Double Vision
I recently had my very first visitor here in Hawaii. Just about a year ago, my barrage of visitors to London was already in full swing, and I found myself a giddy tour guide and self-proclaimed 'cultural expert' as my friends and I roamed around to different theaters, exhibitions, and restaurants (you may hate British food, but there's a restaurant for everyone in London).
A visitor to Hilo, though, would be quite a different story. Although my life here has coalesced into a collection of unique and interesting people and activities, it's taken time for this city girl to get her small-town legs. Moreover, without a car, I haven't become quite the 'expert' (cultural or otherwise) I might have been after four months elsewhere. So while I was excited to show N., my best college girlfriend, my new home, I also revelled in the chance to be a tourist with her, to see the Big Island through my still-adjusting eyes. I even took a couple of days off from work for the occasion.
We revisited some places I'd been before. The lava field at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is a completely different experience in the daytime, not only because it's much less terrifying to walk on potentially unstable lava rock formations when one has a clearly illuminated view. The many different shades of black and gray still dominated, but everywhere I saw more brilliant, unusual colors -- bright green or orange around cracks where lava had come to the surface, rust stains from iron deposits, and often a deep, shimmering blue that seemed to disappear once I fixed my eyes directly where I'd seen it peripherally a moment before. The contrast with the rich, living green of the hills just beyond the field made the terrain feel more alien, but also more bearable. The ocean stopping, or rather slowing the flow (the field grows a bit each year -- 230 hectares since 1983) on its other side was that ever-changing blue that I find equally enthralling. Watching the steam rise (and form smoke rings!) where the lava hit the water -- and then to see a perfect rainbow frame the scene, I felt as though I'd somehow led my friend into a video advertisement for Hawaii, rather than the place itself.
A couple of days before we'd gone up to Mauna Kea, the mountain where the largest ground-based telescopes are maintained, where S. works at the Visitor's Center, and where I have occasionally volunteered (mainly as an excuse to receive astronomy lessons from S.). N. and I climbed a nearby cinder cone and looked across the Saddle (as the area between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa is known), to Mauna Loa, its long peak just rising above a blanket of clouds one usually only sees from airplanes. Nearby another cinder cone glowed a fierce red in the setting sun. Behind us Mauna Kea continued to rise to its summit, 14,000 feet above sea level. As we walked back to the Visitor's Center, we agreed (bibliophiles always) that there might not be a better place to relax for hours with a good book.
The next day N. and I drove southward, to have a look at some of Hawaii's more exotic beaches -- the rather famous Punalu'u black sand beach, home to an idyllic line of coconut trees and an equally charming tribe of sunbathing sea turtles, and the green sand beach at Ka'u, at the southernmost tip of the Big Island (and the United States, for that matter). Our walk along the southern coast turned out to be just as dramatic as our trip to the lava fields the next day. The ocean pounded the cliffs so that clumps of foam, resembling snowballs, would fly fifty feet straight into our path; the wind blew relentlessly, until N. and I both felt rather too well-acquainted with the green sand we'd been so eager to see. Opposite the ocean the landscape resembled lush farmland or, the farther we walked, some untouched savannah. I wish I could convey the way in which colors forcefully impose themselves on one's sight so often here. I can only compare it to that often-imitated moment in the 'Wizard of Oz' when Dorothy leaves the black-and-white of Kansas behind.
On the final day of N.'s visit, we decided to truly test whether we'd earned our outdoor badges, and hike the Kahaualea trail, which winds through over four miles (so about 8.5 miles roundtrip) of rainforest and opens out onto a clear view of the Pu'u O'o vent, the source of the current eruption for the past twenty-three years. I have tried to resist a constant comparison between Hawaii and New Zealand; there are many reasons it's tempting (culturally, geographically, politically) but as always I'm trying to 'make it new'. However, on this trail the comparison was overwhelming and unavoidable. Ferns and fern-trees everywhere; those lush, lacy fingers are always so calming to me, particularly when I found they were brushing my arms rather than another spider web. (I fear I may have drastically, though inadvertently, reduced the spider population of that portion of the forest.) Once we arrived in the clearing, we watched smoke rise from the vent while munching on a simple lunch of bread, cheese and oranges -- bleu cheese and pepper jack, with garlic bread, if you must know -- which seemed so much tastier if only because we'd for once really worked up the appetite.
