Well I guess you guys have been wondering what happened to me! Well Rota happened. Things are a little more laid back here than I anticipated – no public Internet. There is one place hoping to get their DSL in this week, but they’ve been hoping that for weeks. So I’m paying them a visit and keeping a journal on a USB SanDisk drive (thank you SanDisk) and will email you this journal when I arrive on Guam.
Tuesday:
My driver dropped me off at the wrong Terminal inSaipan – the domestic one. There was no one there, so I dragged my luggage (now with square wheels) over to the big new International terminal and guess what? No one there either, except for me and the government employees. Although I’m the only person in the terminal it takes them nearly half an hour to process me and issue me a boarding pass to the wrong destination, which immigration rejects, and it’s
back to Continental to get the correct pass.
Time to leave and there’s only one other older couple in the waiting room. We get on the commuter plane, a 46 seater, with only three passengers. I settle into my seat 5A, after a few moments the flight attendant comes up and asks if all 3 of us would mind moving to the rear of the aircraft to compensate for the luggage. I point out there’s only three bags! Why not move them? The older couple now sitting in the back of the plane ( one on either side of the aisle to “equalize” the load ask me how I think I’m going to do in the Triathlon.
Half an hour later I’m in Rota.
Tuesday:
My driver dropped me off at the wrong Terminal in
back to Continental to get the correct pass.
Time to leave and there’s only one other older couple in the waiting room. We get on the commuter plane, a 46 seater, with only three passengers. I settle into my seat 5A, after a few moments the flight attendant comes up and asks if all 3 of us would mind moving to the rear of the aircraft to compensate for the luggage. I point out there’s only three bags! Why not move them? The older couple now sitting in the back of the plane ( one on either side of the aisle to “equalize” the load ask me how I think I’m going to do in the Triathlon.
Half an hour later I’m in Rota.
Rota is a beautiful Island , a friendly island – it’s just that I might have to wait a few years till it’s safe for me to return. It all has to do with big Triathlon they’re having this weekend. Rota is a very quiet island and has only two major functions a year. Some large Church function commemorating a saint, San Francisco de borgia. Somehow given all the suicide cliffs on these Islands I’m not surprised there’s a feast honoring a member of Borgia clan.
I’m met at the airport by a driver who wants to know if I’m there for the Triathlon that coming weekend meets me at the airport. and taken to my logging at the Coral Garden Hotel. It’s clean, but a little more threadbare than my lodgings inSaipan . But it has a million dollar view. The lady who hands me the key again asks about the Triathlon. The first two or three times I’ve been asked about the Triathlon, I’m flattered. I’ll bet Dr. Atkins is beaming down on me from that big Carb garden in the sky. But now it’s getting a little tedious. I explain that I would compete, except I have a bit a problem with some of the events, namely the running, swimming, and biking. If they want to build a Triathlon that includes a three legged race, a sack race and a potato and spoon event, I’m there man.
I decide to walk around the little tiny town with the picturesque name of SongSong. It’s about the size of Ganges in Saltspring Island back home, about 40 buildings in total, many of the falling apart – a combination of typhoons and the bad Japanese economy. As I’m passing a bar two of the local guys cry out:
“Viva Luta”
I look around there’s no one but me around.
“VivaLuta !” they should out again, and seem a little agitated that I don’t respond. So I scream back the first thing that comes to my mind: “Aviva Mandleman!” (my daughter’s name)
That seemed to confuse them enough for me to walk on. I could cover the whole town in less than half an hour – It comprises of about four restaurants, two garages, and about 8 convenience stores. I decided to drop in and buy some small cheese snacks for my hotel room. I visited every store and the only cheese they have are the processed Kraft Cheese sheets –
evidently led cheese sandwiches must be big here inRota . The lady in the store wanted to know if I was here for the Triathlon. At this point I just smile and go about my business.
Dinner is at one of the three restaurants, “Ah Paris” – sounds French – it definitely is not. It’s sort of a quazi Chinese. While I’m waiting for my dinner there seems to be one song that is playing over and over and over. It’s a soppy ballad about Jimmy and Joany. Something about how Joany is only 15 and Jimmy is in his 20’s (which at this point gets my attention) and
Joany whining about how if Jimmy will wait till she grows up, but of course he doesn’t and moves a way, and when he finally comes back she’s married again. In between “Jimmy and Joany” the phone continually rings, and I notice it’s an old fashioned Northern Telecom. The only they had to pry out of my mother and mother in laws hands about ten years ago. It actually has a real bell in it! time it recycles for the fourth time I don’t know whether to sing along or throw up!
Back at my hotel I turn on the tv and make an interesting discovery. They may be a day ahead, but in the real world of television they’re two weeks behind! While it’s November 17th hear, they’re running TV from October 31st! The American election hasn’t happened yet. If I could find a bookie here, I’d make a fortune!
Wednesday:
My first visit is to the dive shop to meet Mark, the guy the divers onSaipan refer to as the “Dive Nazi”. (ala Seinfeld’s soup Nazi). They say if you do the slightest thing wrong he won’t take you diving. He seems nice to me – particularly since he’s the FIRST guy who hasn’t asked me about the Triathlon (I almost feel hurt). There’s no one to go with me that day, maybe
tomorrow.
