Saturn Return--Watch Out!

There I was on New Year's Eve, reviewing the past 365 days and contemplating the course of 2010 (while pre-gaming some papaya cocktails in anticipation of an evening of dancing)...probably thinking a little too much for my own good, no doubt...and those contemplative gears have been turning ever since. So what can I say about 2009? It started off mellow, then exploded in a fiery shit-storm and slowly is re-shaping in entirely unexpected ways. I took some time to ponder about what the hell is in the air that so many of my friends and neighbors are also in the midst of major life shifts. After a little research (and by this I mean 15 minutes of Googling), I've come across an interesting theory: the dreaded Saturn return.

Here's my expertise on this phenomenon, which I've culled from a highly sophisticated internet search:

1. Astrologically speaking, Saturn rules responsibilities, life lessons, and structure...all very adult things. Keep in mind that Saturn is also Kronos, the Greek god who ate all his children as they were being born...which kind of sums up the horror of 2009.
   
2. Saturn is a slow moving planet, staying in the same house for up three years and taking about 28 years to cycle through the entire zodiac. So when it comes back into the same house it was in when you were born, you get a phenomenon called the Saturn return.
   
3. Supposedly this planetary return signifies a major watershed, a testing of character and the way you've structured you life. If your life's structure is out of sync with your true character and values, then it is a time of upheaval and change so that your life more closely aligns with your ruling stars.
   
4. At the end of your first Saturn return (around your 30th birthday) you have been sufficiently tested to move into the adult part of your life (major trials as an initiation into a new life phase and all that jazz).
   
5. The best place to read more about your Saturn return is from the totally hip and savvy Saturn Sisters, pictured above. Look at these ladies! I'd trust them to tell me the direction of my adult life...their accessories alone breed confidence!

This would definitely explain why all of my friends (who are of course my age, myself having just turned 28 last April) are going through similar crises. It also happens to be a very convenient way for me to explain the total meltdown that occurred this year ("It's not my fault! It's my Saturn return!") So acting as the responsible adult that I am soon to be, I decided to invest in my future by ordering my very own, personalized Saturn Return Chart from the Saturn Sisters. Since I seem to have lost all faith in my own decision making abilities, I figured, what the hell...maybe I need to consult the stars for some advice this go-round. It certainly can't hurt. I'm still waiting, so I end this post with the tantalizing words:

TO BE CONTINUED....

Steelgrass Farms

I would be a great big asshole if I didn't at some point give proper props to the man that made Kauai fun, the inimitable Will Lydgate. This man took me all around the island, taught me songs on the ukulele, attacked me with an apple pie and in general rocked my world with his awesomeness. So here I want to give a shout-out to the man, the myth, the legend (and the chocolate farmer) William Hibbs Lydgate.

Will, in addition to being a kick-ass bass player, makes his living by Steelgrass Farms on Kauai, a farm that give the best ag tour of all time: three hours dedicated to tasting and talking about chocolate. You start the tour by sampling a little of the good stuff (a luxury at 9 in the morning), take a leisurely stroll around the farm getting educated about the unusual plants grown there (papyrus for one, vanilla orchids for another and a really strong variety of bamboo from which the farm gets it's name), tasting the tropical fruits and generally being entertained by the dry humor of your tour guides.

pretty little "poor man's orchid"

cute sister-in-law with the papyrus stalk


rambutan hair tie

vanilla orchid pods

cacao tree

Then you get to the part everyone's been waiting for, the star of the show: the chocolate. The unassuming little trees have these weird looking pods growing on the bark and these weird looking pod contain the real magic...the chocolate seeds. In case you didn't know, chocolate is made from the huge seeds of the chocolate fruit. How you might wonder? Let me tell you the long and intricate process of making that delictible dark treat that drives so many of us to ecstasty. First, you harvest the cacao seeds (that's right, the plant is actually called cacao, not chocolate), then you ferment them in banana leaves for a couple of days, dry them in the sun, and then send them to plants to process the beans. The next step is one of my personal favorites: they crack open the shell of the bean and extract the cacao nib. I think I just love any excuse to use the word nib. I'm sure I'll throw it in a couple more times in this post for good measure and my own personal amusement. So after you've extracted the nib, it gets all ground up and usually coco butter is added to make it extra creamy. Some fools add other stuff too, but we won't talk about that here...it would be blasphemy. It's mixed and ground up a lot to make is smooth (this is called conching) and then heated and cooled at precise temperatures to ensure that the molecules are all lined up in the right way.

So we saw the cacao trees, got the 411 on how to make chocolate and arrived at the last and most anticipated part of the tour: the tasting. We all sat down and got to try 11 different artisinal chocolates. Like wine, there are mass producers and then there are artists. All the chocolates we tried were single estate and all contained the same four ingredients: cocoa, cocoa butter, sugar and an emulsifier. But they all tasted amazingly different. I cannot believe what a foodie I am to be able to say this with a straight face, but you could taste the terroir of the chocolate. Feel free to guffaw at that statement, but it's true. Some of the chocolates were really sour, others bitter, some spicy or fruity or grassy. It was an amazing variety of flavors and they were all really good.

