Majuro

Majuro is a ring of coral islets around a lagoon, and it is one of the flattest places you will visit. The land is a few metres above the sea at most, and in many places you can see the ocean on one side of the road and the lagoon on the other, sometimes only a few dozen metres apart. The whole atoll has less than 10 square kilometres of land, and its lagoon covers about 300 square kilometres.

An atoll forms when a volcanic island sinks slowly over millions of years while coral grows upward at the rim. What is left is a reef with small islands on it, and the lagoon is the drowned crater. Majuro's islets are joined by causeways and a single road that runs from Rita at the eastern end to Laura at the western end, about 50 kilometres in all. Most people live in the built-up east, in Delap, Uliga and Darrit, known together as DUD.

Fresh water is the constant problem. There are no rivers, and the rock underneath is porous coral, so rain sinks straight through. Households collect rain from roofs into tanks. The airport runway is also used as a catchment to gather water for the wider community, and on the widest part of the atoll, near Laura, a lens of fresh water sits on top of the salt water underground. In dry spells the water is rationed, and visitors are asked to use it with care.

Weather is steady. Temperatures stay near 30 degrees by day and 26 at night all year, with a trade wind that helps. The drier season runs from about January to April, and from May to November showers are heavy and frequent. UV is strong, and the sea is warm enough to swim in at any time. Typhoons are uncommon near the equator, but storm surges and king tides can flood low roads.

Because the land is so low, sea-level rise is a real, present concern. High tides and swells already push over seawalls in some places, and the government has been a vocal voice in climate negotiations for many years. As a visitor you will see raised roads, seawalls and rows of tanks, and hear people talk about the future with a mix of humour and worry. Ask before you photograph flooded homes, and treat the subject with the seriousness locals give it.

The Marshall Islands were settled about two thousand years ago by Micronesian navigators who crossed the ocean in outrigger canoes. They read waves and swells to find their way between atolls, and the best-known record of their skill is the stick chart: a lattice of palm ribs and shells that showed how swells bend around islands. Charts were memorised before a voyage, not carried, and they are kept today as works of art in museums.

European ships first sighted the atolls in the 16th century, but sustained contact began in the late 18th century, when the British captain John Marshall crossed the area in 1788. The islands took his name. In 1857 American missionaries arrived, and within a generation the church was central to village life, as it still is. In 1885 Germany declared a protectorate, and trading firms built a copra business around the coconut palm.

Japan took control during the First World War and governed the islands under a League of Nations mandate from 1920. It built airstrips and bases on several atolls, and in 1944 US forces fought their way across Kwajalein and Enewetak. Majuro was taken without a major fight and became a base for the US Navy. After the war the United Nations gave the United States a trusteeship, and the islands became part of the Trust Territory of the Pacific.

Between 1946 and 1958 the United States tested 67 nuclear weapons at Bikini and Enewetak atolls. The largest, Bravo, exploded on 1 March 1954, and fallout reached inhabited atolls, sickening people and leaving lasting contamination. Families were moved from their home atolls and many still live displaced. The history is told plainly in the museum, and 1 March is a day of remembrance. Treat it with respect, and do not treat it as a curiosity.

The Marshall Islands moved to self-government in 1979 and became independent under a Compact of Free Association with the United States in 1986, joining the United Nations in 1991. The compact gives the country US funding and lets citizens live and work in the United States. Today Majuro is the capital and main port, home to well over half of the country's people, with a large diaspora in Hawaii, Arkansas and Oregon.

The Marshallese are a Micronesian people with a language of their own, Kajin M̧ajeļ, which has about 50,000 speakers worldwide. English is widely spoken, taught in schools and used in government, so a visitor can get by. A few words in Marshallese are welcomed, and the most useful is yokwe, which means hello, goodbye and love, all in one.

Land is the centre of social life. Nearly all land is held by extended families in lineages, organised under a chief (iroij), a land manager (alap) and workers (rijerbal). Land is not sold to outsiders, and rights pass through the mother's line. For a visitor the practical result is that beaches, lagoon shores and village paths belong to someone, so you ask before crossing, swimming or photographing, and the answer is usually yes.

Family and sharing shape daily life. A first birthday, known as a kemem, is a big celebration with food and gifts, and funerals and weddings are community events. Food is shared, and if you are invited to eat you accept, offer a small gift and do not refuse a drink. Elders are respected and children are welcomed at every gathering.

The church is central. The United Church of Christ is the largest denomination, with Assembly of God, Catholic and other churches also present. Sunday is a day of services and family meals, and businesses close. The singing in Marshallese churches is a highlight, and a visitor invited to attend should dress modestly and sit quietly. Christmas and Gospel Day, the first Friday of December, are big church events.

Traditional crafts continue. Women weave pandanus into mats, baskets and fans, and make shell and coconut jewellery. Men build canoes and sail them, and community groups run programmes to keep navigation and boatbuilding alive. Handicraft shops in Delap sell woven goods, and a workshop or a visit can be arranged through the hotel. Buy from the makers where you can, and ask about export rules for shells and coral.

