do I feel comfortable being pale

I can sometimes recognize a tourist by their freshly golden skin, unblemished and milky; it makes me smile and think to myself that I'm so glad I don't have to soak up every single sun ray in a week's time.  Not that tourists are the only people who want to have tanned skin.  My daughter has been talking all weekend about how she needs to get a tan.  (She already has one but doesn't think it's dark enough.)

When I lived in Maryland and then in Illinois, I was always searching for the sun's rays to make their mark on me.  I haven't been able to tan for years, but instead only burn then fade back to translucent.  However, it didn't keep me from thinking about it and even feeling insecure by my pasty white skin.

I wondered how I would feel about that here with so many people tan or having naturally darker skin.  But surprisingly, it doesn't bother me at all.  I get mistaken for a tourist frequently, likely only partially because of my fair skin color.  But I don't feel judged; I sense protection of this place by locals, but not judgement.  That's something here that is so refreshing.

If you read any books about moving to the Big Island, one of the repeated themes you will read is that you are measured here by the person you are, not by the size of your home or type of car that you drive.  I definitely find that to be true-- even with the paleness of your skin.

It's really quite a beautiful amount of forgiveness that those with native Hawaiian ancestry have if you look back at the history of this island with the United States.  We have been horrific to this land, bombing it for our practice, sending toxic materials into the air, water, and ground here.  Historically, Hawaiian religion and culture were suppressed by missionaries and others.  Urbanization, including lack of regard for history found in archaeological findings when building roads, and disrespect of the land, now plague Oahu and this is spreading to the other main islands.   I will not pretend to know even a hint of what the United States has done to the people and the 'aina of Hawaii.  (I also cannot even begin to explain the ways in which we have hurt others who have been here for generations but are not of native Hawaiian descent.) This does not even mention what damange outsiders from other countries have done here.  

Yet, when I read about the history of Hawaii, especially after King Kamehameha united the islands, I get the sense that there was a general welcoming of outsiders.  At times I interpret that what occurred was an absorption of the knowledge and culture that these strange visitors brought with them.  In the meantime, though, the Hawaiian culture was being watered down and lost.  

In present times, when most think of Hawaii, the first thoughts are of bright prints, hibiscus, hula dancers, surfing, and laying on the beautiful beaches.  I was one of these people, even after visiting here for our honeymoon.  The true spirit of the islands did not call to me, even though as I conjure the memories of our trip here, I believe the spirits were trying.  

One incident that stands out occurred when Mike and I were approached by this lovely lady in Kauai on the second leg of our honeymoon.  She was quite talkative with a smidge of senility.  She told us stories of her childhood and of her brother previously serving as mayor of the town we were in.  We had met her at a heiau there and she welcomed us back to her home.  Because I was concerned people would see us going inside and possibly taking advantage of her kindness, we sat on the front porch.  She gave us a drink and told us more stories of the beautiful history of Kauai.

When we visited in 2007, our view of Hawaii widened.  When we returned home and reminisced those original feelings of a stereotypical Hawaii were replaced with lava, feral cats, petroglyphs, and wind (on South Point).  Now when I think of Hawaii, after having the gift of living here for over 5 months, I am still amidst superficial thoughts of beauty, but am also deepening my understanding slowly, as the island reveals itself to me.  I will never understand what it is like to be from this island and to have a connection so deeply rooted here, but I try to respect the history, and the varying cultures that these islands now hold.

Mike and I speak often of how accepted we feel by those whom we've had the pleasure of meeting.  We have read many accounts of people leaving Hawaii after a year or less because of perceived negativity towards the newcomers.  For us, though, I cannot explain the emotion that swells in our chests as we speak of our experiences here.  As I mentioned before, we sometimes feel residents of all cultures protect this island like they are a momma bird. As one example, workers can be leery when we ask if there's a kama'aina (local resident) discount as if we are trying to pull a fast one.  When we offer our placard of belonging, the Hawaii driver's license, then there is sometimes a noticeable relaxation of their shoulders.  

We accept these differences, and understand them.  In so many ways visitors and travelers from both historical times and recent times, have stolen from the land, taken advantage of those who are generous, and tried to swindle and trick those who live here.  We accept that we are ignorant to the many customs and cultures that are represented here, and are sure to be honest when we don't know or understand something.  (I can't tell you how many times I've asked what a certain food is-- and that's just the most basic exposure to these varied cultures.) So, if we receive a furtive look, we consider this cautious, not judgemental.

