I am leaving here tomorrow and going back to regular life. Don’t know what that will be like, having immersed myself in this other world for 2 months. Part of me is excited. Places I can go, people I can see. Then the other part is a bit nervous. What’s it going to be like? Will I be overwhelmed by the freedom? Our ability, as human beings, to adapt to any given environment never ceases to amaze me. I never thought that I would ever adapt to the isolation, but sure enough I have. Within my limited space here, I’ve made a comfortable little life for myself. I have my worker friends and my animal friends, the jungle, my books, my laptop, and my life seems very full. I even have routines, like checking on the puppies when I wake up, or watching Jeopardy at 7:30 (the only show I watch here). I’m going to miss this place. I can’t believe it, but it’s true. Helen, one of the dogs who was such a scared little thing when I met her, lets me pet her now, and kiss her head, and she lets out these little cries as if to say that she’s wanted to be pet for so long. It breaks my heart every time. And it breaks my heart to leave her and the puppies. Definitely going to miss the view. Ahhh, and the chironjas. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I crave one, but the thought of it is super depressing.
Let me switch to the things I’m not going to miss. The machismo. The men and the way they think they can talk to me. I’m so not going to miss that. The awkward dynamic in the house. Always having bugs in my room. Clean dishes that aren’t actually clean. And mold.
Many things I will not miss, but I appreciate them all. Each in their own way has made me a stronger more adaptable person, better equipped for this unpredictable thing called life:) So thank you Puerto Rico. You’ve been a wonderful host.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Another life pondering heading your way
Like I've said before, I have so much time to think here. I could be writing about what I’m up to, but honestly, I’m really not up to that much. So instead, here’s what’s up in my head. This is a goodie.
As you know, I’ve been working on putting together episodes for my YouTube coffee channel, Behind the Beans (man I love saying that name!). In my upcoming episodes, I’m going to talk about what coffee picking is like, how a typical day goes, and then spotlight 2 or 3 of our pickers. I think it’s going to be awesome.
I have filmed quite a bit of it already. The last couple of days I have worked alongside two different pickers, filming them in action, and “interviewing” them (that alone is worth tuning in for, cause it’s all in Spanish!). It has been eye-opening and truly educational. It may have given new life to my stay here.
The first picker I filmed was Negro (just a nickname people!). He is a little man (more pequeño than me-see picture below!), 59 years old, and always in a good mood. He has picked coffee his whole life and worked in construction. As you’ll see in the video, he is very difficult to understand, even if you know Spanish, and it doesn’t appear that he makes any effort to enunciate when it’s pretty darn obvious you’re struggling. It’s actually pretty hilarious. But if you laugh too much, he’ll think you understand, which then makes you laugh even more. God bless him. He is so nice to us gals, shares his delicious sweet coffee with us in the morning, brings us candy, and even brings food for the dogs.
The second picker was Papo (again a nickname). He is 60 years old and the foreman at the farm. Again, similar story. He has been picking coffee since he was 5 and also worked in construction (he and Israel built the house I’m in right now). He’s a bit gordo and jolly, kind of like a Puerto Rican Santa Claus.
That’s just a bit of random background info. It’s pretty amazing that they are doing such physical work at their age. Even more amazing is what I learned in the interview. They both actually love picking coffee and love working. Papo called it therapy. I couldn’t actually get out of either of them a single negative comment about the work. Could it be that they really love it that much?! I was like ‘what’s the worst part?’ and they just drew a blank. Subsequently, I drew a blank. I was astonished. We girls could probably name 10 things we don’t like about it (starting with bugs, mud, and hills), but they couldn’t come up with one! There was such a genuine enthusiasm in their faces when they talked about their work.
Equally if not more interesting was their answer to “what do you think about all day when you’re picking coffee?” Both of them looked a bit confused by the question and answered “I think about picking coffee.” What? I start rattling off things that I think about, hoping to inspire a new answer, but Papo gave me nothing. Negro eventually said he thinks about having a girlfriend…ok, now that’s more like it! Then it made me think, wow, they are just so zen, so in the moment, so everything I try to be, and yet my mind goes a million places…mmm, like having a boyfriend ;)
My conversations with them have got me thinking about their work in a larger context. The passion with which they spoke about their work made me realize that what they do truly is a respectable and admirable thing. They are proud of what they do, and why shouldn’t they be? They are the reason we can drink coffee every morning. It has me thinking how sad…no, tragic… it is that we Americans really place so little value on agricultural work. In America, you’re supposed to get the best education possible and then get the highest paying white collar job you can find. Well what would happen if, in my ideal hypothetical world, we all got an education? Then what…would we all be too good to be farmers and then go starving? Or shall we just continue down this path toward more synthetic and genetically modified food?
Agriculture is the most valuable industry there is, if you base value on real wealth (food) instead of a symbol for wealth (money). And yet the farmer, especially the small farmer, continues to lose importance in our society and is even looked down upon. How have we let this happen?
I don’t really know. I am still trying to wrap my head around it, though the more I do, the more disheartened I become. Looking for answers…anyone have any?
As you know, I’ve been working on putting together episodes for my YouTube coffee channel, Behind the Beans (man I love saying that name!). In my upcoming episodes, I’m going to talk about what coffee picking is like, how a typical day goes, and then spotlight 2 or 3 of our pickers. I think it’s going to be awesome.
I have filmed quite a bit of it already. The last couple of days I have worked alongside two different pickers, filming them in action, and “interviewing” them (that alone is worth tuning in for, cause it’s all in Spanish!). It has been eye-opening and truly educational. It may have given new life to my stay here.
The first picker I filmed was Negro (just a nickname people!). He is a little man (more pequeño than me-see picture below!), 59 years old, and always in a good mood. He has picked coffee his whole life and worked in construction. As you’ll see in the video, he is very difficult to understand, even if you know Spanish, and it doesn’t appear that he makes any effort to enunciate when it’s pretty darn obvious you’re struggling. It’s actually pretty hilarious. But if you laugh too much, he’ll think you understand, which then makes you laugh even more. God bless him. He is so nice to us gals, shares his delicious sweet coffee with us in the morning, brings us candy, and even brings food for the dogs.
The second picker was Papo (again a nickname). He is 60 years old and the foreman at the farm. Again, similar story. He has been picking coffee since he was 5 and also worked in construction (he and Israel built the house I’m in right now). He’s a bit gordo and jolly, kind of like a Puerto Rican Santa Claus.
That’s just a bit of random background info. It’s pretty amazing that they are doing such physical work at their age. Even more amazing is what I learned in the interview. They both actually love picking coffee and love working. Papo called it therapy. I couldn’t actually get out of either of them a single negative comment about the work. Could it be that they really love it that much?! I was like ‘what’s the worst part?’ and they just drew a blank. Subsequently, I drew a blank. I was astonished. We girls could probably name 10 things we don’t like about it (starting with bugs, mud, and hills), but they couldn’t come up with one! There was such a genuine enthusiasm in their faces when they talked about their work.
