Posts Tagged ‘Life After Forty’

My family is not vegetarian. In fact if I couldn’t offer my sons meat they would starve to death. My 9 year old begins to resemble an anxiety ridden mini Woody Allen at the mere idea of vegetables.  I have added dill pickle as an option to satisfy my “one vegetable” a day rule. My kids know where vegetables come from. They trim herbs from my planter boxes and feed the worms in our Worm Factory, which produce fertilizer for our vegetable garden. But where does meat come from?

At 7 and 9 my boys have a small collection of weapons. We even have a drawer labeled “guns” under the “electronics” drawer in their closet. The also have swords, sling shots and rocket launchers. These two are proficient at killing aliens on their X-box and are comfortable watching their father put salmon out of their misery when fly fishing in Alaska. So I thought it was time to take them hunting.

While staying in one of the Parker Ranch cabins on the side of Mauna Kea we took the boys on a turkey hunt. They chattered away excitedly while searching for turkeys through the binoculars. I worried that this might be too much reality for them but I also wanted them to understand that meat does not begin in a cellophane wrapped packet. The boys kept spotting flocks in the distance but they were either too far away or the wind was blowing our scent toward them. After an hour one of the men spotted a pig. They switched rifles and off they went to shoot the pig while the boys and I stayed quietly behind. We watched as one hunter steadied his rifle on a tree branch to look through the scope and the other ran quietly up behind the pig. We couldn’t see it but we heard the shot. The boys looked at me for affirmation that the pig was indeed killed and waited apprehensively as the men returned to the truck.

We drove up closer to where the pig lay and the men carried it over to us.  After gutting it and putting it in the back of the truck we set off back to the cabin.  My 7 year old asked why does blood make your stomach feel funny? And my 9 year old said he was going to tell his class about this experience. However, before we made it back to the cabin we spotted a flock of turkeys on the top of a little hill with the wind blowing away from them. Again we stopped so one of our hunters could go after them and sure enough, we heard a shot.  Minutes later he came trudging over the hill carrying 3 turkeys. We were impressed that one shot aimed high enough hit all three in their heads.

The boys handled it calmly and only asked a few questions about the experience. That afternoon we cooked some of the pig heart in olive oil and spices over the open fire and both boys tasted it inquisitively. My 9 year old is prone to nightmares and shies away from any movies or television that might appear frightening. I was pleased that he handled this experience as we intended.

On the ride home from school Monday, my littlest said “mom today I lied in my journal about what I did this weekend.  I said I went to the park to play tether ball.” I told him he had a really exciting weekend and asked why he lied. His exact words were “Well it would go like this ~ we went hunting on the side of Mauna Kea Mountain.  We had guns. We shot and killed a pig.  He bled a lot.  We put him in the truck. Then on the way back to the cabin we shot 3 turkeys in the head. We put them in the truck. At the cabin we cooked the pigs heart.” I told him that was what hunting is and that his teacher would understand.  He looked at me like I was clueless and patiently explained “guns, shooting, blood, killing ~ mom, we are not allowed to write or talk about that at school.”  I have since discovered that this is true. The mere mention of guns and killing is grounds for expulsion even in elementary school. I do not want him to test that rule and so I sanctioned his lie but cautioned him to make sure he mentions that he is writing a story instead of a true account next time.

In the end the children do not want to go hunting again soon. They still eat meat but now know where it comes from and they feel very grown up to have been allowed on such an adult outing.

Living in Hawaii is by default, an invitation for friends and family to visit. As residents we are expected to be entertaining and knowledgeable tour guides.  My guest left today and though I tried hard to be a good tour guide I am not sure Hawaii lived up to his expectations.

He, like many of us, grew up in the Brady Bunch era. The Brady Bunch Hawaii episodes showed a lush tropical jungle full of hula dancers and innumerable palm trees.  I live in Waikoloa Village, on the Big Island, which is basically a town surrounded by an enormous field of dried red lava.  There are palm trees of course, however if you were dropped here blindfolded you would think you were in Anytown, USA.  Our town was developed to house the employees of the surrounding resorts.  The jungle is on the other side of the island.

Anyway, we started our touring with a drive around the Hamakua Coast. This is one of the most beautiful drives on the Big Island. Going through the rain forest is a true Hawaiian delight. The ocean is wild and gorgeous on one side and the jungle lush and tropical on the other. We happened to go when it was cloudy and rainy the whole way and my visitor fell asleep.

