I’d been invited to travel to Oahu by the Oahu Visitor’s Bureau in exchange for blogging about my adventures there. At the same time, Christine Lu was planning re[Think] Hawaii, a small conference about start-ups, sustainability, and social media and the dates lined up perfectly. Christine generously waived the attendance fee in exchange for… well, let’s say I owe her a favor or three. Neenz, a Hawaii social, um, universe, she’s a social universe, invited the attendees of reThink Hawaii to TEDx, a morning of interesting ideas and speakers.… continued…
There’s a whole complicated process around making mochi that I can’t explain properly. I remember something about a mallet and a lot of pounding, and how it’s some unfortunate person’s role to flip the mochi between swings of the mallet. There’s a lot of pounding and the end result is something that’s a lot like playdough only much more edible. That stuff, the result of the pounding and flipping, is the actual mochi (rice paste?), the wrapper, the last layer of this traditional Japanese treat.… continued…
There isn’t much by way of furnishing in the Queen’s imprisonment room. There’s a little white bed, a rather ornate love seat sized sofa, and a dresser. There’s a large crazy quilt displayed under Plexiglas, it’s beautiful and sad, but not as sad as the little Chinese birdcage that stands empty on top of the dresser.
Queen Liliuokalani was sentenced to hard labor for her supposed role in a rebellion she denied having any hand in planning.… continued…
The sand on Ha’ena beach is coarse and golden and it’s scattered with chunks of coral and broken seashells. Little crabs dance in the line the foam leaves on the sand while the sun goes down and in the morning, the sand is piled in pyramids along the tideline, the remnants of little crabs digging their way in for the night. The clouds are shaped like the heads of the Where the Wild Things Are monsters, horns and all, and they peer across the misty bay while the sun comes up.… continued…
We’ve been watching stuff get made, lately. We are a regular, uh, what’s that show called where you get to watch stuff get made? I can’t remember, but we’re like them. We visited an olive oil press and a coffee roaster in Oregon and today, we went to the birthplace of the KoAloha Ukulele.
The shop is a tiny place, when we were there four or five guys were working in the production area while from upstairs, the sound of melodic strumming spilled down the stairs.… continued…