Equally if not more interesting was their answer to “what do you think about all day when you’re picking coffee?” Both of them looked a bit confused by the question and answered “I think about picking coffee.” What? I start rattling off things that I think about, hoping to inspire a new answer, but Papo gave me nothing. Negro eventually said he thinks about having a girlfriend…ok, now that’s more like it! Then it made me think, wow, they are just so zen, so in the moment, so everything I try to be, and yet my mind goes a million places…mmm, like having a boyfriend ;)
My conversations with them have got me thinking about their work in a larger context. The passion with which they spoke about their work made me realize that what they do truly is a respectable and admirable thing. They are proud of what they do, and why shouldn’t they be? They are the reason we can drink coffee every morning. It has me thinking how sad…no, tragic… it is that we Americans really place so little value on agricultural work. In America, you’re supposed to get the best education possible and then get the highest paying white collar job you can find. Well what would happen if, in my ideal hypothetical world, we all got an education? Then what…would we all be too good to be farmers and then go starving? Or shall we just continue down this path toward more synthetic and genetically modified food?
Agriculture is the most valuable industry there is, if you base value on real wealth (food) instead of a symbol for wealth (money). And yet the farmer, especially the small farmer, continues to lose importance in our society and is even looked down upon. How have we let this happen?
I don’t really know. I am still trying to wrap my head around it, though the more I do, the more disheartened I become. Looking for answers…anyone have any?
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Hype, you make me so tired
Coffee is a world of hype. Everybody claims to have the best coffee. Kona, Jamaican Blue Mountain, Guatemalan Antigua, Ethiopian Harrar, Costa Rican Tarrazu, etc etc., each with their own magic recipe that makes theirs the best. Some special combination of altitude, volcanic soil, rain, sun, and shade, makes this one better than the other. Then there is the outrageous and absurd hype. Like Kopi Luwak coffee, the one that gets eaten by a civet and then pooped out, selling for over $100 a pound. That’s what I would call, in coffee speak, single origin shit. Okay, I’ve never actually tried it, so I can’t knock it too hard. But seriously, all this hype has begun to disgust me. I’m so over it (hype that is, not coffee!).
Knowing what I do about coffee, I would say that there are certainly a number of factors that make one coffee better than another. I guess it’s like any product. Better care will result in a better product. The most important factors, in my semi-professional opinion :), are ripeness of the fruit (obvious, no?), drying the beans to the right moisture level, proper storage, and, perhaps most importantly of all, freshness. These are all common sense though. You pick your product ripe, you process it with care, store it properly, and get it to your customer fresh. Can’t it just be as simple as that? Or is that just too simple? Will nobody buy your product if you just tell it to ‘em straight? Does honesty have no value in our consumerist culture?
I’ve been thinking about hype a lot lately. And it’s not just coffee. It’s everywhere. In every aspect of life…work, dating, religion, politics…too many voices just telling you what they think you want to hear. Misleading and disappointing one innocent victim at a time. I think about what this means for society as a whole. Is this what makes us distrustful and cynical? It surely must be a part, a significant part. Sure, life will inevitably have its share of disappointment regardless, but the incessant spewing of empty words must accelerate that spiral.
Maybe the key is to just take it all with a grain of salt. You hear the message, you acknowledge it as hype but know better than to fall for it. But then that begs the question: when do you know when you’re hearing the truth? If you’re brushing off words that are actually being communicated to you, which ones are actually going to stick? Over time, I suppose, your gut sort of fine tunes its compass and makes it easier to distinguish the truth. Bouts of paranoia aside, we generally have an instinct that tells us who to trust. If we’re talking about a product though, trust can only come about through trial and error. I don’t think our guts have the same instinct about laundry detergent or plastic wrap (that Press 'n Seal stuff is crap, but I sure believed it would work wonders).
All ranting aside, I have a point. Life would be so much better if everyone was honest. A white lie here and there, for the sake of being polite, is fine with me. Beyond that, lies just pollute the natural state of our universe and harden our hearts.
So may our words hold meaning
Our message be true
And don’t spend a fortune
On coffee from poo.
Knowing what I do about coffee, I would say that there are certainly a number of factors that make one coffee better than another. I guess it’s like any product. Better care will result in a better product. The most important factors, in my semi-professional opinion :), are ripeness of the fruit (obvious, no?), drying the beans to the right moisture level, proper storage, and, perhaps most importantly of all, freshness. These are all common sense though. You pick your product ripe, you process it with care, store it properly, and get it to your customer fresh. Can’t it just be as simple as that? Or is that just too simple? Will nobody buy your product if you just tell it to ‘em straight? Does honesty have no value in our consumerist culture?
I’ve been thinking about hype a lot lately. And it’s not just coffee. It’s everywhere. In every aspect of life…work, dating, religion, politics…too many voices just telling you what they think you want to hear. Misleading and disappointing one innocent victim at a time. I think about what this means for society as a whole. Is this what makes us distrustful and cynical? It surely must be a part, a significant part. Sure, life will inevitably have its share of disappointment regardless, but the incessant spewing of empty words must accelerate that spiral.
Maybe the key is to just take it all with a grain of salt. You hear the message, you acknowledge it as hype but know better than to fall for it. But then that begs the question: when do you know when you’re hearing the truth? If you’re brushing off words that are actually being communicated to you, which ones are actually going to stick? Over time, I suppose, your gut sort of fine tunes its compass and makes it easier to distinguish the truth. Bouts of paranoia aside, we generally have an instinct that tells us who to trust. If we’re talking about a product though, trust can only come about through trial and error. I don’t think our guts have the same instinct about laundry detergent or plastic wrap (that Press 'n Seal stuff is crap, but I sure believed it would work wonders).
All ranting aside, I have a point. Life would be so much better if everyone was honest. A white lie here and there, for the sake of being polite, is fine with me. Beyond that, lies just pollute the natural state of our universe and harden our hearts.
So may our words hold meaning
Our message be true
And don’t spend a fortune
On coffee from poo.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Dream log turned blog
It’s about 6am, probably the earliest I’ve woken up on a weekend here and certainly the earliest I’ve ever started a blog!
I just remembered my dream. Well, actually, all I remember is the end, but that’s really all that matters right now. It has to mean something, something big and wonderful, but I don’t know what! At least not yet.
(wow, I really am sharing too much information, but I think I’ve stopped caring!)
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had, and pretty regularly I might add, these dreams where I have a plane to catch. Usually, I’m going on a significant trip, where I’m moving to Germany for a few months, or something major like that. Sometimes, in the dream, I’ve forgotten all about the flight until just a couple hours prior. Other times, I’ve known about the flight all day, but somehow forgot to pack until the last minute. Either way, the dream always involves a lot of stress. Sometimes I try calling the airline to see if there’s a later flight I can catch, but I never actually get through. (You know that helpless dream feeling I’m talking about?) Well, it always gets to be too much. Too stressful, too impossible, too overwhelming…and so I wake up. Then I thank god, in typical bad dream fashion, that it wasn’t real, and acknowledge myself as a responsible organized person who would never let that happen to her :)
Well, something unusual and magical happened in this dream. For the first time ever, I made my flight!!! It was the most amazing feeling. Not only did I make the flight, but I even had time to pop outside to wave goodbye to my mom and dad and let them know I made it. It was a beautiful beautiful ending.
What it all means, I haven’t a clue. I am so interested to know, even to hear some ideas (any dream decipherers out there?). I just know it has to mean something really really good. It just has to. That’s where my investigative skills have gotten me so far :) It’s still early.
I just remembered my dream. Well, actually, all I remember is the end, but that’s really all that matters right now. It has to mean something, something big and wonderful, but I don’t know what! At least not yet.
(wow, I really am sharing too much information, but I think I’ve stopped caring!)
