Travelog Rediscovered...

TREE OF LIFE

Cleaning out 12 years of stuff I have accumulated living here, I came across an old travelog diary I kept when I backpacked New Zealand in 2003.

They say that we have the answers to all of the challenges we face already inside of us...we just need to ask the right questions. Interesting thing is, I'm still asking myself the same questions six years later...and am not entirely sure how I feel about that.

Had I become that comfortably numb? Am I just a lost soul swimming in a fishbowl - year after year [God Bless Pink Floyd] - living the same year over and over again, like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day??

Early in my mortgage career I had often questioned if "10 years experience" on my competition's business card meant the same year over and over 10 times, or if my competition was taking the necessary steps to learn, grow, innovate, and remain at the leading edge of their field.

Now I cringe at the thought of how I have spent the last 12 years learning about real estate & finance, and building for the future...at the expense of what lay right before me. About how I created an "Instant Family" for myself at the tender age of 20, wanting so badly to provide more options for my family and stepson that I worked countless hours for the future I dreamed about at the expense of being present with what was right in front of me, what I cared about most...

....and that being said, I would take none of it back.

Friday Night Beer Races

FRIDAY NIGHT IS SAILING NIGHT

For 30 years, Pete Richards and Jim Schmit have been sailing in the Friday night races from Honolulu Yacht Club. They've been nice enough to let me tag along for the last few races, and have even invited me to keep coming back to learn more [God help them!].....

Our motley crew assembles at the dock by 5 o'clock every Friday, emerging from the craziness of week's-end-Waikiki traffic to see who has shown up to sail with us this week and get the boat out of harbor to jostle for the best starting position when the race-start horn blows at 5:30. This week Antoinella [from Italy], Jenny [Local/California girl], and Chad'n'Eric [two North Carolina boys who've never sailed before] are sailing with us.

I'm still stuck in traffic at 5:05 and get a call from Jim: "How long?" ...so, I'm running and jumping into the boat as it pulls away from the dock; it's racing time.

Pete and Jim both own their own boats, and have been sailing for a long time. We're on Pete's boat, Harvey today, and the engine cuts out as we enter the channel. Jim jumps up and starts hoisting the mainsail, it's my job to make sure the sail doesn't jam on its way up - old boats have lots of character...

There is a good wind blowing and we are under way quickly, skipping along the subsiding southerly swell. The easy banter between the two skippers soon starts, and I chuckle and marvel at the artful way they trade insults while navigating, and debating race tactics. This is one of my favorite things about sailing on Fridays.

We time the start perfectly, counting down and crossing the Committee Boat right as they blow the starting horn, and the streaming debate is now interspersed with yacht club gossip as Jenny joins the conversation. Our arch-rivals, Addiction, are in a dispute with Pete about a minor altercation a few races back [we t-boned them], and are threatening legal action. Pete shrugs it off: "We were' racin'."

We spot Addiction ahead of us and start chasing. They are flying their spinnaker, which we do not have, yet we are slowly gaining ground. The banter gets more focussed, and we make a couple strategic tacks as we near the bouy.

The sun is setting as we round the mark, and if there was a green flash we've missed it in all the action... Addiction has fouled her spinnaker as she rounded the mark, and we hear shouts coming from her deck. We all grin broadly as we recognize our opportunity to take the race, set our jaws, trim the sails, and start bearing down on her.

Pete takes us above our rival and pins her on the outside, taking away her good wind and slingshotting past her. We are flying now, slicing through the swells and coming home to the finish marker with the afterglow of the sunset behind us. We've been on the water for an hour now and it feels like the party is just getting started as we leave them in the dust and cross the line.

Back at the club, Pete buys us a round and there are smiles all around.

Good race.

1. ADDICTION OF PORT BOW

2. GOT 'EM PINNED

3. BYE BYE!

Angry Woebots

WOEBOTS UNITE

I bought a painting in 2003 at a live art show in Chinatown called First Thursdays, when it was held at Studio One on King st in Chinatown back in the day serving beer out of giant fisherman's coolers and makeshit plywood bars....it has since grown into the largest registered Poetry Slam in the world and moved from Studio One to the Hawaiian Hut at Ala Moana Hotel.

The poets were passionate, some angry, some funny, and they all had something to say...the blank canvas was crafted  by the emotions  of each poet's words, and by the end of the  night an artistic phenomenon was born.

