Week Three- Oahu

Monday, February 1st, 2010
Another false start today. We were supposed to visit another Hawaiian sovereignty group, but due to a mix up, they thought we were coming another day, so we have to reschedule. However, I vowed I wouldn’t lose a day to another book. I went on a hike into the mountains behind the University, the same one I did on my first day. I took a winding trail through the thick brush overlooking Manoa Valley. It felt great to just be out in nature alone, it can be a very spiritual experience, but it is hard to let those emotions flow when other people surround you. At the top of the trail, I fund a little park and sat myself down. In the shade of giant trees, covered in symmetrical knobs, I wrote in my journal on a moss-covered table surrounded by damp red earth. As I opened my sandwich bag, the bushes began to rustle, and a seemingly endless stream of wild chickens poured out of hiding at the new smell in the air. I was quite literally inundated with chickens. I sat there for about 15 minutes just observing them and taking pictures. It was a strange to see an animal you associate with cages and human domination out in the wild, even if they are an invasive pest. As I was sitting there a loud note broke the silence, and I sat there in shock for a few minutes awaiting some sort of alien invasion before I realized it was a tsunami/bomb signal test. It shook the air and reverberated of the mountains, echoing back and forth. I couldn’t tell if what I was listening to was the same note or just an echo. An oddly shocking sound that left me with my hair and skin raised. If there ever was a good place for me to be during a tsunami I was certainly there. High in the hills overlooking the whole city. After heading back home I headed to the beach for a few hours to relax and cool off. Hiking and beachcombing on the same day, nice feeling, and hopefully something I can continue when I go to Cal Poly.

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010
Today, we had a lecture on the marginalizing of ethnic groups in Hawaii. The man said that because of the rising costs in education and the fact that 70% of all private jobs are somehow entangled with tourism's empire, immigrant and ethnic groups can no longer move up the socioeconomic scale. Many people think of Hawaii as a model for good ethnic relations, and while looking at violence levels that is true, it is not the same case when it comes to equality. The people that run Hawaii and its economy solve all problems with projects that have tourism as the driving force. Tourism has corrupted them and there problem-solving skills are dependent on the idea of bringing in more people with money. If the state has no money invest in something to bring more tourists with open wallets. Build convention centers and tear down the last remaining “wild” land to build hotels, or even, in the case of the universities, if you have no money look to pull in out-of-staters to attend, for the increased tuition, and add a tuition increase on top. By next year tuition will cost an out-of-stater 18,000 dollars a year. This increase completely destroys the college system base income. Instead of diversifying their income with grants and such they built their system on a rickety base that is now in danger of completely collapsing. The negative side of tourism, unknown to most, an economy so dependant on one thing that with out it a thriving economy would, overnight, become a 3rd world country. After we watched a documentary called “Dividing Waikiki.” Never before have I heard a story with more cronyism, corruption, and conflict of interest. A story of businessmen who overthrew the world’s first recognized non-European country, by tricking their queen and imprisoning her. Men who made the natives pay to have their land stolen from under their feet. The new government, sanctioned by the American Republic, was made up of business partners who had no qualifications to do the jobs given to them. A railroad magnate’s right hand man was Minister of Health, while the magnate himself was governor. A land where pineapples and sugar cane were worth more than hundreds of years of history. A constitution based on that of slave era Louisiana. If it weren’t so utterly revolting it would almost be funny, it could never happen. But it did, and it will again. They paved over and dredged people’s livelihood and made them pay for the dirt that filled in their taro fields and poisoned their water. I spent the rest of the day trying to get the sick taste out of my mouth, the taste of blood, sweat and tears, by planning for Borneo. It’s almost here!

Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010
Today I volunteer at the Learning Center’s food bank. I walked to the bus stop around 12 pm and sat waiting at a bench by McDonald’s for the bus to come. It gave me some time to read “Lonely Planet: Borneo,” that Molly lent me since she is now going to Thailand instead. The more I read, the longer I want to stay. I want to do anything and everything. Just absorb the whole place. There was even a brief moment of resentment that I had to go to Picnic with the Penan, as it would take 2 ½ weeks of my time there. It also looks like time wise I wont be able to go to Indonesian Borneo with the girls, but volunteering in Thailand is worth it. When I got there I met up with Molly, Molly, Elin and Matilda and we gathered at the building across the street where the food would be delivered. There was already a line forming, and tensions were high, and when the food came it seemed like it never ended. A whole truck filled with food. We “mens” did the unloading and the “womens” opened up the packaging. In a lot of these cultures there is a big male/female power vacuum. Once everything was out, it was really shocking. There was a 6 ft pile of sodas, a 20 ft line of boxes filled with vegetables, whole cakes, an industrial amount of ramen and boxes and boxes of other food. At this point all hell was going to break loose as they let the first group of people go at the food. As I started to walk away as the “mens” starting filling up their own boxes one lady shoved an empty box in my hands and told me to take my share. She said not to be too proud to take it, as they do it all the time, and we are no different from each other. To me if you get free food you just take it for what it is, but they were as picky as any normal shopper would be. Perhaps a way to still show they have humanity and worth, just as much as we do. When I was done I was left with a box filled with veggies and apples, two 16 packs of ramen, 4 boxes of Nutragrain bars, a box of cereal, a 6 pack of soda, and that was before they started just throwing stuff in our boxes they decided we needed. In the end, the 5 of us were left with 7 boxes pouring over with food, so much so that we had to leave stuff behind because we couldn’t take it all in one run. Afterwards we baked choklad bullar with the kids. Too much food related activities for one day.

