paper rain over Brooklyn

Hello my lovelies - it's time to sit down on a blanket in this lovely grove again.

It's been a while sine we had a sit-down under the trees, listening to birdsong and feeling the gentle breezes in our hair. It has been a while, and now it is has turned from summer to fall, but I am still optimistic that we can squeeze in a few more picnics before we move indoors. Just pull on a nice sweater and you'll be fine for now.

It is Sunday September 11, 2011 - the whole city is remembering this very day ten years ago, 2001.

I remember it too. 

Every single one of us have a memory of that day. It's sort of like: "where were you when JFK got shot?", but in our times. One of the strongest memories I have of that very day were being alone in my apartment, 7 months pregnant with my first child. I turned on the radio, for the TV stations weren't working. I turned on every single radio I owned so I could hear what was going on no matter where I was in my small apartment: while making tea, while going to the bathroom, while lying on the bed, while sitting on the couch, while wandering restlessly from room to room, I could hear the radio announcers' voices talking. I was crying pretty much the whole day, off and on, as I was wandering restlessly around. I received phone calls from friends and family in Sweden and here in NYC (on the landline which was working later that day). 

When the first tower came crashing down (or was it the second tower? I can't remember anymore...) I heard a woman wailing loudly in a nearby apartment. "noooooooooooo.... noooo.... noooooooooooooooooooooo....nooooooooooooooooooooooo...." It was heartbreaking to hear her. I felt so utterly helpless. My whole being wanted to sprint out there and help her, someone, anyone - it would have soothed my own aching heart. 

I remember calling my ob/gyn (that is the doctor a woman sees during her pregnancy, for those of you who don't live in the US - don't know the name of such a doctor in Swedish?) a few days after the disaster and asking if I can go out there and give blood, something.... anything? Of course I received a stern "No! You are pregnant. You need all the blood for you and your baby" from her. My doctor had a very firm "you're not going out and doing anything, missy" kind of tone in her voice, so I stayed put.

Another very haunting memory I have of that day was the rain over Brooklyn - the paper rain... Brooklyn Heights, Carroll Gardens, Park Slope and nearby areas were littered with office papers that floated across the air over the the East river from the World Trade Center towers as they crumbled to the ground. The wind was blowing southeasterly on that sunny day, and the debris, the office papers, the smell of burnt buildings, the smoke, came drifting over my neighborhood. When me and my pregnant self wobbled out to the front of my building I saw thick smoke coming from the Twin Towers as they had fallen, and papers, papers, papers... drifting, floating.... as if the souls of those departed were flying a last round over the city to bid farewell to their beloveds.

I remember meeting my friend Sheila the next day and walking in Prospect Park together just to get out and away from the TV (which at this point was sending channel 2) and those haunting images replaying over and over again. The path in the park was littered with papers, and I couldn't bring myself to pick any up... 

I remember thinking the officers and the firemen that died going up the stairs in tower two were the bravest people on Earth that day!! I also thought the people jumping out of the windows to their own certain death were the bravest people on Earth that day!! 

The memories of that horrific and morbidly sunny and beautiful day binds all of us together, where ever we are now and where ever we were on that day. A profound sadness fills us when we think of the almost 3000 people that died then. It's almost too much to grasp for my brain. Almost 3000 died.... in one go?! Whatever our individual memory snippets are, we all have a collective memory that binds us together. It is a very strong bond. 

As I reflect upon the events on that day I also think of the consequences that followed. Of the United States deciding to start a war - the War on Terror, as they chose to call it. I think of all the civilians that have died as a consequence of that war. I lost count on how many have perished, how many mothers and fathers, how many sisters and brothers, how many daughters and sons have perished for the sake of this war, and because of it. I think up around 100.000 to 110.000 civilian lives are lost in Iraq since the beginning of the war in 2003. 

There is definitely a very strong US and THEM differentiation going on in our collective psyche. How else can we describe that we do not bat an eyelash at THEIR civilians dying. 

When the World Trade Center towers came down it was THEM that had killed OUR 3000 people. There were immense emotions, feelings of anger and revenge towards THEM. THEY had killed these innocent civilians here in WTC, Pentagon and in Pennsylvania (where the fourth plane crashed). WE needed to get back at THEM. 

