Island Life: Mango Rash and Lava Rock

December 26^th, 2011

Mango Rash and Lava Rock

Exit plane with barf-bag puppets, giddy excitement, and drowsy disbelief- my body was still covered in flag football mud and full of Christmas Chinese food (rough on the bowels). From my extraordinary Portland family, to the Big Island…the most remote destination in the world. The airport reminds me of one of those cheesy water parks (Hurricane Harbor for all you Californians) or a tourist trap Luau. I’m wearing my summer dress over all the Portland layers: Sweaters, scarfs, leggings, two pairs of socks (?!), boots…rip ‘em off!!! Replace with sandals…actually wandered barefoot for a while. Bebo’s farm truck is in sight. Immediately we recognize each other, having only talked on the phone across 2,603 miles. There’s a child-like spirit in his excited smile. Our bags are heaved into the back while we pile in the cab. This is when the true sense of adventure sets in…not to mention my reverence for the internet (wwoof.com!). We follow the (only) road to the farm. 83-5576 Mamalahoa Highway…17 acres of coffee and tropical abundance: papayas, four different kinds of avocado, guava, passion fruit, tamarillos, bananas, oranges, tangerines, mango...

No time to waste: “Put your stuff in the shack and let’s go to the beach!” Before jumping in the truck, some ripe fruit catches my eye. Mango, fresh picked that morning. The tree is sparse right now, so it’s a rare treat. I’m honored to sample and savor every bite. Well, I’m glad I savored it. Turns out a small percentage of people is allergic to mango here(probably the tree sap)- the tree is actually related to poison oak. After returning from the beach, I thought my drowsiness and the uncomfortable heat radiating from my face was due to unusual amounts of sun exposure. Nope. I woke up my first morning in Hawaii with a swollen face and covered head to toe in red blotchy hives.

My first thought was that I had contracted some crazy “white man disease”. Before my travels, many friends had shared their sense of power on the island and it’s uncanny ability to cleanse itself of unwanted humans. Sense took over and I pushed this thought to the back of my mind- I’m here to respectfully learn from, nurture, and cultivate the island. At the time, no one had a clue why my body was reacting (by the way, I’ve never reacted to mangos on the mainland). On the way to the farm the day before, I took note of the Naturopathic doctor and thought I should schedule a visit.

After planting lettuce in the planter boxes, Drew and I ventured the 2 miles into town. Before my appointment we decide to explore the charming little used bookstore. The front lawn is strewn with fresh coconuts. I decide to give one a home. We step through the door and I nearly walk into a bookshelf packed with recycled travel guides. We hear voices traveling through the air, thick with moisture and that ancient paper and ink smell. We weave the short distance to the back. Mark, the bookkeeper and a friend are engaged in a lighthearted exchange. Full of smiles, they greet us. Friend takes off and Mark helps us find a map of the Big Island, our new/temporary home. As it’s out constant goal to build community, we begin to tell Mark about our plans for the produce stand. His bushy eyebrows jump with glee beyond the brim of his glasses. He relays his support and simultaneously some over-excited saliva leaps from his lips. He then plows into a ten-minute speech about his fervent belief that one can make a handsome living off of beets alone. I guess we should plant some beets. “I mean you can sell the greens separate from the root…you can pickle what you can’t sell fresh, and then you could make Borscht! I mean, I can’t thing of a single person who doesn’t like Borscht!”. Meanwhile, in my head: I can’t think of a single person who would choose Borscht over a turd sandwich. Mark’s a character. We like him. Especially because of the enlightening observation he made next. “Looks like you’ve got a bad case of the mango rash”. Uh oh, I just ate another one on my way here. “Oh ya, that’s definitely the culprit…not everyone is allergic, but the one’s who are, well…” He gazed at my steadily swelling feet. Man, they looked like pregnant lady edema-kankles. With that, I realized I better make my way to the Naturopath. He told us some more information about natural medicine in the area and pointed us in the right direction. I’m grateful for Mark and his valuable local wisdom and I look forward to our next encounter....

MORE TO COME...This is taking waaaay longer than I thought to write...hope you enjoy everything so far!