For those interested, the tins have been washed and put in a less inviting place.
Jo
Wednesday 20 June 2007
The art of ... war?
We heard an alarming scuffle break out in the kitchen. Was it rats? Night crawlers? The poltergeist from our car moving inside? Closer inspection proved it to be none of the above. Though small, geckoes can make a whole lotta noise if they decide to kill each other/ flirt outrageously in our newly inherited, inappropriately stored old cooking tins. They appeared to be taking it in turns to try and chew off each others' head.
For those interested, the tins have been washed and put in a less inviting place.
Jo
For those interested, the tins have been washed and put in a less inviting place.
Jo
Tuesday 19 June 2007
Ben's most recent email epic.. slightly edited.
Dear family and friends,
After a long break from decent email communication, for no particularly good reason, I have decided to inflict my thoughts upon you all. Thanks for being such willing inflictees.
Today is one of those days where 10 metres of rain a year seems like an underestimate. I have just watched the island across the lagoon from our house be engulfed in a black sheet of rain. It travelled towards me, covering the kilometre or two in a few minutes, and collided against our house so loudly poor Thom Yorke on the stereo was drowned out completely. He probably would have something to say about that, but I couldn't hear it.
We walked to a spectacular waterfall on Sunday morning, about 30 minutes drive (which took me nearly an hour because I foolishly give way to oncoming trucks, pedestrians and meandering pigs) and 1 hours walk away, on the east side of the island in Madolenhimw. (I think the Pohnpeians can proudly say they have recreated the feeling of a mouthful of peanut butter in their language, with their alphabet containing such chewy digraphs as oa, mw, ng and pw. Pronunciation of mw is described as 'velarised voiced bilabial nasal'. Yes, I have bought a Pohnpeian dictionary.)
Anyway, the waterfall was beautiful, about 15 metres high and pluming out of a narrow channel carved into the rock at the cliff top. We swam in the cool, deep, thankfully eel-free pool at the bottom, washing away the grime of the muddy and muggy walk. We had enjoyed it from the top about 30 minutes previously, as the route was not clear, and being a dense tropical jungle, the paths tend to become overgrown, even as you are standing on them. We just popped out of the jungle and there it was, the beautiful inviting pool just a shimmy up the nearby palm tree and a 20 metre leap away. 007 would have done it (not the new one though, he is a bit soft don't you think?). We now have the GPS coordinates for easy access next time.
It is breadfruit season here at the moment. Apparently there are 5 seasons a year so I guess that is no big deal. This is 'the' season however. If I enjoyed eating them I would be in gustatory paradise. Just wait around, anywhere, for 5 minutes and a breadfruit or two will be delivered at your feet from the heavens. It is such a shame they have the flavour and texture of plasticine. The most popular way of preparing them in our neighbouring island of Chuuk is to bury them in the ground for 6 months and let them rot. Thus, preserved breadfruit, which is the traditional staple of pacific islander nations embarking on oceanic travels. Due to the impossible popularity of Spam and rice, however, most breadfruit lies where it falls, slowly giving its plasticiney goodness back to the earth, and its week-old fruit salad aroma to the nostrils of anybody within a few kilometres. This is a smallish island, with billions of breadfruit (In a moment of contemplation, I estimated upon one of the trees next to our house more than 1000 of the wee blighters. I looked up the hill behind our house and saw dozens more trees, most bigger and equally densely packed. That's a lot of breadfruit.) Nobody eats them much, except one nice little restaurant (called 'Joy', isn't that pretty) fries them as chips which taste pretty good. I put them in the same category as taro. Stupendously starchy foods which could sustain a whole civilisation in abundance, but just not that tasty. We created a taro dip to serve at a dinner party we gave, and 1 taro of about 1 kg expanded into a monstrous slurry of carbohydrated goodness which filled a 5 litre Tupperware container, stalling our blender and resisting my best efforts at liquefying further. Each mouthful required a lie down afterwards. Beware.
Food does play an important role in our lives here, with the scarcity/abundance thing making every trip to the market exciting. There is a pretty regular supply of vegies available, but the real treat is the seasonal oddities that people have planted. Agriculture is not huge here, and there is still a lot of practising to get it right. We are getting avocadoes (the size of 1.25 litre coke bottles), pineapples, and tomatoes at the moment. The Chinese embassy have set up a farm to demonstrate how most things can be grown here. We suspect they have to be watched though, as the tomatoes which have recently been available are very, very perfect perfect... I wonder what on earth they have to spray on them to get them that way? It's a dilemma, as I like tomatoes a lot, and the usual imported offerings have spent a long time on a boat from the USA and often pick themselves up off the shelves into your basket.
