Luckily, Christmas also has a way of making friends feel like family. This year was no exception. Most folks were out of town, so it was just Megan, Scott, Jeff, and I. (Christmas 2011 is Jeff’s and my third together in our nutty long distance relationship!) There was also a brief guest appearance by Tim and Cindy (who made an epic dessert that tasted decidedly Midwestern)!
We rented the Ngiwal house. (Directions: Go to Ngiwal, look for the big touristy-looking house. You’re there!). Ngiwal is a state on the east coast of Babeldoab where the island begins to narrow. The house is pretty non-descript, but it has an amazing beach and an even more amazing tree house.
In preparation for Christmas, Megan and I sewed stockings for everyone from tropical-themed fabric. Well, Megan sewed three stockings, and I sewed half of one. Still, I provided a lot of conceptual input! Each of us got small gifts for the others. Well, Megan got gifts for everyone, and I got folks some Skittles.
We brought a lot of food (and drink) up to the house, but planned to buy fish on the way out of Koror. Unfortunately, the fish market was out of fish. Apparently, due to bad weather and an impending sea cucumber export ban, the fishing boats were not going out, or were coming back filled with sea cucumbers. So I grabbed some lentils and we had a traditional Palauan meal of . . . lentil mush with curry powder. Yum.
Fortunately, we also had a lot of Oreos and chips. Which were the source of most of my calories over the weekend. Jeff, tireless servant (“I live to serve!”) and determined optimist, did manage to find us one small unicorn fish at a local market. We each got three or four full bites after Jeff battled with the lil’ guy for about 45 minutes trying to clean it (unicorn fish, it turns out, have pretty tough skin). The results were delicious if fleeting.
Christmas eve was beautiful; we spent it on the beach, playing bags/cornhole. And wading in the shallow water. And eating. And napping. And all around being as lazy as the tropical island climate demanded.
That evening, we played board games and spades and danced to the dulcet copyright-violating melodies of Girltalk. Megan and I shellacked the boys at Spades on Megan’s first go at the game. There was much rejoicing and consumption of Scott’s vodka (which his mom called “mouthwash” on the customs form when she mailed it to him).
The next morning, we made a full Christmas breakfast including fake sausage, eggs, pancakes, grapefruits, and juice. It almost tasted like home! Then came time for PRESENTS. As usual, I patiently pretended to watch other people open their gifts, while secretly just waiting to dump out my stocking. Megan made—yes made!—me some coasters out of fabric scraps. Scott thought about getting us posters of Some Fish of Palau; and, on Christmas, it’s the thought that counts. Or so we told him.
It wasn’t quite Pittsburgh; but for a little bit, Palau was like home!
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