Travel Journal
"It came without Twitter!": Christmas in the Marshall Islands
Dec 27, 2011 | 10:05 am
I am on an island in the south Pacific. I can walk in any direction, at this moment, and reach a beach with impossibly fine sand and saltwater in shades of blue that defy Crayola color names, so bouyant that you float in a zen-like trance with the surf.
And every five minutes I still think to myself, "Man I wish I could tweet about this."
---
I'm visiting my sister, who works at a military-base-attached school on the Kwajalein Atoll in the Republic of the Marshall Islands. My first Christmas away from the states has been a sample of what it's like to live, as many of our armed servicepeople do, in remote corners of the world that only reluctantly allow for the type of modern conveniences that you would find in a city like Austin.
Instead of the DirecTV channels that were available on the flights heading here, Kwajalein gets an analog broadcast of the eight channels of the Armed Forces Network. The programming is remarkably current (though tough to manage because of the odd time differences in its broadcast regions) and the reception decent. As AFN programs its own commercials as well, I've seen and endless number of pre-taped "thank you" messages from congresspeople and professional athletes, grateful for the sacrifices of the various branches of the military in the far corners of the world — each time I remember that I am, in comparison, a deadbeat.
TV is about the only familiarity, though — no cell phones, no cars other than errant service vehicles and very few streetlights adorn Kwajalein. There is a single grocery store with the shifting inventory of a Big Lots (this past week has seen a fretful shortage of ginger spice and cream cheese for various holiday recipes). Instead of lining up at Macy's to see Santa, local children watched him emerge in scuba gear shortly after sunset on December 23rd, with "elves" toting a Christmas Tree bedecked in glowsticks in front of a fleet of five light-decorated small yachts — I overheard it was the best "Scuba Santa" in some years.
The people I've met are mostly teachers and meteorologists; Kwajalein is home to several large pieces of radar equipment, some of it decommissioned during the Reagan administration and falling into disrepair, odd white domes nestled among the palm trees like something out of LOST.
They talk with rapid familiarity about all of the other island denizens — this is basically a 3.5 square mile small town. They leave each other messages on landline phones and rest in the comfortable knowledge that they'll see each other soon regardless of when the message is recieved. They navigate winds so strong that you need to stand up and pedal when biking and rely only on air conditioning and dehumidifyers to combat the mold that this climate engenders. They have thoughts that have shelf lives longer than four minutes, and no problem repeating stories for new listeners (instead of assuming everyone important is already "following" them digitally).
By and large the population of Kwajalein are not military, though the island is restricted to civilian contractors and their visitors or families. They do a lot of windsurfing and diving, biking and distance swimming — a few days before I arrived my sister completed her first marathon. They are tan and fit (I am pale and pudgy, as you can see in the idyllic picture above), and mostly content.
---
And to paraphrase the Grinch: Christmas came without Twitter! It came without hashtags! It came without Facebook likes, text messages or reblogs!
They grumble, sure, about certain brand name products that aren't available, or missing the internet in theory, but I'm the only one whose hand reaches for the ghost of a phone in his pocket during lulls in conversation. The beauty of this place must get to you after a while — I've had moments in the waves when my life seems so small that it's nonexistent, and it's not until I turn back to the shore that I remember that everyone I know is so far from reach for once. Soon I'll explore the actual Marshallese sides of life in the islands, and I suspect my complaints will only get sound pettier in the third world.
But maybe I won't want to tweet about them, for once. Merry Christmas.