lørdag den 27. februar 2010

The tzunami OR How i learned to stop worrying and love the wave

As I write these words a tzunami just struck Oahu and I am dining in the middle of the jungle next to my dear sister and roughly 700 asians. Why you ask? Because Hawaii recieved the dreaded Tzunami warning after the massive Chile Quake hit, and we fled to the hills at 3 o clock at night. A long and perilous journey has brought us to a strange restaurant in the middle of Manoa Valley Jungle surrounded by a massive flok of asians behaving in a culturally unfamiliar manner. We suspect they might be evacuees from one of the big Waikiki hotels, and are forced to spend their saturday morning in the middle of the jungle with us. It could be worse though as the restaurant/building we are sitting in also serves as the location of Lost. When we arrived this very very early morning the crew was still dissembeling the set and driving exotic plants and gear arund the premises. The cages that held some of the leading characters in the second season can be seen just below the mens room (and in these pictures).



A lady gives regular updates, on what we assume to be the status of the tzunami, but as all information is devulged in Japanese we have no real way of knowing. At present the Tzunami is assumed to be aoround 2 meters, but you will probably all know the actual size by the time you read this. A large portion of our Japanese friends have gathered in the room next door and seem to be either loudly celebrating the end of the world or warming up to an epic karaoke fest. Its all a bit surreal to be frank and I am about as confused as I am knackered. On top of eveything they just raised the price of the dinner buffet to 14 dollars. Special tzunami price for you... Bastards!




In this last picture you can see the locals gathering supplies at 7/11 at 3 in the morning. Bad day for Hawaii, good day for 7/11!

tirsdag den 23. februar 2010

McLovin in da house


We’re back on track! The American Dream rolls on like an 18 wheeler running downhill with no brakes. I went to the DMV and aced my test after promising the tiny asian bureaucrat that I had studied fiercely this time around. I didnt get a single question wrong. Dont ask me how I knew how many rear view mirrors a car with a trailer has to have though. After the completion of the test I could tell how proud my little asian surrogate mother was, and knowing her affection for me I was worried to notice a glimmer of pity in her eyes. What was this? The doll sized rasin faced lady asked me to wait in the cashiers line and wait for my name to be called. The line was completely static for half an hour, and I slowely started to grasp why the TV-show Reaper has chosen the DMV as the earthly portal to hell. I love that show for some reason. Partly due to the fact that I am at heart a simple joe, and partly beacuse Ray Wise is the best cast devil EVER. And bear in mind that I have seen the devil played by Tom Waits in The imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. Well anyways after another 35 min. wait the man behind the counter called out ”Nelsher” and because this is a better than average pronounciation of my name in America I knew instantly he meant me. Now I am the proud owner of a Hawaiian drivers permit. I was so proud I could cry. Untill it turned out that I need to take the motorcycle test as well before I can drive my scooter. Bastards! Im going to take the test the day after tomorrow (yes Emmerich you freak there will be a day after tomorrow), and be on the road before the weekend. I hope.

søndag den 21. februar 2010

Kokua, chill out and enjoy life.

It seems that the place to learn about Hawaiian culture and way of life is on The North Shore. So the sister, Emma her friend and I packed our stuff in our newly rented Toyota Corolla ("uhhh, the accelerator dont get stuck to often on these ones...") and headed north. Hawaiian culture is all about showing "aloha" and "kokua". Now "aloha" is commonly used to describe pretty much any kind of welcoming or friendly gesture. It also doubles for hello and goodbye. Kokua is a bit more tricky to define. The automated voice on the bus says "Please kokua, give room to the elderly and disabled". Roughly translated this comes to "Please; "extend loving, sacrificial help to others for their benefit, not for personal gain..." give room to the elderly and disabled". (If you click the link it will take you to another blog concerned with Hawaiian culture and language). As the quote suggests "aloha" and "kokua" actually comes closer to discribing a way of life rather than just being terms for good behaviour. Sadly in the hands of american cultural imperialism these words are reduced to tourist friendly quasi-authentic fully-bullshit catch frases meant to make your stay more unique. Of course it has just the opposite effect. This rather long digression was leading one way; North. It seems to me anyways that the North Shore is the place to go to experience the aloha lifestyle. Here money matters less, people are not primarily concerned with selling you something and you give the right of way to others. Except when surfing. Here you just get a punch in the face if someone else wants the wave you are on: "You try to take another mans wave brah?" and BANG!. To the locals waves are like women apparently. Need less to say its difficult to convey the feeling of the North Shore in text, but I did find this sign in the local Coffee Gallery that might get us some of the way:




Every other café in Hawaii has one primary concern: Dont get sued! And so the signs there read: "We accept no responsibility for lost children, in fact we shall ignore them to prevent an damage or injury..." and so forth. Everything on the North Shore seems a little worn down as well. Which is probably why people arent so concerned with protecting their property. On our way home we had shrimp at the most famours shrimp place on The North Shore: Giovannis. As you can tell by the pictures its been a while since the good people of the Michelin Guide came by, but the shrimp was awesome! Big nasty garlicky bastards. And the place was definitely something else. Check it out:




Until next time: Please kokua.

fredag den 19. februar 2010

Acquaintances made on Thebus

You know how they say that every stranger is merely a friend you havn't met yet? And you know how thats complete bullshit? Most strangers are either complete a-holes, or simply people you wouldnt get along with anyway. Thing in Hawaii, though, is that people talk to you on the street or on Thebus whether you want them to or not. In Denmark you get the impression that its more or less considered a capital crime to talk to the person next to you on the bus. Just look straight ahead and be quiet. That way you wont bother anyone, and you wont be bothered. In Hawaii the person next to you on the bus almost always greets you with a "howsit?" (Which im pretty sure means "how is it?" meaning "How is it going?" - people usually seem content with the answer "fine thanks" so im sticking to my interpretation for now) and you always end up talking to some stranger. As mentioned above this is not always a blessing. People are weird. End of story. But from time to time you really do get to meet really interesting people you almost certainly would not otherwise have run into.

This sunday as I was heading for my Kokohead-hike, I ran into a guy who traveled across the states from farm to farm to learn organic farming first hand. He didnt bring any money so he simply contacted a near by farm of interest, and worked as long as it took him to understand their system, and make enough money for the next flight. This time however he had worked for an ex-marine turned farmer in Waimanalo, and hadnt much liked it. So he was moving on with no plan and no money. He was however very eager to talk about what he had learned. The ex-marine ran an aquaponics farm, which basically consists of a closed system of water and plants that you perpetuately enrich and clean in order to produce zero-waste and food. The system requires power but apart from that is clean. Absurdely Hawaii imports incredible amounts of fruit and vegetables. Meat for instance is much cheaper overhere than bananas. Bananas are grown in large amounts in Hawaii, but most of them are exported, so they have to import fresh ones from the mainland to meet demand... This is the way it has always been, and therefore this absurd system is still in operation. The organic farmers of Hawaii cant sell their products because they cant compete with the GMO fruit (genetically modified organisms) coming from the mainland. Furtunately the organic Hawaiian farmer are organizing, and trying to get a political voice. Job opportunity? Quite possibly.

mandag den 15. februar 2010

When the hell is the train coming?

One of the unforseen consequences of hawaiian lifestyle is that it slowly turns you into a outdoor-person. You know one of those people who insist on wearing hiking boots and Fjällräven clothing even though they are just going to the grocery store. If you confront them with their silly choise of clothing, they cheerily answer; "Always be prepared my boy, always be prepared" whilst giving you the boyscout salute. Now I still wear my flip flops to the grocery store, which I suppose indicates im not yet a true convert, but it obvious im heading straight for hippiedom. No two ways about it. This weekend my outdoor-fix came in the shape of the Kokohead trail close to Hawaii Kai. The trail is an old railway that used to bring supplies to the outlook bunker on top of the Kokohead mountain. The view is truly impressive, and you almost dont regret going all the way up. The bunker used to serve as an American lookout designed to give first warning if the Japanese attacked. Turns out though that when the Japanese actually did come knocking, they came from THE OTHER side of the island and went completely undetected. Sneaky bastards.The good thing about the Kokohead trail is that it is very compact. 1042 steps I think it is. Its insanely steep though, and really just kicks your ass if youre not in shape. One of the Americans by the name of Owen earned my eternal respect by climbing the mountain hungover out of his mind. He spilled his guts 9 times on the way up, and went straight to sleep as we reached the summit. Just before he passed out he looked down the rails and whispered: "When the hell is the train coming?".






