K tomu ako to tady naozaj vyzera sa mozno dostanem ked' mi niekto vysvetli ako tu naskladat' fotosy.
Toto co nasleduje su moje prve dojmy z augusta asi tyzden po prilete. Odvtedy usa veci trocha utriasli. A tiez sa mierne ochladilo.
Je tu vsak jeden hacik. Je to cele v anglictine. Don't freak out ... Be brave ... Use condoms dictionary ...
I believe in you ...
What would you do with your last $20?
There are many answers to this question. There are many questions to this question. And each of them can define you as a person, explain your life, experience can be reconstructed, your personality identified and rebuild like a new Hitler from his hair carrying unique DNA code.
Well, you can buy a new rice cooker, for starters. If it’s on sale. But you wouldn’t have a rice to cook in it. Maybe just for a pleasure and admiration of its revolutionary technology. Or you can buy a nice rice dinner for two sticks and a candlelight sort of thing. And maybe your answer doesn’t involve rice in any obvious way. That’s OK. You can upgrade your Yahoo account or take on yearly discounted subscription to Fitness magazine. There is a universe of things you can do with your last $20. You can come to Hawaii, for example.
Wrong, wrong you dum-dum.
Thoughts along these lines whirled through my head when I stepped down from DC-10 on its daily route San Francisco – Honolulu. And that it is too hot. And too humid. Too humid for this kind of fabric. United Colors of Slovakia. Should have checked it before you stupid. Would have never left cool coastal beloved foamed ethereal northern California. Should have, would have, and could have.
When I walked down the corridor with more Asian faces I saw in a week since I set on my journey, I totally failed to realize how much distance I managed to put between me and whatever place I could possibly identify as a home. 12 hours difference. You don’t even have to move your watch. Nothing makes difference any more. I passed by palm trees and flowers with strange aroma which leaves you in doubt whether to slow down, take a nose picture or throw up. Day was hot, very hot and I got sweaty and weary hauling all my worthless possessions through local buses until I made a point. Since I’ve blessed this land with my presence it always reached 90 degrees. In a rather hysterical attempt I made several people to promise me that it will get cooler soon. It didn’t help.
The Hawaiian archipelago boosts with 137 islands, islets, and atolls strung like lost Chinese paratroopers across the Tropic of Cancer in a 1,523-mile line languidly draped from Kure at latitude 28.5 degrees north to the island of Hawaii (a.k.a. Big Island) at 19 degrees south. The eight main Islands (eight strips on Hawaii’s flag) lie in the tropics and share the same latitude as Mexico City, Havana and Hong Kong. Hawaii is said to be the most isolated place on this planet. It takes 6 hours on a jet to get to San Francisco and if you fly west you reach Japan in 7 hours. It is the most diverse state of the US. There is no racial majority here, 33% is white, 17 Japanese, 16 those of partial Hawaiian ancestry, 14 Filipinos. There is 1.2 million people living in Hawaii with more than 75% on the island of Oahu, which is the only island with something they call a bus service.
I live here too. I live in the part of the Honolulu called Waikiki, in the middle of 7 billion dollars a year tourist industry machine. I hear it growling, grunting every morning as if it was just waking up. But in fact it never sleeps. In the night temperature never falls under 75 (23C) and you can comfortably surf without any clothes on as Hawaiian royalty did hundreds years ago. But I wouldn’t advise you to do that here anymore. I got near-arrested the first night for laying on the beach and few days later found a $15 parking ticket stuck between the spokes of my bicycle. I hope to have it-framed one day.
There are many more memorable things about Hawaii which defines my experience here. Lovemaking on the tip of an outrigger canoe parked right between beach and police station, feel of soft sand between my fingers, evil company secretary and smell of my sweaty clothes when I bike up the hill to the place of my employnment, surfing in the sunset framed by beautiful Diamond Head crater, sharp pineapple taste of despair, playing soccer in the rain and then under the rainbow, monk from Bhutan who told me that as long as he still remembers who he is, my stolen bag with everything of value I had in it, my roommate scrubbing his face and this list wouldn’t be complete without nice healthy squash of cockroaches with sizes of credit cards.
I sleep on a mattress which I found on the street and every night I regret I didn’t leave it there.
Sometimes I dream about grey winter mornings with life slowly crawling under the heavy blankets, two cups with brushes in the clean bathroom, and touch of a woman’s hand. But more and more often I wake up sweaty with empty heavy head to the unforgiving sounds of car alarms.
What would you do if you come to Honolulu?
One time I asked the same or rather similar question when I was living in San Francisco. One girl told me that she would definitely visit City lights bookstore and thus started an inexplicable string of events which at some point involved 4 monks, 3 games of Chinese chess, 1 cable car and finally led to 2 heavy punches aimed at my head from a black boxer standing in the bus booth on the Market Street (downtown San Francisco).
I think I could be happy here. As long as I remember who I am.
I saw a good Snoopy joke yesterday. Dear IRS, ... (pause) ... I am writing to you to cancel my
subscription. Please remove my name from your mailing list.
I could say that I could be happy here as long as I remember who I am ... or something like that. But I am so tired ... soo tired ...
Dear God, ... (pause) ... I am writing to you to cancel my subscription. Please remove my name from your mailing list.
Or something like that.
We are all fallable dear Emma.
