As I sit reading inside my host’s home in Kosrae, a shirtless man pops his head in the window beside me. It takes twenty years off my life.
But, in Kosrae sticking your head through an open window is just being friendly. The island is smaller than the city of Boston, but natives have hearts as big as Texas. It is like being around 8,000 Jewish mothers worrying that you haven’t had enough to eat. Walk down the road and someone will come from their house and offer you fruit.
My days here are filled with dazzling sunsets, walks on solitary beaches where glassy water slithers to the shore, great diving, and unique landscapes like the 1,000 year-old Lela Ruins and a mountainous silhouette that resembles a lounging woman with a well endowed chest, “The Sleeping Lady."
One of my favorite places is Bully’s Restaurant at Treehouse Pacific Lodge. I traverse a boardwalk in a mangrove forest just to get to the open, thatched-roofed structure that sits alongside a lagoon and lush mountains. I ate the $10 lobster dinner and one night I danced with the cook.
At the Kosrae Village Ecolodge, the ladies perform native dance and demonstrate basket and sleeping mat weaving skills and of course, feed me. Fafa balls, once only a royal food of ground poi, topped with sweet coconut sauce. It is an acquired taste.
Located about 3,000 miles southwest of Hawaii, Kosrae is a part of the Federated States of Micronesia.