And the road a-winding goes

... from golden gate to roaring cliffside

and the light is softly low 

as our hearts become sweetly untied

I'm back, I'm back, I'm back. I'm back from Boston, Chicago, New York City, more Boston, San Francisco, and Portland, OR.

I missed: 

• loco mocos, 
• Zippy's chili, 
• Waiola's shave ice, 
• the smell of the ocean, 
• slack key guitar and the baritone resonance of Hawaiian vowels in major chord progressions, 
• my car, 
• throwing shakas at drivers that let me merge, and
• speaking Pidgin to other Pidgin-speakers.

I now miss:

• using "Yankees suck" as a greeting,
• 24-hour everything,
• vegan/organic/local/grass-fed/free-range whatever at the corner store,
• Spike's Junkyard Dogs,
• "chowdah" and lobster rolls,
• cheap shit at Marc Jacobs stores,
• second-hand shops,
• girls that dress up for walks in the park,
• drunken jam sessions/pickup basketball games/political debates over BBQ grills, all at 3 AM,
• big museums,
  
• big carousels,
• when the fog rolls in, and
• subways.

(I'm deliberately not mentioning friends here. Both lists would be far too long to read if I typed them all here. You understand.)

Overall, I am reminded to be myself, to celebrate the things about me that are of Hawai'i, and to fortify the things about me that are not. To allow myself to cultivate the parts of me that so closely identify with NYC's pace, with Boston's ethic, with San Francisco's personality and pride.

A note to the continent: I'll see you in May. Make room for me.

Coming soon: notes on my travels, finally