Ridin' On the Carousel of Time

Disneyland's Carousel

Carousels have always held a special romantic fascination for me.  Perhaps it's the sound of the calliope playing that out-of-tune, strangely surreal music while glossy, painted ponies go up and down, and up and down.  It's as if the world outside becomes nothing more than a colorful blur, like a watercolor painting that's been left out in the rain.   Maybe it's just the simple sound of children's excitement as our horses charge us through faint whiffs of popcorn and cotton candy that hang in the air.  

Then again, perhaps the fascination for me lies with that gold ring, which has always been just outside my reach.  

When I was young, the cost for this 60-second ride was no more than a dime. Unfortunately, the price to recreate this childhood nostalgia has dramatically increased.

The Carnival of Animals -near MOMA in San Francisco

Restored turn of the century carousel outside the walled in city of St. Malo, France

Lately, I've begun to think that my attraction to the carousels is due to the way they tend to mirror my life ...electric, always moving, bright and colorful. However, these last few months, I've been forced to face the mirror and ask myself a few painful questions:  "Am I going in circles?  check."  "Is the world outside a blur?  check."  "Has reaching for the gold ring lately been more frustrating than fun?  check."  

So, with wobbly knees and a feeling that's more than a little dizzy, it's time to get off my horse and step off the ride, for a wee bit anyway.

After spending a horrific night with a twisted intestine, this non-characteristic decision came to me while I was resting comfortably at the nearby Kailua hospital.  The beautiful beach outside my apartment, the swaying palm trees, my study of the dolphins  -it all came to an abrupt end within a matter of a few hours.

Now the wonderful thing about a hospital stay is that it gives one ample opportunity to reflect upon all those lifestyle choices that put them on their backside in the first place. This wonderful time of reflection for me cost approximately $10,000 for a 36-hour stay!  

So, a bittersweet decision has been made.  While I have loved living in Sweden over these past few years, I will be returning to the States.  My furniture will once again cross the Atlantic Ocean, go through the Panama Canal, and follow the shoreline up the Pacific Ocean until it arrives at port.  I haven't decided exactly 'which' port yet, but hopefully, this will be resolved by the end of May, as that's when the furniture will be leaving, and shipping companies have no sense of humor when it comes to sketchy logistics!

Rather than dwell on the sadness of leaving, I am trying to focus on what I will be gaining.  #1.  In many ways, life will become easier as I put down roots, rather than having to fly back and forth between two continents in order to keep a tourist visa in legal status. #2.  By networking within a community, I will have more opportunity to work with wildlife and domestic animals on a routine basis.  #3.  Medical insurance -this needs no explanation!  

But last of all, perhaps by simplifying my life a bit,

that elusive gold ring will be a little more within reach.

Lesson Learned:

Respect your limitations as well as your strengths

~by doing so, you will stay in balance.

&

Generally speaking, if you start to feel sick, 

it's probably time to get off the merry-go-round!

Gold, Silver, Days Off, and Secret Treasures

I am beginning to see the positives these days to my 04:30 wake-up routine ~that being, I can now sleep in until 07:00 on my treasured days off and still get to see the sunrise.  Each day presents a different palette.  There are the soft pinks, the fiery yellows, and the splashy oranges, but my favorite of all are the mornings when it seems like the entire world is made of silver and gold ~the sky, the sand, the flying fish that take to the air between swells, the water -and even the color of my skin, like a chameleon's, seems to blend in together with my surroundings.

            

The sunrise is accompanied by a symphony of birds, all staking out their territory on the same tree -the nearby banyan.  My favorite local bird so far is the yellow-billed cardinal. They seem to have adapted from 'paradise' to  'tourism' quite well, and while I hope to catch sight of the more elusive (read: "endangered") birds on my next trek around the island, for now, I am quite content to watch these brightly colored birds forage amongst the bougainvilleas.