As we made our way back through the forest, I felt so pleased to share yet another adventure with my friend. N. and I have quite literally been all over the world together (Ireland, New Zealand, France, various places in the U.S.) and it's lovely to have a friend with whom one can travel, get into uncomfortable situations, and come out with sore legs and a smile.
Well, not quite. When we returned to the parking lot we found our rental car broken into, the front windows and a back taillight broken, and most crucially, N.'s wallet and cellphone gone. Her I.D. had been in her wallet, so this posed a bit of a problem for her boarding a plane later in the day. By sheer force of will (and a few expletives) (and my cellphone), we managed to sort out the situation as best we could, and N. made her plane, thank goodness. However, our video advertisement had turned into some sort of local news expose -- 'Local hooligans scam tourists yet again'. Our naivete, our arrogance -- We're the first ones to truly see this place, and appreciate its awesome beauty! -- was snatched away. This is not just a tourist destination, it's also a place where people live perfectly ordinary lives. The Big Island is home not just to some of the most varied attractions Hawaii has to offer, it's also home to the highest poverty rate (nearly 16 percent) in the state, which itself is burdened by a cost of living about 30 percent above the national average. N. and I both work, in different ways, to ease inequality. For all I know our unwelcome guests are perfectly well off, just greedy or bored or sick of haole (white) tourists in their backyard. Either way, I've been reminded of the rosy edge my perceptions added to our adventures; how narrow that vision can be, what an incomplete picture of a place it will give. Convenient for the visitor (and I'm sorry N. lost that edge during her short stay), but if I want to call this my home, I'd better not let my island fantasies get the best of me.
For more on locations mentioned in this post:
US Geological Survey Hawaiian Volcano Observatory
Mauna Kea Observatories
Punalu'u Black Sand Beach
Green Sand Beach (A lovely anecdotal account, this one)
... And the Kahaualea trail is a bit of an open secret, so check out the guide book 'Big Island Revealed' if you want to know more. However, according to the police officer we spoke with, our experience happens there quite regularly, so keep that in mind and keep your valuables with you!
A visitor to Hilo, though, would be quite a different story. Although my life here has coalesced into a collection of unique and interesting people and activities, it's taken time for this city girl to get her small-town legs. Moreover, without a car, I haven't become quite the 'expert' (cultural or otherwise) I might have been after four months elsewhere. So while I was excited to show N., my best college girlfriend, my new home, I also revelled in the chance to be a tourist with her, to see the Big Island through my still-adjusting eyes. I even took a couple of days off from work for the occasion.
We revisited some places I'd been before. The lava field at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is a completely different experience in the daytime, not only because it's much less terrifying to walk on potentially unstable lava rock formations when one has a clearly illuminated view. The many different shades of black and gray still dominated, but everywhere I saw more brilliant, unusual colors -- bright green or orange around cracks where lava had come to the surface, rust stains from iron deposits, and often a deep, shimmering blue that seemed to disappear once I fixed my eyes directly where I'd seen it peripherally a moment before. The contrast with the rich, living green of the hills just beyond the field made the terrain feel more alien, but also more bearable. The ocean stopping, or rather slowing the flow (the field grows a bit each year -- 230 hectares since 1983) on its other side was that ever-changing blue that I find equally enthralling. Watching the steam rise (and form smoke rings!) where the lava hit the water -- and then to see a perfect rainbow frame the scene, I felt as though I'd somehow led my friend into a video advertisement for Hawaii, rather than the place itself.
A couple of days before we'd gone up to Mauna Kea, the mountain where the largest ground-based telescopes are maintained, where S. works at the Visitor's Center, and where I have occasionally volunteered (mainly as an excuse to receive astronomy lessons from S.). N. and I climbed a nearby cinder cone and looked across the Saddle (as the area between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa is known), to Mauna Loa, its long peak just rising above a blanket of clouds one usually only sees from airplanes. Nearby another cinder cone glowed a fierce red in the setting sun. Behind us Mauna Kea continued to rise to its summit, 14,000 feet above sea level. As we walked back to the Visitor's Center, we agreed (bibliophiles always) that there might not be a better place to relax for hours with a good book.
