After a two month hiatus from blogging, I am returning with
recollections--recollections of the two month hiatus from blogging. I do
not feel like my vacation was a "whirlwind" or that it "flew by."
Actually, eight weeks of vacation feels exactly like eight weeks of
vacation when entire weeks are defined by a specific activity, reunions,
and locations. This is the second entry of journal "highlights"--here is the first entry. These are excerpts from what I wrote while I was in Hawaii. More soon, friends and
family!
01/06
I woke up about 24-hours-ago, but not a minute has moved on the clock. As the airport P.A. says, "Mahalo for your cooperation," I indulge a hot cup of $2 Starbucks and an invigorating second chance on the day. I'm excited to be surrounded by diversity and English; adrenaline and caffeine will need to power me through the remaining twelve-to-fourteen hours of the day. I took a two-hour nap on the plane, but I couldn't sleep more (despite hitting international coach jackpot with an empty row).
There are no knock-off "Beats by Dre" headphones.
Women bare skin while reading a newspaper on an outdoor bench in a garden in the middle of the airport.
Golf clubs spill onto the baggage claim belt.
*
The first drive after six months was refreshing: the azure gleam of the ocean, humpback whales spouting, sheer cliff-faces, coves, slow speed limits, and lowered windows.
Fish tacos.
Clouds billow into the West Maui crater as if they were volcano plume billowing out. Palm fronds whisper softly in the breeze.
As my eyelids start to feel heavy at just 2 pm, I check into the condo my family has rented for the week. A cleaner is there, so I leave for a quiet cup of iced coffee.
So many board shorts.
***
01/09
Each day brings the relief of being reunited with familiar faces. Literally familiar. I delight in each time I see my sister laugh.
Each day also brings uplifting dives. A solid dive-boat crew escorts us to sites with sharks, turtles, scorpionfish, eels, frog fish, and outstandingly vivid reefs. One particular swim-through stands-out. As I follow our guide John into a narrow opening in the reef (caused by volcanic run-off), time seems to slow. I carefully monitor my breath: If I hold it too long I will bump into the ceiling of this narrow swim-through, but if I exhale completely I will sink onto what always appears to be sharp or poisonous coral and reef. I am aware of my arms and how they cannot brush the walls of the swim-through. After passing through the narrow opening, I completely exhale and inhale in relief. We are floating in a current-less room made of stone and corral. The ceiling has several holes that allow light to penetrate the blues and greens of the ocean and that provides for a stained-glass effect--the reason this site is called "Cathedral." In the center of this room, a stone pillar about waist high is circled by one five-foot-long white-tip reef shark. John holds up a board with a scribbled note: "Reverend Al Sharkton."
Reflective silences while diving make me wonder if it is hypocritical to be enjoying fresh seafood everyday. Also, I begin to long for more of the absurdly juicy pineapple waiting on the boat.
Each boat ride allows for whale watching. Humpbacks flock to the inlet between Maui and Lana'i (and Molokai) for mating and calf-rearing during the winter months; I am lucky enough to see whales breaching repeatedly.
***
01/12
Stereotypes abound in Hawaii. P and I grab some surfboards from the side of our condo, and head to the local beach break. As beginners, we look flagrantly amateurish--which feels fairly egregious when partaking in a sport as "cool" as surfing in a place as epic as Hawaii. Luckily, a local middle-aged man provides a few pointers in between riding waves in his kayak. Before he leaves us to our own devices, he offers this wisdom: "If Cliff Stevens or Buddy Makahalo get on the 10 o'clock news, and they say, 'There's a 40-12 coming out of the Northwest and breaking 10 footers,'--well, grab your board, maaaahn."
A day-or-so later, we take a surfing lesson with a ripped long-boater named Carter. After I progress through a few mini-lessons, he encourages me to "catch a juicy nugget." I'm uncertain of the detailed intricacies of this procedure; I do my best to enjoy a ride.
As a diversion, we take a road-trip to Surfing Goat Dairy near Kahalui. The fresh goat cheese mixed with lavender is just another one of the many foods I bemoan not having at my disposal in China. Also, the local Kona Coffee.
I get a rare opportunity of proving P wrong when he thinks that our dive leader, Jenna, has a crush on me. She did not. I am 99% sure of it.
***
01/15
I'm looking down the barrel of a two-to-three day trek to the dive boat in Thailand; I feel absolutely shitty about leaving The States. I profoundly question whether continuing an international career or pursuing a different one in the international arena is really tolerable on a personal level. I feel the question touches on a conflict between pursuing my passions (international work, travel, intercultural exchange) and embracing my values (relationships, community work, heritage).
I'm tired of this conflict. I'm tired of feeling nomadic and that my life is subject to quick and unexpectedly overwhelming changes. I'm tired of feeling like I'm on a stepping stone rather than a stable platform. I'm tired of feeling estranged from a former life as if these China years are distinct.