After hiking back down we went to the legendary Sandy Beach. Sandy is very popular among both tourists and locals. The tourists love it because of its wide and white sands. The locals love it beacause of its killer beach surf. The waves at Sandy are huge, and they break right on the shore meaning you'll get catapulted straight into the ground from 3 meters up. No water, no mercy. Quite a few people have broken their necks on the Sandy surf. Soon as I went in I noticed that the underwater currents at Sandy are no joke. When they want to go out you are coming with them and vice verca. The game then consists of catching a wave with your body, much as you would do with a surfboard, and then "bodysurfing" the wave into the tube. I tried and it felt like being in a tumble dryer for 30 seconds. You have no idea whats up and down, and I was real happy that I had my arms straightened as I came tumbeling head first into the sand. The pictures unfortunately dont do the surf justice, but take my word for it. It was scary.


lørdag den 13. februar 2010

Requiem for a cup of coffee

Because im part of generation Y (or the Echo Boomers as we are apparently also known!?!) I get my best studying done when its not to quiet around me. I need to ignore great amounts of information in order to focus, and as we have no TV where I reside i have to go out to find information pollution. I personally prefer to go to a café to read. There is always lots of people, and a steady flow of coffee near at hand. The local café in Kailua is called the Morning Brew and is where the people who are to politically correct to go to Starbucks get their coffee. Prices are good, about a dollar fifty for a regular sized cup, and the place has a well mixed clientel of students, surfers and normals. Though the normals are not always as normal as they seem. Two days ago I sat close to the window in a raggedy but comfy armchair minding my own business. A lady sits down next to me and starts charging her cell phone from the near by outlet. I glance briefly at her and she appears to be a perfectly normal soccer mom kind of american. Bit too flowery and bland, but hey thats just americans. As the phone comes to life she calls her mom. At first the coversation seems to be the normal exchange of family affairs. "Hows dad? - oh good good" and so forth. But then it gets a little weird. As far as I can tell the mom asks her daughter where she is, and the woman replies: "Oh I dont know. I dont know where I was yesterday either. I cant remember anything. Its because of the pills I take, and I have to be in court tomorrow and I dont know where it is, and..." The woman starts crying loudly in the café, and sobs in the phone for a while. "I dont know what pills they are. I think novocaine and valium and something else, but I cant remember...". Suddenly I get eye contact with the woman, and as I quickly look back down at my book I realise she looks exactly like the mom in Reqiuem for a dream. Totally freaky. She rants on exactly like the Requiem woman as well, and im strongly considering packing my stuff and getting out of there. Curiosity gets the better of me of course and I do have reading to do so I stay put. The woman keeps listing the pills she on and says: "I think I took to much and thats why I cant remember, and then I took the antidote and thats what they give to people coming off ice (Crystal Meth, edi.) but now I dont feel so good...". The woman then suddenly hangs up and re-dials. This time the family doctor is up. "I dont know how much I took. And then I took that stuff they give to ice-heads and I have to be in court". The doctor obviously gets wind that the lady is not doing so well and orders her to a hospital. "Ok ok. Ill go" she replies. The lady sits for a second, then smiles at me politely, packs her little purse neatly and strolls out the café as if nothing has happened. Maybe a novocaine/valium cocktail is no big deal after all. After that I feel I can ignore no more information that day, and head to the beach where life is simple.