100.000 more civilians have died since, because of US... it is more than my brain can fathom.

I took the subway to work several days later, and it was the first time I ventured into to Manhattan after that horrific day. Public transportation was back on track and life on Manhattan was slowly coming back. Here comes my next haunting memory snippet related to 9/11:

I wore a scarf around my neck, a Tibetan scarf that has the 'ohm' sign on it. The word is sanskrit and it means 'the eternal'. In my mind I thought it a fitting scarf to wear. The word symbolizes a way to calm your mind, to unify your thoughts, to create your own peace. 

The dirty looks I got on the subway on my way to work that made feel very uncomfortable, and I couldn't for my life understand what people were staring at me for. I got off the subway at Union Square near my work and a large man confronted me and tried to intimidate me, by hissing: "I'm gonna kill you and your people. You're gonna get it back!" I can still see the hatred in his eyes when he looked at me, leaning close enough for a brief moment so I could hear his hissing. He wanted to hurt me badly. It scared me - I was completely taken aback!

Only then did I understand that everyone had aggressive feelings towards me because I was dark featured,  "foreign" looking, and I was wearing a scarf around my neck with Asian writing on it. (which is aaaaalmost Arabic, as we all know....). Everyone's anger and hurt and pain were directed towards  those of us that looked the part, because somebody needed to take it!! It is accepted behavior in our western society.

It was the "US and THEM" moment defined, and very sad to me... 

September 11, 2001, is a day I will never forget indeed. I will remember the sadness of the lives lost, the love and support for each other that extended beyond family and friends to strangers throughout the city, the high of humanity that filled the city in the days and weeks following. And I will unfortunately remember the hatred and the rage in that man's eyes when he looked at me. They saw 'the other' in me. They saw someone that was representing everything they feared and hated at the moment. Dark haired, brown eyed, olive skinned. 

Racism at its most grotesque and most unbridled moment.

Paper rain... floating souls making their last rounds over our heads. I wonder what they were thinking as they saw us humans below? I think they are praying that our collective memories not be made of fear and hatred, but of hope and love, of resilience and togetherness.

Thank you all so much for stopping by the picnic spot today. It's been a sad day of remembrance and also of hope for a better humanity. Never forget. 

Postcard from Iceland

Hello again-this time our little picnic spot has moved to Iceland temporarily. It has been colder here, and one night I wore a winterjacket. A WINTERjacket! But in the daytime when the sun shines we have been walking around in tanktops.

Top five reasons Iceland is a great place:

5. They have staffed playgrounds for parents, so before the kids reach school age the parents can drop their children off for a couple of hours while they get stuff done. You pay a minimal fee only, but the whole system is designed to help and make it easier for parents with kids, not punish them for having them.

Ok, I am going to stop right here. That is the only reason I need to hear. A place were people value - really value - children and families and the contribution you make to your society by raising good little people. (It sounds as if my logic is that just because someone acknowledges your contribution to society your kids will automatically turn into good people - eummm... I'm just sayin' it's hard as it is to do the parent thing without ANY or very little help, so every little thing is appreciated and needed.)

We had a lovely time here in Iceland with our friends, and we are sad to go. It has been cold though. It's kinda hard to pack for 50 degrees Faherenheit nights (Iceland) when it is still hot a the place of origin (NYC).

It was nice to see you here at the picnic spot again. Next picnic stop is Sweden. I have to wake up in a few hours to go to the airport, but please feel free to stay a while and read on. Come back again and don't forget to bring your picnic basket, a few ladybugs and the sound of a happy, bubbling brook.

rioting rioteers - who were the baddies?

Hello again dear picnic'ers~~today we're sitting in a cooler spot.

It feels like autumn is nearing, as the sky is overcast and grey, and the clouds are rainheavy and droopy. Picnic season is coming to a close. But don't worry, dears. HulaMama will host indoors picnics. Just bring paintbrushes and birdsongs on tape, and we will have our meadow, some fluffy clouds and a picnic under a rainbow in no time.

