Guam Island by Daniele Somenzi

The United Boeing 747 lands after hours and hours of delay; a cyclone in progress made the departure, and consequently the arrival, be postponed by a whole day. But, given the reason wasn't man-made, Vanni and I didn't even dare to get angry. On our evening arrival in Agana, on top of everything there was no power to run the baggage-claim belt, but here too no one went mad and, with Japanese patience, we all waited for the problem to be resolved. Outside it was raining; the tail of the hurricane was still making itself felt. We rent a car and try to find accommodation as soon as possible. Fortune makes us find it behind the airport runway, 1 km away. They're mini wooden bungalow-style houses; we take one at the Micronesian Resort — this is the name.

Nicola, Vanni and I have a bed each.

We discover that now and then planes land right overhead, but only when the wind is in a certain direction.

The next day we go back to the airport to change the car, which we discover is faulty; from red, it thus becomes white, and we set about visiting the American island of Guam.

Here it feels like being in the USA: road signs, licence plates, cars, people, everything American.

Only a small part of the population is Polynesian, or rather, Guamanian. Many of them work in the related industries of the US navy and military aviation; in fact here is the largest military base in the Pacific, second only to Hawaii, naturally.

Agana and Tumon Bay are the most famous beaches, and another on the opposite side of the island called Pirate's Bay; for the rest, only cliffs. Here in Agana, many skyscrapers have sprung up near the beach, 4- and 5-star hotels with every comfort, to handle the great flow of tourists coming from Japan; in fact the nearest United States for the Japanese, for shopping, is Guam.

They also come because part of their history unfolded here. Guam, in fact, in the Second World War was Japanese; only after the American invasion did it change hands, and now in modern times we can say the Japanese have peacefully taken it back.

We 3 Italians on this American island so far from Italy can say we were an anomaly; indeed, a local fisherman asked us what had brought us to such a faraway place. He had never seen Italians.

He was fishing with nets by himself for some fish that we only see in aquariums.

Vanni, seeing the corals, wraps his flip-flops with Evans tape so he can walk even in the water without cutting himself; I, instead, with my hat even manage to catch a yellow flat aquarium fish, and after taking a photo, I release it — incredible.

After a few hours of sea and sun we go on, and, warned by some Guamanians, we reach, through an impossible path, waterfalls surrounded by greenery that no tourist knows. Both Nicola and I dive into the pool below the waterfall; he even loses his automatic watch, which, after various searches on the bottom, we lose forever. Nicola will remember those waterfalls much longer than I will.

The next day we take the opposite road that leads us to a point where the waves are so frightening that we approach and ask a local who was cutting coconuts with a machete whether they were normal; at which he says, never happened, they're the tail-end waves of the tsunami caused by the cyclone just passed. One wave, in fact, hit Nicola while he was taking a photo of them, and Vanni and I also fled laughing like madmen because Nicola was half soaked.

Finally, in the following days the sun arrives and we discover that a triathlon is underway — swimming, running and finally cycling. We watch and act as spectators. In the evening we visit some hotels and discover they're 1000 and one night. Some Japanese come to Guam to get married; in fact, the thing is so popular that the Americans have built up there on the promontory, with a splendid view over the bay, a little church like the one in Poveromo.

Often, standing on the beach, we see military aircraft on final approach to the nearby air base, visible even on Google Earth. I enjoy identifying them: F16, F18 and Galaxy. With Vanni we collect little sticks for the grill we use to make ourselves some excellent steaks at our resort, if we can call it that, given that it's run-down.

We go shopping in some of the 100 duty-free shops of Agana, in the evening, packed with Japanese tourists; after all, they were built precisely for them. Vanni buys a T-shirt and watches for the family at home.

I discover that many of the Continental Boeing 727s that pass over our heads go to or come from a multitude of nearby islands of Micronesia, and I dream of going there one day. Palau or Pohnpei...

Nicola stays a few more days in Guam, while for us the day to leave has unfortunately come, so he accompanies us to the airport with the taxi driver and says goodbye. Here Vanni and I discover that he no longer has the coupon for the return flight, while I do. What happened was that the lady at check-in of the previous airport had mistakenly torn off 2 coupons instead of one, and the situation was getting grim for us; we risked staying with Nicola to keep him company. But then, faced with the evidence, they let us board the United jumbo.

bye bye