A hundred different shades of green and blue. White foam of surf breaking on the reef, the sapphire blue of the deep and the turquoise green of the shallow. Air that does not have the heavy scent of salt, but the strange and unfamiliar luring sweet of the mangrove blossom. A breeze blows the faintest hint of plummera. I follow a village elder and a small group of tourists down a mossy stone path, through small taro patches and betel nut palms. This ancient path, made difficult to keep prying eyes from looking up and into neighbors’ homes, is slippery and yet rough at the same time. We are told by a village elder that we must enter the village with respect, as respect for property and rank is extremely important in Yap. We must carry
... read more