The Chinese have a large presence here, building large buildings for the government which remain empty for years as nobody quite knows what to do with them, can't afford to run or maintain them, or just don't need them. Jo and I were in the Pohnpei Community Choir which performed at the FSM College (University) in their glorious, Chinese provided gymnasium (it really is spectacular, big digital scoreboards, sprung timber floor, stadium seating). We had to move the stage though, as half the light bulbs were out which made big dark patches. There are none of the special light bulbs on the island to replace them, and if there was, no-one has a ladder long enough to reach them. Apparently there is scaffolding which can be erected to reach them, but it takes 2 days, and nobody seems to know exactly where it is or how to do it.
I acquired a copy of a collection of student essays from the College, on the theme of 'How To Cook a Dog'. Dog is traditionally eaten here, and there are lots of them about, all non-desexed and rooting all the time. It is not uncommon to see dogs 'stuck together' after a bit of action. One couple on the road into town were stuck together for 2 days, but they seemed to just go about their normal business, but walking with a kind of self-conscious sideways shuffle. There are lots of cute puppies, and lots of mangy, nasty cursed beasts of satan.
I like dogs, but not barbecued. The essays make for fascinating reading, as the students are from throughout the FSM, and represent several different cultures. The FSM is a relatively new, artificial political construct which lumped together different regions for ease of administration. They all eat dog though, but I get the feeling it is a relatively new practice, as most of the 'recipes' suggest eating it with soy sauce and lime (kalamansi) juice, washed down with Budweiser. Hmmm, when is a cultural 'tradition' old enough to justify what I think is pretty nasty behaviour? Gandhi apparently said that you can judge a civilisation on the way it treats its animals.
[Ed. comment from Jo : Ben eats cows, pigs, sheep and chickens. And fish. And ducks. And many other animals. So do I. He is being a little cuturally judgemental for my liking. Although admittedly I wouldn't like to eat a dog. Especially not my brother's dog, Ralph.]
Jo has just booked a flight to Kosrae for us, for this Friday for a week. Yay! Dan (see the link to his blog on our blog) is having a significant birthday, and as he no longer lives here the party is in Kosrae, which is the next major island east. They apparently have beautiful sandy beaches, and I plan to become SCUBA certified there. I had an extremely persistent (and gross) ear problem for the first few months here, which just about sent me loopy with partial random deafness in either or both ears. It has been gone for a month now, so hopefully that is the end of it and I can learn to dive! I can't wait to get away from this tropical island to another tropical island.
I finally submitted my last assessment piece yesterday, after 2 months of way too little hammocking. Yay for me! Beers for breakfast again!
Ben
After a long break from decent email communication, for no particularly good reason, I have decided to inflict my thoughts upon you all. Thanks for being such willing inflictees.
Today is one of those days where 10 metres of rain a year seems like an underestimate. I have just watched the island across the lagoon from our house be engulfed in a black sheet of rain. It travelled towards me, covering the kilometre or two in a few minutes, and collided against our house so loudly poor Thom Yorke on the stereo was drowned out completely. He probably would have something to say about that, but I couldn't hear it.
We walked to a spectacular waterfall on Sunday morning, about 30 minutes drive (which took me nearly an hour because I foolishly give way to oncoming trucks, pedestrians and meandering pigs) and 1 hours walk away, on the east side of the island in Madolenhimw. (I think the Pohnpeians can proudly say they have recreated the feeling of a mouthful of peanut butter in their language, with their alphabet containing such chewy digraphs as oa, mw, ng and pw. Pronunciation of mw is described as 'velarised voiced bilabial nasal'. Yes, I have bought a Pohnpeian dictionary.)
Anyway, the waterfall was beautiful, about 15 metres high and pluming out of a narrow channel carved into the rock at the cliff top. We swam in the cool, deep, thankfully eel-free pool at the bottom, washing away the grime of the muddy and muggy walk. We had enjoyed it from the top about 30 minutes previously, as the route was not clear, and being a dense tropical jungle, the paths tend to become overgrown, even as you are standing on them. We just popped out of the jungle and there it was, the beautiful inviting pool just a shimmy up the nearby palm tree and a 20 metre leap away. 007 would have done it (not the new one though, he is a bit soft don't you think?). We now have the GPS coordinates for easy access next time.