Thursday, February 4th, 2010
I was at the elementary school all day volunteering, but the end of the day made up for a long day of work. After going out and buying some supplies for a salad, we all met downstairs to go to Nick’s house for a potluck party. The bus took us to the corner of a school there and we had to walk for about 10 minutes to get to his house. As we waited for him in the muggy night air, I looked up to the bright stars shining above and tried to put my little bit of astrology and astronomy to good use. I found Orion and his dogs, the queen and the bull, and possibly the twins. After a few hours there of eating and drinking, we sat down to watch a movie called “The Ripple Effect,” it was with Forrest Whittaker so we all thought it would be good. Long story short, we fast forwarded through the movie in about 10 minutes, and nicknamed it “The Nipple Effect” due to its poorly filmed intro that spent about 5 minutes focused on a girl in a skimpy bikini. After the failed movie we decided it was time to leave, so we took filled our bags with beer and headed out. After getting on the wrong bus, which dropped us off in what we thought was the middle of nowhere, 6 of us stuffed ourselves in a taxi and headed back to the university. It turns out we were actually quite close, but none of us knew that at the time. When everyone returned we spent the rest of the night celebrating Madde’s birthday. By the end I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

Friday, February 5th, 2010
Today was a free day, so naturally it was spent at the beach, Zac and I met up with Elin and Molly F. at Ala Moana Beach, and spent a couple of hours hanging at the beach, soaking up the sun and relaxing in the water. Later that day we were supposed to meet with the whole class to watch the sunset and celebrate Madde’s birthday. So we went back to get ready. After a shower, change, and new hairstyle, I was ready to go. Molly, Elin and I went to the library for a bit before catching the bus. It seems like there is always some ticket to book or person to write to. Then while on the bus we had a long conversation about doing some kind of road trip with each other. The kind of thing Anna did with Martin and Line, a Jack Kerouac style, stopping in every pancake shop, drive through small town America. Elin was starting to get a bit frazzled, convinced we were late and would miss the sunset and her dream shot. Turns out she was right, but it wasn’t our fault, the sunset was underneath a blanket of vog that blocked out all but the orange glow. We all sat on the beach for a while taking picture and talking, and once it was dark we found a place to sit and watch the fireworks that are a Honolulu tradition on the first Friday of the month. After that Zac, Ulla, Robin, Frost, Reza, Madde, C.P. and I went to CPK for a birthday dinner. Afterwards, Madde said she wanted to go to a strip club, for reasons I still don’t understand, so we spent 2 hours walking around Honolulu looking for one. We eventually walked all the way down Waikiki, and after traversing the streets filled with drunks, prostitutes and police officers breaking up fights, we found a club. I honestly don’t see the appeal of watching strangers dance on a table. Perhaps it was because this was certainly not the nicest strip club in existence. For me it was more like observing a model for a drawing class, or a butcher looking at his wares. Just flesh, no sensuality, or sex appeal. When we decided to leave, thanks to a stupid public transportation system where nothing runs after 11pm, we walked the 35 minutes back to school and finally fell asleep at 4 am.

Saturday, February 6th, 2010
I was the only survivor of last night’s escapades, but I wasn’t about to miss today. For those who wanted to, today was an adventure day with Nick and his canoes. The group of us who were going met at 9 am for a true outdoorsy day. Several people were curious as to why we were missing so many people, and after explaining the night before I didn’t hear the end of it all day. The bus ride was packed and I spent half of the two-hour bus ride standing up. When a seat finally did open up, I was lucky enough to get the seat that was just given up by the smelliest homeless person I have ever had the misfortune of setting my olfactory nerves on. The smell of urine and unwashed clothes lingered in my eyes and nose until I was able to scrub it off in the ocean. Before going to the beach we stopped at a funky little general store, one with the old time feeling and gourmet homemade sandwiches. With my purchase of a corn beef sandwich and a cold root beer we set off to find Nick and Linda, who were already at the beach. As we came out on the beach it seemed to stretch out forever with some of the bluest water I have ever seen. The day was spent trying to paddle a Hawaiian style kayak and canoe, trying be the key word, and finally decking out under the sun. I woke up again at about 2pm and we all set off for a short hike. We wound our way up the side of the mountain and came to an old abandoned military bunker. We climbed on top and looked out over the shore, which continued on endlessly in every direction you looked. Afterwards we went out for good Thai food and got back home as Morpheus’ blanket was laid over the land.

Sunday, February 7th, 2010
Today, we had the privilege of volunteering to help preserve and restore King Kamehameha’s summer palace. The small stone building is sitting in what is now thick jungle, but was once wide-open taro fields. Before we could begin, our guide and leader lead us in a Hawaiian prayer to let us enter the sacred place. His haunting chant filled the air, and as the leaves on the trees rustled in response I felt different, as if something in my body was now letting me know I was free to enter. After our tour of the area we spent several hours removing dead trees and wood from the compound to dissuade people to come and make fires there. The palace itself was little more than a small stone shack, nothing like the grandiose estate of Versailles, not that it’s a bad thing. After our work was done Ljungdahl, Molly and I headed to Ala Moana to get some food and look for a small guitar to take with us during our travels. We didn’t find what we were looking for, but how often does that happen? After getting back to school, Molly and I were both not so crazy about going back and just sitting around, so we took a walk around campus and sat it the park for a while. We talked about all sorts of things that we on our minds, and after I felt 10 pounds lighter. As we were getting ready to leave, a praying mantis landed on my arm and stayed there for about 10 minutes. It felt like more than a coincidence to me, more like a sign. But of what? Perhaps it was letting me know that the feeling of stillness and calm I was feeling at that moment, which is the epitome of mantis behavior, is something I need to continue. Spirit guide anyone?

Off course

Here is a bit of a diversion from my adventures, the old seeds of poetry are starting to sprout again as the cold days turn lighter and warmer.



As the fog gently rolls off the ocean

He sits in a bar drinking rum,

That is made by a fellow Capitan of a different trade.

In one hand he holds the drink gulping often,

While the other is somewhere in the belly of a beast.

His heart is as cold as the metal that is his hand.

They call him Hook

They call him a villain.

But is he anything more than a man driven to insanity by the loss of something close?

