March 2023: In my quest to visit every country in the world, Nauru was one that I admittedly kept putting off. It promised to be difficult and costly, with a fair chance of getting stranded due to flight delays. Additionally, it lacked the usual draws that pull me to a place—scenery, wildlife, nature, or indigenous cultures. To put it bluntly, I anticipated Nauru as a small island, mostly consisting of open-pit guano mines and a few refugee detention centers managed by Australia. But the day eventually arrived to visit Nauru. The visa process was challenging, getting there was pricey, and yes, we faced a flight disruption. As expected, the island fit much of what I had anticipated, yet my belief that every country has something unique to offer held true. Nauru indeed has a distinct and fascinating history and culture that made it worth the journey, even if it’s unlikely I’ll return. Here is the story of our time in Nauru, which my wife and I visited on our “baby moon” as part of a larger Pacific island trip.
About Nauru
Location of Nauru
Nauru, one of the world’s smallest countries, only trails behind San Marino and the Vatican in size. Driving around the entire island takes just 30 minutes, and it’s home to about 10,000 people of mixed Micronesian and Polynesian descent. Its extreme isolation makes it unique, with Kiribati’s nearest island 200 miles away and a significantly populated island, Tarawa, nearly 500 miles distant.
The island’s rich deposits of phosphate, derived from seabird guano, attracted Europeans for nearly a century, beginning with the Germans, then the Japanese during WWII, and later the British and Australians. Phosphate—valuable for fertilizers and explosives—became critical to Japan’s war efforts, resulting in Japanese occupation of Nauru and heavy Allied bombardment. The island still bears remnants of WWII, with scattered bunkers and artillery from the Japanese.
Following the war, Australian-led phosphate mining resumed, effectively making Nauru a de facto Australian colony until it gained independence in 1968. However, Australia’s mining companies continued operations, and Nauruans briefly enjoyed the world’s second-highest per capita income. Eventually, though, overmining left much of the island barren and uninhabitable, transforming it into a dust-covered wasteland. Mining also decimated the coral reefs, and as phosphate reserves dwindled, so did the island’s wealth. Today, Nauru’s per capita income has plunged, reflecting a developing economy.
The search for alternative income streams has led Nauru down various paths. Money laundering became common until U.S. intervention curbed the practice. Australia then saw an opportunity in Nauru’s isolation, establishing detention camps for refugees to circumvent legal restrictions on such facilities within its borders. Though these camps provide critical income for Nauru, they are controversial, with reports of poor conditions sparking international criticism. To protect itself from scrutiny, Nauru has implemented strict tourist entry requirements, making it the most challenging South Pacific destination to visit and one of the least visited countries worldwide, with fewer than 100 tourists annually. During our two-day stay, we didn’t encounter a single other tourist.
Difficult Visa
Nauru’s visa process seems almost deliberately designed to deter casual visitors, as it’s fraught with complex requirements and inconsistent communication. While officially open to tourism, Nauru appears cautious about journalists entering under tourist visas to investigate its refugee camps. To avoid an outright tourism ban, they’ve made visa acquisition notoriously challenging. Many would-be travelers abandon plans after months of waiting without a response, often forfeiting flights.
Because I had set a goal to visit every country, I finally decided to tackle Nauru’s visa process, despite dreading the stressful back-and-forth familiar from obtaining visas for places like Yemen and Afghanistan. My initial email to immigration went unanswered, and it was only through another traveler that I managed to access the application form and understand the requirements.
Officially, Nauru’s tourist visa application requires a chest X-ray, a doctor’s letter, and a police report, but other travelers reassured me that only proof of employment, a purpose-of-visit letter, vaccination records, flight bookings, and a hotel confirmation were necessary. With only two hotels on the island, securing a reservation was challenging—both hotels had poor communication, with emails often ignored and international calls unanswered.
After months of gathering documents, submitting the application, and persistently following up, I began to worry when the Nauru Consulate in Brisbane stopped responding entirely. Eventually, I learned that my main contact was on indefinite leave. Luckily, a substitute named Kramer took over and, within days, our visas were issued electronically. Kramer became my savior in the process—transforming months of uncertainty into an overnight success. Finally, Paula and I were holding our approved visas, ready for the adventure ahead.