I rent a car from Avis. They have to wait till the afternoon till “the car” (singular) is returned. After my experience onSaipan I’m not looking forward to what ‘the car’ might be. I’m pleasantly surprised to find it’s an almost new version of the car I had on Saipan (1 2004 Nissan Sentra). I spend the next three hours touring the island, and only get myself lost once on my quest to find an old Japanese locomotive on an old dirt road that circles the airport. When I thought I discovered a 2nd locomotive I realize I had missed the exit. They have one of the most beautiful golf courses I’ve ever seen on the other end of the Island by the big expensive hotel. Absolutely breathtaking and the only people I could see on it were groundskeepers. If you want to golf, this is the place to go.
ThursdayI’m met at the airport by a driver who wants to know if I’m there for the Triathlon that coming weekend meets me at the airport. and taken to my logging at the Coral Garden Hotel. It’s clean, but a little more threadbare than my lodgings in
I decide to walk around the little tiny town with the picturesque name of SongSong. It’s about the size of Ganges in Saltspring Island back home, about 40 buildings in total, many of the falling apart – a combination of typhoons and the bad Japanese economy. As I’m passing a bar two of the local guys cry out:
“Viva Luta”
I look around there’s no one but me around.
“Viva
That seemed to confuse them enough for me to walk on. I could cover the whole town in less than half an hour – It comprises of about four restaurants, two garages, and about 8 convenience stores. I decided to drop in and buy some small cheese snacks for my hotel room. I visited every store and the only cheese they have are the processed Kraft Cheese sheets –
evidently led cheese sandwiches must be big here in
Dinner is at one of the three restaurants, “Ah Paris” – sounds French – it definitely is not. It’s sort of a quazi Chinese. While I’m waiting for my dinner there seems to be one song that is playing over and over and over. It’s a soppy ballad about Jimmy and Joany. Something about how Joany is only 15 and Jimmy is in his 20’s (which at this point gets my attention) and
Joany whining about how if Jimmy will wait till she grows up, but of course he doesn’t and moves a way, and when he finally comes back she’s married again. In between “Jimmy and Joany” the phone continually rings, and I notice it’s an old fashioned Northern Telecom. The only they had to pry out of my mother and mother in laws hands about ten years ago. It actually has a real bell in it! time it recycles for the fourth time I don’t know whether to sing along or throw up!
Back at my hotel I turn on the tv and make an interesting discovery. They may be a day ahead, but in the real world of television they’re two weeks behind! While it’s November 17th hear, they’re running TV from October 31st! The American election hasn’t happened yet. If I could find a bookie here, I’d make a fortune!
Wednesday:
My first visit is to the dive shop to meet Mark, the guy the divers on
tomorrow.
I rent a car from Avis. They have to wait till the afternoon till “the car” (singular) is returned. After my experience on
I go to the local place for breakfast. There’s a hauntingly familiar tune playing. I unconsciously begin to hum along. Then I realize it’s Jimmy and Joany again! This time in the local dialect! They love this soppy stuff down here. I should send them the best of the Poppy Family or Laura and Tommy were Lovers, or Tell Laura I Love Her. I’m never going to get that tune out of my mind!
I visit Mark the Dive Nazi at 8:00am. While I am waiting for him to arrive, I meet Rai(pronounced
comment was going to cause me so much trouble later.
Mark arrives and tells me that he’s arranged for me to dive with a Japanese dive group and he’ll provide one of his instructors to dive with me. A short time later an attractive blonde woman arrives and introduces herself. Nanette is to be my diving buddy. They equip me out and we leave to join the Japanese group at their shop. When we arrives there is some excited talk in Japanese. I can make out the word “Canadian”. I ask what they’re talking about. Evidently they’re excited about meeting the Canadian who will be doing the Triathlon on the antique bicycle!!! News travels fast on
It was explained to me by Nanette that we would be doing a negative buoyancy entry from the boat. Did I know how to do this? No, was the answer.
Well It’s quite simple you sit with your ass on the edge of the boat facing in, then you do a backward somersault into the water, and to make it more interesting, you don’t come up to the surface to get your bearings (or in my case to clear my mask) but you continue straight down to the bottom at 45 feet.
The visibility was stunning. You could see for hundreds of feet in every direction. Our destination was to be an underwater cave, which was a bit scary getting into, but with Nanette’s encouragement wasn’t that bad. The top of the cave had collapsed ions ago, so once inside the cave it lit up a brilliant blue. It was very magical and awe inspiring. BTW I’m now up to
35 minutes of air time. The Japanese or at an hour. So I’ve still got to work on relaxing and not thinking about things like: I’m 80’ underwater and there are large animals around here that could eat me.
That night I go to the local bar for dinner where I’m greeted with much bowing and ceremony by the contingents from
Canadians need to swather over us before we can swim. I’m afraid I won’t be able to race this year!
Friday:Today I went down to the Dive shop to offer to help with setting up buoys etc for the race and that’s when I was deeply touched to find that the race committee had met and decided to call me an honorary entrant and present me a race t-shirt.
I took Nanette to lunch to thank her for everything (she wouldn’t accept a tip) and then off to the airport to meet Elan in
Saturday:
Met Elan last night, spent the morning getting oriented, a car and finding an internet café.
No comments:
Post a Comment