Arrested Development

Today I experienced a major setback in my persuit of the American dream. I failed the written drivers test. The complexity and scale of the test caught me completely by surprice, and I failed miserably with 7 wrong answers on the 30 question test. Turns out that reading the front and back cover of the test book simply did not provide me with the information necessary to pass the test. I consider it a failure on the part of the Hawaiian DMV not to inform me about the massive scope of this test. It was practically never ending. It took at least 3-4 mins to complete and thats from the persepctive of a very skilled test tasker. ”FLUSH” – You hear that? Thats the sound of 2 dollars down the drain! Thats right 2 dollars! Who in their right mind charges 2 dollars for a drivers license? Its daylight robbery. Why do you have to know the difference between the white and yellow lines on the road anyway? Well now I have to wait a week before I can come back and take the test over. Fortunately I dont have to re-take the eye examination. I love the American way of doing drivers licenses: ”Read line nr. 6 sir” – ”æhhh... e-f-t-h-y-u” - ”Ok. 20/20 vision – thank you sir”. I could hear the 80 year old dude with the seeing eye dog in front of me singing ”On the Road again...”.

Well as they say at the DMV; ”See ya next week”.

tirsdag den 9. februar 2010

The persuit of motorized transportation

I hereby initiate a modest feuilleton about my persuit of the most important part of the ameircan dream; Motorized transportation. I suppose some would say that the simple term ”car” more accurately describes this most tangible part of the american dream, but as im probably not going to get a car any time soon we’ll stick with ”motorized transportation” for the sake of coherence. Otherwise there will be no feuilleton, and we cant have that. Anyways the specific motorized transportation in question will be a scooter, a Vespa to specify further. Not quite a car but pretty cool none the less. When I tentatively write that the motorized tansportation will be a Vespa, Its because ive paid some random hillbilly Bob (well actually his name is Guy but you get the point) a 100 dollars up front in exchange for him holding on to the scooter for me and making sure it runs ”cherry” as he puts it. Guy lives in what is best described as an oversized shed, in the middle of a field or a massive parking space. I cant quite tell. He speaks pidgin english and the only really understandable words to come out of his mouth are ”cherry” (meaning good), ”shaka” (which is the term for the original surfer handsign shown below meaning ”awesomely groovy”), and ”brah” (meaning brother).




Now I dont mean to be putting Guy down because so far he seems like a great, though not particularly eloquent guy. Im just saying he might decide that a 100 dollars for nothing is too good a dal to pass up. So assuming that Guy is the honest man he seems to be, I have a scooter.
So far so good. A scooter registers almost like a bike overhere, so all I need to go on the road is a drivers permit. Not a licence, just a permit. In order to get the permit ill have to go to the DMV and take a 10 question test (this is what passes for a ”theory test” overhere), and voilá, im good to go. In order to get a permit however I first need to get my greasy hands on an official piece of paper stating that im not eligible for a social security number. Cant be that hard to get a denial right? Wrong. I had to go to the social security office twice to get a denial. The first time I didnt have the required papers to get a denial. I mean WTF? I would think that my lack of paperwork would only make me more eligible for a denial. But alas thats not how we play. However I did get my denial today, and friday awaits the DMV test. Stay tuned!

PS. Pretty groovy scooter eh?


mandag den 8. februar 2010

Sorry we're all out of crack...

Different occasions call for different stimulants. And apparently different places do to. In Hawaii the drug of choise happens to be Crystal Meth. For those of you who dont know what differentiates crystal meth from other drugs, suffice it to say its what you buy when you can no longer afford crack! Its at the absolute bottom of the foodchain, and at the very very top of the food pyramid. The practical thing about crystal meth is that you can mix it in the convenience of your own living room from stuff you can legally purchase at the pharmacy. The not so practical thing about crystal meth is that you become completely and helplessly addicted the first time you touch it. No 3 day trial period here. The other not so practical thing about crystal meth is that it makes you completely and utterly insane. I used to wonder why so many of the homeless people wandering around downtown talked to themselves, now I know its because they do meth. I suppose some of them might be talking to themselves in any case, but meth has the unfortunate sideeffect of making you schizo. I actually used to think it was kind of cozy when the wierdos talked to themselves, not so much anymore. Before I go all "dont do drugs" on you, I just wanted to show you a campaign that runs on Thebus in Oahu. Its pretty strong stuff, but it gets to point across alright: "Meth: Not even once"



Sorta makes you wonder why the americans are flipping out about hash they way they are. I reccomend mellowing out, legalizing hash and diverting the effort to the fight against real drugs. Lordy knows there is enough to get started on.

