Molokai

I think my first awareness of the Hawaiian island of Molokai, the one used to locate a leper colony, came from my mother. She taught school on the island of Kauai in the early 1950s, and that colony, situated on the isolated Kalaupapa Peninsula from 1866-1969, was still in existence. My childhood memories are layered with songs and hula and stories and muumuus and leis from my mother's experiences in Hawaii. Molokai never headlined the Hawaiian moments she shared with her children, but I know it showed up a few times--maybe as an extension to a discussion of leprosy and lepers, one generated in reference to a scripture story we were reading as a family.

As an adult, my friend Tammy reconnected me to Molokai when she told me the story of Father Damien. On Netflix I found the 1999 movie,  Molokai: The Story of Father Damien, based on Damien's experiences in Molokai.  I watched it,  transfixed--probably more for story than for cinema greatness, but the story moves me. You can watch the movie yourself, now on YouTube in its entirety, right here. (I know because I recently watched the movie again, this time on YouTube!)

When Tammy and I visited Hawaii around five years ago, we considered a quick jaunt to Molokai from Maui but couldn't make the side trip work with the rest of our vacation schedule. When I moved to Hawaii, a visit to the island of Molokai remained high on the list in my mind of places to go. Finally last month--March--my friend Camille and I met in Honolulu and took the quick flight to Molokai--ascend, down a quick drink, descend--on a small turbo prop that shuddered and bounced in the wind on its descent!

Molokai, Hawaii's fifth largest island, is 38 miles long and 10 miles across at its widest. With a little over 7,000 residents, many of them native Hawaiians, it has a rural vibe and a more traditional Hawaiian sensibility. 

Once we arrived at the Molokai Airport just after the noon hour on a Friday, we picked up a rental car and lunched at a hamburger joint before heading to our vacation rental. Then, with drive-by reconnaissance of much of the island and a few stops at various beaches--all pretty and mostly bereft of other humans--we whiled away the afternoon. 

This final photo was taken from the balcony of our vacation rental.

Although we had changed into our swimsuits in preparation for some beach time, the gusty day proved to be a bit chilly for any water play. We stocked up on breakfast items in Kuanakakai--the largest town, the hub of civilization on the island--ate dinner at Paddler's Restaurant and Bar, and returned to our vacation rental to prepare for Saturday's adventure: a mule ride down and up the highest sea cliffs in the world and a tour of the former leper colony in Kalaupapa.

Kalaupapa is isolated--maybe its foremost characteristic and the one that led to its designation in 1866 as the site for a leper colony. Virtually barricaded from the rest of the island by the highest sea cliffs in the world, the sea became its main access, but an access that could be dictated by those with the power and the wealth to accomplish it...or not. A steep, winding path, a little over three miles long, does exist on a portion of the expanse of sea cliffs, a path that can be hiked or done riding a mule. The hike is ranked as 4 out of 5 in difficulty, with 5 as the greatest amount of difficulty. Camille and I opted for the mule ride. 



(Kalaupapa now has a tiny airport, too, so tourists can also arrive via air; tourists--and the number per day is limited--arrive on foot, on mule, or by plane. Nowadays a barge carries the "big" supplies to Kalaupapa once or twice a year; otherwise, supplies come via small plane or else by the physical effort of human or beast.)

With a 7:45am check-in for the mule ride, Camille and I arrived early on Saturday morning. Our two muleskinner guides matched the six tourists (yep, that's all because two mules were on loan to a movie set, so really the biggest number of tourists possible per day on the mule ride could be eight) with their mules and briefed them on mule-riding protocol. We did practice how to "control" our mules a bit before commencing the trek.

A girl and her cat: This is Nick, a kitten belonging to one of the muleskinner guides.

A girl and her mule, Deuce.

 Camille and one of our guides.

