You’d think lockdown a good time for a writer. Bloggers are producing insightful material, that dude from the UK wrote that lovely poem, freelancers are no doubt cashing in on their experiences and perspectives.
I have had little interest in writing over the last two months. At least not the physical act of putting words on paper. Writing has several stages, the first of which is observation and experience. Throughout this pandemic, I have been in a fortunate and unique situation. I live less than a Seattle-block away from the Pacific Ocean. I’m trapped on an island – a global tourist destination, sans tourists. I am no longer responsible for boarding students when I’m off from teaching. Since March 23, Governor Ige has mandated that the only reason to leave your home is for essentials and for exercise.
So, since March 23, I have been burning calories and hitting up the grocery store. Between Zoom classes with my middle school students, I go for bike rides by the shore, beach walks and runs, or quick hikes. After my last class of the day, it’s back to the outdoors where it’s been sunny and 83-ish for the last eight weeks. No work till dark has been a self-imposed mandate.
I will never have this again in my life. I know it. Even if I manage to find success enough to move to Hawai’i and retire early enough to enjoy being active, what are the odds being here without the noise of tourism? Not to knock tourists, for I was one and shall return to said status, and they are critical to the Hawai’i economy. But what an experience to bike figure eights along Front Street, or scan the sands of Ka’anapali without a soul in sight. I tell you, never again will this happen. At least not in my lifetime.
I recall back in January, at the height of the school year, wishing for just a couple months of living on Maui without the responsibility of boarding, because only then would I know what it’s like to really live here. Now that I’ve had two months, I’m not so eager to leave anymore, though I still stand by my decision to move back to Seattle in time for June Gloom. It’s impossible to hunker down and write novels here!
With these last two months gifted to me through an act of nature, I have come to realize a few things about Maui that I will miss.
Poke (POH-kay). Poke on the beach. Poke on a cliff. Poke in my car. Poke for lunch. Poke for dinner. For $9.94, I can get a California roll poke bowl and a can of coconut water with pulp. This makes me very happy. It is the best meal under $10, and I would eat it twice a day if I could. While Seattle has many lovely food items, at this price point, I dare you to find something similar.
Being Dark. Oh lordy I’m dark. Not emo – I mean my skin. I haven’t worn sunscreen since September. I know, I know, skin cancer and such. But I don’t get sun burn, and the hot sun feels so good on my skin. I hate hate hate the fumy, greasy, sticky, smelly nature of sunscreen. I will go back to being a lighter shade of brown and update my emoji’s complexion come this summer.
The Ocean. I have always gone back and forth with my loyalties to either the mountains or the ocean. I’ve discovered that I’m both. I’m just all about nature, and surely, forests, deserts, tundra, and any other ecosystem will fill me with wonder and awe. I have grown in the ocean during my time here. I have gone from a beach bather who would only go as far out as I could touch the ground, to a free diving, noodleless swimmer. I sort of regret not attempting to surf – it just sounds so quintessentially Hawaiian – but it’s not really my thing. I will never forget swimming with a reef shark and that monster eel that whipped out in my direction. Only memories. I will miss looking out at the water and not seeing land on the other side. I will miss meditating to the crash of waves on ancient lava rock. I will miss the many shades of blue and jumping in to the water after a long run. I’ll miss taking care of the ocean too, but I plan to continue that practice in Seattle.
Photography. I will still be a photographer back home, but Hawai’i is a completely different backdrop. Some of my Facebook friends must have me on mute since it seems like I’m perpetually posting vacation pictures. But that’s just how I do. Photography, particularly composition, is one of my artforms or ways I like to express myself. In the grand scheme of things, I have little time left in one of the most beautiful places in the world. The pictures I take are memories (since my memory is terrible), expressions and connections I feel personally to the land.
Everyday Sunsets. They’re all good. More than that, it happens just about every night. I’ve forgotten how it feels to ride an overcasted sky into the night and by faith accepting that the sun has set with no mention of goodbye. Here, the sun bids farewell just about every night and leaves a trace of orange, red, pink, purple, yellow, rose, and occasionally, a wink of a green flash just as it dips below the ocean. Everyday sunsets are awesome.
Beach Life. What do I even need to write about a beach in Hawai’i?
Diversity. As a person of color, there is something to be said about being part of the majority, not the minority. Living around people who share not only my complexion, but traditions, habits, customs and experiences gives a feeling of comfort. I mean, I can buy mongo at the grocery store deli. I can point at things with my lips and people know what I’m gesturing at. I can share stories about growing up with other people who have had the exact same experiences as I have had as a Filipino American kid. Living here has been like living in a land of relatives, more so than when I visited the Philippines, where it felt like everyone on the street could tell I was from America. In Hawai’i, I felt a real sense of belonging, not any more than I do in Seattle, but in a different way, for sure.
Aloha. Back home in Seattle, we have what’s called the Seattle Freeze, which I think is as un-Seattle as you can get. Growing up in Seattle, the locals were friendly and welcoming. Perhaps we natives have been hardened by the influx of people, the rapid population growth, the gentrification of our neighborhoods, the exponential increase of the cost of living – wait, am I referring to Seattle or Maui? Both locations share similarisms in their situations, one being the callousness of natives toward the new wave of people causing over-development, mass consumption of resources, pollution, traffic, and the list goes on and on. Through all that, I still find glimpses of aloha in Maui and Seattle. The welcome I have received in Maui, the people I’ve met, and the kindness shown to me will be greatly missed, but always perpetuated.
I could go on. Today was the first day I felt genuinely sad about leaving. Eleven more sunsets to go. I was in my car listening to Keali’i Reichel sing about his mother in the majesty of Maunaleo. I was eating a bowl of poke (as usual) parked in front of Moloka’i by Flemings, staring at the ocean. I didn’t, but I almost teared up. I love this ‘aina. I didn’t come here just because it’s beautiful. I moved to Hawai’i because some deep connection to the earth drew me here. It was only for a year, but it made my relationship with the land so much stronger. I hope I can bring that back home to Seattle, and look at my own kauhale in the same way.