Nauru Visa
Getting There
Reaching Nauru is no simple feat—Nauru Airlines is the only airline serving the island, with just a few flights per week. This limited schedule means that any delays or cancellations could easily strand travelers on the island for days. Positioned in one of the most isolated corners of the world, Nauru is a four-hour flight from Brisbane, with nothing else nearby. Given the high cost of flights, the journey was pricier than I would have chosen for a place like Nauru if it weren’t one of the final UN-recognized countries on my list. The flight expense alone made it clear why so few tourists set foot on Nauru.
Photo of Nauru-Detention camps Visible in the Middle of the Island
Our flight from Brisbane to Nauru on a mostly empty Boeing 737 felt almost like a chartered service, with the few passengers consisting primarily of expatriates headed to work in mining or at the detention center. Interestingly, the CEO and executive team of Nauru Airlines were also on board, en route to a meeting in Micronesia. The airline has ambitious goals to expand as an “island-hopper” service to other remote Pacific islands, especially those with infrequent flights.
After hours of vast ocean views, the tiny island of Nauru came into sight. From above, it looked dry and dusty, with a narrow ring of coastal houses surrounding a barren, carved-up interior where the ancient coral soil had been extensively mined. The dry conditions, combined with soil destabilization from years of phosphate mining, give Nauru a dusty atmosphere. White dust covers nearly everything, including much of the vegetation, adding a layer of surreal desolation to the landscape.
Dust clouds seen from the plane
Our plane
Our arrival in Nauru went smoothly, with the plane making a brief stop to let a few passengers disembark before quickly continuing on its route to Tarawa and Pohnpei. At immigration, Paula and I faced several questions about our visit, and after a few minutes of scrutiny, we finally received the much-anticipated stamps in our passports. However, despite the emails I had sent in advance, it became clear upon reaching the arrivals hall that no transportation had been arranged by our hotel, the Menen Hotel, for us or a third passenger also booked there.
Fortunately, an airport worker was kind enough to help by calling the hotel on our behalf. Soon, we were on our way to the Menen Hotel, one of only two accommodations on the island. The hotel itself looked a bit worn, and the surrounding barracks-like buildings gave an air of austerity. These structures, we learned, had originally been built by the British to house phosphate mine workers, and they added an oddly historical layer to our first impressions of Nauru.
Menen Hotel
First Impression of Nauru
After checking in at the Menen Hotel, Paula and I began planning our exploration of Nauru. We arranged to hire a driver for the next day, and for dinner, the hotel staff kindly dropped us off at a beachside café nearby. As we settled in with fresh fish and, for me, a refreshing rum and coke, I started to appreciate the charm of this seldom-visited island. While Nauru felt hot, dusty, and a bit worn down, its uniqueness and the novelty of being in such a rare destination were growing on me. The locals were welcoming, showing a warmth and genuine hospitality that made us feel at ease.
After dinner, I wandered along the restaurant’s stretch of beach, observing the coral cliffs rising steeply behind the coastal homes. These cliffs, covered in a layer of dust, had trees growing amid crevices and scattered sea birds flying overhead. Nestled into the cliffside were small caves and what looked like WWII-era bunkers. Curious, I asked a young boy nearby if the structures were Japanese caves and bunkers from the war. He confirmed, saying they were indeed remnants from that era. I mentioned my interest in exploring them, and his parents said he’d be in school the next morning, but older boys around the area could guide me.
As evening descended, Paula and I decided to walk back to the hotel along the coast, taking our time. We passed a stretch of ocean protected from the waves by a small jetty, where children splashed and played in the calm water. The warm glow of dusk, the distant sounds of laughter, and the slow rhythm of life on Nauru made for a memorable walk back, setting the stage for the next day’s adventure.
Nauru Beaches
Paula on the beach
Sunset over the scrub forest where I spotted Japanese WWII caves and bunkers
Kids swimming in a protected stretch of ocean
Flight Disruption
As soon as Paula and I settled into our hotel room for the night, we heard someone unlock the door and try to open it. Thankfully, the bolt lock we had put in place prevented them from fully entering. Surprised and a bit unsettled, I opened the door to see two hotel staff members, who quickly apologized. They explained that they were checking rooms to accommodate passengers from a Nauru Airlines flight that had returned due to a malfunction. This was unexpected, as we had disembarked from the same plane about five hours earlier.