Here are my parting words for you chocolate fanatics: go to Kauai to pay homage to the cacao tree, give Will a high-five for me, geek out on chocolate at Steelgrass and always buy dark. It will change your life.

Kauai Retrospective

It's been far too long, my peeps, since the last entry, but the boss is back with some travel stories, recommendations and lots of pictures to make it up to you. I've got some catching up to do, so I'll start with the highlights of Kauai. If ever you find yourself of the Garden Island, here is my list of "must dos" to light the path for your good time adventure.

First and foremost, you must go to at least one waterfall while here. This island is just erupting with streams and with the winter rains there are new waterfalls cropping up every day. I personally loved Kipu Falls on the southeast end of the island (directions here). It's really close to Lihue and a short walk from the road through some seriously tall cane grass, whch makes it feel like an adventure when you arrive even though its really only about a 5 minute walk. The falls are beautiful and come complete with a rope swing from a gigantic banyan tree and a deep pool at the bottom perfect for making the 30 foot jump of death from the top. (Note: I did jump, but it took me a while to screw up my courage...too long in fact to continue calling myself a bad-ass.)

I also recommend going to a really cool cave on the north shore of the island. If you take the highway up the coast, past Princeville and Hanalei, you'll dead-end into Ke'e State Park and right after the first parking lot is a little trail up a hill that takes you to a magnificent cave with a huge pool of bright blue water. Locals call it the Blue Room. The first time I went there was at night...with no headlamp and no moon. It's a miracle that I'm alive to tell the tale. We headed up the rocky trail (of course with no shoes), somehow descended down into the cave in the pitch black and then proceded to swim around in the darkness, singing and yelling in a feeble attempt at sonar to keep ourselves from head-butting the cave wall. And, man, does that cave have some good acoustics. An impromptu Queen revival commenced, with all of us feeling more comfortable belting at the top of our lungs since darkness of course means anonimity. After that harrowing adventure, we ambled down the road to the beach, ate an apple pie on the sand, played the ukulele for a bit and stared at the perfect stars. Oh, what a night.

And you must go camping while here. There are both state and county sites for your camping pleasures, all of which are right on the beach, have very clean facilities, grills and electricity and are $3 per night. Yes you read that correctly: waterfront, clean camping on a tropical island for the low-low price of three measly dollars. It's amazing. I stayed at Salt Ponds Park, Anini Beach and Anahole Beach Park. Anini was by far the most beautiful and quiet. There really is no reason to stay at a hostel or cheap hotel when there are such beautiful parks. Plus you get to wake up just steps from the water each day.

Of course there must be a food recommendation and here's the one shining gem of cuisine that I found on the island: a roach coach in Hanapepe called Mele's Kusina. Kate, Jess and I were wandering around the south shore near our camp grounds at Salt Ponds Park, playing on the swinging bridge and enjoying the totally darling little strip of downtown, when we walked past a sign that made all of us stop in our tracks: "Fried Ice Cream Fridays." Oh, the mouths started to salivate and, despite the fact that we had just eaten mere hours before, we all became ravenously hungry. Of course we couldn't just order dessert, and so decided to try two of the mix plates and a cheeseburger for good measure...that's how my posse rolls. Now, I want to insert a word here about cheeseburgers: I've had me some good ones, some great ones and some unforgettable ones and the $3 cheeseburger at this mobile food stand will go down in the annals of my life as one of the best. It was so good that we drove around the entire town of Hanapepe the next day inquiring after the whereabouts of this food cart. I still think about it and a single tear rolls down my cheek...sigh. But back to the main attaction--the fried ice cream. It was cooked to perfection with a light and fluffy coating and perfect, creamy vanilla in the middle. It reminded me of one of my favorite child-hood memories: sopapillas. When I was just a young lass, my mother waited tables at one of the only Mexican restaurants in Ohio, Three Gringos. As the name implies, there was not a whole lot of authenticity to this cuisine. Most of it was downright inedible. But the shining star of their menu was the sopapillas: fried dough with ice cream, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. To this day I fondly remember playing Miss Packman on the tabletop video game machine and eating sopapillas while my mom was finishing up her shift at work. This dish of fried ice cream brought back all those wonderful smells and tastes. It was dream ice cream. If you go to Kauai, look up Mele's Kusina. It moves around, but this is the information age after all and you can follow its path on Twitter or get a general idea of its whereabouts from reviews on Urban Spoon.

And while we're on the subject of culinary delights, let me tell you about the Locavore Food Festival in Lihue. It exclusively featured produce, pastured animals and culinary creations from the island and it was fantastic! There must have been at least 20 different booths, all full of little tasty bites of this and that, prepared by local restuarants. There was Hawaiian coffee, delicious Kauai beef tacos, banana ice cream, well-appointed mini sliders and tons of other creations that I've already forgotten. I got there late, but made up for lost time by collecting a sample from every booth that still had food and then chowing down to the most impressive spread of tasty treats I'd had in a long time. I binged like a champ, and it was totally worth every uncomfortable step on the way back home.

Oh, Kauai, how I miss you!