"BREAK YOUR REMOTE" calls to me across the room, me who has not owned a TV set for six years now, who hasbecome his father despite his furious efforts not to [television is EVIL and will rot your brain]...and I find myself purchasing my first piece of art.  

Two days later, the artist [Aaron Martin] rolls up to my house with the painting sticking out the back of  his mini-truck bed, all smiles and stoked that someone had actually purchased his work - his first sale.  

From a recent cover story article in the Honolulu MidWeek:

"...his trademark black-and-white panda paintings began as an accident.  “Originally I was going to paint a grizzly bear, but a friend of mine forgot to bring the paint I was waiting for,” says Martin, noting the only colors he had with him in large quantities were black and white. With the room packed and the pressure mounting, Martin had to make do with what he had.  “I was standing on the side, people were just staring at me, so I decided to change (the design) and make it into a panda.”

I am in awe of this man.  Here he is, pursuing his passion, making a good living doing what he loves....painting.    His passion has become his business.  In doing what he loves, he is able to make a good living.  I have looked him up today to help me sell my painting.

He says I look familiar, and when I tell him that I am the guys who bought his first painting, he is all smiles and stoked again, shakes by hand, gives me a hug and tells me that it is good to see me again.  Yes, his assistant did get the email I send him about 3 months ago explaining that I had hit upon hard times and don't want to sell the painting but need the cash....they have just been too busy tearing up the arts scene around the world to get back to me.  He tells me yes, of course he will help me out to sell my painting on his blog, it is THE original painting, and he tells me that I should go travel the world.

I am taken back to my drunken-stoned days in art school where the most important things we were concerned with were things like light & shadow, composition, and expressing form, where my self-induced bluriness lent me a clarity devoid of logic & reason.  Of couse, it makes sense to stop my studies, leave everything behind, and fly off to Hawaii to travel the world.

And then....I remember the conscious decision I made to take the path of entrepreneur rather than starving artist, and I feel again the frustration of having ignored my artistic impulses for the last 12 years.  I am standing before myself in a parallel dimension, a me who took the path of starving artist and "made it", because he is following his passion rather than finding things in his work to be passionate about.

And here I am 12 years later, leaving everything behind, flying off to see the world.....haunted by a quote I just read on a friend's blog:

I want to live like I travel, not wait until I travel to live.

And the doubt and the questions creep back in to my head....am I doing the right thing?  Won't I be losing momentum in my career?  Will I ever come back?  Am I running away or am I indeed taking a much-needed breather? blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah 

They say that fear [my mind] is the voice in your head that screams loudest, a great guide but a poor master.  They say that inution [my soul] is a soft, gentle, knowing whisper that is there when you quiet the incessant chatter.  

The quiet thoughts of travel have been whispered to me for the last twelve years of my life...

I will listen to my soul. 

Sudoku

POINT PANIC ON THE WAY TO ALOHA TOWER

Meanwhile, my brother James is now addicted to Sudoku!!  We met some friends for drinks at Aloha Tower last night and I drove us in his car so that he could solve more Sudokus on the way over.....and on the way back.  The Tower was dead so we left early so that he could solve more Sudokus!

MUST....SOLVE.....SUDOKU....

Sunset with Pootie Tang

THE DOG PONDERS LIFE'S QUESTIONS

Pootie Tang is not much of a dog in the grand scheme of things....he weighs in just under 5 lbs...though what he lacks in size he makes up for with mounds of personality.

One of my favorite things to do of late has been to drive around the corner to Diamond Head Lookout and watch the sunset with the dog.

There is a small public garden that most visitors drive right past on their way to the lookouts which is the perfect place to watch the setting sun.  Surfers ride the rolling swells below, passenger jets make their final approach to Honolulu overhead, couples cuddle and an endless procession of joggers surround this tiny garden oasis....while the sun puts on its show each day, quietly and majestically slipping below the horizon. 

Another one of the simple pleasures of this job...

   

SUNSET OFF DIAMOND HEAD

Bestest Neighborhood Ever

DIAMOND HEAD IN THE MORNING FROM MY BEDROOM

I'm really going to miss this neighborhoood.

Living "in the shadow" of Leahi, the Hawaiian name for Waikiki's world famous landmark most people know as Diamond Head Crater, has been so much fun...  

Each morning I am greeted by the many moods of Leahi through my bedroom window; this time of year the rains awakens the slopes into lush shades of green.  Hiking the inside of the crater 3 mornings/week was a great workout while I had the habit...then breakfast down the road at Boggarts cafe, voted "Honolulu's Best Breakfast Sandwich" by Honolulu Weekly readers [also home to the cutest waitresses this side of Waikiki]....