We are all like Hook in a way,

We try to drown our sorrows

But must be careful not to be pulled down with them into the darkness of despair.

Week Two- Oahu

Monday, January 25th, 2010
Today we went to what we have been told over the past few months is the best museum for Hawaiian culture. I was extremely underwhelming, but the day was not lost under the blanket of blandness. Before going to the museum Molly, Amanda and I went to go to the Indonesian consulate in an attempt to figure out whether or not we needed visas beforehand to go into the Indonesian half of Borneo. We got to the giant building scraping the sky and took the gut wrenching ride up the 27 floors in an elevator that seemed to move at a sickeningly fast pace, only to discover the office was not there. After exploring the adjacent building and finally a phonebook, it seems as if it has just evaporated from Honolulu. After this disappointment we had to decide whether to go to the beach or to the museum like we planned, a truly daunting decision. We finally decided on the museum solely for the reason that it was the expert on Polynesian culture. The museum was oddly in the middle of a very sketchy looking part of the suburbs. A grand estate with mansion-like buildings surrounded by small cottages with peeling siding and more than a few abandoned and surely non-revive-able cars. Though the museum’s exhibits themselves were a bit of a let down my ears and eyes were drowned by the haunting sound of an utterly soul filled song performed by a old man with a long white beard and a group of old Hawaiian women in church hats, singing to commemorate the birthday of the princess who helped to set up the museum. Their evocative hymn echoed of the walls in the whole building, and as they came to the crescendo both us observers and performers were standing on the precipice looking of a sea of tears. We also later treated to a hula lesson by the same old man, now garbed in white linen, and as we performed the ceremonies of his ancestors with him leading in song and dance we were all as once, a joyful energy filled the room, and we all left with utter bliss on our faces. That night, after a long walk to Ala Moana Shopping center and a stock up on supplies, we came home to a party that lasted long into the night. A late night chat is always the most special, and I had my fair share that night. I have met some people this year that I can really feel myself growing closer too everyday and hopefully the ties between us will be strong enough to be stretched over the Atlantic. A 3 am cleaning session and a wake up of 7:30 am was what awaited me as the last guest stumbled out of my room into the slightly warm night air.

Tuesday, January 26th, 2010
Our purpose for staying at the University is undoubtedly so we can attend the lectures that Ulla arranges for us. Today was our first. As we all sat in the little cramped room Ulla unloaded, only a portion, Hawaiian history on us and we were buried under both the injustice and majesty of this mighty island nation. However much Mats has taught us it seems that we have learned nothing and we are being showed up by the Lund group. They are answering all the questions and we know none of the answers, an unsettling situation for me. I feel like we are on the outside looking in and not actually part of the class. After a securely Scandinavian coffee break, we returned to our glimpse through the eyes of Hawaii and watched a documentary called Ahu’puaha, Lo’i, and Fishponds. The definition of traditional Hawaii. An ahu’puaha is the slice of land a Hawaiian community traditionally used from mountains to the sea. From the makua to the makai. At some deep level I feel like I have once lived in a similar way, right off the land. A deep respect for nature and the rules she has written seems to have wound itself around my DNA like a strangler fig. As we watched the film of people who want to restore this way of life, and in one foul swoop save Hawaiian culture, food independence and sovereignty, I wished that people in the “developed” world got past their petty arguments and would see that living like this is the way to go. Not to say we should all go live out in the woods with no running water or electricity, like I hope we will in the jungle, but just to see the value of simple and not grandiose. When we left the wall was covered with a splattering of a Hawaiian words that introduced us to the language. The night was finally met with the Borneo meeting I have been asking for and my stress has been suppressed, for now. But as surely as Wakea is Sky Father and Papa is Earth Mother, it wont be gone for good. Another party tonight, not what I planned, not what I was hoping to happen in my room this evening, but its free beer.

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010
Today was the first day of our Service Learning. We didn’t have to be down at the school until 2:15, so Molly and I decided to take advantage of the free morning and spend a few hours at the beach. Living at the University it takes about 30 minutes to get to the beach, so we really had to plan well in order to have time to bake in the sun and make it back in time. Laying out in the sun, reading and jumping in the water is certainly a relaxing way to start your day. I left the beach with my soul and mind energized, and my body tired. So is the power of the sun, it giveth and taketh away. We stopped into the mall for lunch before catching the bus. While waiting for a bus a homeless man was talking about all the people walking around who can’t see what they are ding or where they are going. Philosophical insight or the ranting of a mental person? I don’t know, but there certainly are plenty of people out there who see but are blind to what they do. It is those people that have stolen Hawaii. By 2:15 we were at the school. A poor school, in a poor neighborhood, with poor students. Luck is not on its side, yet even though a large percentage of students are non-native English speakers, some even arriving just off the boat from the latest migration from Micronesia, they still have to reach the test score requirements No-Child Left Behind requests. A government that runs education as a bureaucracy is leaving them behind, regardless of what the lawmakers say. A school running on fear of getting overtaken and re-staffed isn’t the best environment. I volunteered in a 4th grade class, tutoring in the students in math. Regardless of all the impasses these children are up against the children still managed to be smiling and happy in only the way a child can. Sometimes I wish I still had their naiveté. The teacher was a thin women with a mouth like an anus, so tightly clamped and puckered I guarantee if you stuck a piece of coal in there, the next day it would be a diamond. She didn’t seem very happy to be there, so I did my best to keep up my positive energy, hoping to offset her emissions. I worked with a little boy named Theo who hardly said a word, but as I left he was smiling and waving. That’s the only reward you need. Afterword’s, Molly, Frost and I headed over to the Learning Center to get some more hours in. There was absolutely nothing to do there. The first 20 minutes we just sat there twiddling our thumbs and humming, literally. Until, a little boy and girl came over and asked me to sing what I was humming. “I’m Walking on Sunshine,” is apparently not their favorite song, and aside from a few lines of a Christmas song I learned in 4th grade, I don’t know any Hawaiian songs. We talked about Sweden a little bit and showed them pictures of snow, which got them very excited. They started call over all their friends to look at the crazy pictures. We played a little bingo with them, and then took the 50-minute walk home as a light breeze came into the valley.

