Less than two months after discovering this picture in the blissful air-conditioned cool of the Etpison Museum in Palau’s main town of Koror, I stood by a south London graveside, teeth chattering in the bitter cold despite my hat, scarf, gloves and multiple layers. The two settings couldn’t be further apart, geographically or in any other sense, yet a common story links the back streets of Rotherhithe on the south bank of the Thames with the tiny tropical Pacific island of Palau. That link is Prince Lee Boo.

As so often with a good 18th century adventure, the story begins with a shipwreck. It was 1783 and Captain Henry Wilson and the crew of the East India Company vessel The Antelope found themselves stranded on the small island of Ulong, part of what we now know as Palau. The Antelope had been wrecked on the reef and the men soon set about rebuilding their ship so that they could set sail for Britain.

Captain Wilson and the local chief, Abbe Thulle, quickly struck up a good relationship, mainly on account of Wilson’s men assisting the chief in overpowering his rivals and gaining control of all the neighbouring islands. Abbe Thulle watched the Englishmen building their boat and was so impressed with their skill and craftsmanship that he asked them to take his second son, Lee Boo, with them on their return voyage. The chief wanted Lee Boo to learn the skills that he had been observing before returning to Palau on Wilson’s next Pacific trip.

Lee Boo learned much during his big adventure across the oceans and by the time he reached London in 1784 he had made many friends and admirers. As a 20 year old young man he was accepted into Captain Wilson’s family home in Paradise Row in Rotherhithe, studied at the local academy and attended regular services at St Mary’s Church. He even met with the poet George Keates who spoke highly of Lee Boo’s academic and social skills.

The story ended all too briefly for Lee Boo as he succumbed to small pox, the biggest killer of the time, in December 1784 – barely five months after his arrival in London. He was buried in the courtyard of St Mary’s Church within a stone’s throw of the Thames and his grave stands there still.

The inscription reads:

“To the memory of
Prince Lee Boo,
a native of the Pelew or Palaos Islands
and Son of Abba Thulle,
Rupack or King of the Island Cooroora,
Who departed this Life
on the 27th December 1784,
aged 20 years;
This stone is inscribed by the
Honourable United East India
Company as a testimony of
Esteem for the humane and kind treatment
afforded by his Father to the
Crew of their Ship, the Antelope,
Captain Wilson, which was
Wrecked off that island on the
Night of 9th August 1783.
Stop, reader, Stop!
Let Nature Claim a tear.
A prince of Mine, Lee Boo,
Lies Buried Here.”

Having read about the story in the museum in Palau I was determined to find the grave of this young man who died far from home, probably on a similar bitterly cold day in his first winter away from the endless heat and humidity of his native island. While I was satisfying my own curiosity I had also promised to come here as a result of meeting a thoroughly modern descendant of Prince Lee Boo while out on a snorkelling excursion.

The young lad, who went by the rather cool name of Fonzie, was the guide on our trip to Palau’s famous Jellyfish Lake and as he got chatting to us he revealed a strong desire to come to England. It’s quite common to hear young men mention such a dream but it’s usually linked to wanting to watch a Man United or Liverpool game. In Fonzie’s case, he told us he wanted to visit his distant illustrious relative’s grave in London; having read about Prince Lee Boo the day before I knew immediately who he was talking about.

Fonzie, if by some chance you read this, I hope you make it over here one day and have the chance to stand by Prince Lee Boo’s peaceful resting place.

From Palau to Rotherhithe: the story of Prince Lee Boo is a post from: 501 Places

A little present from Taiwan – National Capitol Building, Melekeok, Palau

Drive up the eastern side of Palau’s main island and at a certain point you’ll see something that looks completely absurd. Having passed through several miles of lush jungle and seen a handful of modest wooden houses, from a crest in the road you’ll first spot what could easily be mistaken for the mythical land of Oz. From several miles away the enormous dome of the new Palau Capitol Building reflects the tropical sunlight, hinting that Palau’s capital Melekeok is anything but a sleepy coastal community of 150 residents.