But even within this initial tentative approach by locals, there is so much aloha.  It seems as if everyone's guard quickly comes down and open arms are extended.  We are blessed to be accepted.

are there just as many types of rain as there are mangoes

The weather here is phenomenal.  This is a given.  Only, you just don't understand unless you live here, and even then, it will take a while.  With almost 5 months as a resident, I know that I still don't fully comprehend the beauty of this weather; it will take years.  But I have enjoyed the mangoes; there are so many types that we have a festival here to enjoy the orchestra of the flavors and variations of this delicious fruit.  Rain here can be just as delicious as those mangoes.

In the summer, it gets pretty hot where we live.  We are at 500 feet elevation and daily it gets to 89 degrees.  I believe we had a few days up to 92.  It is humid, but no worse than it ever was in Maryland or even Chicago.  There is rain, usually at night; and we have had one day being overcast at around 200 feet elevation where I work; my husband, Mike, says it has been overcast at our home for few more days than that since we've been here.  Sometimes we get a warm shower in the afternoon.  I needed an umbrella one day and didn't have it.

The rain varies here.  I remember reading once that in an Eskimo-Anuet language, there are different word suffixes to describe types of snow.  I used to try to determine the types of snow we got in Chicago; I counted at least 5 different types.  Here, the same idea is true of the rain.

The first rain I really paid attention to here felt like the soft hair brushing across my shoulders and tickling my back.  My clothing got a bit wet, but it was warm and gentle.  I couldn't see the individual droplets because they were so fine and long, laying gently all around me.

We have had a tricky rain.  The sidewalk and road told me that when I walked outdoors I would get very wet; puddles had developed in pukas (holes) in the ground and the drops bounced back upward in response to the force with which it dropped from high in the sky.  But when I walked outside, it giggled as it ran away from me to play hide and seek.  I thought I could feel it tap my shoulder but before I could look to see it, it was already gone.

There's a rain that only comes at night.  It sounds like rhythmic tapping against the roof in an ancient hula song, and the shimmer of the leaves within the trees.  It's firm and comforting like heartbeats of people standing close together.  It is not fierce nor angry; instead it is telling a story of how it balances the heat from this island of fire.  It cools the air as it falls.

I've also experienced a rain that was anxious; the wind usually does not pressure the globules sideways, but there was a threat of this.  It happened during hurricane season; it was a remnant that remained from an angry storm that had spared the island by breaking up as it hit our windward shores.  It arrived, a persistant traveler, tired after it had crossed over the mountains to reach our side as if it is searching for healing and forgiveness at a pu'uhonua.

A couple of times we heard the cousins to rain dancing upstairs too loudly, rumbling and tumbling around.  Thunder does not visit often, but during the hurricane season, it stopped here for a holiday.  Lightning was present, too, but distant and not brash or shocking.  With these came a steady rain of feet running across a wooden floor.  It was almost annoying but then it stopped, reminding me that it is temporary, here only for a short visit, so let it have some fun.

Once we had a moody rain.  It was very sad; it was the day it had been overcast since morning.  The clouds were shades of gray and were bubbling up like a cry in a baby's belly that finally yelled out in discontent in the tired hours of pau hana (after work).  The clouds opened their mouths and from the heaven's eyes came large, hard drops demanding attention.  The drops beat down hard on my shoulders and I was uncomfortably wet as I ventured to shelter.  The dogs didn't want to go outside and they laid in curls next to me on the couch as they waited for it to pass.  By evening the temper tantrum was over, not as bad as it had threatened to be, but there was an eerie quiet like parents who tip toe so as not to wake up the sleeping baby.

The other day we had a mist.  It tickled and was not quite cool, but it didn't need to be as the day was already a mild 82 degrees.  It just let us know that it was present and wanted to be little more than a wallflower at the party that day.

On Hilo side (windward and tropically wet), I have experienced the release of the cloud's full belly of rain, trying to control itself but pushing the weight of the air down onto me to help hold it up.  The cloud's release brings quick relief, however, and soon the air is cooler and lighter.  It's the quintessential "afternoon" rain that people talk about in the tropics.  On Kona side, though, rain is more subtle no matter what type it is.

I know there were different types of rain in Chicago, but I cannot remember any of them truly being refreshing.  Some would take the webbed, suffocating cotton of humidity from the air for a short time, but usually it returned too quickly.  I've certainly experienced the slicing freezing rain that nips at ears and cheeks while I wondered how it could be so cold and not be snowing.  There was a lot of angry rain, almost abusive in its ability to cut me at the knees as I tried to run from the cracks of lightning bursting from the sky all around me.  Very seldom did the rain welcome me to visit, implore me to enjoy its presence.  Instead it would drive me indoors, straight into my bed where I would keep cover for as long as it took for it to end.