Thursday, January 28th, 2010
Not much happened today. I spent the first half of the day relaxing, reading a book, and catching up on my journal. I then headed to Palolo to volunteer. I was in the same classroom, but Anus-Face was gone. I went around the room helping the kids with their math homework; thank god they are only in 4th grade. There were a few minutes there where I was stumped by mean, median and mode. Don’t tell Mr. Weinstein. While walking to the Learning Center, Molly and I had a nice talk. It feels really good to vent to someone every once in awhile, and I am glad she feels like she can talk to me. She had been at the school all day so only Frost accompanied me to the Learning Center. There was only one child there because the Internet was down, but we stayed and helped her with her math. A little Micronesian girl, about 7 years old, and almost no English. I cant imagine how hard school is for her. She asked Amanda and I if we were boys or girls, because she has no real reference for Caucasians. I had to teach he how to add and subtract on her fingers, which I have obviously taken for granted. I didn’t realize the situation was so difficult for so many kids here. Its hard to imagine her scoring the minimum score on the State testing, but she has to or the school risks having to disband. I am really excited about tomorrow, we are going snorkeling.

Friday, January 29th, 2010
Today was a big letdown. We went snorkeling at Haunama Bay, a nature reserve and marine park on the Southeast part of the island. From the way Mats talked about it, I was really excited to see some really nice coral reefs. It took about an hour to get there, and as soon as we arrived I was getting the feeling it wasn’t going to be so nice. You had to pay $7.50, which made me feel it was going to be overrun with human contact, and that there wasn’t going to be much left to see. I guess they look for people who don’t know any better. After paying our entrance fee we had t watch a do’s and don’ts video. A cheesy, over dramatic movie explaining that the coral isn’t supposed to be touched. It’s sad they have to explain that. Even in the video the water looked cloudy and grey. Guess what it looked like in real life? I shelled out another $3 to rent a mask for the day, to get the best out of the murky water that I could. No color whatsoever and not a whole lot of fish either. One more example of Hawaii’s exploitation. The longer I stay here and the more I learn about the history, the more I fee guilty about even being here. Cultural genocide. A beautiful religion and culture wiped out in a century, and replaced with an over simplified touristy version, turning hula from a prayer to a movement, the land from abundant agriculture to concrete cellblock, and bountiful ocean to silent desert. Paradise lost, to some, and paradise found to others, if they had the money. Ripped from the hands of those who took care of it and given to those with the resources to harvest it bare. My perhaps stalwart attempts to show my fleeting ideals of saving the environment, which added up to not wearing sunscreen as it would kill and degrade the coral. Was in the end useless. The coral was dead or dying, and al I was left with was a burnt back and pride.


Saturday, January 30th, 2010
Today was supposed to be spent listening to a lecture at a Hawaiian sovereignty and land reclamation organization, however, we all woke up to pouring rain. Instinctively I thought it was cancelled. Ironically that was for the best, because I awoke with a migraine. We trudged our way to the bust stop in the rain to be told that yes, it was cancelled. Either it as the universe making it so I had to nurse my migraine, or I was given a migraine because I needed time to rest. So, my day was spent sleeping. Not the worst day for a migraine.

Sunday, January 31st, 2010
Today, Mats and a group of us took the 2-½ hour bus ride up to the infamous coast of Oahu’s North Shore. In my mind the waves were like mountains and the surfers rode them with ease, twisting and turning in the white spray as they wove along the waves twisted spine. Of course, the day we go there its calm and no waves bigger than an average day in Malibu. However, the day was beautiful so we set ourselves down on the beach, as any group of self-respecting Swedes would do. We were just outside of a cozy little town called Hale Iwa, filled with small little shops with old style store fronts, it reminded me a lot of Booth Bay Harbor or Kennebunkport, except for the fact that half of the town was bordering a pineapple farm. A few of us went with Mats to go eat lunch at an overpriced family eatery called Pizza Bob’s. The food was good, a bit greasy and overcooked. Definitely back in the US. The rest of the day was spent relaxing on the beach, and attempting to swim in the strong current and boulder-strewn water. We spotted a couple sea turtles eating the algae from the rocks by the bathroom and watched them for a while. My memories of going to the Big Island are filled with images of swimming with these giants, and hopefully I will get the chance again. Being around people, the same people, 24/7 can cause some abrasiveness, especially when the know how to call your bluffs, but sometimes people can be so aggravating.

Week One- Oahu

Monday, January 18th, 2010

I flew into Honolulu yesterday after a short but eventful week in Los Angeles. My time there was pent escorting my four Swedes around the city, and shoving in as much visiting time as possible. By now I have explained my trip plans 100 times, and am reluctant to do so anymore. It seems as I may jinx it. The first thing I felt when I stepped off the plane was that this isn't Hawaii. Oahu feels more like Los Angeles or any other generic big city than a tropical island paradise. The landscape isn't dictated by rolling mountains and lush greenery, but by highways and skyscrapers. Today, after meting up with a few of the girls who were also in my hostel, we went to the University to meet up with everybody for the first time in about a month. And so begins our Hawaiian adventure with a few hours spent relaxing on the beach, followed by a warm night sleeping with the windows open and no blanket.