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had, and pretty regularly I might add, these dreams where I have a plane to catch. Usually, I’m going on a significant trip, where I’m moving to Germany for a few months, or something major like that. Sometimes, in the dream, I’ve forgotten all about the flight until just a couple hours prior. Other times, I’ve known about the flight all day, but somehow forgot to pack until the last minute. Either way, the dream always involves a lot of stress. Sometimes I try calling the airline to see if there’s a later flight I can catch, but I never actually get through. (You know that helpless dream feeling I’m talking about?) Well, it always gets to be too much. Too stressful, too impossible, too overwhelming…and so I wake up. Then I thank god, in typical bad dream fashion, that it wasn’t real, and acknowledge myself as a responsible organized person who would never let that happen to her :)
Well, something unusual and magical happened in this dream. For the first time ever, I made my flight!!! It was the most amazing feeling. Not only did I make the flight, but I even had time to pop outside to wave goodbye to my mom and dad and let them know I made it. It was a beautiful beautiful ending.
What it all means, I haven’t a clue. I am so interested to know, even to hear some ideas (any dream decipherers out there?). I just know it has to mean something really really good. It just has to. That’s where my investigative skills have gotten me so far :) It’s still early.
A film critique
This was a tough week. Too much confrontation with myself. It all came to blows when I tried to film my first video for this coffee project. I wanted to make a brief intro, explaining a bit (maybe a minute’s worth) of who I am and what the project is. Well, that was overly ambitious. There was no way to cram all that into one minute, and it ended up being about two and a half. I found it excessive, for one. Just too much of me talking. And it doesn’t matter what I’m saying or how I look, it’s just not interesting to listen to someone talk that long. That’s the conclusion I came to.
Secondly, I had to watch myself on playback. Awkward. Painful. Embarrassing. Those are just a few of the emotions I experienced that dreadful Tuesday. I guess I hadn’t really thought much at all about how I appeared to the outside world. I guess I assumed it was all good, cause I felt good about myself and knew that the things I said and did to other people came from a good place. Well, unfortunately, there was nothing warm and fuzzy about the way I felt when I watched it. It was like I was looking at a stranger. She sounded kind of ditzy, a bit like a valley girl. Oh my god, I thought, people must think I’m stupid! What an odd realization, to think for the first time in my life that I probably have had to convince people, over time, that I’m intelligent. I was under the impression that was the most apparent thing about me. HA! Then there are the facial expressions, which people have warned me of, but I had never actually seen for myself. Yikes! I’m just giving a straightforward speech about coffee…how many faces are really necessary?!!
So I saw myself as an overly expressive borderline airhead. Great.
That sort of put a damper on the project. I thought a lot about it. Can I use this footage, I wondered. Will it repel people? Will anyone (other than of course my friends and family) really give a $%*? These were just some of the horrible negative thoughts running through my head. My lovely roommate Tracy, who filmed it, was like no, no, it’s good. God bless her. I was dumbfounded by the whole experience. I was talking to the other new gal, Andrea (who by the way is great) about it later on in the week. I was telling her that after the whole watching myself trauma, I was wondering, ‘is it acceptable?’ I was questioning whether or not I can accept that person on the video, me! She’s like, yeah, it kind of has to be. Ha! What a brilliant moment! Of course, it HAS to be! Ahhhh, I felt relieved. I didn’t have to fix anything. I just had to accept it. And I did. So I sound like a California girl. Well, I am, and I’m proud of it :)
I’m sure that you, my small audience of friends and family, will read this and protest. I can already predict my mom saying ‘how dare you call yourself an airhead?!’ Well, I write this not to seek comfort or praise. I know I’m not stupid. To be perfectly honest, my intelligence is something I’ve never questioned. It is amazing, though, that I can see a projection of myself that is so misaligned with my own personal truth. Though I’ve made peace with the video and accepted this projection as merely a vantage point, it sure got me thinking.
See, I’ve long held this theory that you can never really know another person, and this story illustrates why. If how you feel inside isn’t being accurately reflected to the outside world, then how can anyone really understand you? Over time, a really long time, it’s possible, I suppose, to come close. Think about the person you know the best in the world. How do you really know what’s in their heart? A heart, a soul, a spirit, even a mind…these things live and breathe in their own cozy cocoons. They’re not readily available for examination, but rather expose themselves gently, in their own time, at their own pace. You can catch many glimpses at somebody’s essence, through telling looks or a colorful bursts of laughter, but you can never see enough to really get the whole truth.
That’s just how I see it. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Even without getting someone one hundred percent, you can still reach a heightened level of intimacy and reap its beautiful benefits.
Maybe that’s a bit of a tangent, but it’s definitely a theory I stand proudly behind. You might not totally know me, nor me you, but what would the world be like without a little mystery?
Secondly, I had to watch myself on playback. Awkward. Painful. Embarrassing. Those are just a few of the emotions I experienced that dreadful Tuesday. I guess I hadn’t really thought much at all about how I appeared to the outside world. I guess I assumed it was all good, cause I felt good about myself and knew that the things I said and did to other people came from a good place. Well, unfortunately, there was nothing warm and fuzzy about the way I felt when I watched it. It was like I was looking at a stranger. She sounded kind of ditzy, a bit like a valley girl. Oh my god, I thought, people must think I’m stupid! What an odd realization, to think for the first time in my life that I probably have had to convince people, over time, that I’m intelligent. I was under the impression that was the most apparent thing about me. HA! Then there are the facial expressions, which people have warned me of, but I had never actually seen for myself. Yikes! I’m just giving a straightforward speech about coffee…how many faces are really necessary?!!
So I saw myself as an overly expressive borderline airhead. Great.
That sort of put a damper on the project. I thought a lot about it. Can I use this footage, I wondered. Will it repel people? Will anyone (other than of course my friends and family) really give a $%*? These were just some of the horrible negative thoughts running through my head. My lovely roommate Tracy, who filmed it, was like no, no, it’s good. God bless her. I was dumbfounded by the whole experience. I was talking to the other new gal, Andrea (who by the way is great) about it later on in the week. I was telling her that after the whole watching myself trauma, I was wondering, ‘is it acceptable?’ I was questioning whether or not I can accept that person on the video, me! She’s like, yeah, it kind of has to be. Ha! What a brilliant moment! Of course, it HAS to be! Ahhhh, I felt relieved. I didn’t have to fix anything. I just had to accept it. And I did. So I sound like a California girl. Well, I am, and I’m proud of it :)
I’m sure that you, my small audience of friends and family, will read this and protest. I can already predict my mom saying ‘how dare you call yourself an airhead?!’ Well, I write this not to seek comfort or praise. I know I’m not stupid. To be perfectly honest, my intelligence is something I’ve never questioned. It is amazing, though, that I can see a projection of myself that is so misaligned with my own personal truth. Though I’ve made peace with the video and accepted this projection as merely a vantage point, it sure got me thinking.
See, I’ve long held this theory that you can never really know another person, and this story illustrates why. If how you feel inside isn’t being accurately reflected to the outside world, then how can anyone really understand you? Over time, a really long time, it’s possible, I suppose, to come close. Think about the person you know the best in the world. How do you really know what’s in their heart? A heart, a soul, a spirit, even a mind…these things live and breathe in their own cozy cocoons. They’re not readily available for examination, but rather expose themselves gently, in their own time, at their own pace. You can catch many glimpses at somebody’s essence, through telling looks or a colorful bursts of laughter, but you can never see enough to really get the whole truth.
That’s just how I see it. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Even without getting someone one hundred percent, you can still reach a heightened level of intimacy and reap its beautiful benefits.
Maybe that’s a bit of a tangent, but it’s definitely a theory I stand proudly behind. You might not totally know me, nor me you, but what would the world be like without a little mystery?
