ACT III, Scene 1

ACT III

Scene 1

Setting: My brand new, and never-lived-in, house on the island of Hawaii, windward side (think RAINY). August and September--the beginnings of all things to make a life in Hawaii after spending the past thirty years living overseas in Germany, Japan, South Korea, and then Japan again...but Okinawa for the second stint.

At Rise: Although I have been informed that my household goods arrived at the Port of Hilo the last week of July and just await Customs clearance, no firm delivery date is established. Nevertheless, I have officially arrived on island only to reside in a largely empty house. True, the house comes equipped with refrigerator, stove, oven, and a microwave, and, two days after my arrival, I also take possession of a washer and dryer purchased at the end of June during a brief foray to the island. I have a blow-up bed, a set of sheets, a blanket, a set of towels, and two suitcases worth of stuff. Oh yes, and wifi! Don’t forget the wifi! (Another item high on the priority to-do list for that June foray.) The windows of the house wear no “treatments” whatsoever, so I tend to arise with the light and hunker down with the dark.

NOTES:

1. On August 9, my household goods are finally delivered. I begin dwelling within canyons of boxes. My Okinawa downsizing was certainly not sufficient, so I commence the most serious discard scenarios of my life. And somehow it is easier than ever before because this time when I meet up once more with the stuff accumulated over a lifetime, I can actually say, “Nope, I really am not going to need that,” and “This just doesn’t have magic for me any more.”

2. Every year of my life since I was six, I have headed off to school at the end of summer break, either as a student or as a teacher, until this one. At moments it seems strange not to be in school now, but the reality of not being there is not bothering me much. Whether it is because I remain quite overwhelmed with a house to unpack, put-together, and maintain along with a yard that is largely a blank demanding immediate attention (and I seemingly in a losing competition with the total jungle of a next-door lot seducing that blank so thrivingly to become one with it once more) or because of other circumstances, reasons, or states of mind, the fact remains that I putter through my days never accomplishing all I intended, and that is so very normal.

3. And let’s return to that blank that is my yard.  May I remind you how well things grow in Hawaii--things you want and things you don’t--because the growing season has no end...as in never ever. I do love that wild orchids grow at the edges of my wee plot of land and that I have  successfully planted hibiscus and bougainvillea and now have a notion to attempt a plumeria. And I also design--still in my mind--the herb/vegetable garden out back, but I must do further research because I may need to use raised beds to compensate for my dearth of soil situation?! (I’ll get back to you on this one.) Meanwhile, the native weeds and wild grasses have the capacity to grow multiple centimeters in one day despite the seeming lack of topsoil!

Then, when engaged in yardwork--as in pruning those jungly nether regions--I discover vegetation, considered houseplants in all my former lives, flourishing in the Hawaiian wilderness without any human care, and each species is gorgeous, lushly green and steroidal in size and reach!

4. Several mornings each week I go for a run, usually in my neighborhood. Since school started, I wait until seven or so to avoid the sporadic clumps of students and the convoy of school buses they await because by seven the little roads will return to mostly empty and mine alone. There is one school bus--a short one--still on it’s route sometimes, but the driver and I just wave and go about our business. My business, in addition to the run, includes analyzing yards for landscaping ideas, scattering the feral chickens roosting in the verge or parading across my path, puzzling out what fruit could possibly be hanging from the vine entwined around the cable wire above the road that look rather like avocados but avocados don’t grow on vines, and mobilizing the dogs.

Probably at least half of the homes in my neighborhood have dogs--multiple dogs, in fact. Most are fenced, penned, or tied. I excite them, though, when I run by, and they yap and bark at me or else at the dogs across the way who are also yapping and barking. I can’t decide if they are warning me away or asking to come with me. Some change their chorus to a mournful howl as I leave them behind. A few I’ve met with their owners. Hula Girl is my favorite--dog, not owner!

5. I am close to mastering the layout of Home Depot and Ace Hardware. I have purchased a power drill to accompany my power screwdriver. I understand the purpose of silicone grease as part of the process of changing filters for my water catchment system--still a wet endeavor for me, but I am improving. I have a clothesline project currently in my sights but believe I will have to hire out the building of shelves over the washer and dryer space.