Perhaps I just need to lighten my heart--an effect that may happen while traveling and escaping in Thailand. I envision the solemn quiet of a dive that provides the reflective silence for self-analysis. I suspect this is a slight delusion as much as the assumption that I could live a life free from the exhaustion I feel is a delusion. I read a year's worth of journal entries in hope that I'll find a motivating or encouraging reflection.
Movies, Books, Music, T.V.: The Guard, Chairman Mao Would Not be Amused by Howard Goldblatt, "Holocene" by Bon Iver, "Punching in a Dream" by The Naked and Famous.
 |
| Waving |
01/06
I woke up about 24-hours-ago, but not a minute has moved on the clock. As the airport P.A. says, "Mahalo for your cooperation," I indulge a hot cup of $2 Starbucks and an invigorating second chance on the day. I'm excited to be surrounded by diversity and English; adrenaline and caffeine will need to power me through the remaining twelve-to-fourteen hours of the day. I took a two-hour nap on the plane, but I couldn't sleep more (despite hitting international coach jackpot with an empty row).
There are no knock-off "Beats by Dre" headphones.
Women bare skin while reading a newspaper on an outdoor bench in a garden in the middle of the airport.
Golf clubs spill onto the baggage claim belt.
*
The first drive after six months was refreshing: the azure gleam of the ocean, humpback whales spouting, sheer cliff-faces, coves, slow speed limits, and lowered windows.
Fish tacos.
Clouds billow into the West Maui crater as if they were volcano plume billowing out. Palm fronds whisper softly in the breeze.
As my eyelids start to feel heavy at just 2 pm, I check into the condo my family has rented for the week. A cleaner is there, so I leave for a quiet cup of iced coffee.
So many board shorts.
***
01/09
Each day brings the relief of being reunited with familiar faces. Literally familiar. I delight in each time I see my sister laugh.
 |
| Eucalyptus bark |
Reflective silences while diving make me wonder if it is hypocritical to be enjoying fresh seafood everyday. Also, I begin to long for more of the absurdly juicy pineapple waiting on the boat.
Each boat ride allows for whale watching. Humpbacks flock to the inlet between Maui and Lana'i (and Molokai) for mating and calf-rearing during the winter months; I am lucky enough to see whales breaching repeatedly.
***
01/12
Stereotypes abound in Hawaii. P and I grab some surfboards from the side of our condo, and head to the local beach break. As beginners, we look flagrantly amateurish--which feels fairly egregious when partaking in a sport as "cool" as surfing in a place as epic as Hawaii. Luckily, a local middle-aged man provides a few pointers in between riding waves in his kayak. Before he leaves us to our own devices, he offers this wisdom: "If Cliff Stevens or Buddy Makahalo get on the 10 o'clock news, and they say, 'There's a 40-12 coming out of the Northwest and breaking 10 footers,'--well, grab your board, maaaahn."
A day-or-so later, we take a surfing lesson with a ripped long-boater named Carter. After I progress through a few mini-lessons, he encourages me to "catch a juicy nugget." I'm uncertain of the detailed intricacies of this procedure; I do my best to enjoy a ride.
As a diversion, we take a road-trip to Surfing Goat Dairy near Kahalui. The fresh goat cheese mixed with lavender is just another one of the many foods I bemoan not having at my disposal in China. Also, the local Kona Coffee.
I get a rare opportunity of proving P wrong when he thinks that our dive leader, Jenna, has a crush on me. She did not. I am 99% sure of it.
 |
| The little-known walk-on-water technique |
01/15
I'm looking down the barrel of a two-to-three day trek to the dive boat in Thailand; I feel absolutely shitty about leaving The States. I profoundly question whether continuing an international career or pursuing a different one in the international arena is really tolerable on a personal level. I feel the question touches on a conflict between pursuing my passions (international work, travel, intercultural exchange) and embracing my values (relationships, community work, heritage).
I'm tired of this conflict. I'm tired of feeling nomadic and that my life is subject to quick and unexpectedly overwhelming changes. I'm tired of feeling like I'm on a stepping stone rather than a stable platform. I'm tired of feeling estranged from a former life as if these China years are distinct.
Perhaps I just need to lighten my heart--an effect that may happen while traveling and escaping in Thailand. I envision the solemn quiet of a dive that provides the reflective silence for self-analysis. I suspect this is a slight delusion as much as the assumption that I could live a life free from the exhaustion I feel is a delusion. I read a year's worth of journal entries in hope that I'll find a motivating or encouraging reflection.
Movies, Books, Music, T.V.: The Guard, Chairman Mao Would Not be Amused by Howard Goldblatt, "Holocene" by Bon Iver, "Punching in a Dream" by The Naked and Famous.
Spring is coming...
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