However, here in Hawaii, I experience all things as a gift.  The rain has been one gift I've enjoyed each time it is offered here.  There has been damaging rain in other parts of this island since we've been here and on other islands as well.  But somehow we have found a nook on the side of a mountain that protects us like my mother covering me with her raincoat.  And so, this is another gift we have: of shelter from our connections with each other and the earth.

do I feel more connected to people

My daughter loved the movie "Lilo and Stitch," long before Hawaii was a dream of ours.  There's a well known line in there about ohana.  I'm sure most everyone has heard it before, but just to remind you:

Ohana means family.  Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

I work in a skilled rehabilitation center.  About half of the people staying there are just admitted for short term rehabilitation.  The other half live there.  I've worked in many places like this in the Chicago area.  I've worked at places in the lower economic areas of the city and suburbs; I've worked at facilities where the residents have more money than they'll be able to spend.  I've met countless families who care for their loved ones.  I've also met so many people who never have visitors, where the workers become a surrogate family.  I've watched CNAs create special bonds with the residents and give them that little extra attention or TLC.

Unfortunately, I've also seen some horrible things in Illinois.  I've had to report abuse/neglect of residents by families and by workers.  I've watched these aging faces stare back at me as they sat, bored and all but ignored, at the nurse's station because they were unsafe to be alone in their rooms, but also not provided with stimulation and activities to keep them active and engaged.

Here, though, I've seen a much different side to people.   I see families present every single day, visiting both residents and the short term patients who are receiving therapy.  Often times, it becomes a mixture of families with everyone outside talking story.  They sit, relax, and enjoy their time together.  Family is welcome to sleep there, if it helps a confused patient feel more comfortable when a familiar person is there. Past patients come back to visit often, to see not only the workers, but other residents with whom they shared a bond.

Working here allows me to feel what I have always felt Hawaii would be.   I honestly enjoy everyone I work with.  It's because of the love that Hawaii brings out in people.  Staff smile when they pass, they say hello, and they try to learn who you are.  During my work orientation, the educator was teaching us how the facility prepares for disasters.  He told us there was enough food to last for 3 days, for not just the residents and workers, but also for the families of the residents AND the families of the workers!  Many of my coworkers live below the tsunami evacuation line and in the event of evacuation, they and their families are welcome to come to our work instead of going to a shelter.  There's a true sense of caring for the person, not just an employee.

This does not mean that it is perfect where I work, nor that everyone gets along all the time.  But there is definitely more a sense of this here in Hawaii than anything I've experienced in the past.

From my work and the people that we have met, we have learned that it's not just blood that makes ohana.  There's a word here called "hanai."  This means "like family," or "adopted family member," in a non-formal sense.  Hanai relatives here may be neighbors or a best friend's aunt.  They are there to help out and talk story every time you see them.  The sense that everyone here is family is also present in how we address elders.  It's a term of endearment and respect to call your elders aunty, uncle, or even grandma.  If invited, you may also call the eldest female their Hawaiian word of endearment that signifies matriarch.

When I lived in Illinois there were many times I felt alone.  I didn't have close friends, my family was distant from each other either by miles or connection or both.  Here you make real connections with the most random of people.  It's not considered odd, rude, or downright weird to have a conversation with someone you've never met before, who happens to pass you by in the aisle at Target.  One of my favorite things to do is go to the KTA near my work and talk with the young lady who is at the bakery.  She always has something interesting to say; she's funny.  I also enjoy sitting in a restaurant and striking up a conversation with the people at the table next to us.  My mom makes fun of me because my whole life, I have been embarrassed if workers recognized me when I entered their businesses (like restaurants).  I'd just stop going!  Here, though, I enjoy those connections because they're sincere.

... do we have a high standard of living, but also some of the lower costs.

So many people talk about how expensive it is to live in Hawaii.  It IS expensive, but there are so many ways in which it is just as, or less expensive than, our old home near Chicago.  Some are individual to us, and some are available for everyone here.  Because when I told people we were moving to Hawaii, most comments were, "It's so expensive!"... this post is for you!

Let's start with the basics.  I don't want to get too specific about personal finances, but I want you to understand a few things about real estate here.  In Illinois, we had 14,000 sq feet of land with our home sitting on it.  It was a 3700 square foot home with an additional 1900 square feet of unfinished basement.  Our yearly taxes were $11,500/year.  That's almost $1000 a month just in taxes!  In Hawaii, we paid $100,000 more for our home.  It's only 1150 square feet with no basement.  It's on about 9500 square feet of land if I remember correctly.  Our taxes are $1200 a year.  Our mortgage payment is the same as it was for our old home.  That's a lot more money for a lot less house, so that definitely makes it more expensive. 

However, because our home is so much smaller, we save on things that we didn't really realize: we need less furniture, less home decor, and less cleaning supplies!  Additionally, here, your yard becomes an extension of your home because it's always so beautiful outside.  

