the Australians say, it was full on, and I went all out, singing a dozen songs and inventing a new dance called the spuns’ shuffle, which no one noticed because there were two very drunk bar girls dancing quite close to each other. Felt pretty hungover the next day, but we rallied with some doughnuts and coffee from Winchell’s before making it to the boat.

So, I missed out on most of the Kayangel February 10th New Year’s Eve party, but my buddy Julian got up, thinking that he had slept a few hours only wandered back over. He soon discovered it was already nearly five a.m., but there were still plenty of people up, talking, drinking Budweiser and Asahi, chewing betelnut, eating leftovers, laughing and doing the cha-cha as only they can. In all of my travels I’ve never encountered a people so well suited and devoted (in a culturally appropriate way) to indulgence. God knows I love them for it and have been forever altered in my ways.

The next day I had another stroll around the island, this time fully feeling like the end was near for me, so I soaked it in, and sucked up the smells and sounds and colors. As we were waiting around for the boat’s departure, we sat around the small house of a Filipino living on the island for thirteen years, Felix. We talked with him and his nephew Darwin about cock-fighting, living as a foreigner in Palau on a small island and the difference between that and being in prison in the Philippines. They gave us a few tips on picking up girls in the Philippines, and it seemed like a good segue to my next destination….the Philippines.

After Kayangel I ended up leaving about five days later, but only after I had felt mostly satisfied that I had tied up all the loose ends and infinished business that I had steadily and slowly (it is island time there after all) acquired. Mostly it was selling and getting rid of stuff, a rather eclectic and surprisingly large collection of. I had come to the country with a two backpacks of stuff, and I was determined to leave with one and a quarter, so I parted ways with so many toys and gadgets that give a good impression of my lifestyle there: nylon string guitar, mountain bike, extra snorkeling set, “island magic” rash guard, at least a dozen randomly acquired t-shirts, a rice cooker, “Chocolate”, a radio half broken, an t.v. with no channels, 2 hammocks,2 mosquito nets, scuba gear, kayak paddle and seat, surfboard, 4WD truck. Parting ways was pretty easy in most cases, even satisfying in a Buddhist monk kind of way as I was steadily and noticeably making my life simpler and my possessions lighter.

Of course, I had to use all my stuff at least one last time, so I went on a “cave special” kayak and snorkel with Angus, a night dive on local legend Keith Santillano’s secret wreck, a bicycle ride around Arakebesang, and a offroad trip to the Rock Islands of Airai with my buddy Art. Art and I almost didn’t make it back, because it was a rainy day, and I foolishly went down a pretty steep road that became a thick, mud slide we nearly didn’t make it back up. It was worth it though for the cool, beautiful hike along the ancient stone path to the Abai in Oikull and straight up one of the Rock Islands to a little-known view point of SE Babeldaob.

My last day was predictably a cluster fuck of running around at the last minute getting my plane ticket, forms I didn’t know I needed to leave the country, and pleading with the nice people at the travel agents office so that they would let me leave with a one-way ticket. Thankfully I was able to spend some quality time with a few of my best friends, but as hectic as things were, I still neglected giving the proper farewell to the many and odd acquaintances and wonderful people I had come to know living in this small place. My flight left at the butt-crack of dawn, as they say, so after a well-needed nap and a last minute extravaganza of giving away my material possessions, I went for one last, nearly all-encompassing stroll of Koror, seeing the sights, as it were, for one last time.

My three closest buddies at the end, Arturo, Angus and Julian were valiant, and they stayed up with me until the very end. I left a bit worn, so tired and sleep deprived, but ready, and anxious for my next adventure…