We did not stop at Akaka Falls because of the rain but went directly into Hilo.  We were headed to a King Kamehameha Festival on the waterfront and arrived toward the end of the festival.  I was hoping for some local artists and authentic Hula.  There was a small Hula presentation but with only two women and two men.  The male Kumu translated in a deep sonorous voice explaining the Hawaiian culture through dance.  That part was great. The rest of the festival was disappointing as it consisted of a couple of tee shirt vendors and a food vendor.

Leaving the festival in the drizzling rain we stopped for a beer at Cronies on the bay front.  My Hilo friends joined us and things livened up a bit. After a few beers we headed to a little local sushi restaurant called Ocean Sushi, which is low on atmosphere but great on quality and prices.  We started with a bowl of Edamame and ordered lots of different sushi rolls to share for dinner. Everything was yummy except the rolls with a mayonnaise dressing (my mainland guest did in fact like that one – go figure?)

We were staying overnight at my friend’s “hut” out in Kea’au.  He built and lived in it for a year while converting a Matson shipping container into a jungle bungalow.  All four sides are screened so you are still outside but it is completely mosquito proof, making it extremely pleasant to sleep in. The sound of light rain is soothing as it falls on the plastic roof.  There is also an outdoor shower rigged up with a propane torch heater and other rustic amenities, which make for an authentic jungle experience. We fell asleep to the lulling songs of the Coqui frogs.

Next morning after a breakfast of papaya, wild chicken eggs and sausage made from wild boars that a neighbor slaughtered, we headed to the warm pools at Ahalanui Beach Park.  I took the long way through Kalapana to see the old lava flow that wiped out neighborhoods in the 1980s and to see the steam from the new lava flowing into the ocean right now.  I was impressed as I watched the steam pouring up to form brilliant white mushroom clouds. I wished we could have stayed until dark so we could see the red glow of the lava flow.

However we needed to get back to Waikoloa for a barbeque so we set out again up the Hamakua coast. This time we did stop at Akaka falls and it is impossible not to be impressed by the Jurassic Park scenery and the gorgeous waterfalls.

We finished off his visit with a morning of Hawaiian Outrigger canoeing and Stand Up paddling in Anaeho’omalu Bay.  The water was so clear and calm we stayed too long and had to rush to the airport.

I really tried to be a funny and enlightened tour guide. I can usually tell if I have succeeded but honestly this time I think the reality did not match up to the fantasy. I guess I should either tone down my enthusiastic description of life in Hawaii or stop having mainland guests.  At least I got to do some touring myself.

Copyright © Johanna Kim

Stand Up Paddling is becoming more popular by the day. Improved boards are constantly arriving here on the Big Island. I see 16 foot boards for racing, 9 foot boards for surfing, 10 foot boards for petite folks and 12 foot boards for the rest of us. This is one ocean sport that is easy to learn, strengthens core muscle groups and is a blast. What more could we want?

I discovered this sport while whale watching in Maui. The SUP (Stand Up Paddle) boarders were paddling around the dive boats as the whales breached within a dozen yards. I knew instantly that I would be paddle boarding with the whales on their next migration.

Synchronicity was in play when I got back to the Big Island. After canoe practice a couple days later, a friend’s husband walked by with a Stand Up Paddle board on his head. He gave me lessons that morning and I bought my board that very week.

I have been paddle boarding for just over a year. A little group has formed and we go out as often as possible. Being out on the ocean on a board instead of sitting in a boat is a unique feeling. You are much closer to the water, sometimes falling in and cooling off or sitting, dangling your feet while chatting with a friend.

Last spring there were tiger sharks patrolling our side of the Big Island. No one knows what brought them here and no one was injured but beaches were closed intermittently for a few weeks. One gorgeous day we were playing around in Waialea Bay and stopped to sit on our boards for a bit. Holding the boards close to each other with our feet, we drifted lazily. Just then a dark shadow approached us. A 12 foot Tiger shark cruised silently by within inches of our paddle boards and headed toward a group of snorkelers. Not wanting to cause the snorkelers to panic we paddled between them and the shark. He veered off toward open water. In hindsight that might not have been smart. Exciting though.

Sometimes we park a truck downwind at one bay and put in at another to paddle one way with the wind at our backs. The kayakers cannot keep up. I find this exhilarating. On occasion pods of dolphins allow us to paddle among them. They cruise around and under us, surfacing and blowing air, as they play with each other, completely unafraid. Other days we have paddled above Manta Rays and giant schools of Yellow Tangs. When the water is as clear as glass we jump in and snorkel with our boards leashed to our ankles.

