Do You Know Where America's Day Began?

Actually America’s day began in Guam. If you are like a lot of people your next question might be, “Where the hell is Guam?” Guam is an unincorporated territory of the United States, the largest and most southerly of the Mariana Islands in the western Pacific Ocean.

Now that we've gotten all that boring things out-of-the-way, let me tell you what makes Guam so unique. I first set foot on Guam in 1986 while visiting a friend of mine.  As I got off the plane the air was so thick and hot that it felt like I had just stepped into an oven.  Within seconds, sweat dripped down my forehead and my hair was stuck to my head.  Then as I stepped into the airport terminal my body immediately was greeted with cold cold air. My first thought was “WOW”. Did I just die and go to heaven?  The contrast was that great: Hell then Heaven. I realized that you must always run from the outside element into the nearest building or your car and blast the air condition for dear life.  If you don’t, you just might sweat to death.

In 1988, I decided to move there with my two little girls. What was the appeal? Good question.  Guam is a mythical place. Even though Guam is part of the United States, we were in for a culture shock.  Our first grocery shopping at Payless consisted of my girls screaming over a frozen “bat” in the meat section. Our idea of heaven was filling our bathtub with ice water and climbing in for an hour or two. Once a month, we would go to a Fiesta, which is a religious event hosted by a different village.  The food, drink and music was abundant and free.  Each household tried to out-do the next household, and each village tried to out-do the next village.  By far the best fiesta was hosted by Inarajan.  Here, “fruit bats” were served and, being so expensive, was really a treat.  Chamorro music would always be playing and people would be dancing the Cha-Cha.  During my time in Guam, I learned how to Cha-Cha but never learned to eat a bat.

Beside the many friends I made, what I remember most about Guam was the typhoon.  Every year we had not one typhoon warning, but 5 or more.  As soon as we heard that a typhoon was coming our way we would immediately stock up on water, canned food and batteries as well as board up our homes, secure our belongings and pray that we would be spared.  Before the typhoon would hit, we emptied our freezers by having a big cook out. After all, if the typhoon did hit it would be days or weeks before our power would be restored.  In November 1997, Guam was hit by Typhoon Paka.  Rumor had it that the wind was 200 miles an hour. Cars were flipped over like those little “hot wheels”, homes made out of wood were blown away and cement poles were broken in half.  It was weeks before power was fully restored.   I remember going to Kings restaurant and being told that the ice tea does not have ice. During any typhoon recovery, ice was like gold. The ice truck would be followed by housewives begging for a bag of ice, no matter what is the price. Yet McDonald's is always open.  Before, during and after the typhoon.  The workers at McDonald's should all be given a medal for their dedication. Better yet they should all be given “war zone pay.” Who in their right mind would be making a Big Mac when others are hiding in their bathroom or closet hoping that their home will not be blown away? After the typhoon, if the roads are not terribly torn up, we would take a drive around the island to stare in awe at tin roofs wrapped around trees, or by a car on it's side, or the line at the laundromat. I waited 3 hours to get a shot at using 3 washing machines.  

Next week I blog about the frustration of watching TV programs a week later than the USA, which shopping chain (not Wal-Mart) made the cut and my favorite holiday traditions in Guam.