The Competitive Nature of Island Life

"For here am I sitting in a tin can far above the world." -Bowie

Rewinding to a week ago to just arriving on the island. The first few days of sleeping was hard, not because of the heat or the Mosquitos but because of the wild chickens. It would be 4am and one rooster would crow. Pretty soon all of the roosters in the valley would crow; an orchestra of roosters in the valley all competing to crow loudest. All competing two hours before sunrise. 

My temporary but current sunrise view. The jungle is thick and dense here.

Super green smoothies in the morning. Chocolate mint, two types of spinach, kale, beets, ginger, lilicoy, papaya, banana, and orange. All from the garden. 

Amazing smelling Plumerias

Love playing with my macro lens 

Flying on my bike for a sunrise beach stretch

A bit late but happy Halloween! Scary face spider I think it's called...

Fast forward a week and it's funny to look at the competitive nature of people. It's constant competition. Who can surf the best in the water, who can get the best shells, and who has the biggest, baddest, most lifted truck. The list goes on and on...

This brings me to my comedic interaction last night. Currently I'm living on a paved road with a dirt parking lane on either side. It's a muddy mess since it rains almost every day. If you leave the window open to your car all night... Well good luck getting the interior dry...

Anyways, parking on this street seems to be like getting parking on Black Friday (I've never been shopping on Black Friday, but it's what I imagine it to be like). It's a constant competition between who gets the best parking spot closest to their house. 

It was late last night and I had been asleep for a while. I'm immediately jolted awake by someone peeling out on the street and honking. I momentarily fall back asleep and soon hear a banging on the glass door downstairs. Groggily and slightly nervous to get up, I'm hoping that this person is banging on the door next to mine. Turns out this person isn't. He continues banging on my door as if the door were constantly being slammed shut. Eventually he flings the door open and I hear it bang and rattle against the wall. He flicks the light to the stairwell on and not wanting him to come up further, I say "Hey! What are you doing!?" 

He yells back in his Hawaiian accent "YOU GOT A RED TRUCK?!?! YOU NEED TO MOVE IT!!!"

I say "Naw, I don't have a truck."

With that he walks out, slams the door and roasts his tires down the street. He could have at least turned off the light when he left.