                                                                        photo: jbs.blogspot

Breakfasts, by in large, are comprised of my favorite fast-foods on the island.  Having finally tasted a papaya that's been allowed to ripen in the sun, I've discovered that I do, in fact, find them quite tasty, and now, I am more than a little irritated that I've wasted so many papaya-eating years -all because somebody in the food industry felt it was a clever idea to market green, immature fruit to an ignorant public!

By mid-day, I typically try to go for a swim, but on windy days, there tends to be a high level of competition for water rights with the kite surfers.

Swimming is not without risk.  If a novice kite-boarder blows into my path, it's all too easy to get 'hung up' in their sport!  But most weekdays on the beach are quiet and relaxing -a nice extreme from the daily routine at the Park.  So I treasure these days, and I try to soak up all the colors and sensory experiences that are inherently part of this island.

Lesson Learned:

Slow down ...and taste the papayas

The Routine

It's hard to grasp the multitude of colorful images when I leave for work at 04:50.  The world  is completely dark, except on those cloudless nights when the stars form such a magnificent, glittering canopy above me, they draw my gaze upward -leaving my feet to stumble on their own over the stones and roots in front of me.  On such occasions, I try to glance out over the ocean and take a moment to marvel at the sheer numbers up there, and if I'm lucky, I sometimes can catch the sight of a few streaking across the sky before they disappear back into the darkness.

"THE BUS," as the transportation is affectionately named over here, arrives at 05:15.  I take note of the temperature drop as I enter (they don't seem to be able to start-up these vehicles without the air conditioners accompanying the hum of the engines), and I join a sleepy group of locals as we all make our way to our individual workplaces.

My office is impressive, but it won't be visible for another 2 hours or so.  In the meantime, I join my colleagues in the morning ritual of "fish prep."  This involves a 5-minute dig through a mound of tattered, discarded clothing -suitable for wearing only if one is going to enter a cold room and spend 3 hours in freezing temperatures sorting through frozen fish -sorting 'good' deceased Capelin from the 'bad'.  Our chosen outfits for the morning also include a pair of oversized rubber boots, with no two pair in matching sizes.

Capelin -the fish of choice

Note: From a dolphin's perspective, the top image (the male) is ideal, while the bottom image (the female) is not so great.  It's not that the dolphin don't appreciate caviar, it's just that the nutritional content of the female fish is somewhat compromised while she goes through the egg production phase.  Thus, at 06:00 every morning, I spend 3 hours dressed in rags, tossing out good caviar.

Next on the agenda, we form a human chain and spend another hour pulling out 40 lb boxes of frozen fish for tomorrow morning's routine.  This involves a unique talent I've yet to master -ice skating inside a giant freezer (think: the freezer container on an 18-wheeler) -still wearing our rubber boots & attractive castaway clothing, maneuvering heavy boxes of frozen fish from one co-worker to the next while the warm Hawaiian air creates "the perfect storm" -a monsoon of condensational moisture that drips down from the freezer's ceiling.  

When we finally emerge and free ourselves from the boots and sodden rags, we then report to work in our individual Park areas.  My area deals with husbandry procedures, behavior modification, and training.  We have less dolphins, which translates to having better proximity and more semi-direct interaction with the animals.  So far, we've learned the hydrating protocol, how to treat and scrub skin conditions, and (what I appreciate most of all) the explanations from our lead trainers regarding the "how, what, and why" of their training sessions.

Once lunch arrives (14:00!) I find I'm more thirsty than hungry, so I stash my free lunch away for later and just sip away on my raspberry ice tea instead.  This holds me over until I get home (around 17:20).

The schedule is tough, but there's no denying the office is lovely!

THE BUS is much more active on the way home.  When is does finally arrive at the pick-up location (it is an island...and any 'set' schedule is always subject to "island time"), everybody and all their relatives are happily chatting away, munching on their snack of choice, and busy shifting locations to make room for just one more passenger.

