Southwest Hawai’i is rugged; subtly martian.
I have seen a lot of docile and vaguely contented people over 60. I have seen a middle-aged man and woman sit across from each other at a table by the water and sip drinks expressionless, both wearing baseball caps, his saying “Bridgestone Racing.” I have been chased by a sea turtle. I have seen an anthropologically significant sampling of the possible variations on the florid-short-sleeved shirt-and-khaki-shorts motif. I have learned, through direct observation, that skin-embedded sea urchin spines can be dissolved intradermis by application of vinegar.
On day two, I have the realization that people who grow up here without traveling to the mainland probably get a skewed view of mainlanders based on the types who show up here most often. Strangely, even after having gone to school and lived in the islands, I’ve never thought of this until now.
In the pool in front of the house you can snorkle. It gets to be five feet in the deepest places when the tide is in. The difference between high and low tide today is roughly 2 feet. The surf is all-but flat, but today is reported to be the peak of the current SSW swell, so I will give it a go.
A local father takes his daughter out into the tide pool at midday and a sea turtle approaches and the father encourages her to wave at it, anthropomorphizing the animal the way parents, animators and savvy zoologists are prone to do. It does in fact raise its head - insignificantly - above water to look at them. Out on the edge of the tide pool a soft and broad and brown man with bright Aloha-print shorts tosses a weighted net into the shallows, and I conceive for a moment that raising children here seems somehow especially worthwhile. This is a way of life that is actually rare and threatened, regardless of its merits. And I know this way of thinking is patronizing and maybe reductive, but it's a genuine impulse.
Any time of the night, when you wake up on the second floor, you can hear the surf breaking, through the screens of the open doors.
The house is a proper Hawaiian one, meaning it uses sea air for A/C and has plenty of bugs. I lay havoc upon the cockroaches with my right-footed Local-brand slipper (slee-pah). The curve of the right-footed one fits easily against the thumb and deals swift rubber pops of death to unwanted insects. It seems barbaric even as I am doing it, but I take solace in the fact their dry husks seem to turn up dead of natural causes with at least as great a regularity as those who die at my thong.
The islands remain my favorite vacation spot.
I have seen a lot of docile and vaguely contented people over 60. I have seen a middle-aged man and woman sit across from each other at a table by the water and sip drinks expressionless, both wearing baseball caps, his saying “Bridgestone Racing.” I have been chased by a sea turtle. I have seen an anthropologically significant sampling of the possible variations on the florid-short-sleeved shirt-and-khaki-shorts motif. I have learned, through direct observation, that skin-embedded sea urchin spines can be dissolved intradermis by application of vinegar.
On day two, I have the realization that people who grow up here without traveling to the mainland probably get a skewed view of mainlanders based on the types who show up here most often. Strangely, even after having gone to school and lived in the islands, I’ve never thought of this until now.
In the pool in front of the house you can snorkle. It gets to be five feet in the deepest places when the tide is in. The difference between high and low tide today is roughly 2 feet. The surf is all-but flat, but today is reported to be the peak of the current SSW swell, so I will give it a go.
A local father takes his daughter out into the tide pool at midday and a sea turtle approaches and the father encourages her to wave at it, anthropomorphizing the animal the way parents, animators and savvy zoologists are prone to do. It does in fact raise its head - insignificantly - above water to look at them. Out on the edge of the tide pool a soft and broad and brown man with bright Aloha-print shorts tosses a weighted net into the shallows, and I conceive for a moment that raising children here seems somehow especially worthwhile. This is a way of life that is actually rare and threatened, regardless of its merits. And I know this way of thinking is patronizing and maybe reductive, but it's a genuine impulse.
Any time of the night, when you wake up on the second floor, you can hear the surf breaking, through the screens of the open doors.
The house is a proper Hawaiian one, meaning it uses sea air for A/C and has plenty of bugs. I lay havoc upon the cockroaches with my right-footed Local-brand slipper (slee-pah). The curve of the right-footed one fits easily against the thumb and deals swift rubber pops of death to unwanted insects. It seems barbaric even as I am doing it, but I take solace in the fact their dry husks seem to turn up dead of natural causes with at least as great a regularity as those who die at my thong.
The islands remain my favorite vacation spot.
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4 comments:
Ok. Move to Hawaii, give us some grand kids, and we promise to come visit you at least twice a year AND let you fly off to another island for a few days leaving us with the grand kids. Sounds like a win/win to me. Are there any attorney or compliance office jobs there?
Aloha! I am so glad you guys are there. It sounds perfect. Holy Cow Cathryn, I will move to an island TOMORROW and you can come and watch my kids anytime while I go island hop. I think you will enjoy the boys.
The islands seem to bring out the best side of your writing skills, as well. I remember the emails you sent (infact I have saved them) while you were in school, there and they were full of comical observations of fellow local students, events and situations. Mahalo....
Ok Sue, you're on since Ryan isn't responding to my offer. I know I'd enjoy your boys. I've read your blog frequently enough to know they're both delightful. But understand not just ANY island will do. It's got to be one we actually want to visit! Ryan, like your Mom, I also recall your reactions to your school semester in Hawaii. You seem to love it even more now.
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