This winter I did get my chance to paddle board near the whales.  Just outside of Anaeho’omalu Bay several pods of whales have been breaching and surfacing regularly.   One morning we paddled out to the top of the bay and watched in awe as whale after whale broke the surface of the water, spun around and came down with a mighty splash.  Another morning a mother and baby humpback surfaced only feet from our canoe.  I cannot even begin to describe what that felt like.  I have been out there watching them often since that first day and the thrill never fades.

Surfing on SUP boards is gaining popularity. While I have barely mastered surfing swells, I love to watch experienced surfers using their paddles to help maneuver as they surf on the waves. This is a great sport for people of all ages but for those of us over thirty – it is perfect. The learning curve is short, risk of injury is low, gear is minimal, benefits to health are optimal and best of all it is unbelievably fun.

I have two tips for those starting out. First, let yourself fall a lot in the beginning and second, use the longest board you can find to learn on. You can rent boards all over the islands and You Tube has loads of instructional videos. Plus there are lots of folks willing to teach you the basics and will tell you where to begin. Why not give it a try? You have nothing to lose.

Copyright © Johanna Kim

“Butterflies of the Ocean” they have been called. With wingspans reaching up to 20 feet they glide silently through the water. I think they look more like giant ethereal bats as they barrel roll up to me. I am startled as one brushes lightly against my skin. I breathe through my snorkel and know I am safe as I watch the night dance of the Manta Rays.

Snorkeling at night with the Manta Rays in Kona might be the most awe-inspiring activity I have ever done.

Kona’s night Manta Ray Dive is rated one of the top ten best dives in the world. Not being scuba certified I went as a snorkeler. One diver told me he chose snorkeling over scuba diving to see the Manta Rays from another perspective and was equally impressed.

The thought of snorkeling in the ocean at night was a bit intimidating (my fear was that a shark would shoot out of the darkness straight at me). However, once the sun went down, a light anchored to the ocean floor illuminated the dive site like an in-ground swimming pool. The bottom was clearly visible from the surface 30 feet above. In addition, we were handed submersible flashlights to draw plankton toward us.

We were all given wetsuits to keep us warm and directions on how to get back to the boat (another fear of mine was getting on the wrong boat). The captain explained that the Mantas could touch and bump into us all they want but we were not to touch them in order to protect their delicate slime coat. Now the fear of being bumped by these giant sea creatures, who appear to be half mouth, was added to my list.

At last it was time to jump in and swim to the light. Scuba divers on all the boats started plopping into the ocean, one hand on their masks, the other holding their flashlights. Like underwater fireflies they formed a ring. All beams aimed at the center created a column of light drawing plankton in from the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for second and jumped into the blue-green depths. Snorkeling over to the site as fast as I could (there might be a shark right behind me) I found myself among dozens of other snorkelers. The divers were sitting in circle on the bottom shining their lights up toward us as we did the opposite.

Soundlessly the Mantas arrived, coming from the complete darkness, which loomed outside our pool of artificial light. There were seven in all sizes. They glided in and out of the light, their huge mouths filtering plankton as they moved around us like a surreal underwater slow motion movie. Streams of bubbles glittered as the made their way to the surface from the dozens of scuba tanks. The Mantas flew quietly through them as they dipped and rolled and glided all around us. I was so entranced by the experience that I hardly noticed I was one of the few snorkelers left in the water. Luckily I found the right boat so I wasn’t left to swim anxiously in the dark water for very long. The boat was quieter on the way back. The mood was more humble and contemplative than the boisterous rowdy crowd who went out.

Putting emotion into words is difficult at best, however I hope I have given you a glimpse of how wonderful this experience was so that perhaps you are moved to put this on your list of things to do whether you live here or are just visiting. There are many companies which offer this dive and snorkelers are usually welcome and most offer a small Kama’aina discount.

Copywrite © Johanna Kim

For the past several weeks I have been reluctantly preparing for a race. My friend wanted someone to buddy up with in case the others in her group ran too fast. Paddling and biking I do regularly, but the last time I went running I fell head over heels into the bushes, resulting in a disgusting staph infection. However, I thought it was time to jump back on the horse, so to speak, and agreed to join her.