Monday, September 28, 2009
reflecting reflecting and more reflecting
I can’t believe I’ve been here almost a whole month. Reflecting on my experience so far, I feel that perhaps it’s a bit lacking. By that I mean that I haven’t really added as many interesting experiences or stories to my repertoire as I had a month into my time in Hawai’i or Costa Rica. That’s okay though, and you know why? I came here with two basic expectations: isolation, and the opportunity to do a lot of reflecting, which I certainly have done.
The isolation factor has been, undoubtedly, a challenge, but isn’t that what an adventure is about? A time to challenge yourself, to see what you’re made of, to test your physical and mental adaptability to a new environment, and to integrate new perspectives into your life? I suppose, if I look at it this way, it has been a pretty intense adventure. I’ve had to adapt to being alone with my thoughts, A LOT, and that alone is quite the challenge. For one, it makes me very aware of them, a bit uncomfortably so. In regular life, it seems rare to actually see a thought through to its end. Usually you get interrupted by some regular life incident/stimulus, like the phone ringing or someone calling your attention, and you happily put the thought to the side. Sort of like, hmm, that was a nice healthy bit of thinking, glad I did that, ok, on with my day. Here though, there isn’t much to distract me from my thoughts, so I’m pretty much stuck with them, forced to confront them and thus confront myself.
For example, this project I’m about to start, the YouTube coffee channel…well, I could easily have started it already. I’m actually quite anxious to start it. I think about it constantly. I make up excuses to myself for why I haven’t, but because I have so much damn free thinking time, I am forced to find the truth within myself. Then I realize that it’s fear, which then leads me to realize that it’s the fear that it won’t be perfect, which then leads me to realize that my perfectionism could very well have a crippling effect on my life. Ahhh, see? This is what too much thinking leads to: very real answers.
Not only do I end up seeing my thoughts through, but I also have become quite astute at noticing my thought patterns. The more aware I am, the more I notice that I think the same things over and over and over, day after day. I was somewhat aware that the human mind works in this way, but now that I can catch it, I can rebel! How dare I waste my mind on the same old thoughts?! It’s no easy task to break out of the habit, but when I do, my soul stirs with excitement about where my mind can take me. And now it ventures into some pretty interesting unexplored territory.
So though it can sometimes be tough and taxing on the mind, I have to say I’m getting a lot out of this situation, learning a lot about myself, and developing a new skill for navigating this life. God knows, I’ll take any skill I can get my hands on. If I can last like this for a couple months, I’m pretty sure I’d turn out a stronger person. So I suggest to anyone to spend, even for a little while, some time isolated from the world. You might go on an adventure…with yourself:)
The isolation factor has been, undoubtedly, a challenge, but isn’t that what an adventure is about? A time to challenge yourself, to see what you’re made of, to test your physical and mental adaptability to a new environment, and to integrate new perspectives into your life? I suppose, if I look at it this way, it has been a pretty intense adventure. I’ve had to adapt to being alone with my thoughts, A LOT, and that alone is quite the challenge. For one, it makes me very aware of them, a bit uncomfortably so. In regular life, it seems rare to actually see a thought through to its end. Usually you get interrupted by some regular life incident/stimulus, like the phone ringing or someone calling your attention, and you happily put the thought to the side. Sort of like, hmm, that was a nice healthy bit of thinking, glad I did that, ok, on with my day. Here though, there isn’t much to distract me from my thoughts, so I’m pretty much stuck with them, forced to confront them and thus confront myself.
For example, this project I’m about to start, the YouTube coffee channel…well, I could easily have started it already. I’m actually quite anxious to start it. I think about it constantly. I make up excuses to myself for why I haven’t, but because I have so much damn free thinking time, I am forced to find the truth within myself. Then I realize that it’s fear, which then leads me to realize that it’s the fear that it won’t be perfect, which then leads me to realize that my perfectionism could very well have a crippling effect on my life. Ahhh, see? This is what too much thinking leads to: very real answers.
Not only do I end up seeing my thoughts through, but I also have become quite astute at noticing my thought patterns. The more aware I am, the more I notice that I think the same things over and over and over, day after day. I was somewhat aware that the human mind works in this way, but now that I can catch it, I can rebel! How dare I waste my mind on the same old thoughts?! It’s no easy task to break out of the habit, but when I do, my soul stirs with excitement about where my mind can take me. And now it ventures into some pretty interesting unexplored territory.
So though it can sometimes be tough and taxing on the mind, I have to say I’m getting a lot out of this situation, learning a lot about myself, and developing a new skill for navigating this life. God knows, I’ll take any skill I can get my hands on. If I can last like this for a couple months, I’m pretty sure I’d turn out a stronger person. So I suggest to anyone to spend, even for a little while, some time isolated from the world. You might go on an adventure…with yourself:)
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Tis the Season
Fall is here! Fall is here!!
I didn’t think I was going to notice it, but I do, and it’s amazing. I thought it might be disguised by the heat and the tropics, but it’s as evident and lovely as ever.
And so I realize that a season is so much more than a change in the weather. For me, it’s a particular feeling of comfort and excitement programmed into my soul, only to be released in the month of September. It’s 15 years of waiting for my favorite time of year: the start of the school year! Woo hoo!!! I could pretend that I was sad summer was over, so as to fit in, but the truth was that I couldn’t stand the wait. Especially August. I liked to say that it was my favorite month because of my birthday, but that was a lie too. It dragged on by torturously slow, hot and boring and empty. At least that’s how it seemed at the time. (Wow, it feels surprisingly good to admit this)
Then you get your school supplies and your class schedule and life suddenly seems so full and exciting. Suddenly I am in my element. I feel, once again, a purpose. I have been anticipating this moment so intensely that when it comes I am practically bursting. My competitive spirit reaches its peak. I’m ready to learn and to kick some ass! Bring it on education!
And so it begins: the homework, the books, the notes, the tests, the football games, the tennis practice, the dances, or, in the later years, the frat parties, the new classmates and the exciting new crushes :) Oh, school! Glorious glorious school! I loved school more than I ever even knew. It wasn’t until it all ended 8 years ago that I realized how deep it ran in my veins.
Though the giddiness has subsided, it remains, through some biorhythmic magic, a part of my life. Even here in a remote coffee farm in the jungle, I feel that same sense of comfort and excitement. I’m in competitive over achiever mode, as I start this new project (details to follow), and it feels great!
September couldn’t have come at a better time :)
I didn’t think I was going to notice it, but I do, and it’s amazing. I thought it might be disguised by the heat and the tropics, but it’s as evident and lovely as ever.
And so I realize that a season is so much more than a change in the weather. For me, it’s a particular feeling of comfort and excitement programmed into my soul, only to be released in the month of September. It’s 15 years of waiting for my favorite time of year: the start of the school year! Woo hoo!!! I could pretend that I was sad summer was over, so as to fit in, but the truth was that I couldn’t stand the wait. Especially August. I liked to say that it was my favorite month because of my birthday, but that was a lie too. It dragged on by torturously slow, hot and boring and empty. At least that’s how it seemed at the time. (Wow, it feels surprisingly good to admit this)
Then you get your school supplies and your class schedule and life suddenly seems so full and exciting. Suddenly I am in my element. I feel, once again, a purpose. I have been anticipating this moment so intensely that when it comes I am practically bursting. My competitive spirit reaches its peak. I’m ready to learn and to kick some ass! Bring it on education!