American service/slave-culture

I get what all the fuss is about. I really do. They do provide wondeful service overhere. I mean you cant walk five feet without some eager American trying to polish your shoes or sell you a subscribtion to heaven. The supermarkets are open 24/7 which is great. This does seem to render the 7/11 just down the street a bit obsolete, seeing that most people would rather just get some real food at a reaonable price in the middle of the night, rather than getting pre-packaged 7/11 sushi which costs an arm and a leg. But nervermind that. Its still wonderfull to be able to shop at 3 in the morning. This is of course only possible due to the American minimum wage of 6 dollars (it might be a little bit less actually). Well i mean who wouldnt want to work for 30 DKK an hour? Sometimes it does get a little out of hand though. I cant help but feel a little embarrassed when a 75 year old dude starts putting my groceries in a bag for me. Then again what are you going to do? If I pack the bags for him he's going to be fired, and as the old fellow surely has no pension or medical insurance that would probably really suck! I went to the freakin hospital last week and paid 300 dollars to have my ear LOOKED at. Thats about 50 hours worth of pay for the old duderino putting my groceries in a bag. But then again why be a little bitch about it? He probably works about 100 hours a week, so i mean even if he has to go and get his ear looked at he'll still have 300 dollars left to spend on fast food...

That being said they are exceedingly friendly when serving you overhere. No teenage girls who seem to be just finished eating a grapefruit serving you icecream and leaving without saying a word. You are always greeted with a smile, and service is quick! To an obsessive degree at times, but as a customer you surely do feel appreciated. At the bank the other day I saw this machine next to the counter giving me the opportunity to give my service representative direct immediate feedback on her performance.




Now i not sure this actually tanslates into improved service, but you do get the feeling that they really really really want to hear your opinion. I guess what im trying to get across is that they DO provide excellent service overhere, but when the cost of great service is that low (get it?) im not sure im interested.

søndag den 7. februar 2010

Keep the country country

Before i digress completely, which I almost certainly will, I must inform you my dear readers that the Humuhumu-blog will be in english from this day forth. This communicative repositioning is meant as a curtesy to potential american readers, and also I really need to practice my english. Another americanized product sees the light of day. Hurrah!

The title of this posting refers to the local movement in Hawaii to keep the tourist industry from taking over the one relatively unspoiled part of Oahu, namely The North Shore. The North Shore as some of you will know is legendary for its epic surf, and laid back lifestyle. The North Shore has less tourism than the rest of Oahu and the locals therefore mainly invest themselves in art and crafts of some sort. This gives the entire area a vibe similar to that found in Christiania. When cruising through the city of Haleiwa the first thing I noticed was the sheer lack of rush. Everyone walked around rather than drove, and all the houses were painted in funky colors and usually in some state of delapidation. The roads are narrow and winding, and the city somehow seems dusty in a really cool way. There's at least two surfboards in front of every house, and the majority of shops seems to be selling surf gear of some sort. As this is America the usual fastfood chains have needless to say found their way to The North Shore. Due to local legislation however no neon signs are allowed, which means that even McDonalds flashes a wooden variation of their trademark sign. It would certainly be cooler if the fastfood chains werent allowed in the first place, but all the wooden signs does give the place a certain charm. The nature on The North Shore is a story onto itself. Mountain ranges merge seamlessly with palmy beaches, and the nature has the rugged feel that indicates a lack of cultivation. The sea also has quite a unique feel to it, as the massive waves of Haleiwa and Pipeline thunders onto the shore. We chose a very gentle surfspot for my first venture into North Shore waters, and despite the fact that I was pestered with heavy hangovers I still managed to get a decent ride. When I say decent I mean that I stood up once or twice and rode a wave for more than 3 seconds. I have a looong way to go. I can honestly say that The North Shore is by far the coolest place I have visited in Hawaii, and if any of you ever get to visit I highly reccomend living in the one hotel that exists on the North Shore. Its called Turtle Bay Resort, and some of you might know it from the movie "Forgetting Sarah Marshall". Which I for some reason thought was kinda funny. Untill next time: Keep the country country!