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

Today our program here officially began. I woke up to a newly risen sun at about 7:30 this morning. After spending some time reading, showering and eating, I still had about 2 hours until our 11:30 meeting time. Those two hours were spent staring out over the balcony of the 12th floor absorbing all the sights and sounds of our campus, the University of Hawaii at Manoa. A college in Hawaii nestled a green valley, at the foot of the mountains formed by millennia of the Earth's heart and soul coming to the surface, Staring out over Waikiki beach, which I am sure was at one time a beautiful view, my field of vision was blocked by a dozen huge monstrosities of accommodation. When the time came, we all met on the grass outside our building for Ulla, our UH teacher and director of Ethnic Studies. I came from LA to go to Sweden, to travel to Hawaii, to be taught by a Danish ex-pat. I suppose those sorts of things don't affect me much anymore. We took a 10-15 minute walk through campus to get to the Ethnic Studies building, in which our classroom is located. The classroom is more like a closet/library than a classroom. The walls and desks are adorned with books and three tables are crammed in the center facing the whiteboard. Our own little cave of knowledge. Ulla introduced herself and told us how she started teaching here, and we followed suit with our names, where we came from, where we are doing our fieldwork, and why we are taking the class. Us, consists of 13 Folkhögskola students, plus Mats, 5 students from Lund University, and a Swede from N.Y, who is taking the course online. Ulla then started talking about what our time here will consist of, and it couldn't sound better. Volunteering at a local homeless shelter and school, several hours of lectures a week, a myriad of extra activities we can do, and a good portion of free time, to undoubtedly spend on the beach. Later in the day I took a hike up part of the mountain with Linda and her roommate Pauline, and my roommate Reza. Apparently I am not suited for hiking, because before we even started climbing I got a nosebleed, which I wasn't able to live down easily. The trail wasn't too bad, but the heat and humidity increases the difficulty exponentially. AS we headed back down, the sun was setting, and we were able to see the coast from Diamond Head all the way down Waikiki. When Reza and I got back we made dinner in a borrowed pan with borrowed forks and borrowed glasses. We are still waiting to receive kitchen supplies. Luckily, the people in our corridor are really nice and welcoming, that’s not what we are hearing from the 6th floor.

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010

Today was a really nice day, a combination of relaxation and contemplation. The first part of the day was spent at the beach, as many more days to follow shall surely be spent. Lying on the beach reading a book is more relaxing than most things I can imagine. People watching is also a very entertaining thing to do at the beach, we asked each other questions like: should someone that big be really wearing a Speedo, or for that matter should anyone really be wearing a Speedo? Are her breasts real? Does he know what sunscreen is? Why is he wearing a shirt on the beach? Oh, wait, that's his body hair. Later, at about 2:45, the whole class met to take a trip down to H-5, a Hawaiian homeless shelter, and a place we can possibly do our service learning. Of course, Mats got a little distracted talking about something, so we got lost and a little late. We were welcomed with open arms and a big smile by Kapua, the director, and the man who created it a big Tongan man named Tito. We listened to the story of how this place came to be, a larger than life story of serendipity, protest, and jail time. Native Hawaiians make up the largest percentage of those who live on the streets, but homelessness isn't the right word, houselessness is much better. Tradition is that during the hot months your whole family moves down and live on the beach, and with ridiculously high land prices and good weather year round, many Native Hawaiians have taken up squatting on the beach. (Many have jobs, even cars, and their children go to school, they just don't have a house.) Next, we got a tour of the place, an old abandoned warehouse converted into a shelter that is now home to 200 people. The only thing separating us from the lives of these people is a thin cloth hanging over each of their respective plots. (A maybe 6 ft x 6 ft, three-walled box.) We stayed for a few hours and helped served dinner. On the way home is was quite windy, and it started to drizzle, and all the Swedes were complaining it was cold. It was approximately 75º outside. People change quickly; maybe it comes with the tan that had already started creeping up.

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

I was awoken several times during the night, by wind crashing against my window, but aside from those several hours of wind, the weather has been absolutely wonderful. Warm, light breeze, tropical paradise. After having some oatmeal from a borrowed pan with loaned sugar, eaten out of a glass with a fork, I spent the morning reading. Luckily for me, there is a small bookshelf downstairs with books you can borrow, because I am already on my 3rd book. That’s three books in 5 days, and if this weren’t a school trip it would probably be more like 5. I think I have a problem. Isn't that the first step? Admitting you addiction. Of course, reading and alcoholism are not on the same level on the scale. At 12:45 we all met up to go to the Palolo Learning Center and Palolo Elementary School. Two more places we could choose to do our service learning hours. It was a 15-minute walk to the bus, with another 10 minutes waiting. When the bus did come, Mats and I got on first, with our pre-paid passes, and found delight in watching the precession of Swedes coming onto the bus, paying in coins, much to the dismay of the bus driver. The bus took us into a valley more known for drugs and robberies that for the lush green hillsides surrounding it. The people we would be working with here are the poorest and, statistically, least educated on the whole island. As we were walking past the project housing with dying lawns and trash strewn stoops, I couldn't help but feel like we were being taken on the tour of a zoo. A team of anthropologists studying their subjects in the wild. The learning center was part of a community revamping and outreach program to improve the lives of the residents, especially the children. We were escorted up to the second floor of the building to a state of the art community center. A large space with over a dozen ceiling fans, a fully stocked computer lab, a new kitchen, music room, and play area. After our fill of notably unhealthy, and typically American snacks, we watched a short film talking about the fight the community put up for change. Then we walked up the steep hill to the Elementary School. Originally, I wanted to volunteer someplace where I could "talk story" with native people and hear the stories of their lives, but after seeing how much help these kids need it seemed my time would be put to better use tutoring here. When it was time to go home, we walked on the other side of the street we came in on, assuming we would find a bus stop going the opposite way, but after 30 minutes we were already back at the bus stop we took to get there, so we just walked all the way back to the university. Later that night we all met at the "Fat Greek" restaurant for a celebratory welcome dinner. After my fill of lamb souvlaki and good conversation, Linda, Pauline and I, took a little drive with Nick, a Hawaiian friend of Mats. He seemed to know everything about everything that had to do with Hawaii, and had many interesting and exciting stories about his island experiences. He drove us up to a look out point, where we saw the shining lights of Honolulu illuminating the sky. Like with LA, for all the ugliness the place has during the day, there is a beauty about it at night when its lights dance under the stars.