Get Your Thanksgiving Goat

Some folks celebrate their Thanksgiving with binge eating that mirrors their familial discomfort, but this year us Sargents opted out of that rich American tradition and instead decided to battle the elements. My sister and her wife arrived on Kauai a week ago for the first leg of our little family's holiday celebration. We have been camping around the island (a cheap and fabulous way to see Kauai) and and in the middle of the week, those two crazy broads decided to tackle the Napali coast. There is an 11 mile trail that takes you along the part of the island's coastline that has no road, mainly because the steep cliffs and constant mudslides and hurricanes have rebuffed all efforts to put down pavement. Oh and there's a swamp at one end that ate some construction trucks trying to build a road.

Some of you may recall from my earlier posts that Kate and Jess (sister and sister-in-law, respectively) are insanley fit and I am convinced that they are constantly trying to do me in with acts of inhuman physical exertion. This belief system has it's roots in my childhood where, from the moment I was born, my older sister has been trying to regain her status as an only child by daring me to do things clealry beyond my physical abilties in the hopes that i will either die or at the very least seriously cripple myself ("Wanna borrow my skate board, Jen-Jen? All you have to do is ride it down this gigantic ramp and do a back flip in the air!"). Maybe she's changed her intentions over the years, but I remain suspicious as a survival tactic. So they wanted to hike this crazy stretch of coast and stay on the trail for two nights. I really did consider it, but in the end decided that a couple days of solitude and safety sounded like heaven, so I stayed behind.

I dropped them off at the trailhead and we arranged that I would come back to get them on Thanksgiving day at 3 o'clock. I had some nice time by myself, and then while I was sleeping in my tent on Wednesday night, the sky opened up and someone turned on the wind machine. I woke up to two inches of standing water in my tent, a muddy brown ocean and when I unzipped my tent it looked like a video from the Weather Channel with ticker tape along bottom telling you where to send your donation to the disaster relief fund. I packed up my wet things as best I could and got in the car to find some much-needed hot coffee. On the radio they were announcing the closing of the Hanalei bridge due to the flash flooding of the rivers, and this of course was the only road to the north end of the island where I was supposed to pick up the ladies. So I spent most of my morning trying to figure out a contingnecy plan if it didn't stop raining and the bridge didn't re-open. Turns out there is no park ranger on that side of the island and the police station was closed for the holiday. Lucky for me it started to dry out and they reopened the bridge at about 2PM. I picked up some fried chicken and beer for my sure-to-be-tired-and-hungry sisters and hightailed it to the trailhead. They were late coming out and I was starting to get worried, but then there they were, soaked and bug bitten and bruised, but all in one piece.

And they had some great stories. Turns out there are some crazy hippies who live out there in the wilderness, living in the jungle and surviving on whatever grows out there. Some dreadlocked dude was telling them how he survives on java plums (completely disgusting if you've ever tasted them) and asked if they'd seen any goats on the trail lately. He and his companions were armed with a butcher knife and little else. On the way back out of the trail, these same films were washing a headless goat in the river, which I have to say is amazing. I don't know how many of you have tried to catch a goat, but I have and couldn't get anywhere a three-legged goat in a pen with two other people helping, let alone on a steep cliff-side jungle with only a butcher knife. Props to you, crazy Kauai hippies!

The torrential downpour on Wednesday night was inconvenient for me in my less-than-waterproof tent, but for my sister and sister-in-law it was nearly fatal. There were four rivers they crossed on the way out and these rivers were huge after all the rainfall, chest high in some places. A naked old jungle man woke the ladies up in the morning to tell them that they probably wouldn't get out that day and would need to stay on the trail again tonight. Tempting as this man was making the campsite seem, they decided to chance it with the rapids. After the last especially harrowing crossing where they had to run across a stretch of beach with 20 foot crashing waves on one side and a raging river on the other, while holding on for dear life when the surf came in. My tiny sister literally was almost washed out to sea--yikes!!! I think I made the right decision by staying behind.

So out they came from the trail, droopy and soaked and happily ate their fried chicken and beer while telling me their harrowing tales. About all we could muster for a thanksgiving festivities was to rent a room in a bed and breakfast and find the Chinese restaurant (which was of course was one of the few places open). I was thankful for the shifty beef chow fun--at least it wasn't fire roasted wild goat.

Taro

Lets talk taro. It's the traditional staple crop if Hawaiian cuisine and most commonly the root is eaten by making it into poi. Poi is one of those weird foods that you have to grow up with to appreciate. It's a purple fermented paste that is eaten as a side dish with most Hawaiian meals. It tastes like glue and I have to say, it's grown on me. Probably much of this is due to the fact that it is almost always eaten with something else really tasty like ahi or kailua pork. Not to mention that it's really good for you, which I now know more than any mortal should after having waded through tons of dietary studies reasearching a grant for a poi company here in the islands.




For me the most interesting part of this interesting plant is the rich agicultural culture that has been built up around growing the plant. Taro is traditionally farmed in flooded fields, much like rice, and to my eyes is a stunningly beautiful crop. There are creation stories in Hawaiian folklore where taro (or kalo in Hawaiian) is the child of the gods and the oldest ancestor of the Hawaiian people, and therefore it is inappropriate to fight, raise your voice or be disrespectful while a bowl of poi is on the table. Even the Hawaiian terms for the taro plant are related to terms used for the family, with language to indicate which generation of the plant is being grown and where the corm (shoot used to cultivate new plantings) derives from.

