rEVOLution Hawaii
In Manoa, trash day is on Tuesday. It's 6 am and I'm watching the garbage truck lift the bins with its forklift arms and dump all their contents into its metal belly. A poison dart frog skips nervously away from where I'm sitting outside the front door of my dorm. Its slimy coat glistens in the morning light. Black with bright blue spots hops safely into the wet grass.
The air isn't heavy yet with the usual humidity but I know that as soon as the sun rises in the sky, this morning's downpour will follow it making the air nearly thick enough to eat. The mountainside that we're on is part of a valley that stretches down to Honolulu. Everything is green and living. Giant trees spread their arms greedily towards the sky creating living umbrellas filled with birds of every color, each singing a different tune.
I swat another mosquito attempting to feast on my bare arms. The sounds of the jungle dies down as the sound of the passing cars below increases. Already the air begins to thicken and I don't even have my running shoes on. I go.
Welcome to Hawaii. Welcome home.
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