6. Yes, food can be expensive in Hawaii. A loaf of bread often costs $6+, and a twelve-pack of soda in aluminum cans comes in at $7 on sale and usually more in the $9 range. Good thing I rarely desire bread, and I prefer my Diet Coke in bottles...which is a cheaper way to buy it here, by the way. Of course, I can always assuage my thirst for said beverage with a purchase of a large Diet Coke at McDonald’s for $1 plus tax--which is four more cents, should you be wondering. Fresh produce is always less expensive at the farmers markets than at the grocery stores although grocery stores will carry produce not available at farmer’s markets. I rather enjoy my forays to farmers markets and average at least one foray per week. At the Hilo Farmers Market on Saturday, and only on Saturday, this couple sells homemade brownie/cookie bars that are presently my to-die-for treat. I sample all their samples every time--double chocolate, salted caramel, butterscotch/macadamia, and lilikoi (passion fruit) and then buy the discounted twinpack with a salted caramel one and a lilikoi one. The twinpack lasts me three to four days if I’m disciplined, two when I’m not.

Although vinegar and Dove’s dark chocolate cost less at Walmart, Target wins the price wars more often than you might think. So I signed up for a Target credit card that I use exclusively at Target because it also discounts all my totals an additional 5%. I have become a collector of coupons, and a Costco member. (Giggle all you want and then revise your image of me; I have had to renegotiate my image of myself!)

7. War with the insects continues, particularly with mosquitos and ants (and my ants bite). The movers kept the doors to my home wide open for close to ten hours (with a perfectly acceptable rationale, of course), but apparently numerous mosquitos took that opportunity to colonize the interior regions of my house. About a month has elapsed, and only now can I safely sleep with a limb extended from beneath the covers without gaining at least one new red welt. I have invested in repellent with DEET, DEET-free repellent with lemon/eucalyptus, and several essential oils known for their insect-repelling qualities. My arsenal is loaded and employed evermore effectively. I seem to have regained control of the battle with the mosquitos; ant control remains a work in progress.

8. Mentioned previously, I live on the windward side of the island, and it rains here--a lot! All kinds of rain, too, ranging from a misty wetness with droplets too small to see all the way to torrents, where rain falls in sheets, in entire geometric planes, one beside the next and touching. When you live in a home with a metal roof, and I do, the music of rain changes and crescendos are mighty.

9. Balancing Monkey Yoga--so yeah, I just finished my two week stretch of new student come to as many classes as you would like for $20. I attended Steve’s basic yoga classes--suggested for beginners--and Vicky’s pilates classes. I like yoga but I don’t love it. I will acknowledge that my body benefits from it, but my mind has quite a distance to travel before I anywhere approach “zen.” In my mind I’m telling Steve not to talk so much or beseeching him to move us into the next position before the scream in my stretching muscles transfers to a scream emanating from my mouth. Pilates I enjoy more. For me it moves faster, I sweat and strive in ways more familiar to me, and I feel its connection to the world of dance. In each class I also confront the reality that I have not kept that flexible body of yore that did splits and backbends with ease.

I will continue at the Balancing Monkey, but next I plan to check out a water aerobics class to add into the mix.

10. Church is like it has been everywhere around the world, and yet church is also different. People I have never met greet me with a kiss on the cheek. Women with thick coils of long dark hair clad in muumuus designed with luscious color wear an aura of regal splendor. All beginnings have “Aloha.” Random prayers are offered in Hawaiian. One speaker dissects the Hawaiian language, explaining how “aloha” connects to the creation story of Genesis:  “alo” is our front, our outer self, who we are in this world; “ha” is the breath of life, the breath of God to give us life.

My Okinawa Realities

With three months now of life lived in Okinawa, I shall herewith share some observations, experiences, and trivia--trivial and otherwise--amassed thus far. And with the random nature of this collection, I shall opt for a list format.

1. Sunscreen. Although I have long been a queen of sunscreen compared to many of my friends and acquaintances, the abundance and intensity of Okinawa sunshine has galvanized the quantity of my application moments. I pretty much reapply whenever I head outside unless it's night time or it's raining! In my bathroom cabinet resides a large container of the stuff, and I carry somewhat smaller tubes in my purse and in my backpack. Even the glove compartment of my car holds a tube of sunscreen.

