Thanksgiving Aloha

There was an awesome view of the sunset over Pearl Harbor as we gathered at a friend's house for our First Thanksgiving in Hawaii. Is there anything to compare with the red ball of the sun dipping down into a bay? The sky rolls out in color, the mountains loom at the edge of the water, and the ocean mirrors it all. When the sun disappeared, the first Christmas lights glowed red and green in little gatherings along winding streets. Our First Thanksgiving will quickly become our First Christmas. It is a fact that whatever it is, one does it for the First Time only once.

After that, it should come more easily, right?

So there we were, DH and I, at our First social gathering with Strangers. We met Aunty B, Uncle K, Mom, Grandma and the cousins and their little boy. Of course, I forgot everyone's name just as soon as it went in one ear. I was too nervous to remember anyone except Mom and Cousin K until Aunty J came with the turkey and Uncle M started to talk about cats. That kept us entertained until the cook called us all in for eats.

Just like on the mainland, there were lots of eats: turkey, Aunty B's stuffing, gravy, three kinds of veggies, two kinds of salad, cranberry sauce, ribs, rice, and two choices of bread. For dessert: jello mold from Grandma's recipe, pumpkin pie and adzuki bean shortbread squares. Okay, maybe that last wasn't quite like the mainland, but that's okay. Every family has its own traditions. At my house we had often had matzo ball soup with our turkey and at DH's there was sauerkraut and sweet potatoe pie.

While we were eating, we were kept entertained by a marathon showing of a young couple with twins and sextuplets. The family all follow the show, so the commentary was even more entertaining than what was going on on the tube.

"She's a neat freak. Look, look, she won't let them get dirty."
"Of course the twins are bratty. They've never gotten enough attention since the sextuplets came."
"They must be paying that very good friend. Why else would someone come over and fold laundry every week?"

The show, the food and the conversation kept us out much later than our usual time, but it was easy to stay and be social. And that's a First, in and of itself! Eventually, we packed up our share of leftovers and rolled on home to our little cottage without the sunset view, but all in all, it was a pretty darn good First. Sometimes, new is a good thing.

Here's hoping we all had Happy Thanksgivings and lots of leftovers!

Christmas in July

I know, I shouldn't be complaining about the weather, but it just doesn't feel like Christmas is coming, even though one of the local radio stations is already playing all Christmas all the time. How can we sing about Frosty the snowman and frightful outside weather when the temperature is 75?

My mind is having trouble getting the message. I'm used to external clues, like changing leaves and crisp morning air. I'm thrilled that it's finally chilly enough to wear long sleeves and disappointed when I need to peel down for the 80 degree afternoon. We are starting to get a lot more rain, just like November in New England, but that just makes the afternoons muggier. I want ice and slippery sidewalks and scraping the windshield in the morning. You can't pacify me with rainbows and waterfalls during the morning commute. It's just not right for the weather to be so beautiful! I want gray skies, naked trees and bone-deep shivering that won't warm up without hot chocolate and marshmallows.

Okay, so I'll have to remember that Christmas is a state of mind and embrace the incongruities of fake pine boughs and plastic snowmen next to orchids in the supermarket. There is one thing that helps me to adjust. A few years ago I visited Maui and saw an incredible red hedge running along the boundary of a big estate of some sort. When I got closer I realized that it was poinsettia bushes, about six feet tall, brilliant crimson and stretching out almost as far as I could see. Now that's looking like Christmas and is something that you'll never see in New England or Maryland!

Not for the directionally challenged

Every region has its quirks that challenge the newcomer to find his or her way around. In New York City you have to learn the difference between uptown and downtown. In the Midwest, you have to know which way is north-south-east-west from where you are standing. In Hawaii, you have to know the difference between mauka and makai. These are actually the only two directions that you need- mauka means inland and makai means toward the sea. After all, once you go inland far enough, you are heading back toward the sea again. Those were the first words I looked up in my brand new Hawaiian language dictionary, but nothing will help with the street names.

If you spend any time in Waikiki, which is just another name for downtown Honolulu, you might find yourself winding through the streets looking for the turn on Kaiulani from Kalakaua,or was it Kanekapolei or Kaneloa or Kealohilani? You should have seen us trying to navigate during the first few weeks that we got here! We could never actually sound out the street names in time to make the turn.

"It's K-A-L-A yes, yes, yes, turn here!... Oh no. This is Kalaimoku not Kalakaua."

Try figuring that out in the 10 seconds before you've either missed the turn or made the wrong one, and of course in a city, everything is one way, the wrong way and the printing is extra small on the street signs to get all those letters in.

It gets even better in the residential areas where the streets in an area are often named alike - Uluhala, Uluhaku, Ulueo, Ulupii, Ulupuni, Uluhao, Ulualana, and Uluamahi. These are streets in one neighborhood that sits near the Hawaii Youth Correctional Facility, off the Kalanianole Highway. Ulu means to grow, so maybe these street names are meant to encourage maturity. I'm not sure it's working. Me, I just get dizzy.

Not to give you the wrong impression, of course. There are also streets like Bishop, King, Queen and Duke, or Dole, Young and Ward. When I spot those street names in list of turns I get from an online driving direction site, I have to admit heaving a sigh of relief. At least I can hope to recognize the turn before traffic takes me past.

I've been told it takes three years before you can actually pronounce the street names while driving. I believe it.

Changes so soon?

Hi all,
If you've been following my blog, you may have noticed the name change. I want to thank M, my sister-once-removed, for the suggestion. Even though I may sometimes digress, I promise to get back on target.

Hawaii's favorite son

For those of you who don't know it, Barak Obama spent many years in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu, as a matter of fact. I wouldn't exactly call him a man from a small town, since Honolulu houses the vast majority of people who live on the island, but he has certainly done his home town proud. To the folks here, he is a local, and they take their local heroes very very seriously. Since the vast majority of local heroes are college and professional athletes, President-elect Obama is a SUPER big fish in this pond! Of course, the people in Chicago probably think he comes from Illinois, but what do they know? That's the advantage of having grown up in a series of places. Everyone wants to claim you as theirs when you get famous.

On two separate occasions, DH and I had our brushes with history in the making. Back in August, we were standing in a parking lot on Kamehameha Highway in the early evening. A dozen or more motorcycle police roared by in a steady stream, followed by a white SUV and more motorcycles. Lights were flashing, patrol cars had blocked off the road and everyone had stopped to watch. The folks in the parking lot all agreed, that while it might not actually be Obama, it was certainly practice for his upcoming visit. Then last week, we were at home and heard a phalanx of military helicopters overhead. It was the day Obama was scheduled to arrive to see his grandmother. We realized that it was an airborne motorcade taking him from the nearby military base, downtown to his family.

Okay, so our brushes with fame may have been fleeting, and indeed probably imaginary, but what the heck. How close have you been lately to a presidential candidate? Since we've completely blown any opportunity to attend the inauguration by moving halfway around the planet instead of staying where we were- less than 60 miles from DC-we have to take our comfort somehow.