You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November 2009.
image from T.K.
K’s friends Paul and Tom came to visit us one weekend from NY via Kauai. We grilled lobster tails on the lanai and had it with rice and poke. The World Series was on and we got to see the Yankees go-ahead run before going down to the beach to watch the full moon.
We spent most of the next day driving all over Oahu. K was working so it was just the three of us. I’ve come to love driving. I marvel at how just a few weeks ago I was terrified of driving on highways. Now, as K predicted, I prefer driving on highways to the stop and go of downtown. I love driving. I actually feel markedly happier when I get into my car to head off somewhere.
I had to parallel park with Paul and Tom in the car. I usually can do it when I’m by myself but if there’s anyone in the car with me I get super self-conscious. I told them this and Tom talked me through it. In two turns of the wheel I was in the spot. Tommy was singing my parking praises and even talked about taking a picture of it because it was such a perfect parking job. I smiled on the outside but on the inside I also did a little dance.
I had had such a great experience volunteering at He’eia Fishpond for Ma’o Organic Farm that I was eager to get involved again and learn more about what they do. Wei told me about Give Day on the farm and invited me to come out and volunteer. I had never driven to the west side of the island. I’d heard alot of things about the issues at Waianae Beach and I was very curious to see what it was like. Before Give Day I hadn’t had any reason to venture over to that side.
It took an hour to drive there. Easily the furthest and longest I’d ever driven on the island. A few minutes from the Farm, I kept thinking of the word festive. I could imagine that I was driving to a family friend’s house for dinner and this was a neighborhood I might have, in another life, grown up in.
I like Waianae. It feels like people really live there–maybe that generations have lived there. It’s distinctly more ‘real’ than any other part of Oahu that I’ve experienced.
If I heard a chorus driving through Waianae, Ma’o was the melody. There were over a hundred volunteers that day from eight different countries. We were welcomed warmly and although I came alone, I didn’t feel it.
They let us get our hands dirty. Some of us weeding the sprawling beds, some clearing rocks from new fields, and so on. The manual labor was very satisfying but the greatest part of the day for me was hearing from their youth staff and learning about their programs.
A large portion of the Ma’o staff is made up of interns. To be an intern one has to be between 17 and 24 years old, a Waianae resident, and Native Hawaiian. Interns put in 20 hour work weeks and in exchange their tuition at a local college is covered and they’re provided a decent sized stipend. Our tour guide said that for many of the interns, they were the first in their family to attend college.
There’s a big emphasis on empowering youth and making them a part of every aspect of running the farm. Part of Give Day was put aside for different groups of students to share the projects they have chosen to implement as part of a larger program. For example: campaigning against land fills in Waianae or helping schools to grow their own organic community gardens.
Most of what I’m sharing is just skimming the surface of what I learned that day. It feels as if they are bursting with new ideas and trying to make each of them a reality
I’ve spent my whole adult life helping to build communities. What Gary and Kukui do over at Ma’o is hugely inspiring to me. Not only is their approach smart, it is characterized by an almost tangible zeal. I love the farm. I’m so pleased to have been part of it even for a day.
Food is important out here. Of course it’s important everywhere but there’s nothing as comforting or satisfying as plate lunch. Post plate lunch, it appears as if Hawaii’s foodie community is energized and ready for change.
K and I met a group of people coordinating a traveling supper club. It’s underground but very robust in its attendance. Their focus: to spark dialogue among the people that shape Hawaiian cuisine. When they asked us to host an event at our house we were happy to oblige.
It was an experience having 50+ strangers in our house for a sit down dinner. But it went surprisingly without a hitch. I remember thinking as I watched a handful of chefs scurrying around our kitchen that it hadn’t properly been used by us until then.
We invited two of our neighbors up to join the dinner. It was a great chance to get to know them. One of the things that I remember from that evening had nothing to do with food. Bethany and Chad are surf addicts. We talked about swimming, water, and my fear of both. They promised that they could teach me how to surf. Which I long to try but see no easy path to. Chad said that one of the things they could do was take me surfing in water that I could stand up in. What!?
Count me in.
In the midst of a chaotic week, KL had a kickball game. I didn’t play but I had Zippy’s chili and fried chicken for the first time at the game. I now understand the appeal.
It’s been eons since the Hawaii International Film Festival. Thankfully I was able to see more films than I did last year. Two films that stood out from what I saw were Tze Chun’s Children of Invention and Daniel Lee’s Precious.
Along with bringing boat loads of great videos and films HIff also brought friends from far away. My friend Suzi from way back was here with her lovely film Dear Lemon Lima. Suzi and I had fallen out of touch years ago but fell back into an easy rapport. Maybe it has to do with getting older, but I wondered a few times while we were together, how did we lose touch? It took being thousands of miles from where we met to reconnect.
Cinnamon’s in Kailua was the breakfast place of choice for me and whoever would join me during HIFF. It’s currently my favorite: crab eggs benedict and guava chiffon pancakes.
Another funny thing was that The Chinatown Film Project that Karin and I began at MOCA three years ago had it’s premiere outside of NY at HIFF. Karin couldn’t make it at the last minute so I stepped in to ‘represent’ it. It was the first time I’d seen the result of our efforts. I really didn’t know what to expect. But as we watched Wayne Wang’s contribution to the project, I found myself getting emotional. His scenes of Chinatown swept by like waves. The soundtrack and the images made me feel a longing for NYC Chinatown that I never thought I’d feel. I was really proud to be there and to have had something to do with it.
The trailer for CFP:
I’ve been a little depressed. Which is worth examining because life has been good: we live in a beautiful home with great neighbors; I have a car that I love driving; we’ve had the opportunity to make friends with a wide variety of lovely people; and the communities out here move me– a bubbling of ideas that make it seem like anything can happen, anything can change. The sun shines every day.
Despite this, for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been distractingly blue. Sometimes thinking about Ruth. Sometimes not being able to sleep…
We just booked our tickets to go home for the holidays. It hit me so suddenly how good it will feel to be home for a little while. I’ve hardly thought about New York. It feels farther than it is.
But as November whips by, I imagine running errands on the Upper East Side. It’s dark out but it feels early. Daylight Saving has just started and I’m thinking about Christmas gifts. But there’s time, so today I won’t feel bad buying stuff for myself. I’ll text KL and ask him what we’re going to have for dinner. Maybe he’ll text me back that we should meet at Setagaya for a big bowl of steaming ramen. We’ll walk home holding hands with gloves on and shed our thick layers when we get back to our small but well-lit studio.
I miss it. I miss the cold. I miss a book. The one that has the poem. I would put it here now. Mark Wallace’s Standard Time.