2. The Expressway. Okinawa has one expressway--perhaps a cousin to a freeway and a step-cousin to the Autobahn--that stretches about sixty kilometers from Naha, situated in the southern region of the island, to Nago, definitely in the northern half of the island but about fifty kilometers short of Cape Hedo, the most northern point. It is a toll road with eighty kilometers per hour posted as the maximum speed, but it has no stoplights--a most worthy perk on an island where stoplights abound in all populated localities. Tolls can add up quickly, though; for my commute, I travel less than ten miles on the Expressway at a cost of about $3 each direction. To encourage potential renters to consider places in "outlying" areas--like where I live--landlords are often willing to negotiate Expressway fees into the rent. That is my arrangement. Since I head to school quite early in the morning, I often use the regular highway on the way to work because traffic has yet to jam the route. After school, though, the Expressway usually wins the very brief debate about which way to go home. Already two gentlemen who man the tollbooth where I pay when I exit the Expressway recognize me; we have a regular ritual of greetings in both English and Japanese, nods and smiles, and then thank-yous in the two languages once again; it's like both sides of the conversation must showcase their abilities in the native and the foreign language!

3. Roosters. Yes, you read that correctly. Even though night has yet to surrender to dawn when I leave for school in the morning, I hear roosters crowing somewhere out there in the darkness. They know the sun soon will announce its upcoming arrival at the horizon, and I know I really do live in an outlying locale.

4. Rice paddies. As referenced above, I am a bit of an outlier with regard to my place of residence. Just over the fence--and in full view from my side balcony--are rice paddies. The first time I saw my apartment with a realtor, the rice seedlings had just been planted. I have since watched their cycle of life all the way unto the harvest just over a week ago and now curiously await what comes next--another crop or some weeks to be fallow.

 I took this photo the first time I saw the apartment with a realtor.

 Scarecrows showed up in October.

 Harvest.

 And this morning...scarecrows down! 

But not this one at the far end. We had a wild rainstorm last night, so I think the two scarecrows down may be "an act of God" and not "an act of farmer"!

5. Student name of the year. This school year, like my sister Diane--also a teacher--I have a preponderance of students named Jaden/Jaiden/Jayden/Jadyn/Jaydon/Jadon. Eight to be exact. Six boys, two girls, and six spellings.

6. Creatures. So far I have witnessed the presence of mice, a rat, a mongoose (the result of an unfortunate import choice), snails, snails on steroids (another transplant by mistake), and a variety of insects. In my own home I have encountered a spider on steroids (he cast a shadow on the floor!...which necessitated the use of the vacuum) and also a cockroach on steroids--tropical climate must be synonymous with "steroid."  In fact, "Ricky"--because I felt like I could hear his cockroach exoskeleton actually click as he moved--and I met my first night in my apartment when I got up to go to the bathroom. I turned on the light and immediately understood I was not alone; Ricky occupied definite space there on the floor! He then scurried into oblivion as I contemplated how a cockroach found his way to an apartment on the ninth floor and survived for the weeks said apartment had remained unoccupied. We continued our nocturnal meetings for three nights in a row before I concluded there were too many of us and Ricky would be the designated one to exit. Still, Ricky just embodied too much crunch and muscle for me to confront him with brute force. The thought seriously made me shudder. Hence, I opened the bathroom cabinet and amongst the motley assortment therein located a bottle of body splash--healing garden green tea. I do not regret to inform you that Ricky ultimately succumbed to alcohol poisoning, and my bathroom smelled quite lovely nigh unto 24 hours!

I have not seen a habu--except for the one preserved in a bottle of sake on the bar near where we paid for a meal--and would most definitely prefer not to...especially in a real life situation. 

"Two native and two introduced species of habu snakes--venomous and aggressive in nature--inhabit the vegetation and jungle of Okinawa, making hiking and late-night ground travel very dangerous for people here."

I watch for them when I start a morning run before it's fully light and comfort myself with thoughts that they probably don't like being near the ocean...something I have no idea whether is true or not!

7. Beach men. Here I run the path that follows the beach coastline near my home. Most of my runs commence near the time of sunrise, and often fishermen have poles set up at various points along my route. Lean, sinewy, and weathered, some listen to a radio or follow something on a phone; others watch the sea zen style. Yet they always nod at me and some of them even smile.  There is one man who is not a fisherman at all, but he always shows at some point on any of my morning runs. This man never greets me; in fact, he never looks at me at all. He watches the daybreak over the sea while consuming a small morning repast: coffee in a can (probably from a vending machine or convenience store), a bottle of water, and something crunchy--a snack-like finger food fried crispy.