Solar energy is a true force to be reckoned with here.  We have solar electricity.  The panels are available for either purchase or lease.  The homeowner before us chose to lease so we opted to take over their contract.  That means that while our combined energy bills used to be about $350-400 a month in Chicago, it is now $165.  If we did not have solar energy, our bills could be upwards of $500 a month for this small house because we like to run the air conditioning.

Other utilities like water are similar in cost.  Some people on this island have catchment tanks and then their water is free after setup of the system, but we live in a community that has public water and sewage, so we pay for it.  Our garbage is less expensive per month than in Illinois.  And for the record, we pay the same amount for internet, cable, and phone as we did for just DirecTV in Illinois.  So that saves us $80 a month!

One of the expenses that went down when we moved here was our car insurance.  Significantly.  It's the same company and we pay about $700 less a year than we were.  Part of this is because Hawaii does not charge extra to have someone under 23 on the policy.  However, even without that counted in, we would save about $150 a year.  

Which brings us to gasoline.  Gasoline is so expensive here.  The lowest I've seen it at the gas stations is $2.999 and as high as $3.599.  However, we've paid between $2.199 and $2.499 the entire time we've lived here.  Why?  Because Costco is AWESOME.  In addition to this, both Mike and I drive so much less.  I live 5 miles away from work.  Even when I worked at a facility in Illinois, my closest commute was 11 miles each way, and that was for a very short period of time.  I gas my car up every 3 to 3.5 weeks, and Mike about 2.5-3 weeks.  We drive his whenever we go out because a Jeep is a lot more fun than a Nissan Rogue (not that I don't love my car!)  Stores here are similar in distance as compared to Illinois for us, or maybe slightly farther away. 

I mentioned Costco above.  Costco here tries to buy local things when they can.  This can include meat (beef mostly) and produce.  The prices here vary from 10% less than what we paid in Illinois to 20% more.  Filet mignon and ground beef are the same price per pound as it was when I left Illinois.  I must also make a point to mention that the taste of the meat from Costco is so much better than in Illinois.

A few foods that we frequently ate in Illinois can be cost prohibitive here.  One is corn.  The lowest I saw it was $.59 an ear, but it was frequently more than that.  Another is watermelon.  $8 to $10 per watermelon is what you can expect to pay.  They're no larger and no sweeter.

Milk.  Everyone talks about milk and bread.  And everyone is correct.  These two things are much, much more expensive, but if you watch sales you can still get a decent price.  We've gotten free milk before from a coupon.  However, most times it's about $5 a gallon.  Plain white bread is the same cost as the whole grain extra special bread-- about $6 a loaf.  With their being only two of us, I thought this would become a waste, but we still go through a gallon of milk before the expiration date and we freeze the bread so it lasts us weeks.  Why we never did that in Illinois, I don't know.  So, overall, we spend a lot less on bread than we did before, but that's just because we are smarter and less wasteful.

Back to produce for a moment.  It is expensive here and I really had a hard time comprehending this when I know much of it is local.  But we've learned, we don't need to buy fruit very often-- it falls off of people's trees faster than they can eat it, so they bring it to work to hand out, hand it out in bags when you get together for a social visit, or knock on your door to give it to you for free.  I do buy bananas every now and again; they're $.37 a piece (not a pound!) at Walmart.  However, this past Friday, someone brought in a large stalk with at least 30 apple-bananas (Latundan), which most people here love.  It's fairly frequent at my job that there are bowls of fruit available to take.  In addition, on my work's property there are fruits you can pick and eat as much as you'd like (or make juice from).  There are guava, limes, and star fruit just to name a few.  So, although it is expensive to buy produce in the store, you end up spending less overall because so much of it is free.  This is how I reconcile paying extra for the corn or watermelon every once in a while!

We save a ton in money for recreation here.  State-run beaches are free for us as residents.  Other beaches are free for everyone.  You can go to the community pool for free (which we do for exercise only).  There are so many places to hike or explore.  Walking through art galleries here is a fun treat as well, and that's free.  It's incredible to see the art from the talented people of this island.  The movies even cost about $1 less for two people.  We've gone to only one movie, but that's about our norm anyway.  In Illinois, you could do things for free, like walk around in downtown Chicago, but you definitely paid for parking.  You could see a play, but we have our own theatre here, too!  It may not be Broadway level, but that doesn't make it any less entertaining! (That does cost money though, although less than Chicago even for a similar style.)  And every night, without fail, you have a free show as the sun says its good night, along with a 15 to 30 minute encore of a beautiful coral/purple sky after the sun has disappeared behind the horizon.

One of the things we've always done is eat out at restaurants.  I honestly don't find that we pay much more for our dinners out than we did in Illinois.  Part of that is the tax here; it's confusing and I don't really understand it, but it's less than half of Illinois tax.  