My first clue that this might not be an ordinary race was the pigtails requirement. In hindsight I should have asked more questions.
Arriving right on time we pulled in behind a line of cars parked on the side of the road. We noticed that most of the people were wearing funny hats. Court jester hats, Cat in the Hat hats, hats with ears and a host of others. Was it possible that the race requirements had been changed? It turned out that down the road from the starting place was a “funny hat” wedding reception. Inevitably the pigtail group and the funny hat group kept getting mixed up.

And the race wasn’t actually a race after all, it was a run, or walk or even a crawl if one so desired. The men wore pigtails too, albeit more creatively as we saw one with a pink homemade curly cue pinned to the back of his shorts. I think my second clue (perhaps I am not too quick) was that some of the runners were leaning on their cars drinking beer. I did notice that most people were wearing quality running shoes – except for the girl in slippers, who actually finished before we did.

At 2:45pm, right on time, two runners were dispersed to lay the trail using flour markings. That is when we were called into the virgin circle. This was our first Hash House Harrier Run. We were given instructions on to read the flour markings along the trail. The advance runners, referred to as hares would not only mark the true trail but would mark false trails to throw off the hounds who would set out after the hares at 3:00pm. We were the hounds.

The serious runners started out first and then we ran with the tail of the pack. The trail went up through rain forest above Kona, and it was beautiful with the sun streaming through the trees and the cool moist air keeping us from overheating. However, the trail was extremely rocky and in some places vines grew across it. The gradual incline seemed to go on forever until we came upon our first beer stop. What kind of crazy people drink alcohol during a run? We chose water and passed other runners for the next few minutes. After a while the incline was so steep and the path so narrow that it was all we could do to keep a brisk walking pace. Luckily, more experienced Hashers were in front of us calling out, “On, on,” which meant we were on the right trail.

Stopping at the third beverage break we were hot, sweaty and wondering how far the trail really was. This time we were offered Jell-O shots and we gladly accepted. After that we perked up and made pretty good time to our next beer. Needless to say, it was quite entertaining. By the time we got back to the start a party was going on and people cheered as if we had all accomplished a great feat. There were honors bestowed and we virgins graduated to hashers as the beer flowed.

So maybe all that training hadn’t been necessary, but I ended up meeting fun people, going for a hike, learned I like Jell-O shots, and was referred to as a virgin all day. I am definitely going to this again.

Hash House Harrier runs are held in 183 countries, so find one near you and check it out.

copyright © 2009 by Johanna Kim (Life After Forty)

My young sons were thrilled when President Obama was elected. They knew he had lived in Hawaii and the buzzing excitement of the adults around them was contagious. The night the polls closed they watched, in perplexed fascination, as their father wiped the tears streaming down his face. Reassuring them that they were tears of happiness, he explained to the boys that they had just witnessed a wonderful moment in our history. He explained to them that Senator Barack Obama would soon be the first non-white President of the United States. They continued to look puzzled. Their father tried a more personal approach: “We’ll soon have a President who is like us—not white.” Surprised, the boys looked at their hands and arms and asked, “We’re not white?”

My children are Korean. Their father is Korean and Irish. I am a mixture of European and American Indian. Every year I teach a class on skin color in the boys’ classrooms. I bring a box of 30 “people color” crayons and have a chart that shows how melanin is produced. The children and I talk about the areas of the world where skin color is light and where it is dark. At the end, the children are provided paper and crayons and asked to draw a picture of themselves. Interestingly, most of them reach for the pinks and pale beige crayons and push aside the darker ones.

In Hawaii, race is rarely an issue for our family. With a 75% non-Caucasian population, Hawaii is remarkable in its ethnic diversity. A snapshot of the children in a typical Hawaiian classroom would show a rainbow of skin colors. Being diverse here is the norm. Which means that teachers, policemen, coaches, doctors, and parents all look familiar to our children—who literally see in themselves the very features of their role models. So why does a five year old, living in Hawaii, identify with the lightest color crayons?

My sons’ father grew up Asian in a white world. He was acutely aware of being different. For children, being perceived as different is confusing and painful. The weight of that burden shapes who they will become. My children do not yet know that their life here in Hawaii was created so they could grow up free from the perception that they are “different.” Perhaps once they make their way out of this Hawaiian sanctuary our country will have rejected the idea that lighter is better. The fact that we elected a non-white President is evidence that our idea of “different” is changing. Here in Hawaii it is a blessing that children can grow up unburdened by the perception that they are different.

copyright © 2009 by Johanna Kim