And so it begins: the homework, the books, the notes, the tests, the football games, the tennis practice, the dances, or, in the later years, the frat parties, the new classmates and the exciting new crushes :) Oh, school! Glorious glorious school! I loved school more than I ever even knew. It wasn’t until it all ended 8 years ago that I realized how deep it ran in my veins.
Though the giddiness has subsided, it remains, through some biorhythmic magic, a part of my life. Even here in a remote coffee farm in the jungle, I feel that same sense of comfort and excitement. I’m in competitive over achiever mode, as I start this new project (details to follow), and it feels great!
September couldn’t have come at a better time :)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The new girl arrived yesterday. Se llama Tracy. So I thought this would be a good time to bring you, dear reader:) , up to speed on the crew here.
First of all, there are my lovely hosts, Israel and Sandra. See pic below. If I base my criteria for judging hosts on how comfortable I feel in their home, then they are, quite simply, perfect. Israel is from Cuba and one of 13 children! And Sandra is a gringa from Oklahoma. They met in the Peace Corps in Bolivia, lived in Jersey for a while and then moved here 14 years ago to live out his dream of having a coffee farm. He’s super passionate about coffee, pretty silly, and doesn’t take life or himself too seriously. So we get along brilliantly. He’s also quite tenacious in his struggle with the government to get coffee pickers from outside the island (I’ll go into more detail about that later, bit of a complicated situation), so it’s not uncommon to hear him ranting about his cause to any willing ear.
Sandra is also quite the talker. Between the two of them, you get very little silence. I’m not a very big talker (probably on the quieter side of the vocal spectrum ), so it’s a lot to handle. However, if it’s in Spanish, it just means more practice, so I’m all for it. They do bicker quite a bit, but it seems like nothing compared to my parents (sorry mom&dad, just telling it like it is). Regardless, Sandra is great. And very smart. She seems to have an acute awareness of what’s going on around her and a sensitivity to how other people are feeling that is so rare and wonderful. She also makes a wicked potato salad :) Unfortunately, she twisted her ankle about a month ago and hasn’t been very mobile since. She has mostly been sliding around in her office chair for the last 2 weeks, but recently has started to walk, though it’s more of a hobble :-/ Hope she recovers soon.
Let’s see…then there is Bert, Israel’s brother (the youngest of the 13), who is quite possibly my favorite person. I’m not sure what it is, but the way he speaks (in English) makes everything seem funny. I don’t think he even means to be funny most of the time, but I laugh at just about everything that comes out of his mouth. He must think I’m weird, laughing at him when he’s being perfectly serious. He spent his career in the fur industry and apparently is quite the master furrier. Below is a pic of Bert and Ilidia. I awkwardly call her his wife, though I’m not so sure that’s accurate cause apparently he hasn’t divorced from his first wife. I get the impression, from all the drama I am told, that marriages have a low success rate here.
They live about 2 miles down the road. I just found out though that they are actually here temporarily, which I’m pretty bummed about. I thought they lived here and were just going to Arizona this month on vacation, but apparently they live in Arizona and came here to possibly live in his house. But it turns out she doesn’t like it here all that much :( They got here just a couple days before I did and are leaving on the 29th. They asked me, jokingly I suppose, if I wanted to buy the house..I’m still hoping they will just give it to me :) I will miss them both. She laughs about stupid things with me, which is nice. And she is one of the few people that I’m forced to converse with in Spanish. I find it rather surprising that she gets by in Arizona without speaking English (I imagine that this will annoy you mom), but to each their own I guess.
Then there’s my new friend Ventura, who I met last Friday at a coffee event where he immediately started flirting with me and then helped me serve coffee (see pic). So glad to have met him! And not just cause he has a car. That would be so high school :) Or because he’s a chef…ok fine, I admit it, these are both factors, but he is actually nice and interesting and we have a lot in common, including our age. Come to think of it, he may be the only 29 year old friend I have! He showed me around town Saturday night and cooked me a pretty sweet meal. That was a pretty solid first night out.
Tracy, the other volunteer, arrived yesterday. She was already here on the island with her cousin in San Juan and had been looking for a teaching job. Apparently to no avail, so she looked for a volunteer opp instead and ended up here. She is 32, I think, and from Rhode Island! (I’ve never met anyone from Rhode Island and, honestly, I couldn’t tell you a single thing about it except for its capital.) So far so good. Sandra described her as shy, but I definitely don’t see that. She is friendly and nice and smiley and agreeable. Ooh, and she likes playing games, which is a huge huge plus. We played a couple silly games today, during which I had some really cheesy ‘I’m sure glad she’s here’ moments.
Ha. If only she spoke Spanish...
Well, that’s the main crew. There are a number of other characters, who I may at some point mention. One of the workers here is starting to give me the creeps…and so I ask god, why? Have I not had my share of old man farm pervs?! Dejame sola por favor!
En conjunto, todo va bien aqui en La Isla del Encanto.
First of all, there are my lovely hosts, Israel and Sandra. See pic below. If I base my criteria for judging hosts on how comfortable I feel in their home, then they are, quite simply, perfect. Israel is from Cuba and one of 13 children! And Sandra is a gringa from Oklahoma. They met in the Peace Corps in Bolivia, lived in Jersey for a while and then moved here 14 years ago to live out his dream of having a coffee farm. He’s super passionate about coffee, pretty silly, and doesn’t take life or himself too seriously. So we get along brilliantly. He’s also quite tenacious in his struggle with the government to get coffee pickers from outside the island (I’ll go into more detail about that later, bit of a complicated situation), so it’s not uncommon to hear him ranting about his cause to any willing ear.
Sandra is also quite the talker. Between the two of them, you get very little silence. I’m not a very big talker (probably on the quieter side of the vocal spectrum ), so it’s a lot to handle. However, if it’s in Spanish, it just means more practice, so I’m all for it. They do bicker quite a bit, but it seems like nothing compared to my parents (sorry mom&dad, just telling it like it is). Regardless, Sandra is great. And very smart. She seems to have an acute awareness of what’s going on around her and a sensitivity to how other people are feeling that is so rare and wonderful. She also makes a wicked potato salad :) Unfortunately, she twisted her ankle about a month ago and hasn’t been very mobile since. She has mostly been sliding around in her office chair for the last 2 weeks, but recently has started to walk, though it’s more of a hobble :-/ Hope she recovers soon.
Let’s see…then there is Bert, Israel’s brother (the youngest of the 13), who is quite possibly my favorite person. I’m not sure what it is, but the way he speaks (in English) makes everything seem funny. I don’t think he even means to be funny most of the time, but I laugh at just about everything that comes out of his mouth. He must think I’m weird, laughing at him when he’s being perfectly serious. He spent his career in the fur industry and apparently is quite the master furrier. Below is a pic of Bert and Ilidia. I awkwardly call her his wife, though I’m not so sure that’s accurate cause apparently he hasn’t divorced from his first wife. I get the impression, from all the drama I am told, that marriages have a low success rate here.
They live about 2 miles down the road. I just found out though that they are actually here temporarily, which I’m pretty bummed about. I thought they lived here and were just going to Arizona this month on vacation, but apparently they live in Arizona and came here to possibly live in his house. But it turns out she doesn’t like it here all that much :( They got here just a couple days before I did and are leaving on the 29th. They asked me, jokingly I suppose, if I wanted to buy the house..I’m still hoping they will just give it to me :) I will miss them both. She laughs about stupid things with me, which is nice. And she is one of the few people that I’m forced to converse with in Spanish. I find it rather surprising that she gets by in Arizona without speaking English (I imagine that this will annoy you mom), but to each their own I guess.