It's been a little while since our last gathering on this lovely spot. My daughter's birthday and other such things happened. But I actually did not get to host my annual birthday picnic in the park this year. It is a LOT of work and I just couldn't muster up the energy. On the day when we'd normally have it, it rained bucketloads here in New York. BUCKETLOADS!! Flooded basements and gutters and streets all over the place. It was all a wet mess out there, so I felt kinda lucky that I didn't set a picnic plan this year, as previous years have been just lovely and sunny and perfect for picnics. 

Even though it's been a couple of weeks since the riots in London and other cities in England, and I didn't write anything then about it, I have to wrote something now. I have read various articles and pieces of writings on the riots both in UK publications and in US ones. I couldn't stop reading about it when the riots were going on as the UK has a certain place to my heart. It has been a while since I lived there, but I lived in London for three years, three formative years of my life. I attended London Contemporary Dance School which is situated near King's Cross (of Harry Potter fame - train platform 9 3/4 for those of you who have read and/or watched the series). 

Just as Harry Potter is consistently fighting strong, adult forces that are designed to not only weaken him, but to destroy him entirely, so are the governmental powers today designed not to help and build up youth, but to weaken and destroy character, morale, hope and enthusiasm for life and living in the young'ems of today. 

In our society, imbued by values and ideals that is a perfect fit in some strata and a poor fit for others, it indiscriminately and across the board forces people to live in certain conditions within certain frameworks whether or not this is suitable for all. Yes, you say, but without societal frameworks total chaos will surely ensue. You can say that because you have a washer and dryer. You have a job, or at least job prospects. You have an education. You conform. You fit in to the framework. Or at least you try hard to fit in because you have learned that it is the right way to live. Not only is it the right way, but it is the only way to live according to those who are in power. And you believe it. 

Who are those in power that decide such things for you? Well, let's break this down. Western societies are still striving for fulfillment of Euro-centric patriarchal values. So those in charge would be those who benefit from seeing such values fulfilled. 

Ok, so we got that out of the way. We understand that politicians, ie. those in power as mentioned above, are elected by some of us - by those of us that benefit from having such people elected so they can do our bidding. Those of us who have no say are those who do not vote the politicians in because we know from a longstanding tradition that the aforementioned politicians in power will NEVER, or rarely, speak up for some of us. 

During the riots, condemnation and disgust at such behavior by the depraved city youth was the popular stance in mainstream media. Yes, I too became angry and misty eyed when I saw shop owners crying at having lost everything they had ever worked for, and I felt so bad for the home owners who lost their homes and everything in it (including washers and dryers) due to senseless burning. 

I wasn't angry at the youth though. Not a chance! We know kids emulate grown ups' behavior. 

For example, this is what some grown ups have been up to lately: a small group of "big guys", sharks and financial scoundrels, singlehandedly created the Global Financial Crisis in 2008. The persons involved in letting the the major financial institutions go down the toilet did not get a single hour in jail. An official reprimand maybe, but NO ONE paid for the consequences of their actions. We all know the consequences of their actions resulted in a worldwide financial disaster. That coupled with the Housing Bubble that burst in 2007 (also caused by large financial companies' greed and unsound lending practices) made loads of lower and middle class people already struggling to get by lose retirement savings, homes, lives, jobs, hope, everything.... NO ONE went to jail for these crimes that pretty much rocked our financial climate on global scale!!! 
After the US government decided to bailout large corporations on the verge of bankruptcy with the little guys' hard-earned tax money, we saw images of CEOs of these same large corporations on corporate conferences in luxury resorts, flying around in private jets, and giving themselves a high five by pocketing millions in year-end bonuses. You all know this already, so no need to regurgitate (but I just did, for the sake of it!).

Darcus Howe said it the best when he exclaimed in a BBC TV interview that the riots were "an insurrection of the masses". The numbers gave voice to the little people, those with normally no say. In however misguided ways they "spoke up" because they had been taught to think of themselves as not worthy, not equal. How many of you think it will happen here in the States soon?