The final part of our budget that really sticks out to me is the difference in healthcare.  We had BCBS/IL and here BCBS is called HMSA.  My understanding is that my company has, by far, the best insurance on the island.  But, any prescriptions are less than half of what we paid in Illinois, and doctor's visits are 50% to 60% lower in price here.  So, my copay in Chicago was $20 to visit the doctor and here it is $12.  A specialist was $40 and here it's $20.  I pay no more of a premium than we did in Illinois.  That being said, the availability of some extended healthcare on this island is so much lower than Illinois; if you just have a cold or sinus infection, then you're fine.  But if you get cancer or other life-threatening diseases, you will find yourself flying to Oahu for your healthcare needs.  (The insurance pay for some to all of your and your companion's airplane ticket.)

So, as you can see, there are some unexpected financial breaks here.  It's definitely still more expensive-- because you can't make up the difference in real estate.  If we bought our Illinois home here, we'd pay at least 4 times what we paid for it in Illinois; our mortgage would definitely not be the same!  But that's the beauty of this island for us; we are happier with so much less.  I used to fill our home with stuff and we sold over 90% of it to move here.  I don't miss a single thing that we sold.  Not one.  

I realize this blog is different than my others, but I have heard so frequently that it's "so expensive," to live here, that I felt I should address it.  For us, moving to Hawaii has allowed us to re-prioritize our life, and we are so much better off for it, both financially and personally.

... can you find something beautiful around every bend, and at every dead end!

During the first few weeks that we were here, we spent most of our evenings shopping.  We had so many sundries and household goods to purchase, even with two large crates shipped from Illinois.  Finally, after we had settled into our home with our crates unpacked and our massive shopping sprees over, we felt like we had some free time.  All of a sudden, Mike realized that we didn't have anything to do on a Saturday night!  What a joy!

I had begun working my permanent schedule which includes Saturday, but I arrived home with energy and a few hours of daylight remaining.  Mike suggested that we drive north from our home and "see what we can find."  I was game, so off we went.  We climbed into the jeep and headed towards Kohala.  The landscape along this drive is fascinating and incredible, although very different than most think of when they picture Hawaii.  It can be barren in places, with it looking like small boulders heaped together, or as my mom put it, "like someone came through and stirred up the dirt with a loader just to let it sit in piles to dry."  Long-leafed bunches of grasses grow over some of this area while other parts are still bare a'a lava.  Here is a photo of some of the lava flow that we took in 2007.  (The white "graffiti" is made from coral.  That's another blog for another day!)

If you're interested in better photos, then search "Mauna Loa 1859 lava flow" and look at earthmagazine. org.  

On the afternoon that we drove along the coast, it was sunny and beautiful.  We were enjoying the change of scenery and had driven about 45 minutes when I saw a sign for a beach.  I suggested that we take the turn.  We came to a spot called Hapuna Beach.  It was beautiful!  Long, white sand beach with a fairly calm surf.  We were not prepared for a swim but we enjoyed walking along the beach and enjoying each other's company; in fact, we enjoyed each other and the beauty so much that we forgot to take a photo of the beach, but at the last minute we did take a quick selfie.  

After our walk in the soft, warm sand, we got back in the Jeep and headed toward a bay that we had seen signs for.  We ended up not stopping there, but instead kept going forward until we came to the end of the small road.  It reached Puako Beach Road.  We looked both ways and saw a sign that said, "Dead End."  So, of course, we went in that direction.  It was headed makai (that means toward the ocean) and we guessed that the drive may be scenic.  

The road guided us, bending and twisting, through an eclectic neighborhood where the homes each had their own style.  One of our favorites was what our realtor described to us as a "pod home."  This is a style of home that has reached a small level of popularity here on Hawaii.  Imagine every room in your house being separated into separate buildings.  There are beautiful gardens and paths that lead you from one to the next, but to go to each room, you must walk outside and connect with the environment.  That is a pod home.

Continuing around the next bend, we came upon another surprise.  From the corner of our eyes, a large grey creature appeared.  He crossed the road quickly to smell some flowers.  We never expected to see a turkey running wild in paradise.  But here's the proof:

We also began seeing signs that said, "Shoreline access."  We originally had no intention of stopping at one, but we could get a peek-a-boo view of the water between the houses and at some of these narrow access points.  We noticed that the sun was about to set, and just at that moment, we came to another shoreline access.  I suggested that we stop there to watch the sunset.  We turned into the small parking area and noticed there was one person on this coral "beach."  I felt guilty as we approached her because she was sitting, with books in her lap, enjoying the sunset in her solitude.  I didn't want to disrupt her time, so we kept to the other side of this small area.  We said our polite hello but tried to give her space. 

