Tinian

On the sleepy tropical island of Tinian sits the House of Taga, a vaguely Stonehenge-esque construction whose latte stones-towering, mushroom-shaped pillars carved from coral limestone-seem plucked straight from some unfilmed Indiana Jones sequel. Once the proud foundations of Chief Taga's abode, these massive relics dwarf any modern espresso cup with their mythic proportions, suggesting either an incredible feat of engineering or a preposterous amount of ambition (probably both). Aim to visit early in the morning, when golden sunlight punctuates their weathered surfaces and the island's humidity hasn't yet transformed you into a sweaty puddle. While planning months in advance isn't strictly necessary (let's face it, Tinian isn't exactly Ibiza), remember to pack plenty of water, sunscreen, and a penchant for the peculiar. The site won't cost you a penny, but bring along an imagination-and perhaps a historian's skepticism-as local legends promise supernatural intrigue lurking in the shadows. Sure, it's just a bunch of oversized stone pillars to some, but standing among the House of Taga's ancient latte stones, you're not just sightseeing; you're one-upping your friend's cliche Eiffel Tower selfies with a legitimately bizarre tale of forgotten royalty, lost civilizations, and the lingering suspicion that your tour guide might be stretching the truth just to entertain another gullible visitor.

If you find yourself in the laid-back wildness of North Field, you owe it to your inner pirate-or at least your Instagram followers-to make a pilgrimage to the infamous Blow Hole. This geological oddity, carved over thousands of patient, wave-pummeling years into the limestone shoreline, has all the subtlety of Mother Nature angrily popping a champagne cork. Time your visit during high tide or windy weather (early mornings are reliably crowd-free), and you'll be rewarded with thunderous plumes of seawater erupting skyward like the belligerent tantrums of a subterranean sea god. Pack a waterproof camera, sturdy shoes for scrambling over slippery rocks, and patience: you might wait fifteen anticlimactic minutes for one jaw-dropping, profanity-inspiring blast. Budget-wise, this marvel is gloriously free-a rarity in the world of oddly satisfying nature tourism-but do splurge on that waterproof jacket, or risk spending your afternoon soggy and sulking. You'll go home slightly damp, hugely impressed, and armed with a salty story of geological theatrics that's worth retelling over many future beers.

If traipsing around remote jungle clearings in search of Guam's answer to Stonehenge sounds like your particular brand of adventure, then the Century-old Latte Stone Ruins Tour in South Tinian is just eccentric enough to charm. Latte stones-those iconic mushroom-shaped pillars carved by the ancient Chamorro people-aren't exactly on the average traveler's bucket list, but they should be. Standing silent since long before Magellan wobbled ashore, these limestone megaliths are layered in history and mystery alike, each one whispering enigmatic tales of an indigenous culture whose architecture boldly defied typhoons and time. Bring sturdy shoes, insect repellent potent enough to drop a buffalo, and plenty of drinking water, because exploring these stone ruins is less leisurely stroll, more Indiana Jones meets tropical survival course. Aim for early morning expeditions, ideally planned a week or two ahead with a reliable local guide to dodge the oppressive heat and throngs of directionally challenged tourists. Cost-wise, budget about $30-$50 per person for guided excursions-money well-spent for the indispensable and often hilarious local commentary. Ultimately, even if your archaeology credentials amount to binge-watching documentaries, wandering among ancient latte stones is undeniably worth it, if only for the braggable cocktail-party anecdote about how you once trekked through dense jungle just to photograph giant stone espresso-cup lookalikes.

There's camping, and then there's overnighting at Taga Beach, an unassuming slice of paradise tucked away on the sleepy shores of Tinian's San Jose neighborhood-where World War II ghosts whisper amid coconut trees and coral sands. Set up camp just before sunset, ideally after you've stocked up on cold beers, snacks, and mosquito spray in the nearby village. Don't overthink it: bring a simple, durable tent, a cooler packed tighter than your budget (a modest $30-$40 covers basics like local snacks, drinks, and ample charcoal), and leave the burdens of civilization behind. As dusk descends, the Pacific sky unfurls a celestial spectacle, stars so ludicrously vivid they'll make your Instagram followers suspect Photoshop. Plan just a couple days in advance, secure a local camping permit (enforcement runs from relaxed to nonexistent, but it's polite-and safer-to check), and breathe deeply of history: picturing, perhaps, the ancient Chamorros once sailing these waters, as well as grizzled Marines storming this same beach decades before your sunburned arrival. Sure, sand will inevitably infiltrate everything you own, and you may wake up sore and slightly hungover-but trust me, roasting marshmallows over embers on a legendary beach, swapping improbable tales with newfound friends beneath infinite stars, more than compensates. At the very least, you'll bring home a story worth embellishing.