It's been a little over a week since we arrived in Hawaii, a very
full week of moving into an apartment, buying an electric car, and
spending hundreds of dollars on a car seat, stroller, high chair,
fans, household goods, and groceries. Our internet was just set up
today and our shipment of all our earthly possessions, including our new IKEA-bought furniture, should arrive within two weeks. For now,
we're managing with borrowed air mattresses, TV tray tables, folding
chairs, and kitchenware. Our “couch” is a lovely spot on the
floor. It's not the epitome of comfort, but it works. After traveling
and living at other people's houses for a month, it's at least nice
to have our own place.
 |
| Our new apartment complex. Look at those mountains! |
And besides, we're still marveling at how big our apartment is.
Two whole bedrooms and bathrooms! A full-size refrigerator! A real
oven and a stove with
four burners! Four closets and miles of
shelf space! Perhaps this place would feel small by American
standards, but having come from Paris, where we had a 375 square foot (35 sq m) one bedroom apartment, this place seems huge to us. What a luxury.
 |
| A magnificent old tree |
Furthermore, every window in our apartment has an incredible view.
We live in a valley that's nestled between breathtakingly wild and
imposing mountains with brilliantly green tropical plants covering
the hillsides. There are beautiful palm trees outside our door. In
the Manoa valley, the sun shines brightly every day, with brief
intervals of “pineapple rain”— a fine mist that sprinkles down
even when there are no clouds overhead. It's currently the height of
summer, so it's very warm and quite humid, with unfortunately no air
conditioning in the apartment, but a perpetual strong breeze flows
through the valley and alleviates a bit of the heat. When we first
drove through Manoa, heading deeper into the valley, I kept saying,
“Wow! Those mountains are incredible! Look at the clouds—they're
amazing! What a fantastic tree that is!” And every time I step
outside, I still continue to marvel at the awesome natural beauty of
this island. It's a privilege to live in the shadow of these
mountains.
Although we haven't had too much time to explore yet, we did at
least manage to get to the beach this week. It was the baby's first
experience with sand, and she enjoyed letting it sift through her
fingers and toes. We then waded out into the pleasantly warm water
and saw schools of small shiny fish darting back and forth. The beach
wasn't overly crowded. There were a few kids swimming and several
people standing and balancing on surf boards, propelling themselves
with a paddle. Para-sailing was happening in the distance. It was
like a photo from a travel magazine, advertising an island paradise.
We have to keep reminding ourselves that we live here. Walking
along a picturesque beach, driving up a mountain into the jungle,
seeing colorful and unfamiliar birds at our feet; it all feels very
fantastical and unreal. This is where people honeymoon or go for a
getaway—we couldn't possibly live here, could we? You might think
that having been in Paris for two years, we would be used to the idea
of living in an amazing tourist destination. But Hawaii is completely
different. In Paris, humans have bent nature to their will. Trees and
shrubs are manicured to perfection. Architecture displays the marvels
of human capabilities. The public transit system is a feat of
engineering. It's a very
peopled
city, Paris. But in Hawaii, I have the distinct feeling that nature
is merely allowing us to stay here for awhile. Humans and their work
are not the main attraction, nor are we really in control of our
surroundings, despite our best efforts. So it is with a wholly
different feeling of awe and humility that I will explore our new
island home. It may only be about forty-five miles to the
other side of the island, but there's a lifetime's worth of new
experiences waiting for us here.
It's been a little over a week since we arrived in Hawaii, a very
full week of moving into an apartment, buying an electric car, and
spending hundreds of dollars on a car seat, stroller, high chair,
fans, household goods, and groceries. Our internet was just set up
today and our shipment of all our earthly possessions, including our new IKEA-bought furniture, should arrive within two weeks. For now,
we're managing with borrowed air mattresses, TV tray tables, folding
chairs, and kitchenware. Our “couch” is a lovely spot on the
floor. It's not the epitome of comfort, but it works. After traveling
and living at other people's houses for a month, it's at least nice
to have our own place.
Although we haven't had too much time to explore yet, we did at
least manage to get to the beach this week. It was the baby's first
experience with sand, and she enjoyed letting it sift through her
fingers and toes. We then waded out into the pleasantly warm water
and saw schools of small shiny fish darting back and forth. The beach
wasn't overly crowded. There were a few kids swimming and several
people standing and balancing on surf boards, propelling themselves
with a paddle. Para-sailing was happening in the distance. It was
like a photo from a travel magazine, advertising an island paradise.
We have to keep reminding ourselves that we live here. Walking
along a picturesque beach, driving up a mountain into the jungle,
seeing colorful and unfamiliar birds at our feet; it all feels very
fantastical and unreal. This is where people honeymoon or go for a
getaway—we couldn't possibly live here, could we? You might think
that having been in Paris for two years, we would be used to the idea
of living in an amazing tourist destination. But Hawaii is completely
different. In Paris, humans have bent nature to their will. Trees and
shrubs are manicured to perfection. Architecture displays the marvels
of human capabilities. The public transit system is a feat of
engineering. It's a very peopled
city, Paris. But in Hawaii, I have the distinct feeling that nature
is merely allowing us to stay here for awhile. Humans and their work
are not the main attraction, nor are we really in control of our
surroundings, despite our best efforts. So it is with a wholly
different feeling of awe and humility that I will explore our new
island home. It may only be about forty-five miles to the
other side of the island, but there's a lifetime's worth of new
experiences waiting for us here.