I had the lovely experience last night of learning to make another traditional Hawaiian taro dish under the instruction of a group of locals. Lau lau is steamed pork, green banana, sweet potato, chicken or just about anything else you like, wrapped in taro and tea leaves and steamed for several hours until it's tender and delicious. The taro leaf (or luau...where the name of the touristy hula and roasted pig business comes from) ends up tasting like amazingly succulent spinach and the fillings all magically season one another as they cook. Hmmm...I love taro.

Menehune Magic

I love collecting local stories as I travel and my favorites so far are the Hawaiian legends about magical creatures and happenings. Since I've gotten to Kauai it seems like there's a whole lot of talk about the menehune, magical little people who live in the forest and perform great acts of construction under the cover of night. They're kind of like Hawaiian leprechauns, but instead of chasing after pots of gold, they build shit. The standard description is that they are short (between six inches and two feet), hairy, pot-bellied and dark skinned. Personally, I imagine them as a cross between an Australian pygmy and a Fraggle.

The part I love the best is that the legend of the menehune is thought to be based on an actual group of real people who once lived on the islands. Before those crazy Tahitians showed up in their out-rigger canoes about 1000 years ago, there was an earlier migration of people who hailed from the Marquesas Islands. (For those of you who have no idea where that is, it is also in French Polynesian in the South Pacific Ocean, about 1000 miles northeast of Tahiti). So those Marquesans came over a few hundred years before the Tahitians, spread out all over the Hawaiian Islands and were a magical, peaceful group of folks. Then the bigger, pugilistic Tahitians took over, driving the Marquesans to the furthest island north, Kauai, where they survived by living in the forests and practicing magic to keep the Tahitians away. The word menehune has its roots in a Tahitian word meaning "commoner." Makes sense for an oppressed people. Further proof for the origins of the legend is the fact that in a 1820 census of the island of Kauai 65 people reported themselves as menehune, which totally explains the fact that I thought I saw one at the 7-11 last week buying a case of Budweiser.

So everywhere on the island you see menehune stuff: Menehune Convenience Mart, the Menehune Water Company...but there is an actual place on the island that still has some non-commercial magic to offer. On the south end of the island in Puhi is the Menehune Pond, lying all quiet and peaceful in a valley right next to a river. Supposedly the menehune built it in one night by forming a long chain from the rock quarry to the river and passing stones all night long to build up the sides of the giant fish pond. Then they diverted the river a bit into the new pond and had their own permanent fish section of the grocery store where they could incubate and catch all the seafood goodness they could ever want. According to one version of the tale, the menehune built the pond for the king at the time. (They had some kind of deal where they were the king's own personal building crew and in exchange they were allowed to live their peaceful menehune forest lives). Their only condition is that no one watch while they were building since they wanted to keep their magical ways a secret. But of course a mischievous young prince and princess snuck out to watch them at work. Unfortunately, it was far past their bedtime and the lil' tikes got all tuckered out and fell asleep. The menehune discovered them and turned them into two giant rock pillars that you can see in the mountains surrounding the pond. That's what you get for messing with magical little building elves.

Peaks & Valleys

"A frown is just a smile turned upside-down," right? How about, "you can't appreciate the good without the bad"? All just cliches and ways to rationalize sadness, or so I used to think. Now I wonder about all that. Surely no one wants to feel sadness, grief, loss, but really and truly are we not just horrible, infantile sissies if we insist on only ever being grateful for perfect happy moments? Isn't there something gorgeous about feeling something so deeply and fully, even if it is a "bad" feeling like sadness?

I admit there is more than one kind of sad. There is the dulling, numbing, foggy sadness that feels more like nothingness. There is also the deep, sharp sadness that feels like a knife in the chest. And there's the total mind-fucking kind of sadness that is so hard and painful that everything goes white for moment, like an emotional black-out from the intensity. And there's the classic achy, mopey, drippy-eyed kind of sadness we all feel when we hear a sad song or flush a goldfish down the toilet. But there's more than one kind of happiness too. Calm, serene, warm spring sunshine happiness that glows and surrounds your whole self. Ecstatic, drunken happiness that is heady and dizzying. Quiet, secret happiness that feels small and special and private. Big, loud, belly-laugh happiness that makes you want to slap your neighbor on the back and buy the whole room a round of drinks. Too-much happiness that aches in your throat and makes your eyes sting and feels like too, too big to contain in one little body.

Little peaks, big valleys, sky-scraper-tall moments and dips in the road. I'm learning to be grateful for anything that makes me feel alive. I'm trying to expand my emotional repertoire as I expand my collection of travel-photo landscapes. I just saw the breathtaking Waimea Valley. It was huge and ballsy and red and deep and gorgeous. And I saw the pretty, calm stretches of the white sand next to the black, smooth lava rocks. I saw the inside of a huge cave with a pool of calm, topaz-blue water and the tiny little poor-man's-orchid with its pink perfection. Expanding my repertoire. That's what I'm doing right now. Becoming better versed at being alive.