These photos I actually took on an afternoon run, so my regular morning beach men were not available for the photo op!

8. Cooler in the trunk. Well, okay, I just removed it last week because, after a foray into the commissary, I no longer feel the pressure to race home before my food melts and/or rots. But there is certainly a season here in Okinawa where one realizes some food may not survive the ride home without additional temperature protection!

9. Sea and sky. Always. And I may have a thousand photos before a year is up. Sea and sky--they are ever-changing and gloriously relentless in their capacity to teach me another facet of beauty.

10. Seasons? The calendar shows November, and the sweatiness factor--temperature and humidity--of August and September has begun to dissipate  Yet, I still sleep with the windows open and only a sheet and a summer coverlet. Although I often wear a hoodie or jacket inside buildings air-conditioned to temperatures surely in the polar range, I have yet to need one while outside. So, I think I may be learning a different pattern to the seasons.

Shades of Sea and Sky

On the first day of school, I distribute 3x5 cards to the students and have them complete an "information card" for me. Mostly these cards provide me quick and easy access to their birthdays and some trivia that I use as a base for becoming better acquainted with each of them. On the lined side of the card we establish the basics: full name, preferred name, birthday, where the house is located (as in "on base" or town/neighborhood), siblings, and pets. On the back side of the card we do a quick graphic organizer thing by dividing it into four sections and labeling each one with these:  likes, dislikes, skills, hopes and dreams. I complete my card on the board as students do theirs. Since my middle school teacher beginning, I have always written "live by the sea" as one of the items in my "hopes and dreams" section. This year when I wrote in that phrase, one of my students offered, "Ms. Cahoon, here in Okinawa you could really do that--live by the sea." And now I do. I actually live across the street from the sea...the Pacific Ocean, to be exact.

And everyday I am mesmerized all over again with the play of light and shadow of sea and sky. In counterpoint, harmony, or unison--their ever-changing renditions carry me into an elsewhere of beauty and possibility. 

Considered sub-tropical, Okinawa has coral reefs and seas arrayed in tropical blues and greens--seas where colors like aqua, cerulean, celadon, turquoise, cobalt, and teal were born and raised. Sometimes these dazzle and dance with almost blinding brilliance, and sometimes they mingle and marry in a watercolor wash, muted yet memorable. At night, though,the sea is wrinkled black, but, at moments, points of light might bounce and skeeter across its rumpled surface.

Since I live on the Pacific side of the island--the east side--sunrise may actually unveil the sun in its morning color and light show although it is not a given. Sunset, too, often presents a color and light show as well but always sans the sun.

Here, then, are shades of sea and sky as viewed from my balcony:

Seoul Reflections

The second week of June, movers arrived at my Seoul apartment and packed up all my material goods minus my summer travel impedimenta. Now the bulk of my current accumulation of chattel roosts in shipping containers while in transit from Seoul to Okinawa. The most recent tracking message received stated that those containers left Busan last week. Meanwhile, I departed Seoul on June 17 and presently reside with my summer travel impedimenta--first in Hawaii and now in Utah.

After living almost five years in Seoul, I will certainly carry forever onward Seoul's imprint on my own soul. Here now are some bits and pieces included in that imprint.

In all honesty, though, a few facets locked into this Seoul imprint I will not miss, so I shall declare them first and be done with them:

1. Air quality issues. How much fault belongs to China's catastrophic air pollution woes  and the prevailing weather patterns and how much solely to Korea's own issues, I will not debate. Suffice it to say that air quality too often can be problematic. (Check out this website.)
2. Winter. Even if I've lived all my life so far in lands with a winter season, Korea takes first place in the MISERABLE category for its multiple weeks of bone-chilling cold with no reprieve whatsoever. When you watch Mash reruns and those characters bemoan the cold, they speak the truth! Ice resulting from a measly inch or two of snow can last for six weeks.
   
3. Spitting. In Korea people spit their sputum onto the sidewalk and streets regularly. I cringe whenever I hear someone cough or clear his/her (yes, females do this, too, especially ones from older generations) throat because almost inevitably the sound of spittle launching will follow. YUCK!

