I’ll give him that. The other guys here are looking at me like I’m an outsider, another damn haole. But this guy Tuna is alright. The quick glances and hardened stares from around the room are making me feel awkward. Randy asks one of the kitchen staff to bring me another drink. Randy is on a first name basis with the kitchen staff. He explains to me that the Saru family has a staff to cook, clean, wash the cars and polish the watches and jewelry of the Saru family. The look of disbelief on my face amuses Randy as he confides “Mr. Saru is a fashion icon on island well at least he thinks that he is pahtnaaaah. He has a collection, dozens of wrist watches. He also has necklaces and bracelets but his passion is shoes. He has more shoes than Imelda Marcos, okaaaaaaaaay.”
“I did notice that he seemed to be wearing a new pair of Nikes each time he came to the gym back in Honolulu.” I say.
Yes, Mr. Saru never wears a pair of Nike’s for more than a week” Randy says in a serious tone.
Looking about the room, my eyes meet Mr. Saru’s and he motions for me to come over. He introduces me to the governor’s chief of staff, Mr. Shino and his assistant, Mr. Kamu, the men who sang back-up during Mr. Saru’s karaoke performance.
‘He was a bodybuilder and is one of the best trainers too. He even managed several vitamin stores. This guy is going to make Tropics Gym the best gym in all of Micronesia!” he says about me. The men all smile and we shake hands.
“Thank you for the warm welcome” I say “but I was wondering where I am staying tonight?”
“I will have Alan drive you to the Guam Airport Hotel” Mr. Saru says, “You have a room there with a full kitchen including kitchenware, a full sized refrigerator, stove, and a microwave. Everything that you will need until your apartment is ready.”
“All I really need right now is a bed” I say with a wink.
“It has a bed too” he says smiling.
Elisa Saru smiles and says; “I am impressed. You came into a house full of strangers and made new friends. And you ate Chamorro food. You didn’t make faces or say ‘Ewwww’ to any of it like most haoles. Have you had Chamorro food before?”
“No, this was the first time and I really enjoyed the food” I say.
“I know you are going to do really well here” she says.
She doesn’t know about all the mistakes I made when I first moved to Hawaii like wearing shoes inside a house, making comments about the strange food, asking for a fork. But I have not made any cultural faux pas tonight. Tonight I was able to impress Mrs. Saru with my understanding of island customs, my ability to use ‘hashi’ or chopsticks or whatever they call them here. And the rules of the fiesta seem simple enough, eat when you are hungry. Eat when you are offered something. Eat when you are told to try something. Drink. Drink a lot if you want to. Sing karaoke, have fun, all of them simply a sort of unstructured formality. But Mrs. Saru was sincerely impressed that I ate the kelaguen and red rice even though those foods were not familiar to me. I was starving when I got to the Saru’s house. Other than some trail mix on the plane, I had not eaten anything since my lunch with Emiko this afternoon. Or wait, what time is it?
“Mr. Saru, what time is it here?”
“It’s a quarter to eleven but for you it’s a quarter to three in the morning, Honolulu time. You must be tired. I’ll tell Alan to take you to the hotel. Get some rest and I will come by and pick you up tomorrow morning around nine” he says.
“You like good music?” Mr. Saru asks. Stevie Wonder’s Superstition is playing as Mr. Saru drives us to dinner.
“Yes, I like good music.” I say, confused. What kind of question is that? Everyone likes good music. Good is subjective. But I do like Stevie Wonder’s music and I would tell him but he wouldn’t hear me because he is singing along with the stereo. His car has an impressive sound system, loud enough to rattle the windows and vibrate the ground beneath the car, but without sounding distorted. After another verse he turns the volume down.
“So, what did you do today?” he asks.
I wasn’t prepared for that question. How do I tell him that this is a conversation that I don’t want to have? I want to go home. There must be a flight back to Honolulu tomorrow morning. I am not sure what I should tell him. I miss Emiko. I don’t like it here. But the truth is that I spent most of the day sitting in my hotel room. I watched TV, I took a nap. I really didn’t do anything. I don’t want to tell him that after I picked up my rental car this morning I got lost, panicked, became frustrated and decided to sit in my hotel room talking to Jay. I want to go home. Back to Honolulu and it hasn’t even been twenty four hours since my arrival on Guam. After looking at a map of the island it is hard to believe that I got lost. But I did get lost. I have a horrible sense of direction and I left the rental car parking lot and drove right back into the airport. Of course it could have been a subconscious choice to go back. Go back to Honolulu, back to Star Markets, back to Emiko. After circling through the airport a few times, I did manage to make my way back to Marine Drive and then down to a shopping center. There was a supermarket, Payless Supermarket to be precise. Inside the store it was like taking a step back in time. The store fixtures were from the 1960’s and 1970’s and the brands were mostly unfamiliar to me so I ended up buying a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a twelve pack of Diet Coke. When I left the parking lot, I drove the opposite direction on Marine Drive, hoping to find my hotel. I got lost again and started to panic. It’s not like me to be somewhere, lost and without any way to call anyone. And stopping for directions wouldn’t have helped because other than Marine Drive, none of these streets have street signs. After an hour of driving around I ended up parking at a place called Y’pao beach where I walked around for about two hours until the panic wore off. The one thing about being on a tropical island is that you are surrounded by the natural beauty of the ocean. For awhile it was really nice to just sit in the shade, staring out at the ocean, wondering how to get back to my hotel.
After another hour of driving I made it back to the hotel and just as I opened the door, the phone rang. It was Tuna calling to see if I was going to make it to the gym. Frustrated, I told him that I got lost and didn’t think that I could find the gym, even with directions. He laughed and told me that nobody can get lost on Guam, not even one haole.
“Well, Mr. Saru, I was mostly just resting, watching TV in my room, but it seems like something is wrong, like the stations are not broadcasting the normal programs.”
“What channels were you watching?” he asks.
“I clicked through all of them.” I say.
“Well, the Korean station and CNN Asia are current and so are the local newscasts by KUAM. But the regular network programming is two weeks behind schedule because the local cable company plays tapes from the mainland USA affiliates. “
“Ah, that explains why MTV News is reporting things from awhile back. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.” Mr. Saru laughs and although I don’t say it out loud, I still feel like I am in the twilight zone.
He drives into a parking lot and sings along with the last few verses of Superstition. His voice is off key as he sings at full volume. As the song ends he looks at me and says; “I was a singer you know. I sang in a band several years ago. I still like to sing and I love listening to live music. We should go listen to live music.” I nod in agreement but I hope I don’t have to hear him sing again. We are parked in front of a restaurant, Ocean Bay Chinese Seafood.
“Ocean Bay is known for their Honey Walnut Shrimp.” Mr. Saru says as we walk towards the front door. “My family comes here all the time. It’s one of our favorite places.” The hostess greets us as we walk in the door and she leads us to a large circular table. Elisa Saru and the Saru children are there waiting for us. The dinner conversation is casual and I am happy to discover that Mr. Saru was right about the honey walnut shrimp, it is fantastic. So are the salt and pepper shrimp, the shrimp fried rice and actually, everything else. When I say everything else, I mean that the wait staff has loaded our table with platter after platter of food. I believe that we have received one