The hardest thing in the world to do is to find somebody who believes in you

Love fails us. And we fail in loving. And both of those hurt like hell.

Recently I lost my faith in unconditional loving. In several relationships I had an ending of the naive believe that love would endure through all things. Most poignant was my relationship with my mother. She was the one person who I thought I could count on for constant and selfless loving. I know it's a high pedestal to have put her on, but I'm still a young woman and haven't had all those silly notions knocked out of my head yet. I've been angry with her for over a year now and continued to justify that anger in all sorts of ways to avoid letting it go. But finally I just got tired of carrying it around and tired of feeling so bitter and angry. This hurt combined with other similar hurts and conspired to make me feel pretty disillusioned.

Out
Of a great need
We are all holding hands
And climbing.
Not loving is a letting go.
Listen,
The terrain around here
Is
Far too
Dangerous
For
That.

HAFIZ

Really I felt like it's so hard to find someone to carry the faith in your best self, to choose to see your goodness when faced with your ugliness. Clarissa Pinkola Estes calls this the "not beautiful". She tells a story in Women Who Runs with the Wolves called "Skeleton Woman" where a fisherman catches a skeleton while he's out on his boat and runs all the way back home with the skeleton lady on his tail since she's tangled up in his line. The faster he runs, the faster she follows, all the way into his hut. Eventually he gets over his horror, untangles her and brings her back to life as a beautiful young lady with his kind attention. Kind of poignant metaphor: we see a glimpse of the "not beautiful" in one we love and take off for the hills, but can't outrun it. Love fails and we must face that failure, choose to love that ugly side of our loved one, choose not to not let go in the steep terrain and make a decision to not fail love even though love has failed us. You gotta kiss the hag, maybe even make sweet love to that ugly bitch and there's no guarantee shes gonna turn back into a smoking hot princess. Love is the god of all of us, flawed since it shows up only through each other. Carrying that faith in another's best self despite their failings is a choice, but really it's the only good choice.

Daily Prayer

From the Sufis: "Shatter my heart so a new room can be created for a Limitless Love."

Daily Hafiz

All your images of winter
I see against your sky.

I understand the wounds
That have not healed in you.

They exist
Because God and love
Have not yet become real enough

To allow you to forgive
The dream.

You listen to an old alley song
That brings your body pain;

Now chain your ears
To his pacing drum and flute.

Fix your eyes upon
The magnificent arch of his brow

That supports
And allows this universe to expand.

Your hands, feet, and heart are wise
And want to know the warmth
Of a Perfect One's circle.

A true saint
Is an eternal spring.

Inside the veins of a petal
On a blooming redbud tree

Are hidden worlds
Where Hafiz sometimes
Resides.

I will spread
A Persian carpet there
Woven with light.

We can drink wine
From a gourd I hollowed out
And dried on the roof of my house.

I will bring bread I have kneaded
That contains my own
Divine genes

And cheese from a calf I raised.

My love for your Master is such
You can lean back
And I will feed you this truth:

Your wounds of love can only heal
When you can forgive yourself
This dream.

Pick Two

So things here in paradise are looking cloudy again, at least as far as the WWOOFing situation is concerned. Let just say that some people really ought to live alone and leave it at that. I now know first hand the all-too-common experience of WWOOFing as a type of indentured servitude or second-class citizenship.

Really what the situation reminds me of is a great story that my friend Erin told me about a trip to her local photo shop to get some prints for a school project. She walked in and told the nice Chinese man behind the counter what she needed: 1) super high quality prints; 2) she needed them tommorrow; and 3) she didn't have very much money to spend so she wanted a killer discount. The man looked her right in the eye and said, "Good. Fast. Cheap. Pick two."

How brilliantly this illustrates the core of so many frustrating situations. You can't have everything and must resign yourself to compromise. If only someone would tell that to all the WWOOF hosts out there who seem to think that providing sub-par living conditions and three meals a day entitles them to experienced and motivated workers who are invested in their visions of utopia and willing to break their backs for it. To you WWOOF hosts out there, here's my advice: pick two!

A Gallon of Ice Cream & a Jug of Carlo Rossi

Some people are content to let depression take its natural course: a slow downward slide into black, sad oblivion and then turn around for the long, slow way back out to the light. But there are those of us who are just a little too type A and can't wait that long. I'm in the second camp--the impatient camp. When I know I'm in a slump, I have this tendency to hurl myself over the edge and force myself to hit rock bottom. I suppose the theory is that if I force myself to hit rock bottom, then I'll just be on the mend that much quicker. Sort of like giving my black mood steroids.

This can and has taken many different forms. Most famously was the time that I was heartbroken and, in an effort to snap out of it, watched "When Harry Met Sally" 5 times in a row and polished off a gallon of ice cream, a jug of Carlo Rossi, plus a quart of whiskey in one sitting. Let me tell you, the next day I felt so horrible that I vowed to perk myself up and get out of my rut. And I did, pretty quickly. Not that I'm recommending the horrendous physical betrayal that I forced upon myself to anyone. It is a cruel, cruel way to abuse yourself, and its probably not anything that a sane person would do. Nonetheless, this type of regiment works for me without fail. When I find that I am so tired of my own misery that I cannot stand it any longer, I betray myself in the worst way that I can think of, indulging my most sadistic whims and it invariably cures me of my depression. All that "be kind to yourself" self-help crap really never worked. Its kind of like homeopathy: like cures like. Horrendous self-loathing is cured by treating yourself in the worst way imaginable, or something like that.