One of the wackjobs that blame the young people, Ann Coulter, is a right-wing conservative figure here in the States. She is blaming the riots on liberal politics. I was chuckling at how she describes the situation.


Well, that was surprising. I didn't think I was going to get political on my little patch of sun and flowers, but it happened... Ooops. ;-)
I will write again really soon from my next destination spot. I am heading to Sweden via Iceland for a little dose of healthy socialism. Hehe... 
A bientot (which is neither Icelandic nor Swedish, but French for "have a glass of wine". Actually, I'm lying...).

motherless mothers

Hi - and welcome back to this lovely picnic spot. I'd like to share a nice chilled Italian wine called Cappuccina (not cappuccino, the coffee drink!). Very refreshing on a hot summer's day.

You guys inspire me to write. Your comments inspire me and give me ideas. You bring up topics that I might have thought of writing about but weren't brave enough to tackle yet. I thank you for your courage and your enthusiasm. My friend messaged me and told me her mother passed away recently, and then added: "you are a motherless mother too?" and I thought, "By golly, that expression cuts straight to the core".

When my first daughter was born and I consequently became a mother for the first time, my own mother had been gone to the other side for many years. I missed her before, but nothing prepared me for just how much I would miss her, and the shock and the pain of becoming a mother while not having my own mother around, the support, the knowledge of how I was as a baby, the love and the care that only a mother can give her own daughter. It was a shock to become a motherless mother.

It is a momentous event, becoming a mother, and sharing that and understanding what it means to be a mother for the first time in my life with my own mother would have been so sweet. Shortly after I became a mother I serendipitously read a New York Times article about the importance of the relationship of a woman's mother when she herself is giving birth. How women giving birth are more likely to feel "the baby blues" when their own mother is not around. And how it is not the same to have the father's mother - the mother-in-law - present after the birth. Ah, I wish I could find that article again... But instead I found this on how new mothers need to feel validated, need to feel like their new babies and themselves matter in this world, that someone CARES.

http://www.nytimes.com/2001/12/04/health/cases-so-lucky-to-give-birth-in-england.html?scp=203&sq=Mothers+when+woman+gives+birth&st=nyt

It really does take a village to raise a child....

I had my two children in New York City, and didn't have that village to help. I had maybe a few misguided village members: a pediatrician that had very little understanding... aaand... let me thiiink... nope, that was it. So in total that was one clueless village member. 

My mother is gone, and there isn't a day that goes by without me thinking about her, remembering something about her, in one way or another. She died in 1989 so it's been a while. Sure, she was craaaazy (!!!) but she managed somehow to teach me, show me, love and compassion and understanding, the most important gifts you can give a child. (Many "normal", non-crazy mothers aren't successful in doing that!) Through it all she managed to raise me by herself in a foreign country with no family around - motherless mother as she was. My grandmother (my mother's mother) also gave birth to most of her children in a foreign country with no "village" around to help: being Korean and poor in Japan during the time of WW II. 

I hope to break this cycle. I hope to be there for my two daughters when/if they have babies. I want to be there. I need to be there. I will be there and help them, guide them, or just sit quietly with them. I will answer their questions when they ask me, I will show them photos of them as babies, I will stoke their foreheads and tell them they did a great job, I will never stop telling them how incredible they are. I will show them they are not alone. They will not be motherless mothers!

Well, how nice of you to stop here on your way to where ever you were going. It was nice to see you again. If this was your first time over at my picnic spot, come back again soon. There is always space on my blanket if you forgot yours.

Are you an axe murderer or just a dude with a really bad photo?

Hello there - come on over and make yourself comfortable on this lovely spot. There is a nice and refreshing breeze today. Can you feel it?

If you happen to be an axe murderer, please don't be offended but my friends will frisk you and confiscate any and all axes they might find in your possession. And you might have to sit on your own blanket... I don't mean to discriminate, but I want to live for my children... you understand.

A few days ago my agent sends me a casting notice for a "major dating site" which is seeking single women and men in my general age range, who are willing to go out on a date courtesy of the dating site. They will do your hair and make-up and wardrobe, and then send you on your way with a film crew. The date will be filmed to be used as promotion for the site. And they'll pay you for the job of course. 