tirsdag den 2. februar 2010

A word on american didactics

Idag havde jeg igen fornøjelsen af Prof. Wards visdomsord under PSOC 6446 forelæsningen. Til de af jer der ikke har opdateret jer på Humuhumu-bloggen på det seneste, så beskæftiger PSOC 6446 sig med organisatorisk forandring og mere specifikt, hvordan konsulenter i alle farver og størrelser (det er jo USA after all people) kan påvirke omtalte. Prof. Ward er en gammel nisse, der har lavet lidt af hvert i sit lange liv. En så imponerende livserfaring som den fx. Prof. Ward kan fremvise, kan tilsyneladende udmunde i to ganske forskellige scenarier; På den ene side kan den omfattende livserfaring resultere i en næsten uimodståelig autoritet eller ethos, som man drages imod og ser sig nødsaget til at lytte til. På den anden side kan det, som det er tilfældet med de fleste universitetsforelæsere af fremskreden alder, resultere i den undervisningsmetode som jeg tidligere har døbt fri association. Prof. Ward skal med sikkerhed findes i denne sidste kategori. Problemet som jeg ser det, er, at mange ældre forelæsere, og mennesker i det hele taget, antager, at deres formålsløse tirader om stort og småt er interessante og relevante uanset situationen. Lad mig give et eksempel fra det virkelige liv: Da jeg spørger Prof. Ward om hvordan en god konsulent integrerer alle interessenter i en organisation i forandringsprocessen, (jeg ved godt det ikke er noget særligt interessant spørgsmål, men man får karakterer for at deltage ligesom i gymnasiet, så jeg gør, som de dumme piger gjorde, og rækker hånden op selvom jeg godt ved jeg ikke har forstået en brik af emnet) så svarer den gode professor med en sammenligning. Nu er sammenligningen jo ikke nødvendigvis et onde i undervisningssammenhænge, flere gamle grækere benyttede sig med stor succes af den, men den skal benyttes med måde. I et fremragende eksempel på alt andet end mådehold bruger Ward herefter 45 min. På at forklare om dengang han var flyhavariekspert, og efterforskede et styrt udfor Oahus kyst. Sammenligningen er meget detaljeret. Faktisk er den helt ubegribeligt detaljeret. Vi hører om øens geografi, hvem der var på arbejde på flybasen den dag, klimaet i området, flyets opbyginig osv osv osv. Efter de 45 min. Er hele klassen fuldstændig blank på hvad spørgsmålet var, og hvordan denne historie nogensinde skulle kunne besvare noget som helst. Det viser sig så at Ward gerne vil fremhæve at vidnerne til ulykken alle sammen så noget forskelligt, og at det altså ikke er let at få folk til at dele perspektiv på en ellers entydig hændelse. Ward har jo fat i den lange ende i forhold til det konkrete og håndgribelige i undervisningen, eftersom et flystyrt er til at tage og føle på. Han gør også noget overraskende idet han sidestiller konsulentgerningen med flystyrtsefterforskning. Men de her fine ting bliver desværre fuldstændig underordnet hans trang til at fortælle en røverhistorie fra sin ungdom, og hans blinde tro på, at alt hvad der kommer ud af hans mund, er interessant alene af den grund, at det er ham, der fortæller det. Da ingen andre i klassen virkede det mindste overraskede over den 45 min lange hjerneblødning, vi lige havde været vidne til, spurgte jeg ind til emnet. Og det er åbenbart hans undervisningsmetode i en nøddeskal. Så vil jeg sku hellere ha noget tørt og kedeligt, der holder sig til emnet. Og det fik jeg så med COM 6070: Statistical communication. Oh ak oh ve!