Recently, I rewatched this neurotic comedy, 2 Days in New York. In it, Chris Rock played Mingus, the only apparently stable character of the whole cast, which says perhaps all you need to know about the movie. There was a scene where C.R. had an imaginary dialogue with Barack Obama about Hawai’i, and it made me laugh because it was accurate how I used to think of this place.
“See, when people hear “Brooklyn,” they think, “Oh, he’s tough.” No, I’m from Park Slope, from the punky bitch side of Brooklyn.
Are you sure I can call you that –Barack?
You –Hawai’i, that’s right. So when you were a kid and you got mad at people, did you go, “Yeah, I’m from Hawai’i. Don’t fuck with me. I’m from Hawai’i.” You can’t say that, right? Yeah, it’s the same as Park Slope.
Did the gangs throw coconuts? I mean… Oh, don’t get sensitive.
Yes, I’m sure Hawai’i was rough. I believe you. There was rocks in your sand.
You write, too? I’m sure they would love to put one of your articles in The Voice. What do you write about?
Plants?”
I had visited Hawai’i once before my son was born. It was to Maui, and it was a beautiful place, of hula dances, sandy beaches, and glorious sunsets, one standing firmly in the category of family vacations and honeymoon destinations. Having been roughing it through exotic locations like Siberia and South America, I felt it too comfortable for me. I actually thought it was to be my last visit.
Now, I have traveled to the Big Island more than a few times, and I’ve come to really like it. I appreciate all the conveniences of America, like rental cars, Costco, Target, and Safeway, making it infinitely more comfortable with a baby attached to the hip. But I also love the diverse natural beauty made by its volcanoes and the unique climate they help form.
Hawai’i is made of volcanic islands. Geological age wise, it is only 5 million years young. Among them, the Big Island is the youngest and largest. There has not been much time to grind rocks and stones into miles of smooth sandy beaches, but in their places are crystal clear tide pools, teeming with sea urchins and sea cucumbers, turtles and fishes. Appropriate footwear is recommended, however.
Hawai’i’s big waves are popular with surfers. I was never a surfer, but rather one who would spend the night on a beach, in a hammock. Now I am perfectly happy watching pretty boys and girls running at them waves while sipping my coffee and serving breakfast to my son. Sometimes I take him for shave ice. It is a colorful concoction full of edible chemicals, but seeing the bright orange smile on your kid’s face is worth it.
From humid tropical to arid, from temperate to freezing cold, the Big Island makes room for a plethora of plants and flowers. In Kona, the sky is blue, the storms are fierce, and sunsets are ever glorious. Up on the hills, it is foggy, nights are cold and there are citrus groves and lavender farms. Where wind has smoothed volcanic rocks to gentle, mountain sides are of bucolic grassland. Across the island, the air is balmy and rain pours for blooming orchid gardens.
Having my son ended a chapter of my book. When one door closes, another opens. I haven’t stopped moving; I’m just a different traveler now.
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