Practing Aloha

Last Thursday Peter and I took a day trip from our hotel in Wailea to the historic whaling port of Lahaina. Unlike the rest of my family, I hadn't been a very diligent Fodor Guide student throughout the vacation, so while Peter drove along the shore, I caught up by reading about the culture, people, history, climates and food of Maui.

After injecting myself with new found knowledge, and after Peter injected himself with a Musubi snack (a local favorite of fried spam and rice, wrapped in nori) at a roadside mom and pop shop, Peter and I set out to put the information we had garnered to use.

When we arrived I rattled off our itinerary and started reading about the different landmarks as we passed them, Fodor guide still in hand.
Peter, wait ... you have to hear about this one ... This is the Baldwin home - This is the place where over 10,000 natives were inoculated of small pox!
I got the look. The stop it look. The we're on vacation, please calm down, and please don't pull out that Fodor Guide again look.

So I put it away. And instead used my eyes and ears to shape my own travel experience. We walked up and down Front street - an endless row of two story buildings famous for their art galleries, restaurants and melange of shops that range from t-shirt to designer in nature. The buildings are laced with double porches built will a colonial influence. If you look up and focus on the second register, you can see the city as it was originally - a whaling boom town and the first capital of the newly united Kingdom of Hawaii. We saw the biggest banyan tree in the world, the old courthouse, the harbor, the old church and cemetery where the first monarchs are buried, and the Maui Jim headquarters where Peter got a brand new pair of sunglasses to replace his broken ones for free.

After moseying around town, we let our stomachs guide us to lunch - a little spot called Mala Ocean Tavern that I had read about in The Guide. They had described it as a charming, low-key restaurant, with an unbeatable view and owned by one of the original island chefs, Mark Ellman. We walked the extra mile or so to get there, set to the "I'm hot, sweaty, and hungry" whines that evaded me, and to the "don't be a pooper" replies from Peter. When we found it, sat down, and looked out onto the sea right next to us, the humpback whales in the distance, and the islands of Linai and Molakai framing the picture, I knew I never wanted to leave. I knew I never wanted this lunch that had just begun to end. It was perfection - and every sip, bite, and site throughout the next two hours was just that and more.

On our table, in the bathroom, and on the shirts of the servers was a saying - the title of Mark Ellman's new book - Practice Aloha. I had read about the culture of Aloha in the Guide - the culture of peace, grace, tranquility and above all sharing - sharing life and its experiences with others. Ellman's book consists of vignettes describing how a variety of Hawaiians embrace the Aloha spirit in different ways. As we sat there I knew we were practicing aloha to its fullest and I could see us being woven into the tapestry of Aloha vignettes. But then I thought and wondered how my vignette would play out on the stressed out mainland. How would I practice aloha when I got back? It didn't matter ... it was two days and a world away. I let the thought go.  

Today, I'm back. Back to early rising, bundling up for the cold, gray weather, and putting up a shell to shield me against the non-Aloha embracing people of Chicagoland - people that don't know how to share the road, let alone their lives with others. It's sad. I'm sad. So sad that I cried in the bathroom while packing up on Saturday. But somehow those tears didn't resurface when I got home. It could have been the distraction of the Steelers win on Sunday and their ensuing trip to the Superbowl ... but honestly, I think it's something more. I think I successfully brought a little Aloha home with me.

And last night I brought it to the dinner table. I took Peter and I back to Capisce, the beautiful, open-aired restaurant we went to on the last night of the trip. The scene of a formal family dinner, complete with a sentimental toast to my parents 35th anniversary. I had ordered Mannilla clams over a bed of spaghetti for dinner, but drat, they were out of those clams. So I switched to an equally delicious seared Ahi choice. I was still craving the clams though, so last night I made them. It took a little help from Food and Wine, a little Japanese influence, and a bit of Aloha patience, but I was able to bring Peter and I back to Hawaii after a long first-day back to work with a bowl of Clams with spicy pancetta and sweet vermouth over soba noodles,

As Peter tapped his home-brewed Porter, I sipped a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, and we delved into the dish, we were both practicing Aloha in the frozen city of Naperville just as well as we had at Mala.

Lo.