So this past little while I've been really just tired of feeling so bad and decided that I couldn't wait for nature or the grieving process or whatever to take its course. So I went on a huge bender and let it all hang out for a good couple of weeks. I shamelessly made out with a one-toothed, forty-year old alcoholic. I ingested substances that I did not know the names of. Then I got on a plane to Kauai and, like magic, the clouds parted, my mood lifted and I felt like my world was all brand new again. What can I say, I found my own little magical cure and it works like a charm. But, hey kids, don't try this at home. I think I have an unusual capacity for either self-forgiveness or lobotomizing my bad memories. Maybe both. Don't judge me, just laugh, please. I know I'm ridiculous.

Daily Prayer

I want
I want
I want
To stop wanting

My Daily Prayer

Please, dear God, save me from a normal life.

Weird Things I've Heard Myself Say on this Trip

1. How do you wash suspenders? I think I got some manure on mine.
2. I can't wear nail polish cause the chickens will peck at my toes.
3. Don't worry...driving and drinking a beer is only nominally illegal in Hawaii.
4. You remember he guy with one tooth who lives in the yurt with his cat? Yeah, I just made out with him.
5. I have to wear pants cause I'm getting knee wrinkles from the sun.
6. Where is my oompa loompa wig?
7. I'm tired of rainbows.
8. The three legged goat ran away again?
9. When do I get to go drunken pig hunting with you and your brothers?
10. You're like the sixth person I've met who stayed with the Hari Krishnas because they have good food.
11. How exactly do you mail a coconut?
12. TiVo that shit, cause when I get back we all need to learn the hustle for the disco party.
13. Wii Tennis is not a form of aerobic exercise.
14. How much do you think I can take and still make it to work at 6am to milk the goats?
15. So let me get this straight: you don't really bathe, you dance topless at drum circles, you write mantras on your water bottles, you're in an open relationship, you haven't had a job in two years and you don't consider yourself a hippie?

Blessed Solitude

It was overcast this morning, the sky kinda drippy. I like it that way, especially when I'm working in the garden. The sun is just brutal most days and it gave me a rare chance to plant some seedlings without them being scorched by noon. My mind was wandering even though I was listening to a podcast and my mood felt a little cloudy. Lately when I fall into these moods, I try to be a grown up and pull myself out of it by centering and asking myself what I am grateful for at that exact moment...what will I look back on as my time here draws to a close and find beautiful and lovely and precious? The very first thing that popped into my head was, "I'm grateful to be alone." That kinda surprised me, even though it was my own thought. It felt selfish and a little psychopathic to be grateful for loneliness. And it reminded me of one of my favorite poems:

MY EYES SO SOFT

Don't
Surrender
Your loneliness so quickly.
Let it cut more
Deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice so
Tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

HAFIZ

I realized there in the garden that I really am grateful for all this loneliness and travel and dirty fingernails and food and time with my thoughts. I think back to a few months ago and I felt like I was doubled over with the aloneness and the weight of my own constantly crazy-making brain. I felt like I could barely stand up under the weight of everything and often just collapsed into a big ball of crying and feeling lost. Today I feel like my back is strong and straight. I feel sort of like myself again. I like my loneliness, only now it just feels like blessed solitude, the kind of perfect loneliness that I may never have again in my lifetime. I know how I love and I know that I want to have a partner and that circus of loving and compromising and happiness and anguish will inevitably start all over again sometime soon...and I don't want it to be right now. I am profoundly grateful to have no one but myself to worry over and grapple with. By myself I feel a cool quiet that I don't have with anyone else. This loneliness finally feels like a gift.

I Love Lilikoi

One of the many things I love about Honua Lani Gardens is that they are preparing to participate in a new farmer's market at the community college. This market specializes in value added products, and I've been working a lot in the kitchen to perfect some new recipes to preserve and sell all the lovely fruits and vegetables that are pouring out of the garden. Lots of time in the kitchen cooking delicious new treats...that's my idea of heaven on earth!

Here's my favorite so far, adapted from the French Laundry lemon tart recipe which I've been using for years and found on my favorite recipe site, Epicurious. Lilikoi is the Hawaiian word for passion fruit and it is nature's version of a sour skittle...sweet and sour and super fruity delicious. The skin is either yellow or purple, and inside it has bright orange pulp with big crunchy black seeds. You just cut it in half and scoop out all the wonderful goodness...kind of like nature's own perfect fruit cup. It has become one of my favorite fruits and, lucky me, you can find the vines growing on the side of the road all over the islands. The beautiful flowers are also a bonus. On the mainland, you will probably only be able to find passion fruit juice concentrate, which unfortunately won't really work for this recipe since it almost always comes pre-sweetened. Lemon or lime juice will work just fine instead, OR you could grown your own lilikoi vine...definitely easy to grow in moderate climates!