Food on Majuro comes from two sources: the lagoon and the ship. Fresh reef fish and tuna, coconut, breadfruit and pandanus are local. Rice, flour, sugar, tinned meat and most vegetables are imported, which makes the food both simple and expensive. Prices on the shelf reflect the freight, and stock depends on the last ship or flight.

Traditional dishes use the local staples. Breadfruit, known as mā, is baked in an oven or fried, and it is a staple that a family may store as a paste. Pandanus fruit is eaten fresh or pressed into a sweet paste. Coconut appears everywhere: the water, the flesh and a sweet sap called jekero. Fish is grilled, fried, boiled or eaten raw. A meal made from these foods is best arranged through your hotel a day ahead.

Restaurants are few. Hotel dining rooms in Delap have the most reliable kitchens and serve fish, steak and noodles with air-conditioning. Small Chinese-run eateries sell fried rice and noodles at low prices, and lagoon-side counters in Uliga serve rice and fish plates at lunch. Kitchens close early, so eat by 19:30. Carry small US notes, because cards are rare outside hotels.

Daily routines follow the sun. People get up early, work in the morning, rest in the heat and come out again in the evening. Offices open at 08:00 and close in the afternoon, and stores close on Sunday. In the evening families gather on the shore, and in the dry season children play on the road. A visitor who works to this rhythm will find the atoll easy.

Drinks are simple. Bottled water is the only safe choice for drinking, and a fresh coconut is a cool alternative. Beer is cheap compared with food, and bars in the hotels serve it. There are rules about public drinking and about alcohol on Sundays, and local families often avoid it altogether. A pot of tea or coffee in an air-conditioned café is a good way to spend a hot hour.

There is one road, and it decides everything. From Rita at the eastern end to Laura at the western end it runs along the top of the reef flat, with the ocean on one side and the lagoon on the other. Taxis, shared cars and hotel vehicles are the way to travel. Walking is possible within Delap and Uliga by day, but there is little shade, so it is a short-distance choice.

Taxis are cheap and are the backbone of local transport. A short ride costs about one to three US dollars per person, and drivers pick up several passengers on the way. Agree the fare and the destination before you get in, and name the hotel or a landmark rather than a street. For longer trips, such as a day at Laura, hire a car and driver through the hotel, agree the price and the return time, and confirm the ride back.

The airport lies roughly in the middle of the atoll, and flights are few. The United island-hopper, which links Honolulu, Majuro, Kwajalein, Pohnpei, Chuuk and Guam, does not run every day, and times change. Delays are common, so keep a spare day at each end and confirm your flight 24 hours before. Air Marshall Islands flies to some outer atolls, and boats reach nearby atolls such as Arno.

A sensible day starts early. Go to the museum or the lagoon at 07:30, have a long lunch in air-conditioning, rest, and come out again after 16:00 for a shore walk and sunset. On a beach day at Laura, leave by 07:00, bring food and water, and set the return time with your driver. After dark, take a taxi door to door: the road is unlit in places and dogs roam.

Some practical points. There is little public transport and no rail. ATMs are few and can run empty, so carry small US notes. Internet is slow and often metered, so download maps and books before you fly. Medical care is basic, and serious cases are flown out, so carry insurance with evacuation cover. Respect Sunday, ask before you photograph people, and keep your pace slow. That is the atoll's own rhythm.

The Marshallese year is marked more by holidays and church events than by weather. The calendar has a few fixed dates, and a visit that lands on one has a different feel. On 1 March, Nuclear Victims Remembrance Day, the country remembers the Bravo test, and events and ceremonies fill the day. On 1 May, Constitution Day, there are parades and community gatherings.

Manit Day, held on the last Friday of September, is a day for traditional culture, with dance, crafts, canoe events and food. Check the date with the hotel, because it can move. On 21 October the country marks the Compact of Free Association, and the first Friday of December is Gospel Day, with services and singing in every church. Christmas and New Year are the biggest family holidays, and flights fill with people travelling home.

Weather shapes the rest. From January to April the trade winds blow steadily and rain is lighter, which makes the sea calmer for boat trips and dives. From May to November showers are frequent and heavy, and the lagoon may be rougher. In some years, king tides late in the year flood low roads for a few hours, and any coastal walk should check the tide.

Flights shape the year for visitors. The island-hopper schedule sets when people arrive and leave, and events such as regattas, conferences and sports meetings can fill the hotels. If you plan around a particular date, book early, and keep a spare day. The hotel is the best source of current news.

As a rule, the best time to visit is January to April, mid-week, staying three to five nights. Bring small US notes, a hat, reef shoes and offline maps. Pack modest clothing, a rain jacket and any medicine you need. And leave room for slow days: the point of Majuro is the light on the lagoon, and the time it gives you to watch it.