Ernest and I have been suitcase dwellers for quite some time now. So when he received a mail inviting him to Christmas Island, we didn’t quite know what to think about it.
All I’ve ever seen of Christmas Island was vaguely remembering documentaries about the crab migration through the Island to spawn. Visions of crabs coloring the kampongs red, littering the roads as they were crushed by the hundreds by oncoming cars came to mind.
With an opening in our schedule between Singapore and home we decided, if anything it would be an adventure.
I was too busy in between moving houses every other week and trying to keep my job to research much about it. That is until we were in line at the airport.
Tired after a long transfer, I lined up to check into the flight to Christmas Island while Ernest tried to sleep.
There is one flight into the island weekly and often times the plane is unable to get in on time due to old airport technology and a short curved runway. I struck up conversation with the man next to me in line who filled my head in with horrors of Christmas Island being a place full of criminals and refugees.
What on earth was I doing there?
This set the bar for low expectations, but I was about to be proven wrong over and over again.
Christmas Island is truly one of a kind. The people, culture, economy, nature and history.
Living without internet was tough enough. I remember our guide telling us that he got so confused when he went back to the mainland and everyone was glued to their phones. At risk of sounding preachy, it was a nice short break away from constant technology.
I don´t actually wish for tourism to kick off in a place like this; with any luck, we´ll be back before the year is over.