A few minutes later, as the sun's full belly is just touching the horizon, we hear a small voice.  "Would you like me to take your picture?"  The sun was really close to setting, and it was beautiful.  The small bay that we had reached made for calming waters whispering over rocks.  There was a gentle breeze and the sun was a beautiful, indescribable pink, coral, orange orb disappearing over a lilac and blue ocean.  We accepted her offer and so with our iPhone, she took this photo of us.  

You will have to imagine the sun as I've described it; the iPhone knew it couldn't do justice, so it showed the gate to heaven behind us instead.  We thanked her and gradually began small talk with her.  She was from Honolulu and here to go to Kalapana to see the ocean accept the flows of lava from Madame Pele.  She had hiked the 8-9 miles a day or two before and had since been showing herself around the island.  She was staying with "a friend of a friend," just across the bending road.  We began taking photos of her with her phone and she of us with our phone.  Here is another.

Our conversation continued long after the sun had hidden herself under the horizon.  As we talked, the sun continued to light the sky in a magnificent show of her pleasure for the day.  It is amazing how the sky actually gets brighter as the sun sets further.  Here's a photo I took.  The iPhone is not made to capture such beauty, but at least you get an idea.

It was quickly growing dark and just before the sun turned her lamp off for the night, our new acquaintance asked to take a photo with us as well.

And so began a new start from a dead end.  We continued to talk until there was no more light, and then continued some more.  Before we knew it, we were asking our new friend if she wanted to go to dinner.  She agreed and we went to an absolutely divine restaurant at Mauna Lani shops called The Blue Room Brasserie and Bar.  We spent the next couple hours talking and getting to know each other while sharing food from each other's plates.  At the end of the evening, Mike and I were absolutely thrilled about our new friend.  We have actually already visited her on Oahu where she introduced us to some parts of the island we had not discovered during past visits.  Our new friend is an extraordinary reminder of what it means to live Aloha.

It is only on Hawaii that there really is a new friend around every bend, and at every dead end!

... Can you find a rich mixture of people who are as varied as the types of sand found on its beaches

As I mentioned in a former post, I'm a speech pathologist.  I work with the aging population at a skilled nursing facility.  The group of people I work with are each as different as the sunsets here, and all just as beautiful.  The patients that I have the honor of helping actually teach me more than I could ever teach them.  Everyone has a story, and although that's been true at every place I've worked, it is mesmerizing to hear the stories here.

Hawaii has a rich and dynamic history.  It includes wars and kings, unification, welcoming of new cultures, strong belief in the gods, and, of course, Americanization.  Living here for this short time, I can already feel the loss of the true Hawaiian culture.  I feel guilt for contributing to that, but also feel so honored to be surrounded by such deep rooted traditions from so many backgrounds.  Each day at my work, I am blessed with the opportunity to speak with elders who teach me about the farming history of the island, about the gourds indigenous to this area and what they were used for, about the birds that are only found here, and about the difference in how the winds flow in the morning versus the evening.  I know so little about this rich and beautiful culture and land; yet, I am enthralled with learning more about it so that I can do my part to respect it.

The culture of Hawaii is different for everyone who lives here.  I've met people who are snowbirds, coming to enjoy the beautiful weather and golf in their retirement years; they appreciate the aesthetic beauty of this island.  I've also met people whose family tree can trace back to when their ancestors lived in the fifteenth century, during the time of land division known as Ahupua'a.  I've met people who are young adventurers, surfing and looking for thrills all over the island.  I've met people who are of Japanese descent who farmed cotton that was then sent back to Japan before World War II.  I've met people of Mexican background who are descendants of the original Paniolo, the cowboys of Waimea who first arrived in the 1830s.  And then, of course, I've met people who are a beautiful mixture of these cultures and more.

With all of these different backgrounds, there is one uniting force: Aloha.  Aloha is the spirit that rustles the leaves as it passes through them.  It's the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves as they crash into the lava rock on shore.  Aloha is the guiding light of the souls of those who live here.  It warms the soul long after the sun goes down, and surfs along the rays of sunshine or atop the clouds that come over the mountain in the afternoons.  Aloha is a living force.  They say someone can be "full of aloha."  It's the kindness and love for all people that is predominant here.  A person has to accept the aloha into themselves in order to share it.  To do this, the person must figure out how to connect with the mana and let go of the garbage that blocks our connections to each other and to the earth.  Each person's aloha language can be so different, but it can be seen, heard, and felt in every direction.  Each time a car stops so people can cross the street, that's an expression of aloha.  When mangoes are passed out at work because someone's tree produced more than they can eat, that's aloha.  When someone takes the time to talk story for a moment, showing they are never too busy to connect, then they are sharing aloha.  When someone new walks into a group and that person immediately feels welcome, they are being enveloped with aloha.