Then there’s my new friend Ventura, who I met last Friday at a coffee event where he immediately started flirting with me and then helped me serve coffee (see pic). So glad to have met him! And not just cause he has a car. That would be so high school :) Or because he’s a chef…ok fine, I admit it, these are both factors, but he is actually nice and interesting and we have a lot in common, including our age. Come to think of it, he may be the only 29 year old friend I have! He showed me around town Saturday night and cooked me a pretty sweet meal. That was a pretty solid first night out.
Tracy, the other volunteer, arrived yesterday. She was already here on the island with her cousin in San Juan and had been looking for a teaching job. Apparently to no avail, so she looked for a volunteer opp instead and ended up here. She is 32, I think, and from Rhode Island! (I’ve never met anyone from Rhode Island and, honestly, I couldn’t tell you a single thing about it except for its capital.) So far so good. Sandra described her as shy, but I definitely don’t see that. She is friendly and nice and smiley and agreeable. Ooh, and she likes playing games, which is a huge huge plus. We played a couple silly games today, during which I had some really cheesy ‘I’m sure glad she’s here’ moments.
Ha. If only she spoke Spanish...
Well, that’s the main crew. There are a number of other characters, who I may at some point mention. One of the workers here is starting to give me the creeps…and so I ask god, why? Have I not had my share of old man farm pervs?! Dejame sola por favor!
En conjunto, todo va bien aqui en La Isla del Encanto.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Where am I?
I’m in a funk today. I hate funks, especially when I can’t explain them. Maybe I’m just adjusting. Or still detoxing from the fiestas of last weekend. I haven’t been sleeping too well here. There’s always some bug to kill or frog to escort out of my room before bed, which puts a damper on the whole unwinding thing.
And I feel a bit homesick. Not sure what I call home really, which makes me even more homesick. Ughh. This is a depressing blog.
I’m not sure where I am. I don’t feel like I’m in a foreign country yet I certainly don’t feel like I’m in the US. Most people don’t speak English here, and I’m struggling with my Spanish. There’s a conversation going on right outside the door and I can’t even understand it (something about roasting a pig, I think). I’m having the realization that my Spanish just isn’t what I want it to be. Even when it was the best it ever was, I could never quite follow Spanish television or really be sure what people were saying about me when I walked down the street in Costa Rica. To make matters worse, Puerto Rican Spanish is quite different than anything I’ve heard. They drop their s’s all the time and merge words. Buenos dias becomes buen dia (easy enough example), voy por alla becomes voy palla...this will definitely take some getting used to.
I feel lost. And a bit dazed. I miss my mom.
I did discover something pretty wonderful today though. It’s called a sapote and it’s the latest and greatest in my world of tropical fruits. It sort of looks like an elongated coconut, brown and hairy, and on the inside is a big black pit, that I’m oddly afraid of, and the most unique and stunning pinkish-orange flesh. The texture resembles a squash and the flavor is balanced and mildly sweet. It’s creamy and comforting and brilliant. I feel that same joy I felt when I tried my first cherimoya, like life just got a little bit better. What can I say, fruit just makes me happy :)
Saturday, September 5, 2009
I'm back
I hope for good this time. I really have no good excuse for not writing in so long. Sure, my laptop died, but I fixed it back in June and haven’t written since. I’m definitely a bit disappointed with myself. I think the main thing that has kept me from writing is the whole audience factor. I have had some personal issues that really have no place here. If I could write anonymously, perhaps this blog could have helped me deal with it all. The things weighing most heavily on my mind, the things I wanted to write about, I just couldn’t post on the internet. Well, enough about that. I’m free of those distractions now and want to start writing again :) And I think I’m in a good place to do it.
Right now I’m in a private little studio in an isolated hacienda surrounded by a tropical rainforest in
I will write more soon. Gotta head up to the house now. I broke a mug and a bowl and I need to come clean about it :-/
Sunday, March 8, 2009
To being practical
Laptop Update: It turns out the motor in my hard drive died and the repair shop can't recover my data. There may be a way to recover it, but it seems complicated and expensive. So I started to question whether or not it was worth it. I knew most of my photos were backed up online. Funnily enough, I actually backed them up before going to Costa Rica, thinking that there was a decent chance my laptop would be stolen. Well, it went against the odds and died instead.
Unfortunately, everything since that point was not backed up, so I've lost a lot of photos from CR and HI :( BUT I still have the pics on my blog and all the ones on Facebook (reevaluating my shameful feelings of FB usage right now). Since I usually put my favorite ones online, I can't say I'm too bummed out about it. Besides, the memories remain pretty vivid in my mind, and much more spectacular. I lost all of my music, but I can always just download it all again.
But then there was my writing. All the secret conversations I had with myself as I moved to New York, created my life there, contemplated career changes, relationships, and just got to know myself better-those I would greatly miss. I thought maybe there was a chance I backed some of it up but was scared to find out. Well, this morning, I finally brought myself to look and was overjoyed with what I discovered-my entire diary was there! What a relief! I just felt so happy with myself, having been so responsible and practical for thinking to save those.
Now, while it may seem like I'm rambling or overdramatizing a seemingly minute success story, there is actually a valuable lesson that I've learned. And that is, it's important to be practical. I've never been a big fan of practicality or related well to the cautionary type. I'm a bit more of a whimsical, spontaneous, emotional, play-it-by-ear kind of gal, and becoming more so, it seems, as I get older (errrr, yeah, I think it's supposed to be the other way around). Or maybe I am a fairly practical person whose practicality is practically dwarfed by the super practical people in my life. Ha. I don't know.
What I do know is that, as I try to navigate the uncertainty that lies beyond this trip, I will remember that a healthy dose of practicality, and some prudent planning, can really pay off :)
Unfortunately, everything since that point was not backed up, so I've lost a lot of photos from CR and HI :( BUT I still have the pics on my blog and all the ones on Facebook (reevaluating my shameful feelings of FB usage right now). Since I usually put my favorite ones online, I can't say I'm too bummed out about it. Besides, the memories remain pretty vivid in my mind, and much more spectacular. I lost all of my music, but I can always just download it all again.
But then there was my writing. All the secret conversations I had with myself as I moved to New York, created my life there, contemplated career changes, relationships, and just got to know myself better-those I would greatly miss. I thought maybe there was a chance I backed some of it up but was scared to find out. Well, this morning, I finally brought myself to look and was overjoyed with what I discovered-my entire diary was there! What a relief! I just felt so happy with myself, having been so responsible and practical for thinking to save those.
Now, while it may seem like I'm rambling or overdramatizing a seemingly minute success story, there is actually a valuable lesson that I've learned. And that is, it's important to be practical. I've never been a big fan of practicality or related well to the cautionary type. I'm a bit more of a whimsical, spontaneous, emotional, play-it-by-ear kind of gal, and becoming more so, it seems, as I get older (errrr, yeah, I think it's supposed to be the other way around). Or maybe I am a fairly practical person whose practicality is practically dwarfed by the super practical people in my life. Ha. I don't know.
What I do know is that, as I try to navigate the uncertainty that lies beyond this trip, I will remember that a healthy dose of practicality, and some prudent planning, can really pay off :)
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
My laptop is broken...
...which may help to explain why I haven't written in a while. Sad face. Now I write on a desktop in the studio. The screen is exposed. It just feels weird and formal. I do get to sit in a chair, though, so it's definitely better for my posture.
