Merry Andrew

At Muir Woods.

Waiting in line at The Fish restaurant.


This is what I had; crab roll and a pint of Guinnes.


Sglass and ci's wife in front of Buddha.


At the tea house at the Japanese Tea Garden.


The end.

So, here I am on the so-called Big Island of Hawaii and I'm thinking it's time I gave y'all a running commentary on my travels, on this island itself and on life in general. Also, give you a chance to call me names and generally give me a hard time. 'Sokay, I'm used to it.

Anyway, I arrived here on the third day of the third month of this current year. I got online May 19, two days ago, after several hair-raising and hair-yanking attempts. This is typical in Hawaii. Saw an SUV (or maybe it was a pickup) yesterday (or maybe it was this morning) with a bumper sticker that said: RELAX. THIS AIN'T THE MAINLAND. Makes perfectly good sense to me. The people here are so relaxed that nothing ever gets done on time. Ever. I believe Christmas is celebrated sometime in mid-January. If you have a structural emergency at your abode, e.g. a crumbling foundation or a leaking faucet that's flooding your kitchen, it'll take about half a dozen phone calls before some tradesman actually commits himself to coming over. Then he may or may not come over. Depends.

Nobody's in any hurry and that most definitely includes civil servants, be they county, state or Federal level. You may say that this is true of civil servants everywhere but here's the difference between the local contingent and those on the mainland: no one is ever surly. They will all bend over backwards to be nice to you. They will be solicitous of your needs and your welfare. They will tell you, "No problem." (Actually, in Hawaiian that's "A'ole pilikia," but it means the same thing.) And then they will do nothing, or next to nothing. They'll be too busy being nice and solicitous to the next person in line.

Don't get me started on Hawaiian police. That deserves a special thread of its own.

The biggest mistake a haole malihini (newly-arrived white man) can make is to insist that Hawaii is one of the 50 United States. This is an illusion fostered by the US government. Hawaii is a foreign country and one does well to observe the local customs and not make too many waves. The Hawaiians will tolerate you. After all, you bring the dollars. But don't think that this makes you somehow an equal. Most native Hawaiians fly the Hawaii state flag upside down on their flagstaffs in protest of the fact that we (the USA) literally stole the country from them, ousted their royal family and simply took over, bullies that we are. At the recent Merry Monarch Festival in Hilo, I saw a rather large banner on one of the concession stands, which read WE ARE NOT AMERICANS. WE ARE HAWAIIANS. No surprise shown by anyone attending the annual festival.

I am now living on the rim of a very active volcano. Literally. The house we're in is technically on the grounds of the Hawaiian Volcanoes National Park and I'm no more than maybe two miles walk from the rim of the main caldera of Mount Kiluaea. Maybe less. I've walked it several times while Seaglass was off in the family car but I wasn't wearing a pedometer so the distance is an educated guess. I've walked the rim of that volcano and even across the crater left by one of the more recent eruptions in the 1980s. Eerie but strangely exhilirating. The one drawback to this locale (apart from the ever-present danger of an earthquake or unanticipated major eruption) is the air quality which has recently become much worse than it had been on my previous visits. They call it vog. That's a combination of fog and volcanic emanations, mostly sulphurous fumes, which are currently coming out of the Hale'mau'mau crater, a part of Kiluaea's main caldera. This column of what looks like white smoke rises from a vent in the crater and disipates into the sky, looking for all the wrold like the prettiest white cumulus clouds you ever saw. Except they're almost pure sulphur. A large portion of Crater Rim Drive, a road I used to drive without giving it a second thought, has been closed because of the air quality. And, along with that, all the foot trails into the caldera have been closed down. There are large signs at the entrance to the Park, warning, essentially, don't drink the water and don't breathe the air.

As for the water quality, that's never been drinkable on the side of the mountain. I drive down t0 Mountain View, a town at the 2,000 foot level, to fill up a couple of 20-gallon potable water jugs about twice a week. Seaglass and I are in a lovely house at the 4,000-plus level, which is your basic crest of the mountain, and the water that comes out of the tap is fine for washing one's clothes, the dishes and one's own bod', but certainly not to be ingested.

Anyway, that's probably more than you wanted to know about my whereabouts. But, if I've left anything out, feel free to ask about it. Also, feel free to comment.

Aloha, y'all!