#7 - Fanning Island

We waved goodbye to Kona still basking in the the glow of the amazing massages we had there.  Our next port is Fanning Island which is smack in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and part of the Republic of Kiribati, sort of halfway between Hawaii and Australia.  In other words, in the middle of nowhere.

And when you get there you realize it really IS in the middle of nowhere and there is not much to do there.    There are two churches, one school, and some huts where the locals live. 

Fanning Island is one of 32 coral atolls, each of which is defined by its ring shape and interior lagoon.  The shape of this island resembles a human footprint.  Picture this beautiful blue green lagoon of 426 square miles where the greatest depth is only 50 feet but most of it very shallow. Encircling the lagoon is a narrow strip of land, most of which is beautiful, pristine, white sand beach.  They say Fanning Island is about as close as one can get to the proverbial virgin tropical island in paradise.  

We got there on Sunday, which is Monday on Fanning Island, but it should really be Sunday because they are 1200 miles east of the international date line and so really shouldn’t be jumping a day ahead.  But Fanning is part of a long chain of islands, and to ensure they don’t feel excluded, they stay on the same time as the islands farther west in this chain.  Are you totally confused?  That’s okay.  Because even the ship’s computers can’t figure this out.  

In previous years when this ship followed this same itinerary, they moved the ship’s clocks forward a day so the ship time would match the island time.  Then they changed the clocks back again until they actually crossed over the international date line.   Apparently, this messed up the computers’ ability to calculate the payroll for the crew.  There were lots of unhappy waiters, bartenders and suite stewardesses (aka, “cabin attendants”).  Rather than sort all that out, they now just stay on ship time.  Hey, I don’t want my Mai Tai mixed by an unhappy bartender.  He might only put in two shots of rum instead of three.    

So as we approached Fanning Island, Captain Tim announced that the waters are too deep for us to anchor.  So the ship would “hover” (my word, not his) for several hours with the engines running while we took the tenders to get onshore.  That meant making our way on these bouncy bouncy life boats through some strong currents into the lagoon.  There we were greeted by the local people serenading us with their local songs and doing their best to persuade us to buy their hand made jewelry.  You could buy shell necklaces, shell bracelets, shell rings, and shell bowls.  You could also buy shell boxes, shell boats and just plain shells.  Seems resources are somewhat limited on this island.   

But the people were very friendly and they attempted to speak English to us.  We were greeted by the children with big smiles and a “Hello!”.   Some expanded upon their vocabulary and asked “What is your name?”.  We responded with our names and asked in turn, “What is your name?”.   They answered, but God only knows what they said.  None of them were Tom, Dick, or Harry.  If you asked them another question, their answer was “Hello!  What is your name?”  And so we started the conversation all over again.  Kind of like the movie “Ground Hog Day”. 

I had a nightmare last night that I missed the ship and was left on Fanning Island.  Being water boarded would be less torture. 

But it is a lesson in what is important.  These Fanning Islanders seem happy and content to have absolutely nothing (by our standards).  They have each other, a strong sense of community, a belief that they will be provided with enough fish from the sea, and enough coconuts to provide them with nutrition (and maybe Pina Coladas if a few bottles of Captain Morgan wash up on shore).   And if some of the tourists would just buy their shell jewelry, life would be perfect.