A Different Kind Of Rich

Yelling up to Gio, "dude the garden is blowing up!"

"I know! We have so much food!"

It's late afternoon where the sun is just beginning to set behind the valley we live in. Just the top of the mountains and the cotton candy clouds are kissed by the last rays of light. Perusing the garden with Gio, we stand among all of the veggies that have been planted over the last few months. Tatsoi, romaine, arugula, daikon radish, beets, mustard, kale, chard, tomato, fennel, cilantro, taro, sweet potato, spinach, and broccoli are just a few of the varieties that have been planted in the garden. Encompassing six or so terraces, it's enough greens and veggies to feed four people comfortably plus enough to give away as a small omiyage (a gift) to friends or someone in need of fresh food. We estimate that at least eighty percent of our food comes from the garden.

Picking greens, I start laughing. Gio looks at me in confusion, "what's up?"

"Dude, we are so rich!"

Gio smiles, "I know, we are so rich."

It's an idea that we've been playing around with the last few days. We don't own fancy things, most of our appliances are held together with duct tape, and the chairs we sit in are releasing their stuffing like a well loved teddy bear. To many, we probably look like bridge trolls since we essentially live underneath someones deck.

However, it would be hard to put a price on the veggies and fruits that we grow. What's the price of a thirty pound guacamole of the freshest avocados worth? Especially when you have to finish it because you have to make another thirty pound guacamole before the avocados go bad. What's five gallons of tangelo (a tangerine and orange hybrid) juice worth, and what's a five gallon bucket stuffed with the freshest greens worth for a salad?

Many might disregard it for the latest fashion but I think it would be hard to put a price on it. Maybe being rich should be something more then fancy dinners and hotels, but more of the simple things that make you and others feel good. It's a different kind of rich.

The makings of tangelo juice

Pure tangerine juice

Sacred Hawaiian taro

Tatsoi

Prepping banana hands

The latest fruit plunder

We call ourselves vegan hunters

Sometimes you get lucky with the sunrises

The Price Of Paradise

Bali Hai

Like clock work, the first hint of sun rays light up our side of the valley letting us know that working in the yard will soon end before it gets too hot. Looking South and up the valley, the mountain ridges stand like the head of a hand held lemon juicer. The absence of light casts shadows in the valleys while the dense green jungle along the ridges are exposed by the sun's light. Easily standing a hundred feet tall in the middle of the valley, the invasive Albizia trees to the East take the shape of Bonsai tree silhouettes.

Mountain glow

Up above on the road, a pack of wild boars squeal above the exhaust sound of a rusted, lifted Toyota Tacoma that probably wouldn't pass smog specifications. After a brief silence, once again the roosters begin to orchestrate their calls up and down the valley breaking the serenity of the moment.

It's been about a month since I've been back on Kauai. Adjusting back into island life has been fairly straight forward since I've spent enough time here in the past. However, sometimes I can't help but laugh at the harshness of living in one of the most "local" places in Kauai. Depending on how one looks at it, it can either be seen as comedic, or a sad, dark environment.

Facebook, Apple, and startup millionaires build their massive vacation homes that are built with the finest, most rare hard woods. However, these homes are only used a few weekends out of the year. This is juxtaposed next door with a small island green Hawaiian shack that is in shambles and is more fit for a shanti town. In many cases the Hawaiian family that lives there will have to leave because the property is worth more than the house.

The once sacred taro fields and farm land that the Hawaiians families have cultivated for hundreds of years is worth millions of dollars compared to the thousands of dollars that is being grossed from the produce it provides. Families out of necessity or thirst for money are now selling this land to commercial developers. This is only the beginning for a people who are culturally displaced in a first world country but who's souls are tied to the stories that their Aunties and Uncles tell them of a life that is long gone. These people are now seeking what they have lost and don't even knowing what it is they are searching for.

Theft is prevalent, white haole kids are still harassed in schools, starved hunting dogs howl in small cages waiting for what could be their last boar hunt before being mauled to death, and hard drugs such as ice is common and can be seen by the zombies that roam rural areas. In many ways, status is won by skin tone, amount of time that you have resided on the islands, who you hang out with, and how big your truck is.

Last year, a couple friends and I were a part of a conversation with some Hawaiians at a picnic who were talking story about being local. One Hawaiian in his dark, raspy voice summed it up by saying, "when you've been he-yah long e-nuff, then you'll know." Upon him saying that, the vibe in the air was so heavy that you could almost touch it. I couldn't handle for long and left the guacamole we made at the table for them and came back later for it.

Yet, these things are really only seen with keen observation and having spent enough time living in the area. Many tourists that visit will never see this during their time here. Instead they will be driving through paradise in their red convertible, holding their GoPro out the window, smiling as their hair is blowing in the wind, and completely oblivious to the line of traffic stacking up behind them.

Like the Hawaiian said, "when you've been here long enough, then you'll know."

Fresh Swell

Hanakapiai falls

Free Fallin'

Tranquil mornings

Veggie starts

Tools of the trade

Tangelo

Watermelon radish

Abstract wave motion

Slipping Back Into Island Life

Feeling around blindly for my Iphone, I snatch it off the windowsill to shut off the alarm. It's currently 6am and it's still pitch black outside. I do my best to wrap myself back into my blankets as I mentally prepare to get up to watch the sunrise.

 A year later, I'm back on Kauai with upgraded sleeping quarters. Instead of the kitchen counter, I now sleep in an 8ft by 7ft shack which is just big enough for a twin bed and a few belongings. It's more of a screened in box to keep out the mosquitos with a roof above it. Due to the open air plan of my shack, the cool valley winds blow through the screens causing the curtains to dance and my exposed skin to develop goosebumps.

Shelf space

Lying back down, the wind rustles the jungle leaves around me like the applause of a standing ovation to a sold out theatre play. All around me the wild roosters continuously can be heard up and down the valley as they call out to each other as if they were neighbors bickering to one another from across the street.

Finding little motivation to get back out of bed, I justify that the sunrise isn't going to be very good and I give up and succumb to the idea of more sleep.

Lazy afternoon

Jack Johnson banana pancake kind of morning

Muddy commutes

Just another tequila sunrise