Guam: A Western Pacific Adventure

Jetlagged, shoes soaked from a random squall (does anyone actually warn you about that?), here’s the thing: Guam is way too far from California, weirdly close to the International Date Line, and literally everyone says it’s “where America’s day begins”. Hotels, gas stations, even coffee cups repeat it. No passport needed, but the time zone messes up your phone.

Experience Tumon Bay and Two Lovers Point

Forgot my goggles. Huge mistake. Tumon Bay’s reefs look so fake it’s like a Windows screensaver. Not complaining, but the water’s so clear I watched a purple tang try to flex on a rabbitfish for fifteen minutes. The resort strip? Feels like Waikiki in the ‘90s but with more elbow room and just as many 7-Elevens.

Two Lovers Point—crowds everywhere, all fighting for the same windswept selfie. The tragic backstory changes with every guide (one even added a goat, why?), but the views over the Pacific are ridiculous, even if your phone dies on the climb. Why does the snack bar sell Spam musubi with grape jelly? No idea. Tried it, still confused.

Outdoor Activities: Hiking, Kayaking, and Wildlife Viewing

Maps are a joke here. Guam’s hiking trails are “marked” with old flip-flops nailed to trees. Everyone swears the Pagat Caves aren’t haunted, just muddy. Kayaks rent by the hour, cash only, and if you drift, some Coast Guard guy yells at you in three languages, then hands you a ramen coupon. Not kidding.

Wildlife’s nuts—banana birds scream louder than kids, and monitor lizards? Supposedly six feet as adults, but I only saw a baby. Local biologist says the limestone forests have more invasive species than any mainland park. Didn’t check, but considering the spiders, I believe it.

Discovering Chamorro Culture and Historical Landmarks

Stumbled into a Chamorro fiesta with no clue what was happening, left still confused but happy. Food’s wild: red rice with achote, grilled parrotfish, chicken kelaguen with way too much lemon. Musicians actually played nose flute, and by the third song, tourists were cha-cha dancing.

Military bunkers and Spanish ruins pop up everywhere. Plaza de España sits next to a smoothie truck, and some old docent will give you three different years for when the arch survived WWII. Latte stone pillars behind the bowling alley get more photos than the new mall, which is weird, but apparently they’re “ancestral anchors”—at least according to the anthropologist in line at Shirley’s. For such a small place, the mix of U.S. stuff and Pacific roots is… messy, but in a good way. Unless your rental car’s Bluetooth refuses to play Chamorro tracks, then it’s just annoying.

Northern Mariana Islands: Lesser-Known Tropical Getaway

Did you know Americans show up in the Northern Mariana Islands just to skip passport lines? I get it. The islands keep distracting me—crazy landscapes, Pacific blue everywhere, Saipan’s green crashing into the ocean, and no paperwork. Snorkel gear sells out faster than coffee during busy season.

Natural Beauty and Panoramic Views

Everywhere you look, someone calls these islands “hidden gems.” Standing at Suicide Cliff, wind pounding my ears, I’m pretty sure that’s underselling it. The views go forever—odd rocks, water so blue it looks fake, and jungle ferns bigger than most cars. Read somewhere fewer than 80,000 people live here. Feels about right—wild, empty, sometimes a little creepy early in the morning.

Locals argue over best picnic spots. Bird Island, this tiny patch you can see from a cliff, will trick your camera into thinking you’re in Fiji or something. The Grotto caves? I half-expected a movie crew to jump out, the rocks and palms are that dramatic. Pro tip: rental cars get stuck in mud here every time it rains. Nobody tells you until you’re already spinning your wheels.

Scuba Diving and Water Sports

Look, I’ll be honest, the hiking trails are fine, but it’s the scuba folks that really get under my skin. Why are they all so intense? It’s never just, “Let’s see the reef.” No, you get these self-appointed experts—Glenn, for instance, who’s always barking about bringing two flashlights and not trusting rental fins that look like they’ve survived three tsunamis. The Grotto—yeah, the one with 197 steps (I counted, sweating and cursing)—is a collapsed limestone cave that’s supposedly “world-class.” Sure, inside it’s cool, but is it worth the climb? I dunno. Visibility’s insane, though, like 100 feet most days, which feels like cheating.

People drag waterproof cameras everywhere, chasing Tinian wrecks or hoping for a turtle cameo. Kayak rentals at Micro Beach? Good luck, half the time the signs say “back in 15” and never mean it. Jet ski guys? Couldn’t care less if you show up at noon or sunset. Stats from the Northern Mariana tourism board claim summer crowds swell by 20%, chasing “underwater adventure.” Meanwhile, my wetsuit from last year still smells like salt and regret. Guess that’s not stopping anyone.

American Samoa: Untouched Nature and Culture

It’s 3 a.m., you’re half-asleep, Googling whether American Samoa’s the place with wild pigs or just a lot of canned tuna. TikTok’s screaming about the National Park being the “last wild place” managed by the U.S.—and honestly, that’s probably not even an exaggeration. Even my insurance guy had to double-check if it’s a country or just a territory (spoiler: territory).

Tropical Rainforest and Marine Life

You step outside, walk ten minutes, and you’re sweating through your shirt—because 90% of American Samoa is just rainforest. Over 13,500 acres, mostly inside the national park, and it’s so dense you feel like you’re in that old biology textbook you never finished. If you’re even a little into nature, you’ll lose count of the fruit bats overhead and forget you meant to notice the ocean breeze. The trail to Pola Island Viewpoint? It’s a muddy mess, but worth it, unless you forgot bug spray (nobody sells it halfway up Sauma Ridge, by the way).

Fish? I gave up on names after someone told me there are 950 species in the reefs here. U.S. National Park Service says so, and a local dive guy grumbled that number’s probably off. Just rent fins, lose the socks, and try not to step on a giant clam. Maybe you’ll see a green turtle, maybe not. Coral spawning? If you plan your trip around that, you’re lying, or psychic.

Cultural Experiences and Local Traditions

Locals will warn you: cover your knees, especially if you’re a guy. It hits different after you see a rugby team in lava-lavas (look it up, then try buying one at Fagatogo Market). “Talofa!” gets you a grin, but if you botch “fa’amalie atu,” expect a grammar lesson from a child. Sundays mean umu (stone oven) pork and breadfruit—whole village, everyone eats, but only if you look like you might go to church.

If someone invites you to a fiafia night, just go. Don’t overthink it. Clap off-beat, watch the siva, and try not to look confused when a chief recites family trees longer than any travel guide. Forget the souvenirs—best thing you’ll get is a vailima (beer) at sunset while someone’s aunt critiques your coconut husking form. For real tips, I skimmed this American Samoa travel breakdown—no influencer nonsense, just the weird stuff.