The trek down was difficult, often uncomfortable on the body, stressful at moments, and absolutely amazing. Deuce liked to eat, and the two of us ultimately reached a viable working relationship--how to balance a time to chew and a time to move forward, especially once I realized which of the other mules provoked Deuce's competitive nature. The trek back up was much easier and faster, too! These next photos are from the trek itself, most of them from the ascent because taking pictures becomes so much easier when one doesn't have to constantly engage preventative measures to avoid a tumble over the head of one's mule.

The tour of the former leper colony and the current community on Kalaupapa was both fascinating and moving. Our guide had a personal connection to the community and a spiritual one, too, I think. In fact, he and his brother show up briefly in that 1999 movie. (The movie actually incorporated many members from the Kalaupapa community.) Funny and a great storyteller, his emotions hovered on the surface of all he shared and touched the hearts of his listeners.

These photos are from the tour of the former leper colony and the current Kalaupapa community.

Father Damien's church.

Father Damien's grave in the churchyard.

 Many of the lepers were buried in unmarked graves.

 The Kalaupapa Airport.

 The Kalaupapa Port and looking toward the sea cliffs.

The sea cliffs from Kalaupapa. The trail we took on the mules winds through these.

Saturday evening, after showers and dinner, Camille and I decided to participate in Molokai's hot bread run. Yeah, that's a major thing in the Molokai nightlife scene! On an island where only two or three establishments have liquor licenses, legend has it that Kanemitsu's began as a bar and solved its problem of drunk patrons hanging around all night by serving hot bread to soak up all the ingested alcohol. The bar eventually evolved into Kanemitsu Bakery, and now around 8:00 most nights the bakery sells hot bread with toppings to locals and tourists in-the-know. However, the night-time hot bread is not purchased inside the bakery per se. Instead, you wander down this dark alley at the side of the bakery--definitely seedy in aura and portending great danger...except this is Molokai!--until you find this:

In case you can't read it, there is a sign that says "Hot Bread" at the opening of this corridor.

At the back of the corridor is a window where you place orders and pay up.

The bread is served hot, fresh from the oven, as an entire loaf sliced horizontally through the middle and slathered with desired topping or a combination thereof: butter, cream cheese, cinnamon, blueberry jam, and strawberry jam.

Assembly line style preparation of sorts.

Camille and I ordered one with butter and cinnamon--warm, sweet, and a total carb overload! We didn't even consume half the loaf but concluded that if ever there were a second Molokai hot bread run in our lives, we would order one with butter, cinnamon, and cream cheese!

Sunday, before our afternoon departure for Honolulu, we undertook a bit more drive-by exploration of the island. On a deserted highway with a sea-facing approach we observed two humpback whales frolicking off-shore--a splendid image for memories of an ending.

Updating . . .

"How did it get so late so soon?" -- Dr. Seuss

"Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?" -- A.A. Milne

"Stop the world. I want to get off." --Anthony Newley

Despite lapsing into these sentiments at times and being way tardy with a March posting, I shall start again and continue on with the world as best I can! And now for a synopsis of my life since the February palaver.

In late February, I returned from a visit to Utah to celebrate my dad's ninetieth birthday, 

immediately commenced a visit with my friend Ora Sue in conjunction with a rather skimpy tour of the Big Island (excuse: at least some rain everyday and certain days, all day), 

and caught the mother of all colds. I do have a solid record of succumbing to some dread malady the first year of living in a new place, so I am hopeful I have the Hawaii variant now performed.

Officially employed again, I am a paraprofessional working with at-risk youth under the auspices of a mental health provider. It doesn't pay particularly well, but it is part-time with flexible hours and something for which I have some passion. So far I have completed multiple trainings and attended a staff meeting where I met a therapist interested in connecting me with one of his clients. That will happen later this week. Meanwhile, today I received these:

 For my car--paraprofessionals often transport a client to a specific location and/or activity.

I've never had my own business cards before!