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

What happened today was a good signal for me that I just need to roll with the punches and not try to be so controlling with my life. My irritations with some people were beginning to get the best of me. While I was trying to stay organized and get as much ready as possible for Borneo, the arrangements I made kept falling through. A meeting here, a group look at tickets, a planning session, trip to Indonesian consulate, nothing came through. I tried not to get angry and annoyed, so instead Reza and I were going to take the bus to Foodland and go shopping. After maybe 45 minutes in the store we paid. Now, I was overcome with even more stress. My share of the groceries was $60, so on top of stressing out about Borneo I was now worrying about money. I started running numbers through my head calculating how much less I thought Hawaii would cost. I was in a daze and I am sure I had negative energy pulsing off my body. We got on the number 6 bus to get home, but after about 20 minutes, we began to wonder why the bus was going the wrong way. My immediate thought was this was just one more thing to pile onto my already overloaded stress meter. But as if by divine intervention, I began to see this extra time as a sign from the universe for me to slow down, take a breath, stop worrying and just be. So two hours later, one almost ruined pack of chicken, and a whole lot of energy later we were back. When I got into the room, I collapsed on my bed and just began laughing. Money, the future, almost spoiled chicken, it all disappeared from my mind as I sunk into my bed and dove into my book. I hope this Zen will last.

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

Today was an early start, but it was well worth it. Mats planned for us to volunteer at a Hawaiian nursery focused on the re-introduction and preservation of native flora. Waiting for the bus, I couldn't help but think this early morning temperature was the same a Swedish summer. Warm, but not hot with a steady breeze. The bus ride over I was enchanted by the change from Honolulu skyline to lush green mountainsides. A thick fog hung over the ocean as if to say we had a lot of work ahead of us before the sun would be allowed to shine on us. We hopped of the bus at a gas station in the middle of the sub-burbs, not a likely place to find a farm, but we cold see the roads winding towards the base of the mountains where our adventure was surely nestled. After the bus we were waiting for Ulla's husband Rick to come pick us up in his truck. I knew it was him even before Mats said anything. A big Hawaiian man with a big white beard, sunglasses and a ponytail, not unlike my old memories of Uncle Neil, with a white Chevy pick-up truck. There were too many of us to go at one so we went in two groups. Two people got in and four or five piled on the bed. We, Molly F, Molly S, Madde, and me, were sitting in the bed of the truck with the wind rushing through our hair, winding our way towards the hills. Some things are just joyous occasions. We were smiling and laughing like little kids, closing our eyes as the Hawaiian wind rushed over our heads. Nature was placing her own lei around our necks. The beginning of the day was marked b the blowing of a conch, one in each of the cardinals, like the beginning of a traditional Hawaiian ceremony. Our hosts were a rag tag team of both Hawaiian and non-Hawaiian guys in their 30's, all looked like they just woke up after surfing on the beach. They spoke with real Hawaiian slang that did not give them the air of botanists and biologists. They explained to us the purpose of their organization, reclaiming Hawaii from the invaders, and starting traditional Hawaiian farming again. Our day would be spent removing felled Hau, or "iron" trees, and starting a new lo'i, or taro patch. WE suited up in boots, sunscreen, and bug repellent and were off. We created two long lines across the stream and up the hill, so we could pass along the wood. A human conveyor belt. At that point when we started I already felt like I had accomplished more for nature than I did in Copenhagen during COP 15. Standing with my feet in the stream in the shadow of a tree covered hill I physically changed the environment for the better. The time went by like a flash of lighting. A group of people working together, moving as one. I could have gladly spent the whole day standing there working and talking to the other volunteers. To hear from a Hawaiian why the environment is important and what tradition is lost when it is degraded, filled my heart with hope that one day the world would think like that. Alas, I did not stay there the whole day. After a short break I went on to do what I had been waiting for since I took my first step onto Oahu, Work in the taro field. Standing next to the muddy pit, covered with a sparse cover of grasses, I had a hard time imagining that in a few hours it would look like the deep richly colored squares of fresh earth and water surrounding me. Getting my feet, hands and body in the mud felt like I was being sucked down and grounded into Polynesia itself. My hands were patting down mud that had once been the rocks, dirt and plants the ancient Hawaiians themselves touched. The earth was my link to history. It engulfed my mind, heart, soul and hands in its muddy grasp. I couldn't understand why anyone would find this to be a chore. Putting your energy in and returning it to the universe in the form of new life. The ground was filled with pockets of water bubbling directly out of the holes we dug. The Earth's tears of thanks, my sweat and her tears, becomes our lifeblood. Afterwards we were treated to a nice picnic with stew and homemade brownies. A lovely reward but an unneeded one. The best reward came when we followed the stream into the hills to a waterfall and swimming hole. Cooling off in the crystalline waters, listening to the birds sing, watching the sun shine, and eventually watching the fog roll in. needless to say, I slept well.

