— tapioca world tour

69

My gracious hosts have made the most of my last few days in Kona, despite my lack of energy resulting from food poisoning, or psychosymatic gastrointestinal problems, whatever. Yesterday C. and I went down to 69 (I don’t remember what it’s really called, but 69 refers to some aspect of the highway or mile marking) where the waves are calmer, to go swimming at sunset. It was rather awesome to float on soft waves for an hour. Made me forget my body entirely. (E., remember watching the clouds from the hill at the Arboretum in July? I noticed a spot on my retina, a black spot that followed my line of vision wherever I looked in the sky. It bothered me then, but you said I’d stop noticing after time. I did stop noticing — until now, lying face-up on the waves, watching the clouds again. It’s like having a ghost beside me all the time.)

After swimming, we climbed on these funky tree limbs while the sun set.

Then we took trippy photos with my slow-synch flash.

Babies are cool

Fast-forward to this morning. C. & G.’s nice Swedish neighbor came over, bringing her baby whom we’ve been playing with all week. She mirrored C.’s hand gestures with the concentrated effort most 5-month-olds don’t have. It was pretty cute. There are so many nice people here.

Later, we went to a sacred ground. Back in the day, if someone committed a crime, they could run for this place. If they made it without getting caught first, they’d be forgiven. If caught before reaching the sacred site, they’d probably be killed. Fun, eh? So there were lots of statues to the gods here, surrounded by hard black lava, palm trees and tidepools with black crabs that I had previously sworn were scorpions. We found a bench, on which people had placed offerings to the gods. Flowers, coconuts, palm leaves, etc.

The search for sea turtles

Next, and after much encouragement, I agreed to go snorkeling with G. — minus the snorkel. There were sea turtles in this water, and we were determined to find them. We had to leap in the water over the coral reef, so as not to kill it. G. jumped first, then I jumped.

Swimming over coral reefs was just like those double spreads in National Geographic make it out to be: pretty awesome. Lots of black and yellow fish. It was like climbing into one of those fishtanks in the lobby of your local Chinese restaurant — only cooler, because just as the sun was about to set, G. spotted a baby sea turtle on the ocean bottom. We let it swim up for air, and G. swam over to pet it. I wasn’t as bold, content enough to watch the adorable thing swim around underwater, two feet from me.

The moral of the story is Hawaii is awesome, and my friends are cooler than most other people who exist. Amen.

The waves pounded my head down against the bottom of the sea. Sand got in between every strand of my hair, every inch of my body. It took three hours to get it out of the bikini. The ocean here is a lot more powerful than anything I’ve seen before; scared of being forcibly pulled out, or under, I opted instead to stand on the beach and shoot photos of the sunset. Here’s a short video clip you can watch to get a better idea of how it looked and sounded. The guys I went swimming with are the ones at the end, getting pounded by a wave.

We went up on the volcano — G. and I, to see his hippie pals who sleep in a tent and have been hired to clear off some rich peoples’ land. The boys had made mocassins and bows and arrows; I got to shoot a few, but they never made it to the target.

“I want to be a mountain man,” G. told C. later that night. “I want to make mocassins and build stone walls and shoot bows and arrows and sleep on the ground and not use soap.” I had to admit that, minus the hygiene factor, it’s a pretty alluring lifestyle. Especially if you’re living on the side of an active volcano.

It’s another gorgeous day, and I have effectively forgotten Boston. It’s for the best. The only thing to concentrate on here is the sun and the sea and how many scones and mangos I can eat in one day. I’ve met some really cool people out here, from all over the place. Tonight C. and James and I are going swimming in a calm area of the shore enclosed by rocks. I’ve decided to wear the same skirt every day. I can understand why people are drawn to this island: the trees and sun and ocean give a perspective you can’t get in snow and freezing air. Everything here is light; that’s how I want to be.

We walked down to the beach last night. The wave swells are huge. I know nothing about waves or ocean currents so I didn’t pretend to; I just watched the water crashing into black lava rocks and thought about how the ocean is so much bigger than us, and could crush us in an instant. The undertow is so strong we can’t really swim, except in tidepools. The current would pull us out indefinitely.

C. is beautiful and chill and awesome as ever, and I’m so grateful she has let me come here. Her man G. is a philosopher/artist/scientist/carpenter, but most of all, a thinker. We stayed up til 2a discussing the algorithms that create patterns on shells, which he likes to reproduce on canvas. He busted out his cellular anatomy textbook for seashells and tried explaining it to me. Today we looked at some giant black-and-yellow spider that can probably kill you if you mess with it. I’m very happy to be here.