The next day N. and I drove southward, to have a look at some of Hawaii's more exotic beaches -- the rather famous Punalu'u black sand beach, home to an idyllic line of coconut trees and an equally charming tribe of sunbathing sea turtles, and the green sand beach at Ka'u, at the southernmost tip of the Big Island (and the United States, for that matter). Our walk along the southern coast turned out to be just as dramatic as our trip to the lava fields the next day. The ocean pounded the cliffs so that clumps of foam, resembling snowballs, would fly fifty feet straight into our path; the wind blew relentlessly, until N. and I both felt rather too well-acquainted with the green sand we'd been so eager to see. Opposite the ocean the landscape resembled lush farmland or, the farther we walked, some untouched savannah. I wish I could convey the way in which colors forcefully impose themselves on one's sight so often here. I can only compare it to that often-imitated moment in the 'Wizard of Oz' when Dorothy leaves the black-and-white of Kansas behind.
On the final day of N.'s visit, we decided to truly test whether we'd earned our outdoor badges, and hike the Kahaualea trail, which winds through over four miles (so about 8.5 miles roundtrip) of rainforest and opens out onto a clear view of the Pu'u O'o vent, the source of the current eruption for the past twenty-three years. I have tried to resist a constant comparison between Hawaii and New Zealand; there are many reasons it's tempting (culturally, geographically, politically) but as always I'm trying to 'make it new'. However, on this trail the comparison was overwhelming and unavoidable. Ferns and fern-trees everywhere; those lush, lacy fingers are always so calming to me, particularly when I found they were brushing my arms rather than another spider web. (I fear I may have drastically, though inadvertently, reduced the spider population of that portion of the forest.) Once we arrived in the clearing, we watched smoke rise from the vent while munching on a simple lunch of bread, cheese and oranges -- bleu cheese and pepper jack, with garlic bread, if you must know -- which seemed so much tastier if only because we'd for once really worked up the appetite.
As we made our way back through the forest, I felt so pleased to share yet another adventure with my friend. N. and I have quite literally been all over the world together (Ireland, New Zealand, France, various places in the U.S.) and it's lovely to have a friend with whom one can travel, get into uncomfortable situations, and come out with sore legs and a smile.
Well, not quite. When we returned to the parking lot we found our rental car broken into, the front windows and a back taillight broken, and most crucially, N.'s wallet and cellphone gone. Her I.D. had been in her wallet, so this posed a bit of a problem for her boarding a plane later in the day. By sheer force of will (and a few expletives) (and my cellphone), we managed to sort out the situation as best we could, and N. made her plane, thank goodness. However, our video advertisement had turned into some sort of local news expose -- 'Local hooligans scam tourists yet again'. Our naivete, our arrogance -- We're the first ones to truly see this place, and appreciate its awesome beauty! -- was snatched away. This is not just a tourist destination, it's also a place where people live perfectly ordinary lives. The Big Island is home not just to some of the most varied attractions Hawaii has to offer, it's also home to the highest poverty rate (nearly 16 percent) in the state, which itself is burdened by a cost of living about 30 percent above the national average. N. and I both work, in different ways, to ease inequality. For all I know our unwelcome guests are perfectly well off, just greedy or bored or sick of haole (white) tourists in their backyard. Either way, I've been reminded of the rosy edge my perceptions added to our adventures; how narrow that vision can be, what an incomplete picture of a place it will give. Convenient for the visitor (and I'm sorry N. lost that edge during her short stay), but if I want to call this my home, I'd better not let my island fantasies get the best of me.
For more on locations mentioned in this post:
US Geological Survey Hawaiian Volcano Observatory
Mauna Kea Observatories
Punalu'u Black Sand Beach
Green Sand Beach (A lovely anecdotal account, this one)
... And the Kahaualea trail is a bit of an open secret, so check out the guide book 'Big Island Revealed' if you want to know more. However, according to the police officer we spoke with, our experience happens there quite regularly, so keep that in mind and keep your valuables with you!
posted by HB at 9:38 PM
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