My laptop got dropped off at some repair shop on Friday. Bob has some arrangement with the computer people where he pays them in coffee, which totally works for me:) However, my computer has been pretty unresponsive the last couple of weeks, so I don't know if it will be revived. Trying to stay optimistic.
In the meantime, if anyone reading this can send some positive vibes to my sweet little laptop, I'd appreciate it.
And until I write again, please enjoy some photos...
me roasting coffee
me with a crazy chameleon on my arm
hanging out i
n the studio with sophie
Kealakukua bay...great for snorkeling but a wee bit scary. sliced my hand on something, not sure what, but it's healed now:)
and finally, I get to drive, woohoo!!!
My laptop got dropped off at some repair shop on Friday. Bob has some arrangement with the computer people where he pays them in coffee, which totally works for me:) However, my computer has been pretty unresponsive the last couple of weeks, so I don't know if it will be revived. Trying to stay optimistic.
In the meantime, if anyone reading this can send some positive vibes to my sweet little laptop, I'd appreciate it.
And until I write again, please enjoy some photos...
me roasting coffee
me with a crazy chameleon on my arm
hanging out i
n the studio with sophie
Kealakukua bay...great for snorkeling but a wee bit scary. sliced my hand on something, not sure what, but it's healed now:)
and finally, I get to drive, woohoo!!!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Yesterday
I was about to write my mom an email about yesterday's adventure and thought, why not just turn it into a blog? It wasn't super crazy or anything, but definitely a solid day of adventuring.
While the boys went down to the beach for the regular Friday night potluck, I stayed home planning my trip. I have to say, and this may come as no surprise, that I enjoyed my evening immensely. Reading my travel book, drinking tea, looking at maps, drinking more tea, researching the bus....ahhhhh, the sweet joy of adventure prep.
The plan was to make it to the opposite side of the island to Hilo, one of the oldest and largest cities in the state. There are 2 possibilities for getting there without a car: the bus or hitchhiking. Well, I didn't feel like dealing with the hassle and uncertainty of hitchhiking, especially since I wasn't sure if I was going solo, so I chose the bus. Unfortunately though, the bus system here is quite laughable. There is just one bus per day, it's not very clear where it stops, and oh joy, it comes at 5:55 am! Insanity!!! (See picture of my hand-written bus schedule. I don't have a printer, plus I get off on this type of detailed work.) On the plus side, however, it's free!
Another plus, Tim decides to come with. Relieved and excited, I set my alarm for 4:30 am. Getting up before 5 is unnatural and just plain wrong, I just have to say. Got up, ate, packed our bags, and left here at 5. It was pitch black, so I carried a flashlight as we walked along the highway for almost 2 miles to Honaunau Elementary School, the supposed bus stop (I say supposed because I called the transit line, and the woman who answered wasn't sure and told me to ask around (ha), then put me on hold and asked someone else who said it was at this school). At moments, the
walk was miserable (our lack of sleep kicking in), and at other moments magnificent (the incredible harmony of frog, insect, bird sounds electrifying the night). We got to the bus stop a bit early and waited. (That's Tim in the picture, sitting at the side of the road, probably wondering how he got sucked into this.) We had never ridden the bus or actually even seen one, so this was a suspenseful moment. Sure enough, around 5:55 it drove by. We waved frantically, but it kept going. Shit. All that for nothing, you got to be kidding me, I thought. Well, the bus driver must have had a delayed reaction, cause he eventually stopped a ways ahead of us. Totally relieved, we caught up and hopped on:) Yea! The adventure continues!
Once on, we were both pretty focused on sleeping, and since it was still dark, it was the perfect opportunity. The bus driver couldn't just leave his damn foot on the accelerator though, so it was a bit of a jerky ride. I got in a bit of shut eye though and was then ready to take in some island views (here we are on the bus, somewhat more alert).
The bus windows were all smudgy, so I don't have any great shots, but I'll include a couple just so you can get an idea. The most amazing thing about travelling the island is watching the landscapes and ecosystems change before your eyes, from desert to gr
assland to
forest...dry, wet, and everything in between. Incredible.
We got to Waimea, at the north tip of our route at about 8:00, where we were told we got a 30 minute break AND were welcomed by a Starbucks! I have to admit, I was actually excited about that. Kona shmona, I'm tired of all the pretension. Plus, I had my Starbucks card with me, so I got a coffee and Tim got a latte (thanks Mom). Got back on the bus for another hour and a half and then arrived in Hilo. Wow. Huge difference from Kona. An actual town, a more authentic local vibe, and....the best Farmer's Market
ever!!! See pics (look at Tim, enjoying my obnoxious touristiness). Loads and loads of enticing goodies and beautiful flowers. Had some rambutans (hairy thing pictured). Deelish!
I wandered through the market a couple times, entranced and overwhelmed, and soon became very hungry.
So we walked around a bit, checking out town, looking at food options, and ended up in a tiny joint where we saw some local-looking people and menu of traditional Hawaiian food. I got a loco moco, which is a ground beef patty and egg over rice, smothered in gravy. I didn't take a picture, so I'm stealing one off the internet so you can see what it looks like (that's legal, right?). It was really yummy, but left
me feeling quite full and nast
y.
So we walked around, ventured off the beaten path, and found some sweet little pockets of natural beauty. It's amazing how many secret spots there are around the island. I'm always wondering why more people haven't caught on to them. We walked along the Wailuku River, spotted some mini-waterfarlls, found a little pathway down to the water, where, eventually, we got in for a swim (well, Tim swam and I just waded, but that still counts for something). Here's a sampling of the stuff we saw.
We contemplated staying the night at a hostel, but to save money (they aren't dirt cheap like in Costa Rica) and avoid the challenge of hitching back Sunday (bus doesn't run), we decided to head back on the one and only return bus at 1:30. The time in Hilo was short but sweet and I will definitel
y be back soon. The bus returned on the same route, sto
pping again at the same shopping center in Waimea. We had a different driver who was kind of an ass. I was lagging a bit to get off the bus cause I had been sleeping, and he yelled at me :( Anyhoo, he said to be back in 20-25 minutes. We hung out at Starbucks again and headed back to the bus 20 minutes later, but the bus was nowhere to be found. Sad face again :( I was still kind of groggy from my nap and just could not grasp what had happened. It actually left with out us! Unbelievable!
Somehow, Tim wasn't really too bummed out, and I just followed his lead as we set out for our first hitching attempt of the day. Made it to the main road and hoped for the best. In record time, a truck pulled over and we were welcomed by a couple heading into Kona. They were incredibly nice and friendly. Ooh, here's a freakish coincidence: they lived in Carlsbad for a while, about half a mile from where I grew up. We were headed to a friend's house in a slightly different direction from where they were headed, so they dropped us off at the road to Holualoa. Before we got out, the driver gave us his business card and told us to call them if we ever want to join them for a ski/snowboard trip to Mauna Kea (which I am dying to do). Too nice, too nice.
Well, we were still about 4 miles from our destination, so it was time to stick out our thumbs again. Again, in lightning speed, a truck pulled over for us! This time we were relegated to the back of the truck, and, since there was very little room, we actually sat on a couple plastic chairs! Good thing it was a short ride, cause that was a wee bit dangerous.