It is breadfruit season here at the moment. Apparently there are 5 seasons a year so I guess that is no big deal. This is 'the' season however. If I enjoyed eating them I would be in gustatory paradise. Just wait around, anywhere, for 5 minutes and a breadfruit or two will be delivered at your feet from the heavens. It is such a shame they have the flavour and texture of plasticine. The most popular way of preparing them in our neighbouring island of Chuuk is to bury them in the ground for 6 months and let them rot. Thus, preserved breadfruit, which is the traditional staple of pacific islander nations embarking on oceanic travels. Due to the impossible popularity of Spam and rice, however, most breadfruit lies where it falls, slowly giving its plasticiney goodness back to the earth, and its week-old fruit salad aroma to the nostrils of anybody within a few kilometres. This is a smallish island, with billions of breadfruit (In a moment of contemplation, I estimated upon one of the trees next to our house more than 1000 of the wee blighters. I looked up the hill behind our house and saw dozens more trees, most bigger and equally densely packed. That's a lot of breadfruit.) Nobody eats them much, except one nice little restaurant (called 'Joy', isn't that pretty) fries them as chips which taste pretty good. I put them in the same category as taro. Stupendously starchy foods which could sustain a whole civilisation in abundance, but just not that tasty. We created a taro dip to serve at a dinner party we gave, and 1 taro of about 1 kg expanded into a monstrous slurry of carbohydrated goodness which filled a 5 litre Tupperware container, stalling our blender and resisting my best efforts at liquefying further. Each mouthful required a lie down afterwards. Beware.
Food does play an important role in our lives here, with the scarcity/abundance thing making every trip to the market exciting. There is a pretty regular supply of vegies available, but the real treat is the seasonal oddities that people have planted. Agriculture is not huge here, and there is still a lot of practising to get it right. We are getting avocadoes (the size of 1.25 litre coke bottles), pineapples, and tomatoes at the moment. The Chinese embassy have set up a farm to demonstrate how most things can be grown here. We suspect they have to be watched though, as the tomatoes which have recently been available are very, very perfect perfect... I wonder what on earth they have to spray on them to get them that way? It's a dilemma, as I like tomatoes a lot, and the usual imported offerings have spent a long time on a boat from the USA and often pick themselves up off the shelves into your basket.
The Chinese have a large presence here, building large buildings for the government which remain empty for years as nobody quite knows what to do with them, can't afford to run or maintain them, or just don't need them. Jo and I were in the Pohnpei Community Choir which performed at the FSM College (University) in their glorious, Chinese provided gymnasium (it really is spectacular, big digital scoreboards, sprung timber floor, stadium seating). We had to move the stage though, as half the light bulbs were out which made big dark patches. There are none of the special light bulbs on the island to replace them, and if there was, no-one has a ladder long enough to reach them. Apparently there is scaffolding which can be erected to reach them, but it takes 2 days, and nobody seems to know exactly where it is or how to do it.
I acquired a copy of a collection of student essays from the College, on the theme of 'How To Cook a Dog'. Dog is traditionally eaten here, and there are lots of them about, all non-desexed and rooting all the time. It is not uncommon to see dogs 'stuck together' after a bit of action. One couple on the road into town were stuck together for 2 days, but they seemed to just go about their normal business, but walking with a kind of self-conscious sideways shuffle. There are lots of cute puppies, and lots of mangy, nasty cursed beasts of satan.
I like dogs, but not barbecued. The essays make for fascinating reading, as the students are from throughout the FSM, and represent several different cultures. The FSM is a relatively new, artificial political construct which lumped together different regions for ease of administration. They all eat dog though, but I get the feeling it is a relatively new practice, as most of the 'recipes' suggest eating it with soy sauce and lime (kalamansi) juice, washed down with Budweiser. Hmmm, when is a cultural 'tradition' old enough to justify what I think is pretty nasty behaviour? Gandhi apparently said that you can judge a civilisation on the way it treats its animals.
[Ed. comment from Jo : Ben eats cows, pigs, sheep and chickens. And fish. And ducks. And many other animals. So do I. He is being a little cuturally judgemental for my liking. Although admittedly I wouldn't like to eat a dog. Especially not my brother's dog, Ralph.]
Jo has just booked a flight to Kosrae for us, for this Friday for a week. Yay! Dan (see the link to his blog on our blog) is having a significant birthday, and as he no longer lives here the party is in Kosrae, which is the next major island east. They apparently have beautiful sandy beaches, and I plan to become SCUBA certified there. I had an extremely persistent (and gross) ear problem for the first few months here, which just about sent me loopy with partial random deafness in either or both ears. It has been gone for a month now, so hopefully that is the end of it and I can learn to dive! I can't wait to get away from this tropical island to another tropical island.
I finally submitted my last assessment piece yesterday, after 2 months of way too little hammocking. Yay for me! Beers for breakfast again!
Ben
Monday 18 June 2007
walkies
The weekend before last Ben was finishing up his exams, and it was imperative for both of us that I leave the house for an extended period of time.
Luckily, I had arranged with some friends to go on a walk around a little island to the east of Pohnpei, about a 30 min drive from our house. It was a lovely day, fun to go exploring and the island is a really cool place. There are no cars, you access it via a causeway and then there is a little stone path that rings around it. It only rained once, the rest of the time was dazzling sunshine! The walk is actually a series of two islands, a small-ish one and then a much bigger one. We pushed on to the bigger one, but the path doesn't go the whole way round. So we walked until we had enough, then turned back. If I had a boat, this would be a very cool place to live!
