A journey to the edge of the world - Limerick Live reporter in Kiritimati

WHEN one thinks of tropical islands, the likes of the Bahamas and Barbados spring to mind.

Kiribati? Not so much. It is probably not too unfair a comment to suggest that most will not have heard of this tiny group of islands nestled in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But I have, and, for the last 25 years I have longed to visit this outpost on the edge of the world.

My mind often wanders - especially at this time of year - to December 31, 1999 when TV cameras visited the first place to greet the year 2000 - Kiritimati, part of Kiribati.

As a 14-year-old who had never travelled further than northern France on a school trip that previous summer, it lit a fire inside me.

Now, with the new millennium a quarter of a century old, it was time to finally made the trip happen.

While most people were filling their stockings, I was, instead, stuffing a case full of flip-flops, shorts, sunblock and bug spray - in readiness.

Kiribati - pronounced Kiribas - is a group of 33 islands. The largest, and most easterly of these which is inhabited is Christmas Island, or Kiritimati, home to around 7,500 people.

Lying on the International Dateline, an imaginary marker which separates one calendar day from the next, Kiritimati is actually 24 hours ahead of Hawaii, the US island just a three-hour flight away.

It’s miles away from anywhere, and an internet search outlined the complexities of getting there. Five flights there, five back.

Then, the real challenge began - researching the island, trying to make connections, and securing hotel accommodation.

Kiribati is on very few people's itineraries, so information can be hard to come by. Several midnight calls to the other side of the world saw me secure accommodation. Or at least I'd hoped I had.

The lady I spoke with who ran the hotel casually confirmed my booking, and, when I asked if she wanted a deposit, I was told to just pay her when I arrived on Christmas Island.

I did not hear back from her for months. Were it not for a message from her on the eve of my trip, there was the very real possibility of pitching a tent on the beach.

Although daytime temperatures soared up to 26 degrees Celsius on my stay, I can attest that in the night-time, it was bloody freezing!

Connections were hard to make ahead of my visit to Kiritimati. With the main villages on the island known as London - the capital - Poland, Paris, and Banana, yes, like the fruit, its tourist board often find themselves the butt of internet jokes.

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Reading a travelogue by J. Maarten Troost entitled, The Sex Lives of Cannibals - focused on his experiences when uprooting from his life in the USA to Kiribati - also painted a less than flattering picture of the islands, the summary depicting it as “possibly the worst place on earth”.

And how many people actually say they will visit Kiritimati, and not actually go through with it?

When it came to the final leg of my travel journey - Fiji to Cassidy International Airport in Kiritimati - it turns out, not many at all.

I asked the agent if I could get a window seat, so I could spy the tropical lagoons upon our descent onto the island.

“You can have the whole row to yourself,” she laughed - the flight was less than a quarter full.

A four-day journey meant it was Wednesday, December 25 when I hit Kiritimati. Landing on Christmas Island as the sun rose on Christmas Day. Poetic.

London is as close to a bustling hub as you will get on Kiritimati. Unlike here in Ireland, where more or less everything is closed on Christmas Day, shops and the village’s sole restaurant, Mum’s Kitchen, were trading.

Try to find somewhere to eat on a Sunday, however, and it is a different matter: the island goes into an effective lockdown on the day of rest.

With nowhere else to dine, I resorted to that staple of a backpacker’s diet - a Pot Noodle - which landed me in the island’s only hospital on a drip with food poisoning.

Tap water is undrinkable in Kiritimati - but I thought boiling it would be alright. I was wrong.

Fortunately, a friend I had made while visiting the island insisted I attend casualty alongside two other tourists who had also sampled the delights of Pot Noodle mixed with the local water supply.

Luckily, we were seen to immediately, pumped full of antibiotics, and were right as rain by the morning of New Year’s Eve!

For the last day of 2024, I witnessed the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean, humbled by the knowledge that there were some parts of the world where rays had yet to arrive for December 31.

Many people on the island attend special Mass, or descend on the beach to celebrate the arrival of a New Year. Others head out and party!

That's just what we did - we attended the only bar and nightclub in London, the Vampire Nightclub, where we broke bread with the regulars.

And the following morning, we headed to a beach near Banana village, where a traditional ceremony marked the first sunrise of 2025, anywhere in the world.

The arrival of the midnight hour - 14 hours ahead of Ireland - was packed with significance and emotion for me.

A short video I had filmed and posted to X was picked up by a number of media outlets across the world, one describing me as a ‘local’ of Kiritimati.

From Kiritimati in Kiribati to the world: HAPPY NEW YEAR! ➡️️

An overwhelming feeling to realise one of my dreams and celebrate in the land where it hits midnight first on the whole entire globe!

Welcome, 2025! #HappyNewYear#HappyNewYear2025#Kiribati#Kiritimati pic.twitter.com/6hFiLbbNn1

— Nick Rabbitts (@Nick468official) December 31, 2024

Far from being a native, I stuck out like a sore thumb everywhere I went.

White people are known in Kiribati as I-Matang, and there was genuine curiosity whenever I went into maneabas - community halls located in each village.

Children, in particular, crowded around me, keen to practice their English.

Pictured below: Too cool for school! Nick with some of the local children in one of the maneabas - community meeting places - on Christmas Island

Often when walking between villages, children pointed at me and screamed “I-Matang”! It was only later I found out that parents tell their children if they do not behave well, an I-Matang will eat them all up!

Sadly, on my final few days on Christmas Island, I was limited in what I could do. A shipment of fuel from Taiwan had not arrived, causing petrol to be strictly rationed among drivers.

But I have made friends for life - Kiritimati’s mayor wants a sister city relationship with Limerick, as does the community of Poland village, the most deprived outpost of the atoll, which I will write more about next week.

There are things which we should be really grateful for, chiefly clean water. In particular, I also missed Americano coffee, beer-on-tap, warm showers and fresh milk.

Below: The maneabas played host to traditional dance competitions

On one of the nights, so desperate was I for a dairy hit, I consumed a carton of custard!

Very few freshly-made items make their way to the island, the locals depend on canned shipments from overseas.

Despite all the adversity people in Kiritimati face, they are unfailingly kind, and always carry a smile on their faces. It's an experience which will stay with me for life.