So, let me recap: free date with hunk, everything paid, hair/make-up/wardrobe done by professionals, payment for gig. Sounds pretty sweet!

I wrote my agent back saying "Drats, I am single, but unfortunately I can't go to the audition. Boohooo!" But later on that evening I became curiouser and curiouser about this wonderland of dating sites. I have never registered for any dating sites before, and never thought I would. I have friends that have used those kinds of sites and have been successful as well. And I am genuinely glad for their sake and I respect them, but I never thought I would try those sites. But alas, Curiosity got the better of me (I also hear Curiosity killed the Cat!) - and jetlag too - and around 2am that night I registered with not one, not two, but three "free" dating sites. (Free meaning you can register and start a profile, but you can't view anything or anyone until you pay their fee.) Nervously I uploaded a photo of myself and entered the requested information and clicked 'agree'.

Then I waited.... 

The next morning I was finally "matched" up with several guys, and viewed profile after profile. I was absolutely aghast by who I was matched up with (on the one site that allows you to view your match's profile photo without paying).

How many times have we been told to not judge a book by its covers...? 

Well, with that said I would like to give you a tip: please upload a photo were you do not look like an axe murderer. Initially I pretty much have nothing else to go on but your photo. When I see a photo of you looking like an axe murderer there's not much else I can do or will do except RUN! Sweet Mother of Mercy, call me shallow, but your photo is important. It might help you if you smile, or at least look pleasantly content, agreeable or even friendly. Seriously! Did you think: "Here, let me choose THIS photo where I look like an axe murderer. That'll get me results!"? I'm not trying to be judgemental or anything, but actually the nature of those sites leave you with no other option. ESPECIALLY IF YOUR PHOTO LOOKS LIKE AN AXE MURDERER'S!!


I deleted my profile so fast!! Then I deleted my other two profiles on the other sites as well.

My foray into dating sites has been brief but my curiosity quenched for life. I didn't want to be the Cat (that Curiosity got the better of) in this one. Meow.

Thanks for popping by. I still love you all, but might love you just a little less if you are an axe murderer... Oh, and on your way out, please don't expect us to give you the axe back, OK!

"Fika" - a Swedish national pastime

Hello there ~ long time no see. ;-) Today I picked a half shady, half sunny, place for our picnic spot. Throw down your blanket (which, by the way, is not the same as throwing down your towel - hehe!), rest for a while, and allow your senses to fully take in your surroundings. 

My last post was written last night, when I was having myself a glass of Muscadet. I was posting it this morning, due to me trying to figure out the photo attachment thingy, but that is not when I was drinking my Muscadet. Just sayin'... ;-)

My father, "morfar" to my girls, called this morning. Morfar means maternal grandfather in Swedish. He got me thinking of "fika" today when he mentioned that he was sitting on his balcony and drinking his afternoon coffee and eating coffeecake (vetebröd in Swedish) in the sun with his wife. He was also looking forward to having "fika" with us later on in August, which is not surprisingly my girls' favorite thing to do with morfar when they are in Sweden. They do not get served coffee, however, on the balcony when they have "fika", but "saft och bullar" (saft is kind of like juice concentrate diluted with water and bullar are delicious Swedish sweet buns). When I told the kids that morfar was looking forward to fika with his little girls, they immediately gave loud cheers and wanted to fika right away. As I am unprepared for fika and have no fika stuffs in my house I suggested that we have a picnic fika (surprise!) in the park instead with cherries, carrots and cheese sandwiches, which is as far away from saft och bullar as you can come. (Carrots, mom. Really?) Poor kids... ;-)

"What is this fika you speak of?"

Well, it is a distinctly Scandi thing. I'd go so far as to say it is a distinctly Swedish thing. I am actually not sure if the Norwegians and the Danes do fika - or they do it, but don't have a name for it? You could translate it to "having coffee" with someone, but that doesn't quite do it. Yes, fika is a social activity and you often drink coffee during your fika, but yet it is something else as well. My older daughter suggested to compare it with English "afternoon tea time", and that is also an astute comparison as fika is a "thing" you do, an event, a way to slow down and enjoy yourself for a moment. But fika does not have the same ritualistic element as the English afternooon tea, and fika is not limited to a certain time of day. You can have morning fika and evening fika, and everything in between fika.