Immediately, I sensed that this would affect our own departing flight to Fiji scheduled for the next evening. I went down to the lobby, where about 20 passengers and the flight crew, including a few Australian pilots, were waiting to check in. Curious, I spoke with the captain, who explained that after takeoff, their plane had suffered a bird strike, damaging one of the turbines. Only fifteen minutes out from Nauru, the pilots received an engine warning and decided to return. However, they had to circle for 45 minutes to dump fuel before landing safely. The maintenance crew attempted repairs, but headquarters ultimately decided to cancel the flight until they could send a head mechanic from Brisbane to inspect the engine. This meant that the plane, initially slated to return and take us to Fiji after a few stops, would no longer be available.
Realizing that this might throw off our plans to visit Tuvalu—since our Fiji Air flights were part of a tightly scheduled itinerary—I began thinking of options. The only way to salvage our plans was to change all our Fiji Air flights, which would be costly, and catch the earlier Nauru Airlines flight to Tarawa the next day. Unfortunately, this meant cutting our exploration of Nauru short and figuring out how to reschedule our flights and hotel with limited internet access.
After assessing the situation, I decided to hold off until the morning to sort out the logistics. For the time being, I headed to the bar, where I joined a group of New Zealand drill workers who were also stranded en route to Micronesia. Chatting with them over a drink helped ease the stress, and I took a moment to embrace the unpredictable adventure that Nauru was becoming.
Exploring the Island
The next morning was a whirlwind. Reworking our plans was more challenging than I’d hoped, and I ended up buying a local SIM card to get internet access. Paula’s mom pitched in from home, spending hours on the phone with Fiji Airlines to help rebook our flights. After a trip to the Nauru Airlines office, we successfully switched to the earlier Tarawa-bound flight, which meant we could stay on track with our itinerary—though our time on the island was now limited.
Thankfully, we still managed to fit in some exploring with Mahlon, a staff member at Nauru’s Ministry of Tourism. Mahlon was an enthusiastic guide, sharing his optimism that the immigration department might eventually ease visa restrictions to encourage more visitors. He gave us a real insider’s tour, driving us through Nauru’s interior to witness the environmental toll of phosphate mining, which has left vast areas of the island scarred. We saw some of the historical remnants of Japanese World War II defenses, including massive coastal guns, as well as an old prison that had held both German and Japanese prisoners at different times.
Mahlon even took us to see Buada Lagoon, the only natural lake on the island—a small oasis amid the otherwise dry landscape. To cap off our whirlwind tour, we completed the 30-minute loop around the island’s circumference, stopping at a local store along the way to pick up some ice cream. It was a fitting end to our brief but memorable visit, giving us a real taste of Nauru’s uniqueness and a sense of the island’s genuine hospitality.
Old Abandoned Phosphate Mine
A mined out area of deep ruts in the land now overgrown by trees leading to what was a German prison that was later retrofitted into a japanese prison.
Part of the Japanese prison
A WWII Japanese bunker among the exposed coral pinnacles left barren after years of top soil being removed from the mining. In the background are tanks that were used to hold mining chemicals.
A Japanese anti-aircraft gun
Paula and I at the Japanese anti-aircraft gun
Local Store. The government of Nauru is pushing a big helath campagne to reverse high rates of obsesity, cancer and diabetes among the population. Nauru has the unfortunate title of the most obese country in the world.
Mahlon drove us to Buada Lagoon, Nauru’s only freshwater lake. Although the lake was stagnant and unsuitable for swimming, it held a unique significance for the island. In a place where most drinking water is desalinated from the ocean, Buada Lagoon represented a rare natural water source. Mahlon shared that Nauru had been enduring its worst drought in a century, with almost no significant rainfall in five years. This drought had made even the brackish, stagnant waters of the lagoon a precious resource.
Buada Lagoon
Ship transfer docks for phosphate materials
Nauru coral beaches at low tide
Paula at Nauru coral beaches at low tide
After waiting an hour to check in at the airport, we were told our flight would be delayed by four hours. With some extra time on our hands, we returned to the hotel and joined the New Zealand drill workers for another round of beers. Eventually, we boarded our evening flight and made the hour-long journey to Tarawa.
Reflecting on Nauru, I felt grateful for the experience. The island’s rugged beauty, the warmth of the people, and its unique quirks made it a memorable stop. Although our time was cut short, and we missed the chance to explore more caves, I don’t expect Nauru will be a place I’ll revisit. It was a fascinating visit, though, and one I’m glad we made.