In fact you could easily fit the entire population of Palau into the Capitol complex – several times over. This ludicrous waste of money was paid for not by the people of Palau, but by the citizens of Taiwan, some 1500 miles away. Palau is not alone in receiving these expensive gifts – the Marshall Islands capital Majuro boasts a gleaming new Taiwan-funded government building, while the State Office on the Micronesian island of  Pohnpei, similarly over-sized and ill-suited for its purpose, has been provided by China. In fact across the Pacific islands generous gifts of government complexes, conference centres, airports and tarmac roads are given to willing recipient nations, most of whom are dependent entirely on foreign aid for their financial survival.

To understand why the governments of China and Taiwan are so keen to win favour in these tiny islands, you need look no further than the voting set-up in the UN General Assembly. One nation, one vote is a system that gives little Palau, with a population of 20,000, the same status as India, with a population that is an astonishing 60,000 times larger.

Imagine a poor country, producing almost nothing and entirely dependent on overseas aid. The government is considered by independent observers as corrupt, with bribery and nepotism an essential part of everyday life. Yet they hold one golden ticket – their UN vote is highly prized by countries who are fighting for recognition or support at the General Assembly. This scenario is pretty much where Micronesian nations find themselves.

China and Taiwan shower ‘their’ nations with expensive gifts. As a valued member of Team Taiwan, Palau received millions of dollars for their education funding along with new computers and software. The Federated States of Micronesia gained from a new State Office in Pohnpei along with the Micronesian capital offices at Palikir and a grand Tuna Commission Building, all part of the perks of being in Team China. Some nations have even switched sides, others have merely threatened to switch, in order to keep the cheques flowing in.

Yet Micronesian aid overwhelmingly comes from a single source. Without the financial help of the US the nations of Palau, Marshall Islands and Federated States of Micronesia would be paralysed and so it’s probably little surprise that the voting records of these three nations are almost 100% identical to that of the United States (98.7%, 97.4% and 99.1% respectively in 2009). When the Micronesian block voted with the US, Canada and Israel in the vote on recognition of Palestinian statehood, many people expressed surprise at the existence of these hitherto largely unknown nations.

For these small isolated states chequebook diplomacy is a valuable part of their income where few alternative revenue streams exist; adopting a moral stance could be very costly. China and Taiwan are very far away in every sense, while the Middle East might as well be on the moon. It is of course a suicidal position for future generations, undermining any efforts at building a long-term future that is built on good governance, transparency and self-respect. But when someone dangles a large carrot it’s hard to think beyond the short-term gains.

Visit Micronesia and you’ll find an abundance of stunningly beautiful natural resources. You’re also bound to spot the odd grotesquely palatial government building, modern office complex, new road or grand bridge. Each will bear a small plaque celebrating the friendship between the donor and the grateful recipient.

I’d like to think that in a few decades I will return to Micronesia and see more new buildings and transport projects. They’ll have plaques next to them, just like the current ones. But they will read slightly differently: “This project was funded entirely by the government, with funds generated by our trade with overseas partners and tax revenues from successful island businesses.”  I’m not optimistic.

Micronesia and the murky world of chequebook diplomacy is a post from: 501 Places

Taking in the surroundings of Eneko Island it’s easy to conclude you’ve walked into a photograph on a postcard. Part of the Majuro atoll in the Marshall Islands, the private island ticks all the boxes for a popular view of paradise. White sandy beach, clear turquoise water, palm trees leaning gently over the ocean; all the ingredients of a perfect place and not a soul in sight to spoil it.

Yet anyone coming to the Marshall Islands for a slice of paradise is likely to get a bit of a shock. While these islands, isolated in the mid-Pacific more than 2000 miles west of Hawaii and 3000 miles east of Manila, do have their idyllic spots poverty and decay are a far more common backdrop than white sand. The road from the airport to the main town of Majuro is lined with rusty shipping containers and many abandoned cars, left to rot in the tropical sun. You’ll be hard pressed to find more than half a dozen buildings in town that boast any architectural merit, with an abundance of corrugated iron and dull grey concrete blocks used to make the buildings that pass for homes and shops. Whatever Majuro is, it ain’t pretty.

A tourist can hardly be expected to appreciate the extent of any country’s social problems during a short visit and in the case of the Marshall Islands that’s probably just as well. Along with the rest of Micronesia the levels of child abuse here are very high and while it doesn’t make good pre-holiday reading this Micronesian Seminar article provides a shocking insight into the scale and causes of these problems. If you read this before you go I can guarantee you’ll be reminded of it when you see a group of children playing in the back streets of Majuro.