You can fika at home with friends, you can fika at a "konditori" (bakery, for lack of a better word), or a coffee shop. You can also have a fika picnic. People have "fika paus" or "fika rast" at their work. It's built in to the psyche of the Swede. It is a state of mind as well as an activity. Fika is when you take time out with friends or coworkers to enjoy a moment, before you go back in to the grind. And yes, it typically involves a whole lotta coffee, as Swedes drink an almost insane amount daily. They drink it like others drink water.

So we managed to have an midday fika picnic today (which lasted over two hours while the kids were also biking in the park), in preparation of the time we will have with morfar and our family when we go to Sweden. 

My neighbor Linda (also a transplanted Swede in Brooklyn) told me she wrote a paper on the topic of the Swedish fika in her anthropology class a few years back. I'd like to read that paper! 

Thanks for stopping by for a fika on my picnic spot today. It was nice to see you. Don't forget to take some time out and enjoy the moment, enjoy the day and the people around you.  

the fullmoon

Hello ~ I'm so delighted to see you again. Here, have a seat. Would you like a glass of nice, chilled Muscadet? If you are visiting for the first time - grab a blanket, join me here on this nice, shady spot and don't be shy.

My jetlag is normalizing. I said that last week too, and then look what happened...? Up at all hours. HA!

This blogging business is quite fun and I am enjoying it more than I dare admit. I am also so grateful for all of your encouraging messages. There is a feature here where I can see that my blog has had views from many parts of the world. How fun is that?!! So exciting!! 

I saw some photos today and was again reminiscing about the Hawai'i trip. One of the nights there we had the pleasure and the honor of being invited by our kumu to dance with our O'ahu halau sisters and brothers at an evening event at the Kahala Hilton. It was located right on the beach by Le'ahi, more commonly known as Diamond Head (that famous mountain silhouette often seen on images from Waikiki). It was a magical night. As the sun was setting we were lei-greeting all the guests at the event. Then as dusk fell, we had the honor of dancing accompanied by such superb musicians with the added accompaniment of the rolling waves on the ocean. As if this wasn't absolutely beatiferous enough, the fullmoon rose right behind us. It was simply stunning, and the photo here doesn't even do it justice. 


This was just a little memory snippet I wanted to share with you. Thanks for checking in, and I hope you enjoyed that Muscadet - it's quite refreshing. 

the picnic hour

Hi. Come on over and sit on my blanket for a while. I've found a nice spot under this shady, big tree. 

I love picnics. I love them. I just can't have enough of picnics during summer. My little one's birthday is in the summer, and apart from the fact that it's hard to have a party in the house and you want to take advantage of the fact that you can be out of doors and run the kids tired, it's also one of my favorite events: little one's birthday picnic. Yesterday me and my kids had a picnic with a friend and her child in the Botanic Garden. As the sun was setting behind the treetops, we chatted, ate and had some wine, while the kids ran in the sprinklers and got completely soaked and caught fireflies in the dusky twilight hour. Aaaaaaahhhhhhh...... heaven. 

It is my sincere hope that my kids will remember these moments more vividly than the crappy moments when either A) I am a bad mom and lose my patience with them, or B) they have to trudge through the mucky, yucky, sticky, wicky divorce stuffs that's been on their minds for 2 1/2 years. 

It is my wish that these types of playful memories will stir their little  hearts when they resurface in later years, that they too will go: "Aaaaaaaaahhhhh.... heaven", when they recall an evening, a sunset, a friend, a firefly, a sprinkler, a laughter.

I know that my current situation - the mucky, yucky, sticky, wicky divorce stuffs - is having an impact on them. I know it. I see it. I hear it. Their dad is in denial, I think. It seems to me he's in denial about a lot of stuff. Sometimes I try to talk about it, to relay the kids' feelings, but it seems he doesn't want to hear or maybe it just doesn't penetrate his sphere fully. I'm not sure which...? 

