15 Years in Hawaii and what do I have to show for it
We are coming up on our 15th anniversary of moving to Hawai’i. In Hawai’i terms, that means we are (possibly) approaching a status of Kamaaina, loosely translated as “long time resident” (the nomenclature and distinctions for “resident”, “local” and “Hawaiian” is slightly complicated for those not intimately familiar with the islands, and I will not bother going into it here–that’s a story for another time).
The islands work mysterious magic on those who dwell here. For those who think the a move here does nothing more to you than give you copious fresh air and sunshine, think again. To those of you contemplating a move to Hawaii–let this be a foreshadowing, of sorts!
Here is the rough progression of how it happens:
(Before you move to Hawaii). “SPAM?!!! —ew, gross! “
(Soon after you move to Hawaii). “There is SPAM in this dish?!! Uh, No Thanks.”
(A few months go by). “SPAM, huh?…Oh, what the hell…”
(A couple of years go by). “You know, I think I kind of like this!”
A few more months go by and you try your first full slice of SPAM in a SPAM musubi.
Another year goes by and you are happily taking a SPAM musubi off of every plate that passes under your nose.
A couple more years go by and you purchase your first can of SPAM, to make musubi at home. (This is a watershed moment.)
A couple more years go by and you are starting to buy cans regularly, especially if you have children.
A couple more years go by and …
… yesterday I find myself in the local bulk discount warehouse outlet thingie, looking at and contemplating a bulk purchase of SPAM.
A … bulk … purchase …
And I had to reflect on the absurdity of the situation as I would have viewed it fifteen years ago.
I bought the six-pack.