Technically, this neighborhood is called Kaimuki [pronounced kai-moo-kee], though it is bordered by the affluent neighborhoods of Kahala, Diamond Head, and Waikiki's Gold Coast...which is just fine by the property owners becuase it means we enjoy living in an affluent neighborhhod - without the affluent property taxes [shhhh nobody tell the City & County....].

The charm of the area lies in the vibe of the people who live here - a combination of college students, adventurous travellers, old local families, affluent Honolulu executives, wealthy trophy-home owners, and the international jet-set.  On my block live 3 generations of a hawaiian family [right next door]; a retired local-Japanese man, his wife, and their tenants [hospitality workers in Waikiki who shower at 2am like clockwork]; "Crazy Ivan" the German software engineer, his Japanese girlfriend, and their college student roomates;  the bright yin-yang, dog-loving couple who live in a cute & cozy two-bedroom cottage [he teaches at the community college one block away, she's an up & coming lawyer at one of Honolulu's leading firms] and their furry family: Daisy, Noodles, and their lazy fat cat Snowball; and another young couple who own the Le Guginol, the best french food in Honolulu [he's a local boy trained in France].

My more disciplined neighbors can be seen jogging around the crater and community college campus in the mornings and evenings like clockwork...today I got some exercise and walked 2 blocks to Rueger Market for a $6 pork laulau plate lunch [ono-licious!!].  This little store is a local secret, and has been making killer hawaiian food [especially the ahi pok'e] from this neighborhood corner store for over two generations!

On Saturday I slept in and missed the famer's market, which has fresh organic produce, delicious kona coffee [from the farmer himself], grilled Kahuku corn-on-the cob from the North Shore, fried green tomaotes, fresh pizza, free range beef.....sooooo many goodies; I'll have to dedicate a post soley to it.

Last night my brother and I slurped up delicious Tenkaipen Ramen on Kapahulu Ave.  The owner has his own TV show called Ultimate Japan, which took us on tours of "behind-the-scenes" Japan as we dined.  The chicken broth I ordered has been simmering for 48 hours....thick, creamy, full of flavor.....OISHSI!!

I'm really going to miss this neighborhoood!

SUNSET FROM POKOLE ST

Judd Trail and Jackass Ginger!

Wow!

I've driven past this trailhead many times while taking the scenic route going over the Pali, and had never gotten around to actually hiking it...

Just 10 minutes' drive from downtown Honolulu (if the traffic gods are smiling), thousands of cars whiz past this piece of paradise every day without a second thought.  

We turn off the Pali Highway to the beautiful Old Pali Road, which winds through lush ginger and ferns, the dappled sunlight streaming through banyan tree canopy.  The homes back here are nestled in the valley, peeking through the vegetation.  I find my future retirement village as we  pass a townhouse development that is perched in the trees, seemingly a part of the forest.  All suburbs should look like this; humans living in harmony with nature...

The hike starts in a eucalyptus grove growing on the banks of Nuuanu Stream, the ducks shaking their tails at us as we get out of the car.  We hop across the small rapids and enter the bamboo forest, which feels like we are walking in a kung-fu movie.  The bamboo is thick and tints the air an eeire green; the bamboo leaves rotting on the forest floor muffling our footsteps like a soggy carpet.

Soon we emerge into the Norfolk Pine forest, which is equally muted, save for the soft background gurgling of the stream.  The pines tower at least 100 feet above, and the sunlight here streams down in piercing shafts rather than the soothing dapple of the banyans. 

We come to the turnoff to the Nuuanu Trail, which heads up the mountainside to the valley ridges, think about following it up, and decide to save it for another day.  Its a 4-hour hike over the mountain to the neighboring Manoa Valley; today we are out for a quick stroll.  

Curious little voices float over the rise, and a Mama Human and her two little 'uns crest the hill, out on a stroll of their own.  Judd Trail is a 45-minute loop with adult legs, and we are impressed with the way these two little billy goats pick their way through the slippery trail!

The trail winds its way back to the river, and we pick our way through the latticework of roots that hold the hillside together down to Jackass Ginger Pool...a swimming hole fed by Nuuanu Stream via a 20 foot waterfall....niiiiice...... No swimming for us today though, the recent rains have made the waters unfriendly, so instead we sit on the rocks above the pool and soak in the sounds, smells, and sights.

*Sigh*....lucky we live Honolulu !!