The kids are asked to deal with a lot of new stuffs. New half-siblings and a new potential "stepmom" and dad moving in with someone new - all in one go. None of it they asked for; all of it only to satisfy the adult players in this game. 

Sometimes they get angry with me and their dad. I get their verbal lashings, I experience their tempest. I hear their disappointments and their frustrations. I see their tears and their fears. I tell them "it's not your fault", "mommy and daddy still love you so much". I tell them "mommy and daddy will never go away from you, we will always be yours". But they scream, they cry, they tell me how they really feel and believe me, they don't mince words! While tears stream down their little cheeks and darkness gathers in their eyes, they tell me of their fears: "You and daddy are never going to be together again". It breaks my heart to know that they have experienced so much heartbreak in their young years, but all I can do is snuggle up real close to their little beings, nod my head and say "yes, you're right sweetness" while I add quietly in my head "mommy and daddy don't want to be together ever again, and mommy has to exercise a whole lotta patience right now to remain friends with your father". 

I love picnics. Right now they represent an oasis of calm in big city living, a respite from stress, and hope that good memories will stay in my children's hearts and win over the bad memories. Picnics are my slice of heaven... Pizza too actually... oh, and standing in the fridge door with an open jar of Kimchi... and come to think of it, a shower at the end of a sweaty day is pretty heavenly. (But I couldn't make this blog space into a pretend shower - that would be weird, and people might get the wrong idea.)   :)

This was fun and I'm glad you popped on over. Thank you for the visit. Come back again and don't forget your picnic basket and if you happen to have a set of speakers with birdsong bring those too. 

the jetlag hour

Hello ~

Nice to meet you. Spread your blanket, and quickly pour yourself a glass of something special (I suggest wine) and make yourself comfortable. If you forgot your blanket, I will share.

Since jetlag still is holding me firmly with it's large talons and I cannot for my life go to sleep, I figure I might as well start this write-a-blog business. I might as well run this pig. Now! :)

It's been a week since we got back home after an awesome two weeks in Hawai'i. Since homecoming though, I've been fighting jetlag - the kids won't fall asleep until 3.30am and other such antics - for days. And the topper was that the worst heatwave in years pretty much was in full force as we landed back in New York. It got up to 108 Fahrenheit one day in Newark, NJ, last week, which is not were we live but I thought I'd mention it anyway since that is oh-so HOT! 

If you're not familiar with what 108 degrees Fahrenheit really means - yes, I am talking to you my Scandi sisters and brothers - it can be translated to over 42 degrees Celcius. With the thick humidity it feels like 115 F = over 46 C. That's brutal.

But enough about the weather. Me and my hula sisters in our New York halau (school) extension of Pua Ali'i 'Ilima O'ahu went to Hawai'i - 10 crazy hula sisters in all. It was hula immersion galore lead by our amazing kumu Vicky Holt Takamine, who had classes and workshops and performances and huaka'i's (excusions) planned (or not planned, but happened anyway in true Takamine fashion!) for us in a never ending stream. For some of us it was the first time we got to meet our hula sisters and brothers on O'ahu finally. It was AAWSUM!   

You can read about our arrival here:

http://www.paifoundation.org/2011/07/06/ny-students-hit-hawaii-this-week/

One of our events was an early morning TV appearance with our kumu and some of our halau members from Hawai'i and New York. You can enjoy that here:

http://www.hawaiinewsnow.com/category/6743/video?clipId=6047344&topVideoCatNo=undefined&autoStart=true

The culmination of all our efforts, hard work and endless hours of practice back in New York was our participation together with our O'ahu halau in the prestigious Prince Lot Hula Festival in the beautiful Moanalua Gardens in Honolulu. What a day! I will live on the surge I felt after it was all done, for the rest of the year. That feeling will feed me at dull moments, during hard times or when I stress about something silly.

Some of the images from the whole event were professionally captured here:

http://www.moanaluagardensfoundation.org/

Well, this was nice but my eyelids are getting rather heavy, and I am going to attempt to sleep. We have to do this again sometime soon. Don't forget to bring your picnic basket, and some paint to paint the sky and the flowers.