Day One

Day One:

So here I am on small nine-seater propeller plane all by myself, except for the captain, of course, who just so happens to be a friend of a friend and is about to give me an all exclusive ride of my life.

As the plane reaches cruising altitude he nods to the co-pilot chair upfront and asks "You wanna sit up front?" Do I ever!

I crawl up into the small compartment where I do my best to not touch anything out of fear that I might, with one wrong move, send us hurdling to our death.
After I get buckled in the Captain, or as I now call him "my new best-friend," shoots me a smile and says "You wanna see something cool?" and he swoops the plane down toward the sea with amazing force that I almost pea my pants. Descending motion ceases, my pea safely stored, stomach compartment a little worse for wear but all worth the view as we fly by the tallest sea cliffs in the world; the north shore of Molokai. Waterfalls at eye level cascade down the green rocky faces, looking magical and otherworldly as well as forceful and foreboding.

We pass by an outcropping of mountain where he points behind to a small house buried within the cliffs. "Separatist's" he informs me "There are no roads to their house. Everything has to come in by boat or helicopter. They mainly life off the land with as little contact with outsiders as possible."

Talk about seclusion, I think to myself. Now that is really living at the edge of the earth. I wonder who they are. What do they eat? Do they make helicopter trips to Costco to stock up on toilet paper and soy milk or do they grow everything there? Can they offer me tips on my future garden endeavors or would they rather kill me?

As I muse on my own future relationships with the islands inhabitants we go over Kalauapapa or better known as The Colony. A beautiful peninsula with a painful history. This is where we forcibly placed islanders with Hansen's Disease, more commonly known as Leprosy, and in the process tore apart lovers, families and generations. Some of the patient's still live there. I get goose bumps as we fly over this small world that held so much suffering.

We rise up and up and curve around to the west coast of Molokai. I see the long 3 mile stretch of Papahaku beach, (the longest beach in all of Hawaii) and I strain my eyes to see my future residence buried in the Kiawe (Key-ah-vay) trees near the south end of the coast. I am delighted to think that I will once again have the beach to the west of me. Living on the north side of Maui I could never quite convince myself that the beach was on the North and I would continue to look for sunsets in vain. Too many years of being a west coast mainlander is hard to shake. Relieved I am to have the ocean, the sand and the sunsets safely restored to their proper orientation.

As I get off the plane I thank my pilot friend profusely. I could never imagine a better welcome to my new home. An older couple stop me and ask if I am here for a visit. "I just moved here," I said realizing the impact of that statement. They mumble something about it being a "nice place" as they eye me curiously.

At the rental car kiosk I wanted to sing at the top of my lungs "I have arrived!!!" but I decided it wouldn't be the best first impression. I have full understanding that my presence on this island is not met with my same amount of enthusiasm. We have all seen the bumper stickers; "Welcome to Hawaii, NOW GO HOME!" On Molokai they seem to be more common than not. I don't take it personal but I will not ignore it either. I decide it is best to stay as invisible as I can for the next few months and hope that when they all start to notice my presence it will be like noticing a freckle on your hand that you are kinda used to. "Hey when did that get there?"

They brought me out one red car. It might as well have said "I am a Haole Tourist" in bright neon lights. But it drove fast and smooth so I wasn't complaining. I made my way into town. The little streets that make Kauanakakai are barren, a few shops and a lot of empty space. At first it appears like some tidal wave has just washed everything away but when you stop and take another look things start to unfurl like the "Natural Foods" store at the end of the block, the "Molokai Fish and Dive" or my favorite "Molokai Wine and Spirits." Many folks will leave this town not able to see any of the beauty that it holds and I think that’s how the locals want to keep it.

This is the thing about Molokai; it is as if the island and its inhabitants have weaved a magical spell on the place to make it appear like it is falling apart in order to avoid big developers and mass tourists coming in and reaking havoc. It is a secret place. It holds its beauty in strange and hard to get places. It keeps itself shrouded in a veil so that only those with the right eyes can see what it has to offer.

When I look at Molokai I can't help but see all the pot holes and the broken down hotels and the vacant store fronts. I can't help but hear the loss of dreams and hopes of so many who had plans to make Molokai the next Maui, of those who wanted to share the secret beauty with the rest of the world. But I can't help but feel the energy in the land; the excitement of the rocks, the sand and the Kiawe trees as they grow across the abandoned golf courses and scour the trails with thick thorns, joyous in their reconnection with the land and in their ability to take back what is theirs.

With my car loaded up with groceries I drive the main road back west to my new home. Everything I see amazes me; the trailer with animal paintings on it that hosts a humane society, an agricultural co-op, a papaya farm. Things become more interesting to you when you realize you live there.

And I do… live here now.
I live on Molokai.
How did this happen?
How did I come to live in this tropical paradise?
And how will I survive? I know no one and know less about how to care for a vacation home and tropical garden not to mention a papaya farm of my own.

Driving down the driveway to Miller Molokai (the home I will now be caretaking) the green foliage envelopes me. Standing under the Bee Still trees and the boughanviella I begin to get the feeling that the plants are threatening me to take a chance.

Oh strange place, where the wild things are.
Will I tame you or am I the one to be tamed?