Viewphoria

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The graffiti in Hawaii was really excellent.

 

One of the first things I did in Honolulu was go to a store called Battery Bill's to get a new battery for my computer, because mine had just broken and didn't hold any charge at all.  I waited a long time at a bus stop and nothing came, so I moved to another one.  I got on bus 19 and asked the driver if it went near Ahua Street, and he didn't seem to have any idea where it was, so I got the hell off that bus.  I waited for the 20 bus and I think I just asked if it went near the airport.  He actually let me off right at Ahua Street.

 

One of the first things I noticed when I walked up the block was a wall that was just covered everywhere with graffiti.  It was probably about six feet high and it curved all around the corner of the block, so maybe a hundred feet long.  It was outside of a motorcycle dealer, and I'm pretty sure the owner just asked people to come do their best graffiti on it.  One was a really nice Hawaiian flag, and then there were just maybe a dozen or so really great paintings up there.  I have a picture that I tried to upload a bunch of times, but I don't really have any means of doing it - especially not from my BlackBerry.  Oh well.  Maybe when I get back home I'll figure out a way.

 

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The Union is incredibly rocky right now.  I don't get seasick anymore, but it's still kind of annoying.

 

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We went to the Polynesian Cultural Center, which is kind of like a zoo for people and cultures instead of for animals.  I thought it was going to be educational when I signed up for it, but then I heard it was really more of an entertainment/theme park than anything else.  I suppose I was cool with it at first.  The Samoan dude that made fire and cracked coconuts and stuff was hilarious.

 

Then we were walking from one "culture" to another, and we came across a guy with tattoos from his hips down to his knee caps.  Our tour guide said something along the lines of, "Look at this gentleman, this would make for a great photo with your friends."  It felt incredibly uncomfortable to me, like they were making him into an exhibit.  I don't know if his tattoos are real, but tattoos are really important in the culture he was representing.  They show the story and prowess of the family, and surviving the week-long ritual of getting said tattoos is a rite of passage into adulthood.

 

I pieced together later that all the actors were Mormons attending BYU and they were doing this to help pay for college.  That made it a little worse even, I think, because there's pretty much no better symbol of cultural imperialism than the Mormon church.

 

I talked about it with one of the professors that came with us - Dr. Lopez - and she agreed with my thoughts on it.  Apparently respected ethnologists had used the exact same words - a "culture zoo" or "people zoo."  I ended up decided to just talk to the people who worked their the rest of the time instead, asking them about where they grew up and stuff like that.  We ran into some Mormon girls on a mission from different countries.  One was from Hong Kong and I told her I would really love a camera from their black market, and she gave my friend her number and said we could call when we showed up.  Another one was from Taiwan and we talked to her about growing up there for a while.  She kept asking if we wanted to go on their temple tour.  We were totally uninterested, and I feel a little bad about it...  but not too bad.

 

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Aleeza, Kelly, and I went for a walk on Waikiki beach on the last full night in Hawaii.  A lot of other people went to the bars, but a number of us didn't want to.  After a while we saw a nice pier, and we walked out to sit on it.  A guy there asked us if we were staying at the youth hostel, and we said no, we're on the ship.  Later he asked us if we wanted pot.

 

A guy on a bike rode by later on the sidewalk and also asked if we wanted pot.

 

I've never been asked by a stranger in my life if I wanted pot, and now it happened twice in one night.  That was weird.

 

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There was a group of Hawaiian kids playing football at about 10:30 on Waikiki beach.  We asked if they had school tomorrow, and they said they did.  We climbed up the stairs at one point.  A girl who looked black was laughing when we did, and then said, "Oh ****, did you hear that?"  We said no, but it didn't matter.  We could tell she was being a punk and didn't want us there.  They weren't very nice at all, so we left.

 

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The last thing I ate in the US was a child's sized ice cream cone with cookies 'n cream.  I saw some of my friends sitting near something that looked like a cafe, and I wanted a nice last American meal before I left.  I walked through and couldn't really find anything that I thought looked good, so I walked through the shopping center and found an ice cream place eventually.  I thought I might try some shave ice, but there was none to be found.  I asked if I could have the smallest size possible of cookies 'n cream, and the lady working there (I believe she was Japanese) said I had to pick small or large. 

 

I clearly looked disappointed.  She pointed up to the sign, and I said yeah, I wanted the smallest one, or something along those lines.  Eventually her daughter, who looked like maybe a high school senior, said to her in Japanese what I wanted, and then her mother said okay, and made it for me.  I thanked her daughter, and her, and left some of the change for tip.  It was good ice cream, especially considering that it was in a waffle cone and not a cake cone.  I ate it outside the shop, sitting right next to the highway.  I wondered if I should have asked that girl to come talk to me about living in Hawaii, but then I thought that might be a little weird.  Especially 'cuz we're both just Americans, really.

 

Peace out.