Don’t Poke Me

Moving is hard! As I mentioned, Chris started work less than 12 hours after got here, meaning our first weekend in Hawaii was spent scrambling to buy a truck (read: hangry bickering in front of the kids). Well we actually found something great and Chris is now the proud owner of a maroon truck that is super fun to drive and I kind of want to steal. By the time this was accomplished (the buying, not the stealing), Eloise was slow blinking at me and saying cute things like, “I already sleeping.” So she napped in the car on our way to Waikiki.

“Swimming? Swimming? Swimming?”

The shimmering blue water was too great a temptation for our keiki (kids)! We got some shave ice, which they didn’t appreciate or eat, then in they went, splashing in a lagoon, surrounded by Japanese tourists, with Diamond Head off in the distance behind criss-crossed palms.

Now I have to tell you something very shocking: For the first time in the history of ever, Chris voluntarily ate something adventurous. Without me! What?! He came home from his second day of work and casually mentioned he’d gotten ahi poke (Hawaiian-style raw fish) from a food truck during lunch (while the kids and I were eating boxed mac n’ cheese from the mini mart since we’d had zero opportunities to grocery shop since landing). And he liked it. This, from the guy who says, “I like it when everything on my plate is all one color. Pasta, mashed potatoes, bread—all the same color.” I almost fainted.

“I can’t believe you got poke without me!”

“What?” he smirked, pleased with himself.

So at dinner Saturday night in Waikiki he suggested I get ahi poke. I tried it. It seemed like too much raw fish and not enough…anything else…but I will withhold judgement until I’ve tried it at least three different times.

The first day we were here, the kids and I went with a realtor to look at houses. The guy described the single wall construction as essentially a tent with walls. That seems accurate. 

“People come here looking for homes like they’re used to living in on the mainland, and Hawaiian homes can be a little too…exotic…for some.”

“I’d say a touch of the exotic is at least 60 percent of the reason we wanted to live here,” I said. 

Looking at the differences and similarities in places is my absolute favorite part of moving. Japanese bathtubs! Raw fish! An entire rack of aloha print shirts at Goodwill! I love it! When we finally got to the grocery store, the kids and I loaded our cart with Hawaiian stuffs: macadamia nuts in all flavors, coffee, cookies, coconut everything. I tried a Kalua pork bowls and spam ramen—YUM! We will try everything! Except the chicken place we passed in Honolulu: Itchy Butt Chicken and Joy—that will get a hard NOPE from me. A touch too exotic I guess. The jury is still out on poke though!