Eric goes to Hawaii
Dear Blog Diary,
“I don’t eat on planes. I like to arrive hungry.” - Anthony Bourdain
Did Eric just take a trip and then quote Anthony Bourdain?
Hawai-I-oughtta!!
Love that joke. My host homie Kea, her entire soul rolled its metaphorical eyes.
I did skip the meal though. My ode to Tony.
Culinarily, Hawaii might be my favorite place thus far. Sure you can’t spit without hitting a Japanese joint and if you took a shot every time you passed a Vietnamese joint, you’d die of alcohol poisoning within a few blocks, but there’s so much more incredible food there. Not a lot of Indian, surprisingly.
It never escaped me that I was being guided by a native and local, two different things in my book yet she is both, and ultimately such a kind, considerate, beautiful human with hair thicker than a $15 milkshake.
It never escaped me that I was discovering an island/culture so far from that of the typical tourist experience.
“Be a traveler, not a tourist.” - Anthony Bourdain (oh shit he did it again!!)
My first views of Honolulu were that of old shack/pagoda-like houses built in the 60s with chickens everywhere, Toyota Tacomas, islanders. Working-class people who happen to live in paradise.
Swear to god, every tree looks like a beautifully crafted bonsai, just huge. Flowers everywhere and no need to ever buy produce at the grocery. Just go outback or next door if you need avocados.
Everything seems to revolve around nature. I suppose when you have no where to go, you care for the place you have. The city structure is so fascinating in that the homes are in the valleys between mountains, so even Honolulu revolves around nature, like life itself there does.
Yes, someone smashed Kea’s window and stole my ruck sack and in it, my passport, my house/car keys, my glasses, everything I brought and just about everything I bought. In the five stages of grief, being now back on the mainland, I’m past bargaining and I’m supposed to be onto depression. Hate to break protocol because I think I’ll skip it.
Call me nuts, but there is a hideous beauty to have experienced the not so pretty parts. Paradise has pieces of shit too.
We deem travel to be the highest currency and this beautiful thing because it’s the projection of freedom. The farther you can go, on a whim, and then (here comes the cringe word) go on an adventure.
I liken it to New Yorkers. Sorry, but just because you live in NYC, doesn’t make you interesting. So you got on a plane, indulged, and flew home. I’ve got nothing against resorts or all-inclusives. I also want to travel, not tour. A tourist is catered to and a traveler can clearly and easily stick out like a sore thumb, but is incorporating themselves into the culture, as best they can even for a short while.
Tourists take. Travelers receive.
Whatever you imagine about Hawaii, it’s all true, yet incomplete. It’s like Texas in that, it’s in the USA, but ehh nah it truly is its own thing. It’s like New Orleans in that Nola is clearly French, then clearly American, then indistinguishably its own creole thing.
It is my belief that you can recreate a culture’s food, customs, even their architecture…but never the people.
With that in mind, what’s my takeaway? All the hang loose holds true. The shaka is something so sacred and yet if you take it seriously, you missed the point. Honolulu is way busier than I imagined, yet people talk softly and walk slowly. Get your windows busted in yet your heart will be filled to the brim. It’s the most resolute place I’ve ever been yet I felt so much at home. Everything’s expensive, and worth it. It’s the most beautiful tropical place I’ve ever seen, yet when people talk to you, they’re not looking around. The people of the island are what make the place so special. Jurassic Park is just a by-product.
Maybe I just got lucky via association and Saturday morning Vietnamese baked goods.
To sum it up, Hawaii…you stole my heart, and basically everything I owned on the island. I rather wish the latter weren’t true, but I’ll take that deal. Mahalo.
Aloha
E
#ARTiculate