Over the weekend I finally completed my taxes. I have long been nervous about this endeavor for 2017 since the year included buying a house, moving to Hawaii, and switching to retirement income. TurboTax--my go-to tax people for the last five years or so--walked me through the process clearly enough that I decided I really didn't require any other outside help. I owe Hawaii some taxes and a penalty (sigh) because apparently Hawaii does not want to collect taxes in one lump sum at tax return time. Hence, TurboTax has now organized me so that I will be paying Hawaii taxes in four installments in 2018!

After listening to NPR's remembrance broadcast for the author Sue Grafton, who died in December, I decided to give her books a try. I read A is for Alibi in January and have continued reading the books in order. Sunday night I finished Q is for Quarry, and today at the library I picked up R is for Ricochet and S is for Silence. Yes, you could say I have been enjoying the series. With her death, though, the alphabet stops at Y.

With all the rain we've had this winter--and my neighbor has informed me that it has been rainier and cooler than usual--I am currently losing the battle for control of just what vegetation can adorn my yard. I remain in the fight, however! While pruning in the free-growth boundaries last week, I forgot that those trees can house some fire ants. I currently sport some very itchy bites on my neck and left forearm--courtesy of a long sleeve that came untucked from my gloves. I didn't have swelling at the bite sites as long as I used to--maybe I'm developing some antibodies?--but they are still annoyingly itchy. The moments after the biting occurs is definitely painful, too. You know absolutely that you have been bitten!

I attended a five session photography class offered by the University of Hawaii at Hilo as part of their continuing education program. In my opinion, there was too much talking and not enough doing, but I did learn my camera better and have a fuller understanding of how to go about capturing my own vision of a photographic moment.

The other grand adventure of March was a weekend trip to the island of Molokai with my friend Camille, an experience deserving of its own post. I'm working on it!

And finally, today's caper... While running some errands in Hilo, I found myself way too hungry to face the rest of the shopping without a wee bit of sustenance. With the Walmart McDonald's at hand--my favorite fountain Diet Coke watering hole--I opted to buy an order of fries in addition to my regular large Diet Coke. Since I actually wanted to check out the Walmart garden center, I decided to sit and eat the fries there in McDonalds, something I've never done before. Now whether I created a blip in the scheme of the universe by doing something I would normally never do or whether what occurred next is part of living in Hawaii, I'm not sure. There I was chowing on hot, salt fries and slurping a Diet Coke and some guy leans over from the left (tables are close together at McDonald's) and says, "I have the best desert ever--coconut cake." Indeed he did have a packaged Pepperidge Farms coconut cake on the table along with his McDonald's fare. He proceeded to undo the packaging of the cake while continuing to sing the cake's praises. He then offered me a piece, explaining that it was still frozen but would taste wonderful just the same. Well, I like a good coconut cake, so I took him up on his offer. While I alternated my feasting between sugar and salt--cake and fries--he chatted me up: He thought I was probably French until he talked to me because I didn't look American (hardly the first time I've been told I don't look American); said he was a pony-tail wearing local boy--he fished and farmed and built things and did natural medicine. He offered me a package of natto, which I refused because my Japanese life taught me that I do not like natto! His phone kept pinging, which he explained was some lady he had helped out last week and kept texting him. When he got up to order another hamburger, I snagged my chance to take my leave. Granted, he did look good in a pony-tail, but my sister-in-law Karen makes a much better coconut cake than Pepperidge Farms!

Learning the Land

I actually like working in my yard. In perhaps still too many ways, it remains largely a wilderness, but it and I are now affixed in my heart; it has become my own little kingdom. At the moment I prefer laboring on the land of the “kingdom” to completing the tasks remaining within the “castle,” particularly the “denial room.” The awaiting drudgery of boxes and stacks in that room depresses me--yet also inspires me...to go right outside!