We stolled past a lot of pineapple patches on the island. This one is pretty much growing out of sea water. Amazing!
I'm still dazzled by all the tropical flowers. These aren't particularly showy, but I think they're pretty! Of course, in a place that can actually grow divine flowers year round, the most popular choice for indoor flowers are.... plastic roses.
Jo
Luckily, I had arranged with some friends to go on a walk around a little island to the east of Pohnpei, about a 30 min drive from our house. It was a lovely day, fun to go exploring and the island is a really cool place. There are no cars, you access it via a causeway and then there is a little stone path that rings around it. It only rained once, the rest of the time was dazzling sunshine! The walk is actually a series of two islands, a small-ish one and then a much bigger one. We pushed on to the bigger one, but the path doesn't go the whole way round. So we walked until we had enough, then turned back. If I had a boat, this would be a very cool place to live!
We stolled past a lot of pineapple patches on the island. This one is pretty much growing out of sea water. Amazing!
I'm still dazzled by all the tropical flowers. These aren't particularly showy, but I think they're pretty! Of course, in a place that can actually grow divine flowers year round, the most popular choice for indoor flowers are.... plastic roses.
Jo
Tuesday 5 June 2007
Black Coral Resort
This weekend Ben and I went to Black Coral, a VERY small atoll off the coast of Pohnpei. We went with 12 other adults and 2 kiddies, and booked out the whole island (told you it was small!!). We arrived Saturday morning and stayed overnight. It was wonderful. Admittedly, we took about as much stuff as we did when we departed Australia, but we didn't want to starve.... and tragedy still struck when we ran out of beer. We had other back-ups, but sometimes beer is all you feel like. Lucky there were more seasoned veterans of the overnight stay who generously provided a couple more. Then it was G+T - to stop the malaria, you know. It's medicine.
We spent the days snorkeling, playing 500 and scrabble and snoozing. And eating filled significant potions of our time.
The water was 30-32 degrees Celsius, depending on if you were up or down current from Ben... only kidding. There were cold bits in the channel! Used to the bracing freshness of the South Coast, I would have thought that temperature would be too warm, and not refreshing. But no. It was perfect.
We saw seven sharks on one expedition to the reef drop off, which is about 50m from shore. They were white tipped reef sharks, not dangerous or particularly large. I still swam and hovered right next to David when one of them appeared to be heading my way... I'm so brave.
Here are some random photos of the weekend.
The weekend was almost tainted when we got the boat back to the island and our car wouldn't start. Being marooned on the edge of Kitti is not my idea of fun, and there is no NRMA/RACV to call to come and get you! David and Alison bravely offered to tow us back to town.... with a car full of gear, 2 children and 2 Russian friends packed into their 4WD! Driving on Pohnpei is terrifying at the best of times, so this was going above and beyond to call! We made it back safely (Ben and David are great drivers! hooray!) and the car is being fixed.
Coming back to our place, we noticed just how much our temperature sensitivities have changed. We sleep with the air-conditioning on at night to stop mould growing on everything we own. I turned it on, went to the kitchen, came back, and started shivering. It was so cold! Our air-con is set to 24 degrees.
I don't think I can ever go home.
Jo
We spent the days snorkeling, playing 500 and scrabble and snoozing. And eating filled significant potions of our time.
The water was 30-32 degrees Celsius, depending on if you were up or down current from Ben... only kidding. There were cold bits in the channel! Used to the bracing freshness of the South Coast, I would have thought that temperature would be too warm, and not refreshing. But no. It was perfect.
We saw seven sharks on one expedition to the reef drop off, which is about 50m from shore. They were white tipped reef sharks, not dangerous or particularly large. I still swam and hovered right next to David when one of them appeared to be heading my way... I'm so brave.
Here are some random photos of the weekend.
The weekend was almost tainted when we got the boat back to the island and our car wouldn't start. Being marooned on the edge of Kitti is not my idea of fun, and there is no NRMA/RACV to call to come and get you! David and Alison bravely offered to tow us back to town.... with a car full of gear, 2 children and 2 Russian friends packed into their 4WD! Driving on Pohnpei is terrifying at the best of times, so this was going above and beyond to call! We made it back safely (Ben and David are great drivers! hooray!) and the car is being fixed.
Coming back to our place, we noticed just how much our temperature sensitivities have changed. We sleep with the air-conditioning on at night to stop mould growing on everything we own. I turned it on, went to the kitchen, came back, and started shivering. It was so cold! Our air-con is set to 24 degrees.
I don't think I can ever go home.
Jo
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