But I also had some other experiences worth remembering and recounting. First of all, a little background. I visited Hawaii to see the islands, but foremost to visit an Aunt, Uncle, and cousin from my father'’s side of the family. I stayed with my Uncle M and Aunt K on Oahu and my Cousin K on Maiu.
To start, I almost didn'’t make it to Hawaii. When I woke up Tuesday morning the day before my flight, I had a sore throat and felt sick to my stomach. Of course the Gods would wish upon me something so awful as 20 hours of sick travel, one of the most uncomfortable tortures I can imagine. So when I arrived at the airport, I had my coughdrops, my tissues, my gatorade, and my gum (to keep my ears from popping). I had prepared myself to stay relaxed and hydrated on the plane in order to arrive healthy and revived in Oahu. Instead, the ticket person at United'’s desk very nonchalantly told me that I had two choices: I could reschedule or I could attempt to take a one-way rental to Chicago and hope that I catch my connecting flight. This is what I love in an airline: "“Really, there'’s nothing we can do for you, Sir. Honestly, you'’re totally fucked and will have to find your own method of transportation. Thanks for not flying United."” Ahh, if only Midwest would come along, sweep me off my feet, and land me gently in Hawaii, but, alas, I don'’t need to restate here the obvious limitations of a regional airline. So after almost succumbing to the pressure to reschedule until after I recovered from whatever wasting disease I had contracted, I took the rental option. Two travelers standing in line, a Korean-American woman, returning to San Fran, and an international student from Thailand going to stay with a friend, volunteered to share the cost. We talked about International cuisine for much of the trip. The woman seemed very intent on making her flight. Obviously, we all were since nobody wants to be delayed. But while myself and the other guy expressed that we didn'’t want our vacations shortened, she didn'’t really say why she needed to be back in San Fran with such urgency. So I made my own deductions about her situation from what the rest of our conversation was concerned with: how her biological clock was ticking. She kept reminding me that women, when they turn 30, really do become overwhelmed with a biological urge to give birth. So I couldn'’t help thinking, the entire time speeding her down Interstate 90, that I was ensuring her arrival home on time to make an appointment to conceive with her husband. May she be fruitful and multiply.
On Oahu, being as I was told the "“honored guest,"” (which is quite an enjoyable position to be in -– wink, wink to any of you who don'’t live in Madison) my Uncle M, deciding that I was "“layed back"” enough, brought me to see his chums at the B_____ Marina. I'’m not mentioning any names or places for fear of finding myself fitted with a pair of concrete shoes. Arriving at the said Marina, I immediately noticed a large boat hanger with the garage door open; inside which are seated a motley crew of men of all shapes, sizes, and styles of facial hair. My Uncle M points me towards a bald, respectable-looking, Japanese man with shoulders broad enough to compare with the width of the deep-sea fishing boat behind him. His facial hair, coupled with his baldness, made him resemble the monopoly guy on the cover of the board game. He was referred to by all present as the "“chairman of the board."” After introductions, I was seated, handed a beer, asked where I was from, and offered a morsel of dried Octopus from the bounty of exotic sea specimen covering the table. While I listened to these men tell "“fish stories,"” and I mean literal fish stories about their recent biggest catch and where to find Swordfish, I was offered a series of Ocean-dwelling delectables: smoked blue marlin, raw tuna, raw salmon, and finally, after much fussing from my Aunt who didn'’t want me to be nauseous on the plane, I was offered seasoned raw crab from a large transparent bag that held something which looked a lot like guts. I was told that in order to eat this crab, I would have to take the piece that joins the legs into my mouth all at once, crunching the cartilage with my teeth, while simultaneously sucking the raw meat. Luckily, having a father from the islands who also had experience with weird food, the sucking came natural. While most people are already impressed when you devour their freaky ethnic cuisines without batting an eye, it seems I won extra props by commenting that "“it'’s like sucking the guts from a crawdad."” If not props, I at least raised questions about who was grosser. Since my hands were covered in raw crab juice, they pointed around the corner to where I would find a faucet to wash them. Immediately upon standing up, I felt a sharp sensation in my brain that left me feeling a little floaty for about half a minute. Asking my cousin later if raw crab had any hallucinogenic side effects, she told me that they soak the crab in fermented Ku Kui nut, which can give you a nice buzz. After somehow fending off all the requests to take the remainder of my beer for the road, my Uncle and Aunt surprised me in the car by saying that even they wouldn'’t eat that stuff.
To keep this post from being overly long, I'’ll reserve some stories for later. For now, you can amuse yourself with the pictures below.
Me at the Pali Lookout (Oahu). I have a pained look on my face because of the 80 mph winds. If you look closely you can see how I'm trying to keep my shirt from coming up. Supposedly, my father and his brothers used to hang out here and wait for women's skirts to blow entirely over their heads. Weeee!
The view from I'ao valley (Maui). Both this valley and the last were the sights where both the islanders of Maui and Oahu respectivelly had their last stand against King Kamehameha. They're both supposed to be haunted with the ghosts of those who died there.
Me, imitating a Giraffe carved out of the stump of a Koa tree.
And finally, the view from the slopes of Haleakala.
No comments:
Post a Comment