The Marshall Islands were never meant to sustain a large population. While fish has always been plentiful the tiny amount of available land is hardly sufficient to feed the current proportion. Perhaps this explains in part the dominance of instant noodles and spam in the local diet (obesity is a major problem).

And if shortage of liveable space was an issue before, continued American military presence has compounded this to an astonishing extent. Having established Bikini Atoll as their favoured site for nuclear testing in 1945, several dozen nukes made not only Bikini uninhabitable for future generations but also neighbouring islands, which received radiation levels so high that even now they are not considered safe for resettlement.

Then there’s the US massive military base at Kwajalein Atoll, which has led many Marshallese to work at the site. Many have been forced to live on the nearby island of Ebeye, where thousands have also been relocated as a long-lasting legacy of the nuclear testing programme. With a population of 15,000 crammed into a mere 80 acres, Ebeye is one of the most densely populated places in the world. With alarming rates of poverty and disease it has earned the unwanted label of the Ghetto of the Pacific.

If you have any doubt about the horrific consequences that the American nuclear tests had on the Marshallese population I would urge you to watch the film Nuclear Savage, made by American film-maker Adam Horowitz. The official site is here (contains a short trailer) and I’ve found the full 80 minute movie here on Vimeo (it’s in English but with Spanish subtitles). A very difficult film to watch and having watched the full movie while in our Majuro hotel I defy anyone to sit through it and not get extremely angry.

So why on earth, given my descriptions above, would anyone want to go to the Marshall Islands? They’re so far from anywhere, with poor flight connections each involving multiple stops in places that perhaps have far more to offer. A few divers come here to explore some of the most accessible and impressive wrecks in the world. We met a group of surfers on our first day – they were passing through, heading out onto a live-aboard boat for the next two weeks.

Yet I would say those who do make it out to the Marshall Islands will probably list it as one of their most memorable travel experiences. Highlights listed by the Visitors Authority are certainly low-key – they include a visit to a copra (coconut meat) processing factory and a canoe-building workshop (more on that in this article). But wherever we stopped by we were met with curiosity, warm smiles and willingness to show us whatever we wanted to see. We were even invited to a quiz night in one of Majuro’s few restaurants by an ex-pat we met on our wanders around the town.

By day five we were being greeted by toots of the horn and waves of recognition as we walked along the only road in town. We’d met several islanders who had opened up and shared with us their family history on Majuro and the neighbouring atolls and helped give us an appreciation of both the good parts and the problems of island life.

While we may not have seen any single sight that made Majuro unforgettable for us, we left with many happy memories of a time well spent. Beyond the grubby exterior of Majuro there was more than enough to make us glad we came.

Marshall Islands: a broken paradise is a post from: 501 Places

After 18 days we’ll be leaving Micronesia tomorrow. It’s been a fascinating time and an exposure to a part of the world I previously knew nothing about. We have encountered perfect beaches and dirty squalor, broad smiles and resigned hopelessness, inspiring collaboration and systemic indifference.

I’ll be writing much about the many contrasting faces of Micronesia in the coming weeks, but for now I thought I’d share a few images from our trip to give a flavour of the islands – islands that I will miss when we move on to Manila tomorrow night.

Marshallese children happy to pose for a photo in Majuro

Almost deserted beach at Laura, the western tip of the Majuro atoll in the Marshall Islands

Waiting for the bank to open – at Majuro airport

Palikir, capital of the Federated States of Micronesia – population zero. Nothing more than a collection of government buildings.

Classic Pacific beach – Ant Atoll, an hour by boat from Pohnpei in the Federated States of Micronesia

Nan Madol – an ancient city on Pohnpei that is without doubt one of the world’s great historic sites

One of the rainiest places in the world, Pohnpei has many waterfalls for a small island

Beach at Tumon, Guam with WW2 Japanese gun position and new hotel in background. 90% of tourists in Guam are Japanese

Dancing the night away at the Chamorro Night Market in Guam

Boat trip around the Rock Islands of Palau

A present from Taiwan – National Capitol Building, Melekeok, Palau

Notes from the road 3: Micronesia is a post from: 501 Places