Being a Chamorro chief is a tough life.

Yesterday we went to Mata'Pang beach.  It was named after a Chamorro chief from the village of Tumon, which is where the beach is located.  Apparently, Mata'Pang killed a couple of Catholic priests and then had his head thrown into waters off the coast of Hagåtña.  So...thats nice I guess.

The tide was high when we got there, and there were riptides pulling us out past the buoys.  One word of advice, when you can't touch the ocean floor and you are in a riptide, just don't be there. Its a bad idea.  Constant floating away from the safety of the sand is a little awkward.  We played an intense game of monkey in the middle and I tackled Alex.  I inhaled seawater and that was not fun and it burned. A lot.

I rode in the bed of a pickup truck, which is legal in Guam as long as you are over the age of 18.  It was only sort of terrifying but also really fun. 

We took obligatory vacation photos even though we are not really on vacation.  Feet in the sand and Janessa and Alex forever...except the tide did not give us enough time to let the world know that Janessa and Alex are actually for forever.

I'm trying to actually look up and know the names of all the places we go to so that I can learn some Chamorro history.  Because history is fun.

 Roland asked if his eyes were closed while we took a picture and I said "I don't know, your eyes always look closed"...so he opened his eyes as wide as he could.  Also, I am not a racist.  Later while riding in the back of a truck, he asked me..."why don't you like riding in the bed of a truck? Don't minorities like doing that?"  Touché