There are a lot of misconceptions about Montana. (1) Everyone is outdoors a lot. I can attest that I like being inside, enjoying media or hanging out with friends more than climbing a mountain with my bare hands. (2) They think Montana is all mountainous. This is understandable. The state does advertise itself that way, and hell, 'Montana' is a Spanish word for mountain. But only one-third of the state is covered in the things, and the rest, for the most part, is high plains. This actually turned out well for Montana's economy when the Great Recession hit. That part of the state is rich in natural resources, a relatively safe sector. (3) That it's cold all the time. Nope. It's hot in the summer. Really hot. 111 degrees hot. It also, for the most part, is a dry heat.
Anyway, now you know something about Montana that you can tell all your friends.
There are several middle-sized cities in Montana, the biggest being Billings. That's where I am from originally... well, kind of, I was born in Helena, the state's capital, moved to Sioux Falls, South Dakota when I was two, and came back to Billings when I was almost eight. I have spent the last five years, primarily, though, in Bozeman. I mention this because when I say the village of Tumon is outlandish you know what I am comparing it to. 'Village' kind of misrepresents what it is. Tumon is the tourist section of Guam, filled with dance and strip clubs, duty free shops, Asian food (Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc), shooting galleries, massage parlors (aka brothels), an aquarium, tons of 'ABC' stores, Las Vegas style shows, and the list goes on. Big hotels line the beach, and the beach is beautiful.
The shallow bay is protected by coral reefs, making the waves small. The water is also warm. You sort of just want to float, thinking about life's mysteries. I saw a bigger man doing that the other day with a couple of beers in his hand, a modification of the ol' beer-in-the-shower routine. Apparently I looked like one of his son's friends. You can also see Two Lover's Point to the north. That is where two natives threw themselves off so they could be together forever. However, the proliferation of clubs with titles like "G-Spot," "4 Play," "Club Romeo and Juliet" (does no one remember how that play ended?), and "New Vikings New Exotic Dancers Nightly" just a little ways from the shore is kind of the antithesis to what it represents.
As you can see, there are often bars, gun clubs, boutiques, and massage parlors in the same building. In Montana, strip clubs do not liberally coat our cities (this isn't Portland, dammit!), and I have never seen a shooting establishment so close to a place where you get drunk. How can this Catholic-haven of an island also be a bed of sin? It's a little hard to reconcile when you see a dark 'message parlor' with flashing neon lights and a lighted 'open 24 hours a day' in the window. You know, when you just have to get a foot rub at 4 AM. I, for one, relish this conundrum. It is where conservative social values and classically liberal economic institutions conflict. It sometimes amazes me that we have a Republic party that can claim to represent both. Let's all bow before Ron Paul's rational views for a moment. (well, I will)
Anyway, I have also noticed another strange thing. The Asian tourists must have some sort of sick fascination with the M&M dudes. It's the only explanation. The visages of these guys are everywhere in the gift shops: stuffed animals, T-shirts, glasses, key chains, toys and trinkets of all sorts, pillows, blankets. I even found a cheap rip-off where instead of being round, they were made square on a cheap Guamanian T-shirt.
What the hell is going on, Japan? Do these marketing icons represent some idealized form of American culture to you? Lately I have found them to be more of an annoyance anyway, their commercials having lost their zing years ago. I still have no idea what drives the Japanese to such weird stuff. I have never found so many M&M things anywhere in the States. Probably in Hershey, Pennsylvania but I have never been there.
The night I toured the area, the Japanese signs lit up the village. The evening was growing later, and the Philly cheese steak sandwich I had for lunch was catching up with me. Rob and I stood outside a massage place, staring over a balcony. What a strange world this is. Men were vaulted into the sky on a giant slingshot down the street, party music was blaring from several locations, and there I was, suffering from bowel cramps. I grabbed my stomach sometimes, lurching in pain, but couldn't help pondering the cowboy capitalism on display. It allows the tourists to swim in the ocean during the day, drink a beer, shoot a gun, and watch naked girls in the evening. It also exists here in all places, where religion and tradition are so strong. Guam is a great place, full of vibrant life, the conflictual modern world playing itself out in real time. And up ahead, blocked by the tall hotels, was Two Lover's Point, where Fu'una and Puntan (echoes of the names of the creation story) were said to have killed themselves, together forever in legend and myth.
---------------------------------------------------
Two Lover's Point looks over the Pacific Ocean, a steep drop right over the ledge. If you were going to kill yourself, here would be the place to do it.
The story goes that a wealthy family in Agana had a beautiful daughter--the father being a Spanish aristocrat and her mother in the lineage of a great Chamorro chief. The daughter's beauty was so revered that her father arranged for her be wed to a Spanish soldier. She fled, not loving this man, and ended up meeting a strong native boy. But their love, like so many others, could never be. When her father discovered what had happened, he was infuriated. He sent the Spanish after her and her lover, cornering them at the top of the peak. Knowing no way out and their love being so strong, they tied their hair together and jumped, falling down to the shores below. That is the tale of the two lovers' fate. I know not whether it is a lesson on obeying the patriarchy or one on following the heart. It could be either, though today, it is often interpreted as the latter by the Chamorros.
A hole on the cliff's peak which falls to the sea. Not the place where they jumped, just a really deep hole.
It has become a beacon of the power of love. Long lists appear across the park of people who have been wed here. They are almost entirely Japanese surnames. Perhaps it has to do with this not being a holy site, but I believe the Japanese would be more comfortable with the spiritual overtones. The Chamorros, on the other hand, would prefer a traditional Catholic wedding inside a Church. This is a place of legend to them, not a place of vows.
The park is littered with these tags and locks. They are marked with a lover's name, giving the couples' spiritual blessings. Heck, if I had someone in my life, I would probably mark her name on some piece of note-card and hang it up there too. Why does it sound so unromantic when I say it? errrr type it then read it in my head...
Looking over into the sea and rocks below is like confronting your own death. You know one more step would do you in, but we are fascinated by this. Life. Death. Life. Death. One moment we are here and one moment we are not. It is perhaps interesting that the suicide of the two lovers is celebrated but the mass suicide of the Japanese on Saipan is looked on in horror. What makes one right and the other not? Well, I am sure there is an answer here, but I haven't pondered it enough to come up with one. Anyway, this concludes another Diaries section. I am interested in doing something a little different next time so hang with me.