My land is a wilderness of volcanic rock and intrepid vegetation with a house in its center.. Methinks that volcanic rock ultimately erodes and corrodes into a rich soil over time, though, because stuff grows and grows in profusion. And then there are orchids, which seem to acquire a portion of their needs via the atmosphere. Wild orchids appear in the jungle on the boundaries of my yard, and the ones I won as a door prize and subsequently potted to the specifications prescribed on the Internet in combination with my own best guesses continue to thrive even now, two months later!

 The wild orchids.

"Tame" orchids?

When I first took up residence in my kingdom, it looked like this:

 Front.

Back, including catchment tank.

By September, we (because a couple neighbors helped with pulling and poisoning) eradicated the matured amassing of weeds and accomplished this look:

Both of these are backyard views. I collected the rocks (easy-peasy endeavor in my kingdom) so I could place pots of herbs above the ground surface.

Six months in, my learning of the land, mostly with a backyard focus, has led to this:

Every single rock that has become part of my wall once rested under the surface of that rust-colored, pebbly surface--usually just an inch or two below it. I first realized how shallow the top layer of the land really is when I attempted to dig holes for some hibiscus plants I'd purchased: rocks and rocks and rocks! There are also stretches of the black pahoehoe lava rock on the south and west boundaries that escaped the breaking process used on the surface terrain before the foundation of a structure is laid. The gravelly topper in my yard was spread across everything, from boundary edge to boundary edge--landscaping, I guess--before the home was placed on the market. Once I figured that out, I began excavating!

This is the southern boundary of my land, and jungle/bush occupies the adjoining plot--no home, as of yet:

I planted day lilies at the edge of this expanse of black pahoehoe lava rock, unearthing more rocks in the process, some of which have yet to be carted to places on the wall.

Pretty much all of the rocks in the walls at the edges of my kingdom originated from a buried position nearby, so I haven't had to haul many of them over a distance. Bigger ones I rolled into position, but I carried enough of them that I reacquainted myself with lower back pain. Hence, I've tried to become smarter. My sister Diane suggested a wheel barrow, which I also had considered, but I would still have to pick up the rocks to put them inside. She then proposed dragging them on a blanket. Here is my eventual solution to suspected-weighty-enough rocks requiring transportation over a distance:

Vehicle floor mat and bungee cord.

For all of my neighborhood's suburban affectation, the actual land is quite rugged. Ready now to break in my fourth pair of gardening footwear and donning probably my eleventh pair of work gloves, I have grown to respect the harsher realities of this environment that undergird its ultimate beauty. When I work in the yard, I wear long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, socks, shoes, a wide-brimmed hat, sunscreen, and sometimes insect repellent. Thus I can avoid too much sun exposure, bug bites, and skin-contact with things like worms, slugs, spiders, and various insects. And can I tell you how often I feel extreme gratitude that Hawaii does not have snakes?! Pretty much every time I labor in my vineyard! Although...I have learned that there is something called a "blind snake" in Hawaii; in fact, I have even uncovered a few. They are smaller than the earthworms, but they don't look quite like worms; they certainly don't move like worms! And then dirt and rocks and shoveling and raking---yeah, gloves are good. 

On my latest run to Costco, I found a package of four pairs of work gloves in my preferred style costing three dollars more than what I had been paying for just one pair of gloves purchased singly. Well, my hands have protection in place for another couple of months at least!

The gravelly terrain and sometimes muddy conditions (it rains on my side of the island) have already destroyed two pairs of retired running shoes and one pair of high-topped leather shoe/boots that I once wore with pants in colder climes when teaching school. The gravel actually ripped through the soles of the leather shoe/boots and took off a portion of the heel on one. Since running shoes are not inexpensive in and of themselves and I have currently run out of any ready for retirement, I invested in some work boots to become my next gardening footwear: 

Now maybe I can embark on planting a wee garden, more than pots of herbs on a rock platform. And the front yard? Sigh--and--Oh my! Perchance I will have a post with photos in a few more months!

Calla Lilies--not sure I have them in the right position for sun/shade preference. Something more I'll learn!