In less than 10 minutes, we were at our destination, a friend's house who was having a get together for some huge UFC fight on Pay-per-view. Not exactly my cup of tea, and I wasn't exactly invited, but it was easier if Tim and I just stuck together. I ended up being the only girl t
here, so that kind of blew, but I actually kind of enjoyed the fights. There were maybe 5 fights, culminating with the main event fight with a Hawaiian contender named BJ Penn (who unfortunately lost). I got freakishly engrossed in the second fight, cause one of the fighters, Karo Parisyan, was Armenian! That was exciting. I bet $1 against one of the guys, and won. Woohoo!!! :) Hung out there for a while after all the fights and then got a ride home from one of the guys. Man was I happy to be home. Took a nice hot shower, made some tea, and watched some Aussie Open. What an incredible match! Too bad I missed most of it, cause I passed out on the futon after the first set. Ahhh, it sure felt good to sleep.
So that was my first big adventure in Hawai'i and, hopefully, just the first of many. Mahalo for reading :)
While the boys went down to the beach for the regular Friday night potluck, I stayed home planning my trip. I have to say, and this may come as no surprise, that I enjoyed my evening immensely. Reading my travel book, drinking tea, looking at maps, drinking more tea, researching the bus....ahhhhh, the sweet joy of adventure prep.
The plan was to make it to the opposite side of the island to Hilo, one of the oldest and largest cities in the state. There are 2 possibilities for getting there without a car: the bus or hitchhiking. Well, I didn't feel like dealing with the hassle and uncertainty of hitchhiking, especially since I wasn't sure if I was going solo, so I chose the bus. Unfortunately though, the bus system here is quite laughable. There is just one bus per day, it's not very clear where it stops, and oh joy, it comes at 5:55 am! Insanity!!! (See picture of my hand-written bus schedule. I don't have a printer, plus I get off on this type of detailed work.) On the plus side, however, it's free!
Another plus, Tim decides to come with. Relieved and excited, I set my alarm for 4:30 am. Getting up before 5 is unnatural and just plain wrong, I just have to say. Got up, ate, packed our bags, and left here at 5. It was pitch black, so I carried a flashlight as we walked along the highway for almost 2 miles to Honaunau Elementary School, the supposed bus stop (I say supposed because I called the transit line, and the woman who answered wasn't sure and told me to ask around (ha), then put me on hold and asked someone else who said it was at this school). At moments, the
walk was miserable (our lack of sleep kicking in), and at other moments magnificent (the incredible harmony of frog, insect, bird sounds electrifying the night). We got to the bus stop a bit early and waited. (That's Tim in the picture, sitting at the side of the road, probably wondering how he got sucked into this.) We had never ridden the bus or actually even seen one, so this was a suspenseful moment. Sure enough, around 5:55 it drove by. We waved frantically, but it kept going. Shit. All that for nothing, you got to be kidding me, I thought. Well, the bus driver must have had a delayed reaction, cause he eventually stopped a ways ahead of us. Totally relieved, we caught up and hopped on:) Yea! The adventure continues!
Once on, we were both pretty focused on sleeping, and since it was still dark, it was the perfect opportunity. The bus driver couldn't just leave his damn foot on the accelerator though, so it was a bit of a jerky ride. I got in a bit of shut eye though and was then ready to take in some island views (here we are on the bus, somewhat more alert).
The bus windows were all smudgy, so I don't have any great shots, but I'll include a couple just so you can get an idea. The most amazing thing about travelling the island is watching the landscapes and ecosystems change before your eyes, from desert to gr
assland to
forest...dry, wet, and everything in between. Incredible.
We got to Waimea, at the north tip of our route at about 8:00, where we were told we got a 30 minute break AND were welcomed by a Starbucks! I have to admit, I was actually excited about that. Kona shmona, I'm tired of all the pretension. Plus, I had my Starbucks card with me, so I got a coffee and Tim got a latte (thanks Mom). Got back on the bus for another hour and a half and then arrived in Hilo. Wow. Huge difference from Kona. An actual town, a more authentic local vibe, and....the best Farmer's Market
ever!!! See pics (look at Tim, enjoying my obnoxious touristiness). Loads and loads of enticing goodies and beautiful flowers. Had some rambutans (hairy thing pictured). Deelish!I wandered through the market a couple times, entranced and overwhelmed, and soon became very hungry.
So we walked around a bit, checking out town, looking at food options, and ended up in a tiny joint where we saw some local-looking people and menu of traditional Hawaiian food. I got a loco moco, which is a ground beef patty and egg over rice, smothered in gravy. I didn't take a picture, so I'm stealing one off the internet so you can see what it looks like (that's legal, right?). It was really yummy, but left
me feeling quite full and nast
y.So we walked around, ventured off the beaten path, and found some sweet little pockets of natural beauty. It's amazing how many secret spots there are around the island. I'm always wondering why more people haven't caught on to them. We walked along the Wailuku River, spotted some mini-waterfarlls, found a little pathway down to the water, where, eventually, we got in for a swim (well, Tim swam and I just waded, but that still counts for something). Here's a sampling of the stuff we saw.
We contemplated staying the night at a hostel, but to save money (they aren't dirt cheap like in Costa Rica) and avoid the challenge of hitching back Sunday (bus doesn't run), we decided to head back on the one and only return bus at 1:30. The time in Hilo was short but sweet and I will definitel
y be back soon. The bus returned on the same route, sto
pping again at the same shopping center in Waimea. We had a different driver who was kind of an ass. I was lagging a bit to get off the bus cause I had been sleeping, and he yelled at me :( Anyhoo, he said to be back in 20-25 minutes. We hung out at Starbucks again and headed back to the bus 20 minutes later, but the bus was nowhere to be found. Sad face again :( I was still kind of groggy from my nap and just could not grasp what had happened. It actually left with out us! Unbelievable!Somehow, Tim wasn't really too bummed out, and I just followed his lead as we set out for our first hitching attempt of the day. Made it to the main road and hoped for the best. In record time, a truck pulled over and we were welcomed by a couple heading into Kona. They were incredibly nice and friendly. Ooh, here's a freakish coincidence: they lived in Carlsbad for a while, about half a mile from where I grew up. We were headed to a friend's house in a slightly different direction from where they were headed, so they dropped us off at the road to Holualoa. Before we got out, the driver gave us his business card and told us to call them if we ever want to join them for a ski/snowboard trip to Mauna Kea (which I am dying to do). Too nice, too nice.
Well, we were still about 4 miles from our destination, so it was time to stick out our thumbs again. Again, in lightning speed, a truck pulled over for us! This time we were relegated to the back of the truck, and, since there was very little room, we actually sat on a couple plastic chairs! Good thing it was a short ride, cause that was a wee bit dangerous.
In less than 10 minutes, we were at our destination, a friend's house who was having a get together for some huge UFC fight on Pay-per-view. Not exactly my cup of tea, and I wasn't exactly invited, but it was easier if Tim and I just stuck together. I ended up being the only girl t
here, so that kind of blew, but I actually kind of enjoyed the fights. There were maybe 5 fights, culminating with the main event fight with a Hawaiian contender named BJ Penn (who unfortunately lost). I got freakishly engrossed in the second fight, cause one of the fighters, Karo Parisyan, was Armenian! That was exciting. I bet $1 against one of the guys, and won. Woohoo!!! :) Hung out there for a while after all the fights and then got a ride home from one of the guys. Man was I happy to be home. Took a nice hot shower, made some tea, and watched some Aussie Open. What an incredible match! Too bad I missed most of it, cause I passed out on the futon after the first set. Ahhh, it sure felt good to sleep. So that was my first big adventure in Hawai'i and, hopefully, just the first of many. Mahalo for reading :)
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