On the way, the ride takes me by 'the Pali' (the cliffs), and if it's been raining to any extent, waterfalls will come cascading down the mountain like tears running down the crevices of an old man's face.  

When I arrive home, I try to make it a point to take a few minutes to sit by the ocean -hoping that the pressures and pace of the day will slide out to sea.  

As I sit, I can't help wondering if I will regain enough energy to start this whole routine again within the next 12 hours. I pop an aspirin down my throat to help ease joints I never knew existed, and I wrap a knee that has taken to swelling up at the end of each day.  There is no doubt that my body isn't going to tolerate this pace for several more months ~even the 20-year-olds are struggling, so I know that the decades which separate us are going to reveal themselves very soon.  However, I hang on -and will continue to do so as long as I can so that I may hear those brief pearls of wisdom from our lead trainer surrounding the marine mammal training session POA's (plan of action).  

...and by nightfall, when the last of the tourists have long since left the beach in favor of dining out at their favorite cafe-by-the-sea, I lay in bed, trying to imagine what the rest of Oah'u looks like.

Lessons learned:

Not tonight, honey ~I'm too tired

A Change in the Wind

Packing up to leave Sweden in such blizzard-like conditions seemed surreal at the time.  My suitcase consisted of 2 bathing suits, several sandals, my trusty flippers & my snorkeling mask, numerous bottles of sunscreen with various SPF levels, and other warm climate necessities.  To add yet even more confusion to the packing routine, my apartment suddenly sold -giving me only one week before my departure date to sort, pack up, and put into storage everything I owned.  In such chaos, I inevitably found small treasures that had escaped the moving deadline. Items were discovered a day or two later, hidden beneath the clutter or tucked away in dark corners.  As a result, there was no other choice but to include them inside my Hawaiian suitcases.  

So, here I am in my small tropical studio apartment, looking at my favorite vanilla extract  from Mexico, trying to find a safe place for my son's architectural drawing he made during his 10th year of life, and wondering just what on earth I can do with several pair of mis-matched winter socks.

 

As luck would have it, the day before my scheduled flight, all of Sweden was blanketed in a deep, white snowfall from a Siberian blizzard that swept across the Baltic.  It was a magnificent send-off, if one didn't have to worry about the 50-minute drive to the airport in icy conditions.  But heroes sometimes come in odd personas, and mine arrived in his taxi at 04:30 am.  Determined to get me to my flight on-time, I believe we reinvented roadways and created new short-cuts as we deviated over farmers' frozen fields and remote forest trails.

The new Christmas street decorations Norrtalje obtained from Drottninggatan in 

downtown Stockholm  -but note the size of the snowflakes!

It all seems vaguely like a dream.  I closed my eyes, said a bittersweet 'farewell,' and in a few weeks time, I found myself here:

As beautiful as Hawai'i is, there is still a cultural adjustment for me to make.  The pace is faster, tourists are out 'in-full', and riding a moped around the slippery mountain roads can be treacherous with the winter's seasonal wind blasting into ones face!

My working day begins with the alarm going off at 04:30 (to catch the 05:18 bus to the Park).  Fortunately, I'm always greeted by these cheerful residents (below).

Some of the 'locals' greatly ease the culture shock

After 8 days straight, I've finally had my first 2 days off.  Unlike my younger constituents, I just wanted to sleep!  I wish I had their energy, but there's no turning back the clock, so I must pace myself as I see fit.  I am not the fastest to pick things up, nor to i.d. all the animals, or even to remember where to find all the specific forms and buckets -but I love what I'm learning, and hopefully, the experience will have special meaning when I come to the end of my time here...if I only can survive the pace!

Lessons learned:

Don't stand too close to the edge of the Dolphin pool -you will get wet!

Wash my hands before and after everything!

Believe that overwhelming tasks will become easier with each repetition,

and lastly, 

never underestimate the value of a good night's sleep!