Tuesday, April 25, 2017

thursday in honolulu

Recently, AG Sessions declared his amazement that a judge "on an island in the Pacific" could block Trump's immigration order. He was referring to U.S. District Judge Derrick Watson, a federal judge hailing from the state of Hawai`i, who indefinitely extended the court order against that revised travel ban on Wednesday, March 29th.—the day before I flew to Honolulu for the very first time.
Being able to go to Hawai`i for work was a treat (those flights are expensive!), but I didn't expect to love the Pacific isles annexed by the U.S. in 1959. I've seen too many cheesy movies and shows; and I'm hardly the ideal candidate for personifying that "Aloha spirit".
But... then I touched down into retro-humidity and glanced out at the cloud-topped mountains and gasped in gleeful relief. The real Hawaii! I was *faraway* yet still within the bounds of my home country, and it was unlike any place I'd ever known or been.
My heart was content even after the costly stay in Waikiki. And my fascination that bilingual meant English and Japanese (versus Spanish) was exceptionally humbling. 1.5 million Japanese people vacationed in Hawaii in 2015; duh—the proximity, the history, the cultural exchange for which I am so clearly uninformed about. I learned, too, that peaceful politesse is expected and that the well-publicized pride for Hawaiian culture is beautifully sincere. When I flew from O`ahu to Kaua`i with three leis graciously bestowed upon me by my client (after we raised a great thousands for programs for girls that encourage courage, confidence, and character), I cannot even tell you how eager I was to discover more.

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