It is alive, rushing through the blood of those who carry it, passing through the "hang loose" waves, being lapped up from the water bowl for dogs at the farmer's market, hugging the necks of the receivers of leis for special occasions.  From the time my husband and I have arrived, we have felt nothing but aloha.

It all started before we even got here, really.  I subscribed to a few message boards about the Big Island and also somehow ran into the Facebook page for "Big Island Newbies."  It was here that I would post some questions in preparation for our move.  One day I posted about the neighborhood that we had purchased our house in.  I received a private message from someone who said she also lived in that neighborhood.  After that, she and her family cared for us like we were a part of their family.  She and her husband drove by our new house to be sure nothing was wrong with it before we could arrive.  They let us borrow furniture until our own items arrived.   They invited us over to celebrate Independence Day, our first holiday here, only 9 days after we arrived.  This family has been such a gift to us, spreading their aloha by helping us unpack, move our heavy furniture into our house when it arrived, and giving us suggestions on how to navigate the DMV.  They, as well as others, have provided us with their gifts of aloha.

Not all my posts will be this deep, but in order for you to understand the source of my future posts, I felt I had to try to explain my love of this place a bit.  Some of my future posts may poke fun at certain situations, events, or observations, but please be clear that I will never be speaking poorly nor look down upon any of the people or way of life.

How it all began...

E komo mai!!  Our dream of living on the island of Hawaii came to fruition six magnificent weeks ago.  It was something we have been dreaming about since 2007 when we visited for the first time.  During a gray, wet, wintry week of January, my husband and I boarded a plane in Chicago and landed in the plumeria scented, warm and gentle hands of Madame Pele who was a gracious hostess to us.  She helped my husband and me rebuild our bond after a year of mostly just cohabitating.  Like many, our lives had become so busy and taxing on our relationship.  We had sold a home, built a home, my husband had survived job cuts from a company buyout, and I had been working 6-7 days a week for the entire year before.  We were tired, weary, and not connected with each other.  From the moment we stepped onto the stairs that led down from our plane, when we could take in our first breath of the warm nighttime air, we could feel the mana.   We exhaled a year's worth of stress.  Hawaii's mana healed our weary souls and helped us to find the joy in each other again.

In 2010 we returned for another visit.  This time we brought our twelve year old daughter.  We were curious if we would still feel the same life force, and we definitely did.  There is an electricity in the air.  Some people feel it in their bellies, while others tell me it just takes their breath away.  For me, it encapsulates my entire chest, filling me so completely that I'm sure I'll burst.  Our daughter loved Hawaii as well and we were grateful for that.  It was during this trip that we began talking about moving to Hawaii "someday."

In the summer of 2014, when our daughter was turning 16, we returned once more.  When we stepped off the plane that time, we felt like we had finally returned home.  We had missed this island and felt drawn to it in a visceral way.  We had not been able to conceive how much we missed it until we had returned.  We both felt this so strongly that when we went back to Illinois, we started telling people we would be moving there "for real."  We knew that we didn't want to uproot our daughter during high school, so it was still a couple of years in the future for us, but it was definitely going to happen.

No one really believed us.  My husband had never lived more than 30 minutes away from his mom.  We had our jobs there, our house, and the south suburbs of Chicago was the only home our daughter had ever known.  Our relatives would chuckle and roll their eyes as we spoke about moving.  Time passed and our daughter continued to grow, becoming more independent and ready to make her own life choices.  As she spoke of going out of state to college, we began speaking of when to put our house on the market.  As the spring of her senior year approached, we put our house up for sale.

We had a series of events that had to occur in the correct sequence.  First, we had to start the process of bringing our two dogs and cat.  This is a process that takes a minimum of four months.  Then, our house had to sell.  However, it couldn't sell (or at least close) before our daughter graduated from high school.  Then, I had to find a job.  Meanwhile, my husband had to approach his employer to see if they would allow him to work remotely.  After solidifying our employment, it was time to find a place to live.  Then the real work began of arranging for the actual move.  All of this happened as our daughter was completing her final few months of high school.  She had to choose a college, go to prom, and graduate.

The housing market in the south suburbs of Chicago had not yet recovered from the real estate fall out in 2008.  We watched houses in our neighborhood, which had the same floor plan as ours, and listed for less, sit for months without being sold.  So, when we put our house up for sale in April, we had plans for it to take 6 months or so.  However, our house sold in 5 days.  As soon as we accepted the offer, I began looking for jobs.  There is only one skilled nursing home on the Kona side of the island, which was the side I really wanted to live on.  This rehabilitation center had a full time opening for a speech pathologist.  I remember sitting on my sofa in Illinois, feeling a huge ball of excitement rising from the pit of my stomach up to my throat as I applied for the position.  I could not believe the gift that laid before me!

