The black volcanic rocks of Hawaii.
Unlike the adventurous tales of the Chamorro whalers who braved the high seas, I heard the story of two elderly and modern Chamorro residents in Hawaii, who just moved there from the Marianas.
Having settled into their Oahu home for more than a year, it occurred to them to make a visit to the famed Big Island.
They arrived; checked into a hotel; rented a car. The plan : visit the volcanoes.
But they found the driving distances too long. They had never needed more than half an hour to get anywhere back home or even in Oahu.
The road was too winding, and the husband drove way under the speed limit.
The wife tells the story :
"Guaha gi tatten-måme, ya duru ma na' kåti i karetan-ñiha sa' pot mampos ham despåsio gi chalan!"
(There were people behind us, and they kept honking their horns because we were so slow.)
"Pues, manli'e ham man dångkulo yan man åttilong na åcho. Hu sangåne i asaguå-ho, 'Mampos na' ma'ñao este siha na åcho. Båsta! Bira, bira! Nihi! Ta hånao tåtte gi hotel!"
(Then, we saw these big and black rocks. I told my husband, 'These rocks are way too scary! Enough! Turn, turn! Let's go! Let's go back to the hotel!"
So for the two days they planned on being on the Big Island, they mainly saw their hotel room.
Some Chamorros are gadabouts , other Chamorros are homebodies.