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

Today, we took the bus to the other side of the island to visit Cilla, the woman whose house we would take over in Miloli'i, and help her clean up her yard for her granddaughter's 1st birthday party. We stepped off the bus seemingly in the middle of nowhere, an area filled with small bungalow houses and fair few "uglifiers." We approached a pale yellow house with a rusting car sitting in the yard and an older Hawaiian woman smoking on the porch with a toddler on her lap. As we got closer she waved us over, and that is how we met Cilla Spencer. She gave Mats a big hug and invited us in. After our tour around the tiny little broken down bungalow, she took no time putting us to work. With a few shovels, a wheelbarrow, and 3 cracked buckets, we cleared a pile of sand that was as tall as me, spreading it around the house and yard to smooth out the lawn. As the midday sun shone down on us, our final project was waiting. This old, rusty, deteriorating car had to be moved, and we were the ones to do it. With someone holding the steering wheel through the open door, we all gathered round and pushed with all our might. We channeled our Viking ancestors and lifted the car out of the ground, pushed it forward about 10 feet, and then picked it up and turned it around. By the end we were all sweaty and covered in commercial grade oil and lube that dyed our clothes and hands black. With out final task done, Cilla released us from our servitude and sent us to her “private” beach. Only locals go there, but all we had to do if we ran into trouble is give them her name and everything would be cleared up. As we walked down the slightly grown over trail, in-between to deteriorating houses, our path opened up giving us a view of a long stretch of white sand, turquoise waters, and a small green island in the distance. Being both sweaty and hot, we all ran towards the water stripping off our stained clothes as we went and dove into the salty escape of the cool water. We spent the next 2 hours frolicking in the water like little kids, splashing around in the waves and soaking up the sun. When we got back to Cilla’s the BBQ was just starting but she said, “Why don’t you guys go to the store and buy your guys selves some beer.” We hopped into her niece’s car, and in American fashion drove the 3 blocks over to the liquor store. By now, I am used to having someone else buy me beer, and having to make sure the cashier doesn’t see me place my order, but at this place it was clear money proceeds age. No one had to show his or her I.D. We headed back beer in hand and spent the afternoon baking on a picnic blanket, eating great food, and enjoying ourselves. By about 4, Mats said he was heading back but we were free to stay behind, about 8 of us stayed. We took the rest of our beer and headed back down to the beach. As we rolled around in the waves intoxicated by the sun and our drinks, the time seemed to fly by. On the bus ride home we all fell asleep, and I came home and collapsed in bed at 8:30. My otherwise well observed rule of not going to bed before 9 was broken, but I think for good reason.

In the land of centipedes and banana fritters

My blog has been dead for far to long, and it seems it is about time to revive it before it dissapears into oblivion. Of course, I have good reason for my lack of posting. Traveling around the world takes time you know. I promise you now that when I get back home I will put up my travel journal, so you to can taste what I taste, smell what I smell, and see what I see, all without having to leave your computer or risk your precious toes and fingers. That is I promise I will keep, but I need your occasional push and prod to get it done. I am a bit of a procratinater. Now, with all the legal stuff out of the way, where do i begin? I am in the cirty of Kota Kinabalu, in the district of Sabah, on the Malaysian side of Borneo. Molly, Amanda, and I, are using KK as a staging ground between the trip we jsut took to Kudat, and our next move down to Miri. In Kudat we stayed with a British ex-pat, named Howard, working to set up a resort in the area. It was just by chance that we got in contact with hom through CouchSurfing, but we are certainly glad we did. Howard is an exuburant man, who has very strong connections with the Rungus people, Kudats indigenous group, and was more than happy to drag us along through his business in their villages. We had a great time and got to see a side of these people we never would have seen on our own. A truly amazing experience for an Anthropology student. So far, travelling has been great, and except for a few earthquakes, tsunamis, cancelled flights and lost bags, an absolute breeze. In five days we go to the jungle, and will be there for 2 1/2 weeks, and then we have more travels, with me finally ending up in Thailand working on an organic farm for two weeks. This is probably my last update until I am back in Sweden, so until then.
Max

Its Been A Long Time

This is my first post in other a month, as well as my first post of the new year. Don't heckle me about not updating since before Christmas, it has been out of my hands. I spent my first real whole Swedish Christmas with my grandparents and family. No Internet out there in the middle of nowhere. I of course don't mean nowhere in a bad way. Yes, it is true after a while you get a bit of cabin fever, but being out there with the snow covered fields, family, a good book, and great food, is well worth not being connected to the "modern world." Then I spent a few wonderful days in Copenhagen with Anna's Line. It was great to visit her, as well as staying out till 4 in the morning, after being with my grandparents for 3 weeks. One can only take so much of a good thing. Then I was in L.A. for a blink of an eye. Coming back was really odd. It felt like no time had passed at all. Being able to visit family and just hang around at home was priceless. Of course that sentimental family time only lasted a few days, until our house was invaded by Swedes. Now this is partly my fault as I invited the 4 of them, but it was great to have them there. It is always a great experience to show friends around your home town, as it forces you to do and see things you wouldn't often do as a local. Regardless of how I may have bad mouthed big cities, there is nothing quite like looking out over the city at night. When its lit up like a christmas tree. It is really spectacular. And now I am here in Hawaii, and have been here for 2 weeks as of today. Oh my god, I hadn't even realized that until just now when I wrote it. Time truly flies. I stay here in Honolulu until the 12th, when we fly to the Big Island and will stay in Milolii, the last Hawaiian fishing village, for 10 days. Then I leave for my field study work in Borneo on the 28th. Then two weeks WWOOF-ing on a farm in Thailand, home in Sweden on the 24th of April. I will try to write again before I leave Hawaii, but not promises. I do promise, however, to put up my journal and pictures as soon as I can when I get back. Don't be afraid to write me an email, I still have time for my family and friends.
Until next time,
MAX

Copenhagen!!!!

