Homesick

I'm finally homesick, but not for the U.S.

Or, I should say, at least not for the mainland.

After church today, I talked Shelly into visiting a big consumer travel expo at the SM Mega Mall in Manila. I used to write about the travel industry, and I loved going to this kind of show, where airlines, travel agents and destinations go all out to separate consumers from their wallets, often with fantastic "show-only" deals.

As crowded as the show was -- and as bored as Shell was from pretty much the moment we walked in -- we decided to go our separate ways and meet up later outside the exhibit hall. I went in, turned right, and almost immediately ran into the Hong Kong booth, where I picked up a map for Shelly's upcoming one day trip to Hong Kong. Already, going to the show had been worth it, I thought.

Wandering down a few more aisles, I came upon something that looked familiar: latte stones. I was at the Guam booth.

It's been a lot of years since I lived on Guam -- I left in 2006 and, aside from a couple people, I've lost touch with most everyone I knew there. I headed over to see if I happened to know anyone.

"You look familiar," a woman at the booth said to me, before I'd said a word.

"I'm Greg. I used to live on Guam," I said, taking a look at her name tag. "Regina? I don't think I know any Reginas."

"I'm Gina, actually," she said. And instantly, I remembered Gina from the many days I spent researching stories at the Guam Visitors Bureau.

"Yeah! You're still with GVB!"

"And Pilar's here, too," Gina said. "Do you remember her?"

I did, actually, and remembered her last name and, more importantly, the Chamorro pronunciation of her last name, which drew the attention of the man she was talking to.

"He must be a Chamorro!" the guy said.

I begged off of that, as I'm clearly not a Chamorro. I'm much too white. "So," he amended, "you're a Chamaole!"

(A brief aside here to explain "Chamaole," a word I had forgotten since leaving Guam. The indigenous people of Guam are Chamorros. Guam has taken to using the Hawaiian word for whites, which is haole, pronounced how-lee. A Chamaole, then, is a haole who has embraced island customs and makes an effort to be part of island society, despite his obvious foreigness.)

I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn't place him, either. It's been six years, after all. Turns out that he was Jesse Bais, the male half of Guam's "Jesse and Ruby." Ruby was just around the corner, and they were getting ready to take to the stage for 15 minutes of island music and dancing.

I loved the show, I loved the music, I loved the dancing. But the whole thing made me distinctly homesick for "Guam U.S.A. -- Where America's Day Begins."