During this time I had reached out to speech pathologist's on the island through our professional association network.  A few wonderful ladies responded to me and answered my multitude of questions.  There was one SLP in particular who was more than willing to give me information; she answered questions I didn't even know I had.  She shared my love of long emails and we continually corresponded.  After a few exchanges, she mentioned that her company was looking for another full time SLP.  It turns out it was the same place I had already applied to!  A couple of very long weeks later, during which time I was very impatient (just ask my new supervisor), I was offered the position!

My husband had been speaking in generalities for quite a while to his employer about working remotely.  It came time, however, to have a concrete conversation.  His immediate supervisor laughed when he said he'd like to move to Hawaii but still work for this local bank in Illinois.  My husband smiled but explained how it would all work, and by the end of that conversation, his boss was in his corner.  It had to go up the ranks, but right away the Human Resources Director jumped on board.  As the request traveled up the chain of command, there was not one person who hesitated in saying yes.  They valued him and the quality of his work too much to lose him.

Once the employment pieces of the puzzle were secured, it was time to find a place to live.  From everything I had read on message boards, websites, and even in books, Craigslist was the place people seemed to post home rentals. On the island of Hawaii there are very few landlords who allow people with pets to live in their rentals.  I scoured it daily and there was only one house that looked like it would be a good fit for us with our pets.  We wanted to rent for a year or so before buying a house.  This would give us time to make sure our idea of paradise really was all we hoped it would be, and give us a chance to find the best neighborhood for our needs.  I had concerns about this rental being right for us, but figured we could live anywhere for a year.  I was actually relieved when the landlord opted for another resident.

As a result, my husband and I decided we were going to go ahead and buy a house.  I made flight arrangements for my mom, who lives in Tennessee, to meet me in San Francisco, and we would fly from there to Kona together.  She came along because my husband had to stay home for our daughter.  My mom was my biggest supporter even though she was secretly dreading the thought of living even farther away from me than she already did.  She went to all 30 homes that I went to; she listened to me dissect each home to determine if it was the right one for my husband and me.  She patiently waited for me to make a decision, giving me the space to do so without giving too strong of opinions.  I could not have done it without her!

We had not found a home that fit all of our needs; we had decided on the one that would be the best fit, but someone put in an offer just before us.  So now we had to choose from others that didn't really come close to matching our needs list.   At 1:00 in the morning of our last full day in Hawaii, I was scouring the real estate website from our realtor, beginning to question if this truly was our destiny, or if we should stop and "come to our senses" the way our family was hoping.  It was literally just as I was saying to myself, "Does the island really want us?" that the website refreshed and brought up a new listing.  I looked at the photos, read the description, and emailed the realtor saying, verbatim, "I will put an offer in on this house without even seeing it."  From its description it fit every single one of our needs,  On top of that, it had a full view of the ocean.  We did not even put that on our list of "wants" because we were trying to be practical, although both of us, of course, would never turn down such a gift!

Our realtor arranged for a showing at 9am.  It lived up to its photos and description, except for the view, which was far better in person than the photos showed.  So, by 10am of that morning our offer was accepted.  As my mom and I drove back to our hotel, a rainbow crested over us.  It was not raining, nor did it seem particularly humid or wet.  It was Hawaii's smile to let me know that we did belong!

I'm mentioning all of this to show how the island really does make a way for you if she welcomes you to her home.  I'm convinced that we belong here; every part of our sequence of events worked out perfectly. This island makes both my husband and me feel at ease and accepted.  These are two feelings that are fairly foreign concepts for both of us, but we find it here.  It seems that many others do as well.  The transplanted people here mostly seem to have one thing in common: they didn't really fit where they were before.  Maybe they were loners, or a bit eccentric.  Maybe they don't want to conform, or maybe they don't know how.  This is part of the beauty of this island.  She's an island with fewer white sand beaches than the other islands so she may not be considered as beautiful to outsiders (we know different!).  She's the one that is still growing and changing, not quite sure how she will end up herself, (we appreciate the courage she shows in her willingness to evolve!).  She's the island that wouldn't settle on only one climate so there are 11 (a little something for everyone!).  She's an island that only asks that her 'aina be cared for, that her native bloodline be respected, and that her own eccentricities be accepted.

Only on Hawaii will be a blog about all of the wonderful and unique experiences that we have had and will continue to have as we live our dream here on the leeward side of paradise.  So, sit back, drink a Mai Tai, feel the cool breeze, hear the waves of the ocean, and smell the sweet air.  If you're not here with us, then after reading my blog, make plans to come here for your next vacation.  Trust me.