Journey to Tuvalu, the vanishing island battling rising seas and preserving its soul
Outside the modest immigration area, I paused, inhaling deeply as the island’s air filled my lungs. Tuvalu seemed to lift an invisible weight I had carried for years. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I did not feel the need to rush or fill the silence. Standing under an endless sky, I realized I had arrived in a place where time simply existed. In that stillness, I began finding my own peace.
- 5 days ago
December 28, 2024
Felipe enjoying Tuvalu’s serene coastline. | Photo courtesy of Felipe Pollitzer.
FUNATI, Tuvalu — Five years ago, on a rainy afternoon, I discovered a video featuring an untouched island. The little airstrip in the footage transformed into an improvised soccer field, captivating me with its raw beauty. Luxury held no appeal for me, but the island’s isolation and untouched nature drew me in completely.
Then, I learned about the rising sea levels threatening to erase the island from existence. The revelation hit me like a crashing wave, igniting a deep sense of urgency. The ocean seemed to call out, pulling me toward action. Without hesitation, I booked a flight to New Zealand, determined to start my adventure.
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My journey began in New Zealand, but my ultimate destination was set for Tuvalu
Seeking to reclaim my spark after years trapped in a suffocating routine, I decided to take a leap into the unknown and work in New Zealand. Drawn by its promise of something different, I knew the experience would pull me out of my comfort zone and help me rediscover myself in the solitude of a faraway land.
Settling in a small town surrounded by a fairytale landscape—mountains sliding into the sea, skies so clear they felt within reach, and a calm whispering inside me—I began to unwind. There, I saved money, reconnected with nature, and prepared myself physically and emotionally for what lay ahead.
With a working visa, I started fruit picking during the day and writing at night, trying to capture the vast landscapes and the stories they inspired. The work initially drained me, but as the days passed, I found a connection with the earth. Beneath the scorching sun or cold rain, I uncovered a more authentic version of myself. On weekends, I ventured through winding mountain roads, exploring lakes that mirrored the sky like flawless glass.
Every corner of New Zealand reminded me of something I had forgotten: how to live in the present without chasing after things I did not need. This journey was not just an escape but a process of rebuilding, piecing together parts of myself I had lost. With every sunrise over the mountains and every step through its untamed beauty, I felt closer to the person I was always meant to be.
Completing eight flights, Tuvalu’s isolation highlights its unique remoteness
I remember the afternoon when invisible barriers—money, distance, logistics—began to fall away. In that moment, I made a decision to change my life: visit a place overlooked by much of the world, destined to become paramount to me. Sitting before a map of the Pacific, my eyes fixed on a tiny speck lost in an endless expanse of ocean. That was when I discovered Tuvalu.
Excitement surged as I prepared for the most daring adventure of my life. Reaching Tuvalu demanded a complicated route. Completing the journey required eight flights. From New Zealand, I needed to fly to Fiji, enduring many layovers, and board the final plane to Funafuti, Tuvalu’s capital. Each flight carried me closer to my dream while highlighting the remoteness of this destination. Airports, illuminated by fluorescent lights and filled with murmurs in countless languages, turned into surreal gateways between worlds.
Exhaustion mingled with euphoria, keeping me alert at every stop. Fellow travelers reacted with surprise when they glanced at my ticket, their raised eyebrows a testament to the uniqueness of my destination. As the plane began its descent, I noticed the island emerge from the vast ocean. Through the window, Tuvalu appeared as a delicate strip of land, so narrow it seemed to float on the waves. The sunlight danced on the water, blending the horizon into the sea. For a moment, time stretched, suspending me in an unreal tableau. The landing felt like touching down on the ocean itself, and in that instant, I knew there was no turning back.
First impressions of Tuvalu: “No endless lines, no aimless beeping scanners, no tense faces glaring from behind counters”
As we approached, I noticed a group of children running barefoot toward the runway, their laughter rising above the engine’s roar. They rushed closer, their joy cutting through the air, and I wondered what thoughts filled their minds as this plane disrupted their routine with the promise of something new.