LILIKOI TARTLETS

Macnut Crust

• 1 cup macadamia nuts
• 1.5 cups all-purpose flour
• 8 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 egg, beaten

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Fill a cupcake pan with disposable cupcake liners. Grind the macnuts in a food processor, adding some of the flour as necessary, until finely ground. The macnuts are pretty oily and will stick to the blades without the flour. Mix the rest of the ingredients and the crushed macnuts in a large bowl. Press the mixture into the cupcake liners, making sure to generously fill each one; if the sides and bottom are too thin, the tarts will break easily. Bake 15-20 minutes, or until set and golden brown. Remove from oven to cool.

Lilikoi Sabayon

• 2 large eggs, cold
• 2 large egg yolks, cold
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup fresh lilikoi juice
• 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces

To prepare the lilikoi juice, halve about 5 or six fresh lilikoi and scoop the contents (pulp and seeds) into a blender or food processor. Blend for just a few seconds to release the juice from the pulp and seeds. If you blend for too long, the seeds will crush and bits of seed will be mixed in with the juice. Strain juice to remove the seeds and pulp and discard everything besides the juice.

Bring about 1 1/2 inches of water to a boil in a pot that is slightly smaller than the diameter of the bowl (or smaller pot) you will be using for the sabayon. Meanwhile, in a metal bowl (or smaller pot), whisk the eggs, yolks, and sugar for about 1 minute, or until the mixture is smooth.

Set the bowl over the pot and, using a large whisk, whip the mixture while you turn the bowl (for even heating). After about 2 minutes, when the eggs are foamy and have thickened, add one-third of the lilikoi juice. Continue to whisk vigorously and, when the mixture thickens again, add another one-third of the lilikoi juice. Whisk until the mixture thickens again, then add the remaining lilikoi juice. Continue whisking vigorously, still turning the bowl, until the mixture is thickened and light in color and the whisk leaves a trail in the bottom of the bowl. The total cooking time should be 8 to 10 minutes.

Turn off the heat and leave the bowl over the water. Whisk in the butter a piece at a time. The sabayon may loosen slightly, but it will thicken and set as it cools. Pour the warm sabayon into the macnut cups and allow to cool in the refrigerator. If you like, garnish with fresh or candied hibiscus flowers.

Notes:

• Normally this type of tart is quickly broiled to brown the top and set the custard. Since the cups are so small, I find that there is no need to set the custard any further. It reminds me of the inside of a rum ball and I like the contrasting textures of the crumbly crust and drippy custard.
  

• You will have a bit of sabayon custard left over after assembling the tartlets. It's very similar to lemon curd and makes a great spread for toast or crackers.
  

Beautiful Kauai

I really do love the WWOOF program. Maybe I've just had extremely good luck, but the places that I've found to stay on my trip to Hawaii have been both perfectly suited to what I need and completely magical. I landed on Kauai Friday afternoon, greeted by a green gem of an island. After all the lava of the Big Island, it felt like I was truly arriving in paradise for the first time. The tall mountains were green and angular, the dirt was bright red and the sky had fluffy white clouds hanging perfectly in the sky. The air smelled sweet as orange blossoms.

My new host drove us to her home in Kapaa and showed me around the lovely hilltop estate, a little bed and breakfast with beautiful ponds, flowers and fruit trees everywhere. She calls it Honualani Gardens, the gardens of heaven on earth. She introduced me to my new home, a cozy house in the valley, completely alone. Perfect. Her property is a five acre permaculture estate, brimming with mature tropical fruit trees. Around every corner there are breadfruit, cacao, lilikoi, avocado, lemon, starfruit, banana, noni and coconut. Breakfast always includes a huge smoothie with whatever is falling off the trees. Her raised bed garden was already full of asparagus, tomato and beautiful herbs. The ponds are filled with big water lily; red and black ducks run across the lily pads like something out of a cartoon. At night I can hear the frogs and night bugs singing me to sleep in the rain and can almost feel all the garden fairies.

My first weekend on the island we went to Princeville on the north shore to check out a farmer's market and visit the most amazing beach. Tunnels is a surf spot past Hanalei and it is quite possibly the most perfect beach that I've ever clapped eyes on. The white sand stretched for miles in either direction, perfectly soft and lovely. The water was the clearest, deepest teal. I swam down the coastline, looking up at the tall green mountains at the edge of the water. As I was paddling around, some huge sea turtles were playing the surf just feet away, their big flippers flapping as they tumbled around in the waves. I feel so calm and contented here. I think I'm finally starting to relax and realize that this is an extended vacation. It only took me five months to get here, but anxiety is finally a memory, not a constantly hovering threat.

My new host is also worth noting. Jai has owned the property for 27 years and is as magical as her land. Her bright blue eyes sparkled when she picked me up at the airport and cooed, "Aren't you cute? We're going to get along great!" Word. She is quirky to say the least. My first day here she ran my birth chart and told me all about the inner workings of my personality. My first morning she relayed her vision of us in the clouds at sunrise, how our cloud selves were regarding one another over a cloud heart...a good omen for my stay. Then she told me all about her invisible pet rainbow dragon and the fairies in the garden. I freaking love this woman! I wish I could describe how spunky and delightful she is. A good dose of fantasy and frolicking is exactly what I need and Jai is just the person to deliver it.

