Hiromi_X

Here, it seems like people go through the day with teeth gritted, and when the slightest thing goes wrong, they blow up. I've always felt that I was different, and to an extent, that's true. A friend from work who used to work in Bolivia told me of a conversation she had with a Bolivian friend about her trip to Switzerland. He asked her incredulously, You mean, the buses and trains are never late? They're always on time? She answered, Yes. He replied, How boring! You always know what's going to happen! I sympathized with this; I hate regularity and schedules. That's one reason I loved travelling alone. I woke up each day not knowing what would happen.

Last week, my family and I took a car trip to Hilo (we were staying on the Kona-side). On the way there, we stopped by Tex Drive In, a little restaurant famous for its malasadas, which are Podagee (Portuguese) donuts similar to sopapillas or beignets. They're deep fried balls of yeast dough dusted with sugar. I wanted those and a loco moco, the pure incarnation of which is a scoop of rice topped with a hamburger patty and an egg over easy and brown gravy all over (shut up -- it's delicious).

Anyway, there was a really long line of locals (good sign) and it took forever to get our order placed. Even though the place was really busy, they weren't moving fast at all. For instance, when I asked for forks, the guy (who appeared to be one of the owners or managers) gave a friendly smile, said Oh, I need to go to the back for those, and strolled to the back. They all WALKED SO SLOWLY, and kept on talking story with the customers, which made them walk even more slowly. It took a while to get all our stuff. The food was all very good, though.

This wasn't bad service; it was people operating on Hawaii Time. Nobody complained. Instead, they just took things as they came good-naturedly, knowing they'll get their tasty meals eventually. I, however, had my teeth gritted and wanted to shout, Where's our fucking bento??? Get those goddamn forks NOW!!! But if that place were to get "efficient," it would lose something. I was a little disillusioned that I've internalized the now-now-now, keep-on-the-goddamn-schedule mentality that I loathe, but there it is. I'm the child of my environment, but only partway. I prefer Hawaii Time to Mainland Time.

The ATM in the little convenience store attached to our condo complex kept malfunctioning, but the proprietor had no idea when the repair guy would show up. When telling us this, we joked, Oh yeah, he's probably surfing, and he smiled and said, Hawaii Time. Before my surfing lesson, the instructors were off doing something, but that was okay. I got the full lesson in the end, and had a good time watching other surfing students and people on the beaches playing around. We had to shop for necessities at a very large big box retailer with an unpleasant reputation, and it was as crowded and congested as the ones here, but there was no franticness or frenetic-ness.

Now that I'm back, I'm having trouble describing this pace of life. Hawaii (or at least the Big Island) is totally different from the mainland. It's not just about stunning natural beauty, although that's a big part of its magic. It has its own music, its own language, and its own style of living. It's no mere place or vacation destination to me. While you arguably can find ocean just as beautiful as Hawaii elsewhere, to me, those aren't *my* oceans because they're not part of my soul. I have wonderful childhood memories of Hawaii rendered holy by a lifetime of longing. Those happy memories sustained me through some ugly times. And better still, my experience there met or exceeded expectations. There was no disillusionment, as there often is with these things. That's why I still feel so cut off from my surroundings now. It's so quiet here. There's no sound of the ocean, and that makes me sad.