When the aircraft touched down, a faint tremor ran through it, as if the runway teetered delicately on its perch above the sea. Stepping out into the humid heat of Tuvalu, the air wrapped around me like an embrace. Descending the metal staircase, one step at a time, I placed my feet on the ground with amazement and reverence. My heart pounded, as the sky stretched vast and clear, framed by modest houses and trees that seemed to bow in quiet welcome. The air carried salt and something indefinable—a mix of calm and defiance, as if the island itself exuded a quiet determination to endure.
Inside the airport, the contrast to every terminal I had ever seen struck me. No endless lines, no aimless beeping scanners, no tense faces glaring from behind counters. Instead, children played and shouted, their joy filling the space with an infectious energy. The simplicity of this remote place offered a serenity unique to its isolation. A barefoot man in a wrinkled white button-down shirt greeted me at immigration, his broad smile radiating warmth as he held a stamp in his hand.
A small, weathered wooden desk stood before me, with a single stamp resting on its surface, as though patiently waiting for its turn. The man behind the desk, calm and unhurried, reached for my passport. As I handed it to him, a wave of tranquility washed over me, dissolving the anxiety I had carried from the world I left behind.
An island moving at its own pace
Tuvalu moved to its own rhythm, peaceful and detached from the relentless pace of the modern world. People walked ease, unbound by urgency. Watching the man at the immigration desk, I wanted to ask what it felt like to live in this balance between simplicity and the vast ocean. Instead, I nodded silently, taking my passport with its new stamp—a mark carrying more meaning than any permit.
Outside the modest immigration area, I paused, inhaling deeply as the island’s air filled my lungs. Tuvalu seemed to lift an invisible weight I had carried for years. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I did not feel the need to rush or fill the silence. Standing under an endless sky, I realized I had arrived in a place where time simply existed. In that stillness, I began finding my own peace.
Rules and expectations seemed to wash away with the tide as I explored the narrow island. One morning, I asked a man where I could rent a motorcycle. Smiling broadly, he said, “Come with me,” leading me to his home—a simple structure surrounded by palm trees. Pointing to a bike sheltered under a leaf-covered roof, he said, “Try it.” Nervously, I rode it a short distance while he observed. When I returned, he handed me the keys to a newer motorcycle. “It is yours,” he said, laughing even after my first attempt ended with me bolting into the grass. Patiently, he showed me how to manage the throttle.
That bike became my companion for days, taking me through narrow paths and to beaches with endless horizons. Beyond its practicality, the memory of the man’s trust and generosity stayed with me. In Tuvalu, relationships held more value than contracts or guarantees.
Tides rise, island’s survival at risk
While riding along ocean-fringed roads, the warmth of Tuvalu’s people embraced me, making me feel as though I had lived there all my life. Everywhere I went, genuine smiles greeted me, unspoken invitations into their world. On one particularly hot afternoon, searching for shade, a family welcomed me into their home. They offered rainwater in a simple glass brimming with hospitality, a gesture that felt profound in its simplicity.
One unforgettable night, I came across a tent glowing with colored lights. Laughter, music, and conversation drew me. I approached and found myself at a farewell party for a young woman about to embark on a new life in Australia. Without hesitation, they invited me to join. We sang karaoke together, my off-key voice blending into the harmony of shared moments. Every verse united us beyond words. Over a delicious meal, I listened to childhood stories and dreams of the future, losing myself in the beauty of these unexpected connections.
Amid Tuvalu’s narrow streets, another reality loomed. The sea, ever-present, threatened the island’s existence. With only a few meters separating land from water. The tide often crept into lowlands. The people of Tuvalu, however, refused to surrender. Communities built coral barriers and concrete shields to stave off the waves, raised houses on higher foundations, and reinforced infrastructure to withstand heavy rains. Yet, the sense lingered that these efforts felt as temporary solutions to an unrelenting threat. Walking the island, I realized the weight of their silent battle, a fight against an unseen adversary, with the roaring sea as a constant reminder of their fragile future.