Preserving the Harvest

My last day at Hawaii Island Retreat was Thursday and five of the beds I planted were ready to harvest! I was so excited to see that much food after only two and half months. Most of what was ready was lettuce and greens. I brought in three wagon-fulls of arugula, bok choy, chard, mustard greens, Asian savoy, radishes, basil and romaine lettuce. In the kitchen we got creative about preserving all of it for the resort guests and staff. The first thing we made was a huge batch of pesto with the arugula and basil. It was super spicy, just the way I like it. Here's a rough approximation of the recipe:

Arugula Pesto

• 10 big bunches of arugula
• 5 big bunches of basil
• 3 cups of nuts (I used mac nuts and pecans)
• 2 heads of garlic
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 3 tablespoons salt
• 1 tablespoon agave syrup or sugar (to cut the bitterness of the greens)
• 1/2 cup lemon juice

Whirl the arugula and basil together with the olive oil in a food processor (you'll have to do batches with so many greens). Then process the nuts and mix the rest of the ingredients together in a bowl. You don't need to add the lemon juice, but you will have to freeze the pesto without it, otherwise it will turn brown in the fridge after a couple of days. The arugula definitely makes the pesto very spicy, so just use all basil if you prefer a sweeter dip.

We also had a ton of chard and Asian savoy and learned a great way to preserve them. Donna (a friend from Alaska) loaned her kale chip recipe, which I fell in love with. I ended up eating a whole tray of them, but we did manage to put some away for later.

Kale Chips

• 1 big bunch kale, spinach, chard or any other dark greens, chopped into chip sized pieces
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp chopped garlic (optional)
• 1 tbsp olive oil

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Rinse and chop the greens then toss in a big bowl with the other ingredients so that all the greens are evenly coated. Lay out in a thin layer on large baking sheet. Bake for about ten minutes, then take out and redistribute the chips on the baking sheet. Any clumps will not dry out properly. Bake until the chips are all crispy but not burnt (about 15 minutes).

The first batch of these didn't even have a chance to cool before we devoured them. Surprisingly they tasted really garlicy even without any seasoning, though you certainly could add any spices that you like. They reminded me a lot of nori and would be great with fish and rice.



The last way we preserved all that greenage was by making kimchi. I have to admit that I was a little confused by the whole process, but basically what you do is grate or chop all of your greens very fine, add in some radish, beets, apple, carrot and cabbage (or any combination of these), add a culture (a type of lactic acid bacteria) and allow the whole thing to ferment for a couple of days in a jar. The mixture will get really sour and tangy and then you add in your seasoning (citrus, peppers, garlic, etc.). I am not an expert, so I'll refer you to some of my favorite sites for more info:

• An entire website dedicated to Korean food with lots of recipes for kimchi
• Easy and great recipe from my favorite source, Epicurious
• Some great results from the awesome website Foodbuzz

It felt really satisfying to see the result of my time there, all neatly lined up in glass jars and ready to feed everyone while I'm away. The next morning I was off on a plane to Kauai for six weeks of a new adventure at a new garden!

Elly Extravaganza, Photo Montage

Elly finally sent over her pictures from the trip, so here's a little photo montage...

Delicious Kava Bar in Hawi

Three martini dinner

The super-low ceilings at the Inn at Volcano

Le machete montage...

Sea turtle at the black sand beach

Jackfruit and abiu at the entrance to the lava flow

Elly Extravaganza, Four Seasons

So remember that little pirouette that Elly's return plane ticket was doing? Well, it decided to surprise us all and take a flying leap to Thursday instead of Sunday. God knows how, but Elly came back to Hawi one afternoon with a boarding pass in her hand and told me she was leaving the day after tomorrow. And she had a plan. She wanted to go out in style and live it up big on her last night in Hawaii. She booked a posh room at the Four Seasons and we decided to lay around the pools and drink fancy cocktails all day with umbrellas. A little taste of the typical tourist vacay.

We were not disappointed by the Four Seasons. It had three gorgeous pools to choose from, a long white sand beach, deliciously comfy beds and leis waiting for us when we checked in. There was even a young man whose only job was to clean our sunglasses and ask if we'd like an Evian spritz to cool us down. We managed to pass an entire delightful day with playing gin rummy in the pool and trying to convince someone to light our drinks on fire (disappointingly there are regulations against such fun).


To Elly's delight, our room came with robes which worked perfectly as a holster for her new love--le machete.

And when I unpacked my things at the hotel, I found to my great delight that Cassandra was hiding in the depths of my luggage. I had lost her a few weeks before and was worried that my little orange companion was gone forever. A few nights before Elly and I had made a clay model in the hopes of luring her back to me. Sort of like a talisman or something. I even said some voodoo chants to bring her home.

Apparently, the talisman worked...it was an ecstatically joyful reunion. Really, I think she was just waiting for the right time to make her grand re-entrance. She showed up just in time for the Perrier-Jouët and sunset. I always knew she had a flare for the dramatic.