A Postcard From Somewhere: 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."