Uncovering the heartbreaking reality of Tuvalu’s people
During my walks around the island, I often stopped to talk with locals about their precarious situation. One day, I met an older man resting under the shade of a palm tree. His calloused hands cradled a steaming cup of coffee, and his face bore the marks of years spent under the relentless sun. I asked, bewildered, how they lived with the knowledge that their home might one day vanish beneath the sea. He looked at me with wise, time-worn eyes and replied simply, “God will save us,” as though those words formed an unbreakable shield against adversity. His serene smile carried no hint of resignation, only a quiet faith—an acceptance of life’s fleeting beauty and inherent risks.
Another time, I spoke with an older woman weaving shell necklaces while her grandchildren played nearby. She told me about her daughter, who had moved to New Zealand two years earlier. “She misses life here in Tuvalu,” she said, her hands pausing as she held a shell as though it weighed more than it should. “Here we do not have much, but we have everything,” she added softly, her words resonating with profound simplicity.
The people of Tuvalu live with a tragic dilemma. For many, the thought of leaving their home—trading its peace for the uncertainty of a new life elsewhere—is an open wound. Yet staying means living with the ever-present water creeping closer, the certainty that one day the sea will reclaim what it gave. In every conversation and glance, their deep love for the island was clear—a spiritual connection that transcends the physical. They don’t just inhabit Tuvalu; they live it, breathe it, and carry it in their souls.
Heartbreaking truths from locals: “if we leave, we lose ourselves”
Someone summed up Tuvalu’s struggle in simple yet devastating words: “If we leave, we lose ourselves. If we stay, we disappear along the island.” In that moment, I realized it is a fight to preserve identity and culture. Another evening, sitting with locals, someone else quietly said, “The sea gives to us, and the sea takes from us. Our soul is here. We cannot leave.”
Before leaving Tuvalu, I fulfilled one of my most unusual dreams: playing soccer on the island’s airstrip. I had seen it countless times in videos, almost like a myth, and now I stood there, on the stretch of asphalt dividing the island. On one side, the sea roared softly; on the other, palm trees stood among humble houses. It was hard to imagine this runway, where planes rarely land, transforming into a vibrant playground. Yet, that improvisation, simplicity, and life epitomized Tuvalu.
The children arrived first, barefoot, leaving fleeting marks on the hot asphalt. Their laughter mingled with the breeze. At first, they watched me shyly, but curiosity soon drew them near. When I said I was from Argentina, their faces lit up. “Messi!” they shouted, and I became one of them. An old, worn ball appeared, and before long, the match began. As the game unfolded, it mirrored Tuvaluan life: filled with laughter, resilience, and cooperation. Every time a child fell, they rose smiling, eager to play on. When a team scored the match-ending goal, I collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but overwhelmed with joy. The children gathered around, laughing and sharing their boundless energy. A moment of connection I will carry forever.
Tuvalu became life-changing lesson
My last day in Tuvalu arrived with rain, as if the sky shared my sadness and the island itself understood my departure. Everything around me appeared muted, painted in gray and melancholy, yet the farewell carried an indescribable beauty.
A local friend I had grown close to during my days on the island approached with a warm smile and a small box in his hands. Inside lay a handmade necklace, its shells and beads faintly glinting in the rain. “For you to always remember Tuvalu,” he said, his words touching something deep within me. As I held the necklace, its small weight felt immense with meaning and history. In that moment, I realized that while the island might one day vanish, its essence—the spirit of its people, the purity of its daily life, and its quiet magic—would endure in the hearts of all who had experienced it. That connection, so profound and inexplicable, would stay with me wherever I went.
Tuvalu is more than a dot on the map; it is a life-changing lesson wrapped in simplicity, teaching a new way to live through time. My next journey may lead me to other corners of the world, places filled with untold stories and forgotten beauty. But my quest will remain the same: to seek that pure connection, that simplicity that transforms any place into a home. It may not be another island as small or as vulnerable as Tuvalu, but in every step I take, I will carry its lessons with me—a reminder to look at the world with fresh eyes and an open heart.
