Tropical Depression: Stairway to Heaven I had to move this week. Granted, I'd planned it- kind of. I found a place to live...at the top of a big hill and 79 steps. I certainly wasn't going to move my own (giant and luxurious) bed so I hired movers. They showed up a DAY EARLY. Instead of the 11th at 10 they showed up the 10th at 11. Funny, yes? No. Ok, kind of, but only after-the-fact funny.
They were your standard Hawaiian movers. Two Samoans..one with a platinum blond mane and moku (face tattoo), the other with a great command of English and a sense of humor. These guys were spectacular. I gave them my rice cooker, let them have at the fully loaded coconut tree in my front yard (they grabbed 2 coconuts, impaled them on a crowbar to split them, drank the water and left the rest - all the meat and everything- to attract fruit flies at my former residence) and they gave me a decent office chair. Fair trade.
My new place has a spectacular view. Sunsets are world class. There was a rainbow this morning that it felt like I could've touched. The stairs are no trouble. The bike ride home is tough but not unmanageable and after a few weeks I imagine I'll find it a piece if cake.
HOWEVER
THERE IS NO TV RECEPTION AND SO I CANNOT WATCH THE RED SOX PLAY THE INDIANS THIS WEEKEND.
I'm frantically searching for alternatives that do not involve the words "sports" and "bar". Those are two things that, in Hawai`i, do not go well together. Ahem.