As you are probably aware, yesterday Saturday the 12th, there was a huge demonstration in Copenhagen to pressure the U.N. climate meeting to come to an agreement that would put us onto the road to solving global warming and prevent the disasters that will come if we keep on the same track. Climate change is a big deal for me, as it should be for everyone, partly because of me going to the Zoo Magnet, but also because I have always been a lover of nature. So considering that Copenhagen is less than 2 hrs away from me I couldn't pass up the chance to join in. So a group of about 10 of us from my school left on Friday night for Copenhagen. The demonstration wasn't until Saturday, but there were a lot of things going on Friday night. There isn't much to say about the train ride, but I did have a bit of an epiphany. I have always wondered where Shakespeare got the name Elsinore, Hamlet's castle in Denmark, and while sitting on the train the voice said first in Swedish that the train goes to "Helsingør," then in English and said it Anglicized "Elsinore" (Maybe I am the only when who ever noticed.) When we got to Copenhagen Central station we were met by my friend Ylva's brother who had already been in Copenhagen for a few days. He took us to an info point for demonstrators where we found a place we could stay for free. After figuring out where we would be heading later that night we took a bus to the outskirts of Copenhagen to an old abandoned factory and warehouse space where we would attend a meeting planning what would happen at the demonstration. When we got there, there was a swarm of people from all over: France, Germany, Australia, England, the U.S, Canada, Sweden and Finland to name a few, all there to protest. They also were serving "donation optional" food for everyone there. If not just for the fact that it was like 1ºC out and the food was warm, the food was really good. We then all shuffled into an old warehouse where about 200 people were sitting around in a circle proposing things to do during the demonstration. There were two things that popped out to me, 1, that even with this many people with different opinions it was still orderly and calm, which to me really spoke to the fact that we all wanted the same thing and weren't going to argue about whose idea was better, and 2, there are a lot of people that jump to the conclusion that you can't get things done peacefully, but those who wanted to be "less than peaceful" agreed to march at another time and place in the city. From that point on I knew that the march was going to be a success. Later we headed over to a free concert, a group from Barcelona who played a sound I have never really heard. It was like a mix of salsa, reggae, and hard rock. Very cool. Then after that was over we hopped on a bus to go to where we were sleeping. Now even if the march wasn't an amazing experience, I would still have the story of where we slept. This bus too took us to an industrial part of the city to an abandoned warehouse. The complex reminded me of someplace you might go after a natural disaster or a zombie apocalypse. It was an empty storage house with sleeping bags, tents, and such, all laid directly on the cement floor, covering every inch of usable (legal) space. (we had to leave empty areas in case of a fire). Not to mention it was below freezing outside. My sleeping space consisted of me and my friends all lined up on the floor like sardines, side by side, all laying on top of our extra clothes and jackets for a mattress, and huddled in our sleeping bags. It wasn't the best night of sleep I have ever had, but all the sleeping people's breath and body heat warmed up the air, plus my sleeping bag goes down to-10º. I actually ended up opening it up in the middle of the night because I was sweating. We woke up the next morning to a chilly Danish winter. Why is it that the day I am going to be sleeping in a warehouse and marching outside all day is the first one in about 3 weeks that it is below freezing in the area? Nevertheless, we braved the chilly wind anyway. We ate our fill of porridge and bread with various vegan spread for breakfast, brushed our teeth, used the facilities , and left so we could avoid the rush and any police that would come when everyone started to leave. We hopped on the bus and got to the meeting place for the demonstration at a quarter to ten. This first part of the demonstration was called The Flood because we were going to flood the streets in protest. So accordingly everyone was wearing blue ponchos. After standing in the crowd for about 30 minutes, listening to speakers talk about what we are fighting for, and practicing our chants we got the signal to begin. We started walking chanting, "What do we want?" "Climate Justice!" "When do we want it?" "Now!' This first part of the march was from the central station to Parliament Square. Along the way I saw: a bunch of people dressed as polar bears, a man in a UFO suit offering tickets off the planet for 100 million dollars, a man in an inflatable raft being pushed along by the sea of people in blue, an inflated globe being rolled over our heads, and my personal favorite, two people, supposed to be police looking for climate refugees, in a "boat" following two other people in a "boat" supposed to be the refugees, all the while shouting "Please show us your passports! If you do not have a visa you must leave this country, even if yours doesn't exist!" I even got to help hold up a Swedish anti-nuclear power sign. I am just like my mother!! Being in the crowd, I didn't feel like I was one person, I felt like we were all one entity moving and breathing in unison. One life force. After what felt like 10 minutes, which was at least 40, we arrived at Parliament Square. There we were provided with signs saying different things like: "There is no Planet B!" and "Nature doesn't compromise!" This was the hardest part of the day. After this big exciting march, we had to wait for about 3 hours in the cold, windy square, amidst a crowd of people until the final march to Bella Center started. There were people all around handing out Socialist newspapers, Communist pamphlets, Vegan recipes, and such. There was music and speeches, but that time waiting felt like forever. I was freezing, my legs were tired, I was hungry, but I just held in knowing the time would come when we would march again. And sure enough it did! I am not going to try and describe this part because I was so awed and amazed I couldn't tell you much. I was marching between the Socialist, Anarchists, and Environmentalists. It felt really strangely satisfying to be marching with Socialists and not feel like they are too extreme and crazy. (because thats the feeling I get in the US) We were chanting and singing and marching forever it seemed. It was 8 km and it took us about 3 to 4 hours to get there. It was pitch dark 2 hours in, but that didn't matter. The whole time my legs kept telling me to stop, but my brain pushed me through. Then eventually my brain told me to stop as well, but luckily my heart pushed on. When we got to Bella Center, everyone got quiet and marched with a light of some kind to prove that we were peaceful and calm. But after a while the area broke out in music and dancing, and laughter filled the air. We left by 6:30, the metro was so full there was barely standing room, and on more than one occasion the doors wouldn't close. Then we jumped on a bus to go get our stuff from where we slept. Got some free soup, and hitched a ride with some Germans to the train station. After hours upon hours of marching, the longest part of my day came waiting for trains and busses, just thinking about sleeping in a warm bed. I finally got home at around 2 AM and passed out.

I realize this isn't the best writing, and I am sure there are grammar mistakes, and run on sentences, and another myriad of errors that would make Ms. Rose blush, but this is all my mind can produce as of now. Maybe I am still in shock! But school is coming to a close this week, so I have to start packing up and cleaning. I just wanted to give you all a general idea of what I did.

I came away feeling accomplished and empowered, like the future is not as bleak as I imagined. However, the one thing I cant get out of my mind is: considering this was a climate demonstration, how many liters of oil were used to make the plastic ponchos we were wearing? And how many of them got thrown away? How much carbon was produced by the cars, trains, busses, planes we used to get here? And where did they get all the wood to make the signs?
I guess at some degree you must be your own enemy to create new allies.