I have not had one of these days in a long time. The island shuts down on Sundays, so I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. I took the scooter for one lap around the island, and then settled into my chair by the water to read a book. Just like in the morning.
Only this time, instead of coffee, I had red wine.
One of the first problems I had to solve after landing in Tuvalu on Friday afternoon was… Sunday.
Everything shuts down on Sunday. Restaurants are closed. Stores are closed. If you have not planned ahead, food can become a real problem.
That reminded me of an incident from many years ago while I was trekking through Mongolia.
I met an American father and daughter who were traveling on the Trans-Siberian Railway. They had started near the North Korean border, made their way through China and Mongolia, and were headed all the way to St. Petersburg.
The trip had a deeper meaning. They had recently lost his wife, her mother, and this was their way of celebrating her life.
Having already spent a few days in Mongolia, I knew how challenging the local food could be for the American palate. So I asked them, “How are you solving the food problem?”
They shared a very practical trick.
“No matter where you are in this part of the world,” they said, “you can always find hot water. They constantly drink tea here.”
Every train compartment had a large hot water urn for tea. Every station seemed to have boiling water available. Before starting the journey, they had simply filled a backpack with instant noodles.
It was such an elegant solution that I never forgot it.
Standing in Tuvalu decades later, I suddenly remembered that conversation.
I found a five-pack of instant noodles at the Tokotu Beach Convenience Center. My room had an electric kettle for making coffee.
And just like that… Sunday was solved.
You may remember my picture of the dogs venturing out into the ocean. This morning, as I sat by the water with my coffee, I noticed another one doing something similar. I followed it closely. At one point, it suddenly jumped at something, almost as if it were trying to catch a flying fish. I have no idea what was going on, but it was fun to watch.
I had just finished my 5K run on the runway, which had taken a fair bit out of me. So after stretching, I just sat there with my legs stretched out and my palms resting on the ground, trying to look more composed than I probably felt.
That is when these two adorable kids came along and struck up a conversation with me. Their English was broken, and their version of asking my name was, “Who are you?” But they were curious and cheerful, so we chatted anyway.
Apparently, they were sisters and already in school. They had plenty to say about it, though I did not catch much because their Tuvaluan kept slipping into the conversation and leaving me behind.
After generously sharing the story of their lives, they took off down the runway just as suddenly as they had appeared.
Not before they let me take a picture of them, of course.
You saw the toddler learning to crawl on the runway. She was adorable.
You have probably seen models walk the runway. They are elegant.
Now you get to see a runner run the runway. He was… difficult to watch.
Evenings are not my ideal running time. It was hot, humid, and I was painfully slow. But I was determined to complete three end-to-end trips on the runway, a little over 1.5 km each way.
So, I can now proudly add another completely unnecessary achievement to my running résumé. Right next to “Ran the original Marathon route of Phidippides” (back in 2015), I can now claim, “Ran a 5K on a live airport runway.”
My running logbook may be fading with age, but at least it is getting weirder.
You may remember Sharmila and me standing on the glass bridge in Eleuthera, looking out at the cerulean Caribbean blue on one side and the deep Atlantic blue on the other.
Today, I found another spot like that. Here on Fongafale, the island narrows to just about 20 feet. On one side is the sky-blue lagoon, and on the other, the deep blue Pacific.
Surreal.
