Streets Paved With Gold

William Arthur Ward once wrote, “Opportunity is often difficult to recognize; we usually expect it to beckon us with beepers and billboards.”

Hawaii’s streets may not be paved with gold, but they surely are paved with opportunity.  From volcanoes to replicated Japanese Buddhist temples to world-renown waves, the Aloha State offers a plethora of new experiences and incredible memory-making.

I recently read a blog from an Army wife who truly despises the state.  She mentions the exhorbanent cost of living, the fact that the island is quite small, the lack of amenities and stores like a Super-Walmart, and  the desire to get off the rock every now and then, among other complaints.

I can understand her frustrations:  The cost of living is high (though to be honest, I just went to Chili’s and spent nearly $40 for two adults getting a drink each plus a meal), but not as outrageous as her blog claims it to be.  She’s right that the pickings can be slim depending on where you are, and I imagine there’s always an island upcharge when you have to fly or ship pretty much every ingredient in.  Living in Honolulu, we’ll have less-than-ten-minute access to the giant Commissary and Nex, which will keep our costs reasonable.

When it comes to the size of the island, I can only compare to what I know now – and that’s the fact that I spend the majority of my life within the same confines as that space.  It will seem smaller since the island is more condensed with its population centers and activities, but it’s not as tiny as many presume.  After all, how many of you regularly get out of the Capital District?  And I mean regularly?  I have to admit that I don’t see much change in my local traveling patterns once in Hawaii.  Sure, we’ll take rather regular and frequent trips to the other islands, particularly as the cost is pretty reasonable to do so, but I don’t believe we’ll be traveling the globe – particularly since Keith won’t be able to get away much at all.

Different from Army Wife 101, I’m a beach bum.  I adore spending afternoons reading a good book listening to the ocean waves crash just yards from my feet.  I could spend days visiting different beaches, checking out new hikes, and drinking in the endless sunlight.  I love to swim too, and am fairly certain having given the chance, my mother and I would’ve spent every single waking moment on Long Island’s south shore (instead, we spent every non-working moment there).

There are other complaints about Hawaii, like the bugs, the choices of cuisine, and the endless threat of tsunamis.  My response?  There are bugs on any tropical island, you just have to deal with it.  It’s better than worrying about lyme disease (no lyme ticks = no lyme disease = no annoying hours checking for ticks on the dogs after a hike).  I’m not sure there isn’t much of a choice of cuisine, given I’ve heard about over a dozen amazing restaurants already and I’m a fairly good cook myself.  Tsunamis?  Well, there’s not much you can do to stop mother nature.  A tsunami is not a regular occurrence in Hawaii, and the last major one was recorded in 1975.  In fact, since the early 1800s, there have only been seven major damaging tsunamis to hit the islands.  This, of course, doesn’t mean that it can’t happen again, or while we’re there (knock on wood), but Hawaii has a fairly robust tsunami warning system.  Plus, it’s no more dangerous than living along the east coast facing hurricanes or in the mid-west facing tornadoes, or experiencing the Great Ice Storm of 1998.

So – where am I going with all of this?

The best experiences of my life (at least in traveling) have been those where the experience is local.  Where the restaurant is recommended by our waiter at the hotel, where the excursion is something we meet ‘area natives’ on, where there are no souveniers or knick-knacks or photo ops for $10.  If I’m going to live in Hawaii, I’m going to live in Hawaii.

Too often we take for granted the places around us:  the uniqueness of our our community.  We miss out on the mom-and-pop diners, the long hikes in parks without large advertising budgets, the historical significance of the house across the street.  I grew up in part on Long Island, where there’s not much pride for the history of anything other than mansions out east.  When I moved to Stone Ridge, I found myself living two houses down from an old 1700s-build where George Washington once slept.  Our town’s zoning laws were written to create properties along historic lines.  My driveway wasn’t designed by a random engineer, instead it was bordered by a stone wall built circa 1650s to mark a road through the Catskills.  How cool is that?

I grew up with incredible music venues – like the Tinker Street Cafe, Joyous Lake, and yes, even the Chance (my home at least 2-3 nights a week).  All small and compact, a concert at any one of these meant there’s always a front-row spot for some of music’s most talented artists.  All within 45 minutes of my home.  No wonder I was so damn obsessed with music in high school, and was the most dedicated rude girl on the planet.

I also grew up with amazing food, being just a bit north of the CIA.  The Canal House, New World Home Cooking, the Egg’s Nest.  (Mouth-watering now…)

Plus, who could forget the ledges in High Falls, where we’d all sneak out to the creek and jump in pitch black.  Or hiking at Minnewaska and Mohonk, getting our backpacks stuck in the Lemon Squeeze.

I took advantage of the world around me – saw the sights, tasted the food, and lived in the hippy culture of the Hudson Valley.  And this is what I intend to do in Hawaii – live within the community – taste the food, the culture, the island flava!

Moving to a new place is an opportunity to grow.  Life will be different and will take time to adjust to, but isn’t that the point of it all?  To push your own boundaries, meet new people, experience new things, and come out the other end a new version of yourself?  Are our lives not books, with chapters and volumes to fill with adventure, laughter and tears?

Maybe I’m getting too sentimental here.  It’s entirely possible given my trip through memory lane just a few moments ago, but back to my point:  I want to live in Hawaii. 

I don’t want to be behind barbed wire fences, surrounded only by Navy families – all tourists and newbies in and of themselves.  I want to know Hawaii’s history, and its people.  I want to learn how to hula and surf.  I want to spend time doing what I can to make a difference on the island as I’ve done in New York.  I may forever be a visitor to this paradise, but I’d like to at least be the kind of guest you’re happy to have back anytime.

This is why I can’t live behind barbed wire or in places where all anyone does is stick together in their own community center.  The Navy is my husband’s employer, not his life.  And it’s certainly not my life by a long shot.  The military might dictate where we live, or when we leave, or who my doctor can be and how often I can see my husband, but they won’t dictate who I am or how I live or what values I carry with me.

Living your life behind a fence, in the confines of a military base, to me is like living your life in a mobile pod. You can be anywhere, but the surroundings and experiences are always the same.  Yes, there’s merit to living in homogeneous society – people know your struggles and can share in your tears.  There’s diversity even within Navy families of course, since we all come from different places and cultures ourselves.  That’s something I’ll cherish for sure, but it’s not the only focus on our move to Hawaii.

If you didn’t know, Keith and I had a heck of a time deciding where to go.  At his reenlistment, I was unquestionably decided for Groton, Connecticut.  After all, I love Mystic and I’ve spent a fair amount of time in the state.  It’s very similar to here, particularly Saratoga, and I understand the language so-to-speak.  Yet, as we began considering our future I realized something:  it’s in taking risks that I’ve found the greatest joy, that I’ve molded the best of myself.  It’s in taking opportunities that I’ve found the life I want.  It’s in the face of failure that I’ve shined.

I’m not a risk-taker, despite the benefits.  Anyone that knows me knows this.  It’s safer to shy away from major change, anything difficult or new.  It’s safer to stop doing something if I’m not good at it and rather turn to things that I have confidence in.  I’m an emotional wreck when I move, and while making new friends is fairly easy and a zero-stress issue for me, making new good friends can be a challenge.

So, now is the time to change that – to take the risk.  To live boldly and enjoy paradise.  To move into a Navy housing community, but always consider myself part of a Hawaiian community.  To endure the storm for the sunshine it brings.