when I was a kama'aina - a child of the land

I'm hitch-hiking with a couple of friends. Nothing to it. People always stop, and usually they have a pickup truck and you get to ride in the back, wind in your hair, beautiful views over lava fields and sea, and a feeling of complete freedom.

Hawaii, I'm 23 and impossibly lucky.  I travel around most of the Big Island. Black lava fields and white beaches, green beaches, black beaches and normal sandy-coloured beaches. The fragrance of the lovely plumeria flower everywhere.

Also some lusher landscapes. The fairytale Waipio valley, with black sand and pretty waterfall, which you can only reach if you have a 4-wheel drive (we don't but hitch-hiking works here too). Sleeping under the stars on an active volcano - half the night it rains and I'm colder than I ever thought possible on a tropical island, but then the stars come out and it's all worth it. Seeing rainforests as well as eerie landscapes of lava-burned forests, lava tunnels, black lava deserts where rotten-smelling sulfur is hissing out of vents in the ground. Visiting a Hilton luxury resort just to pretend we're millionaires and marvel at its own little world with marble halls, dolphin pools and channel boats taking you wherever you want to go.

Spending a quiet weekend at somebody's house in the inland hills, where the nights are cool. It's a welcome respite from the constant summer heat by the coast. We cosy up indoors to watch movies and rest, and I get to ride a very old and charming Arabian thoroughbred horse.

So many new, American things. Breakfast on pancakes with maple syrup. Walking the air-conditioned aisles of Walmart and Costco - as a small-town European girl who has never seen supermarkets the size of cathedrals before. Tacos, and that shop that gives you a free seashell necklace just for walking through their front door. A local rodeo with real cowgirls. Coca-Cola of a dozen different flavours. McDonald's breakfast menu. Voicemail. Tipping, and that weird tax they add to everything. Drive-thrus. Late-night shopping. Frappés and frozen yogurt. The Americans - so sociable, so friendly.

So many Hawaiian things, too. The feeling of being on a tiny island in the vast Pacific. A mongoose crossing the road, a school of manta rays coming up to the surface by the pier. Giant turtles on the beach. A local family coming back from a spear-fishing trip and hauling a big, dead squid up on the beach - they let us have a look and we see it bleeding ink. The Kona Nightingales (a gang of wild donkeys). The sun in zenith. The warning signs for falling coconuts and deadly man-of-war jellyfish. Little girls doing the hula. Red-hot lava flowing into the sea under a full moon. Termites and the fumigation of buildings. Trying boogie-board surfing. The sound of tsunami sirens being tested. Guava nectar and shaved ice. Glorious and incredibly speedy, blink-and-you-miss-it sunsets. The awe-inspiring crater of Kilauea Caldera and the exhilaration of standing on the summit of an active volcano.

And my job in the Financial Services office where I get to introduce myself proudly as "Purchaser at the University of the Nations". I have no head for numbers and am mostly relegated to routine paperwork but I get to know people all over campus. My proudest moment is figuring out that the University had paid twice for the flag of Taiwan.

My hitch-hiking advances to motorcycles and even once a taxi (without paying). There is only one weird moment when a gentleman offers me 40 bucks if he can kiss my feet. I politely decline and get out of the car very fast.



(Pictures: gladtravel.com, aloha-hawaii.com)