With the negativity now concluded, let me share a glimpse of the Seoul glow I hold within. I will miss so many things!

• My apartment. I loved my apartment. It was my haven.

• My neighborhood, Huam Dong. It has its own street market proffering all manner of goods from shops, stands, the back of trucks, even curbside: fresh fruits and vegetables, spices and red pepper paste, fish (fresh or dried), baked goods, breakfast or lunch or dinner from pots and on sticks, electronics, clothing, even small pieces of furniture. An array of "mom and pop" restaurants within its turf include fare ranging from Korean barbecue to pizza to take-out Thai (YUM!) and Vietnamese (pho is now my comfort food of choice).

• Taking the subway to church on Sunday.

• Crossing the Han River by subway. Because the church is located on the other side of the river from where I lived, I always crossed the Han River on Sunday commutes. Because I took the Sunday commute pretty much weekly, I eventually achieved successful subway snoozer status (one who can snooze but awaken to disembark at the correct station), yet I could not allow snoozing during the river crossing; the crossing became my touchstone moment or something, and I had to witness it fully.

• Opening a refrigerator at church and being assaulted by the pungent aroma of kimchi. Where  else can that ever happen?!

• Walking to and from work. Unless it was too wet or too cold or I planned a morning run on post before school or I had too much to carry, I enjoyed commuting to and from work by foot. Two to three times a week became the pattern. My last month in my apartment I ended up walking everywhere or else taking a subway or a cab because I sold my car the day after I listed it for sale--in other words, much more quickly than anticipated!

• My students. No where else have I taught students where so many of them have internalized both the desire to learn and the determination to pursue excellence in what they create and produce.

• "Beauty" shops, the ones catering to personal vanity and presenting even more than one has ever imagined needing or using to be more beautiful--skin care, hair, make-up, etc. They are everywhere, even in the underground passageways of the subway. I especially enjoy the freebies tendered with even the smallest purchase. My personal favorites are Skin Food and Face Shop, but there are surely a dozen more franchises from which to choose. And, from what I understand, Korean beauty products are becoming big sellers in the USA.

• Spring. Korea does it with exquisite loveliness.
  

• Autumn. Korea does it with exquisite loveliness.
  

• Ginkgo...especially in autumn. The leaf totally enchants me--a tiny golden fan suspended on a branch or embellishing a car windshield or gilding the sidewalk.

• Robert, my taxi man. In Seoul I actually had Robert's name in my phone contacts, and he had me listed in his! When I called or sent a text, he could always address me by name before I identified myself. After the first time he delivered me to my apartment, he never required directions again to pick me up there. He spoke wonderful English and enjoyed talking culture, politics, religion, whatever. I have kept his number because if I show up in Seoul again to visit, I have a taxi driver at the ready!

• The car wash man at the commissary. On his bike he rides onto post with a bucket, cloths, and brushes. Enlist his service before one enters the commissary, and when one returns to the car with groceries in tow--voila, clean car. By the end of my sojourn in Seoul, he knew me and my car well. The last time he washed my car, he did it on his own volition. He recognized my car in the parking lot and washed it while I was inside the commissary without me even being aware that he was there that day. Because my car had been quite dirty (Seoul has dirty precipitation--air quality issues, remember), I noticed immediately that it was clean. Momentarily confused, I then spotted the car wash man about to leave the parking lot at the far exit. I was able to catch him and offer him payment, but he smiled and shook his head no. At that moment, I didn't realize that it would also be the last time for the car to be washed while I owned it. Still, such a sweet ending.

• My cleaning lady. I have never before had a cleaning lady. Somehow she came with the rent; I never paid her up front. How marvelous to never have to clean a shower comprised of tile and glass and yet have it remain in pristine condition.

• Mr. Joe, the car insurance man. "If you have a situation or an accident, call me first, then the MPs!" I never had to call him for anything more than a dead battery when I returned from summer break, and then he sent a mechanic on a motorcycle right to my car in the underground parking garage of my apartment building.

• My landlord and the security man at my apartment building. Traditionally Korean men have a rather dictatorial reputation. How true that still is, I don't know, but I do know that both of those men took excellent care of me and my needs in that apartment for almost five years. Neither spoke much English at all, I speak very little Korean, and so we communicated with smiles, gestures, and a translating intermediary if more lengthy spoken communication was necessary. I think they were one of God's gifts to me.