Ohm shanti shanti shanti

When I get home and people begin to ask me "How was Hawaii?! Wasn't it amazing?," I truly don't know what I'm going to say. Of course it has been amazing -- I've swam in the Pacific Ocean at both white and black sand beaches, jumped into rivers surrounded by waterfalls and made friends with locals. I can say with certainty that this has been the most amazing experience of my life, but I can also say that the majority of these amazing things have occurred on weekends. That being said, if every weekend is a dream, every weekday has been very close to a nightmare.
There is nothing better to describe my entire experience here than the position that I am currently in: surrounded by hippies, drinking out of a mason jar, watching a movie about plants and smelling like mildew.
When we signed up to come to this place, we were asked to bring or buy organic shampoos and soaps; how cute, we thought: we're going to be living off the land. We pictured standing in the field together, swinging pick axes, singing Wade in the Water, shielding ourselves from the hot tropical sun with big beautiful sunhats. There have been pick axes and singing, but that was just about the end of the similarities between our dream trip and the "reality" that we've been living here.
As I sit here scratching my bug bites, I am reminded of our first day on the Big Island: we were picked up and given leis at the airport and taken into Hilo, the large city on our side of the island, where we shopped around in natural foods stores and a farmers' market. We were overwhelmed with excitement: "We're in Hawaiiiiiii!" we chanted as we walked along the sidewalks, gazing at dirty men playing ukuleles and kicking chihuahuas. We decided to buy some things at the market, thinking that farmers' markets and natural food stores would be our only chance to buy our own food (necessary because they only feed us two meals a day -- and I use the word "meal" very loosely). Our guide and boss for the month insisted that we try a local favorite drink at her favorite spot while we were in town. "You guys have to try the kava bar while we're here. It's this amazing drink with amazing effects; you'll love it!," she kept saying. Hell yeah, we thought; first day here and we're going to a bar in the middle of the day. The drink that we tasted should have been a HUGE hint at what the rest of our time here would be like: halved coconuts were placed in front of us and we were served kava, a brownish watery substance, out of a cauldron that was perched on the bar. As we were led through the kava drinking ceremony -- splashing some on the floor (for the homies who couldn't make it to the party), into the air (for Biggie and Tupac up in the sky), over our shoulders (?) and then clapping twice -- we threw it back. Or at least tried to. We were later informed that the "kava" from which this drink is made is a root grown in Hawaii. And you know what? That's exactly what it tasted like. A root. More specifically, the dirt that the root came out of. I opted out of drinking the rest of mine despite the promise of its magical effects: a relaxation and apparent close-to-drunkenness. Not worth it. I watched my friends get a taste for the liquefied dirt and when they finished, we headed to the farm (first stopping at another natural foods store, "The Natch," it's affectionately called here, where we got a delicious lunch from a buffet).
We arrived at our cute little cabin -- jungalow -- and unloaded our things, then were shown around the farm. Again, we were so excited. We spent our first night in the spa and settled into our cozy beds, happier than ever to be in one of the most beautiful places on Earth.
Come Monday, we were in for a reality check: we weren't here for paradise, we were here to learn and to work. We quickly jumped on the available job of housekeeping, the idea of which kept us entertained for at least two weeks, but we were also required to work on the land two days a week, which was quite the experience. On our first day on the land, we spent about 37 hours laying down cardboard and then mulching a mud pit. Having been forced to spread mulch for nearly my entire life at home, this seemed like it was going to be a piece of cake. And it was -- aside from the constant hoards of bugs and the downpours of rain that occurred every five minutes. We were told that summer on the island is the dry season, but you could've fooled me. All rain, all day. I sadly forfeited my hopes for returning to the mainland with a beautiful bronze tan only a few days into the trip. I'm sure most of you know that if it even seems like it's going to rain in Chapel Hill, the chances of me even getting out of bed are slim to none; so waking up to the sound of rain on our tarp roof (very similar to a blitz gunfire) and going out to work in it was not one of my favorite things about Hawaii, to say the least.
If there's anything that I've enjoyed less than the bugs and the rain this month, it's the food. Our first "all natural" food experience was breakfast on Monday: a "chocolate" smoothie and oatmeal. Oh my god, a chocolate smoothie. For breakfast! These people really know how to live, I thought. I don't know if any of you have tasted raw cacao, but it is absolutely nothing like the Hershey bar that it can eventually be made into. This smoothie looked, smelled and tasted like dirt and the oatmeal wasn't much different. Lunch consisted of little more than a bowl of leaves and maybe a soup, none of which interested me. This is advertised as a cleansing retreat, so I'll just cleanse for an entire month. I set out on a mission to fast for an entire month, but that quickly ended on the first night after work when I thought I was starving to death. Luckily I eventually developed not only a taste for, but a love for quinoa, which is served most days at lunch. It's sticky and heavy and gives me some of the protein I need to half-ass the slave work I was expected to do every day. After two weeks, even this routine got old, and we biked into town to stock up on MSG at the drug store. I still eat quinoa and drink water all day during the day, but come nighttime in the confines and secrecy of our jungalow, I stuff myself with delicacies including Oreos, Cheetoes, Ritz Crackers and, mostly importantly, Pepsi. So for any of you who were expecting me to come home fit and tan, I am sorry to let you down. I'll be coming home exactly how I left.
My time on the farm hasn't been all bad, I suppose. I'm here with my best friends and I have a comfortable bed and the jungle is very beautiful every now and then when the rain lets up. The farm where we're staying offers several beneficial classes and events, which we have been trying to take full advantage of. Our first class was hula, which is a lot harder than it looks, especially when you're just thrown with no training into warm-ups with the royal court dancers. I found the love of my life in that hula class. I immediately forgot his name after we were introduced, but I will never forget the sight of tightly wrapped sarong as he danced in front of me.
Perhaps the biggest surprise for me here has been how much I've enjoyed yoga. It always seemed fun, but the only experience with practicing yoga that I came here with was the one time my friend forced me to go with her freshman year; our teacher had a lisp and I could barely stretch my fingers past my kneecaps. Needless to say, I never saw myself doing yoga again. But hey, I'm in Hawaii and I'm supposed to be relaxing, so why not? The first week of yoga was nice, but in our second week, I fell in love with our yoga instructor Maura. Not only is she beautiful, but her voice is the closest to heaven I have ever been and the closest I will likely ever get. She's been the only person here so far that doesn't judge us and she sings along when I tell her in song how much I love her. Every yoga session with her leaves me near tears and melting into the mat. Our second week of yoga with her was perhaps one of the most transformative experiences of my life. She called it "restorative yoga" and if you haven't tried it, I highly recommend it; though I'm not sure of how effective it will be without the voice of our angel there to guide you. At the end of every class, we end with an "Ohm shanti shanti shanti," which I've adopted as my new motto. If you ever see this, Maura, thank you again. Please call me and/or send me a recording of your voice.