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Monday, October 18, 1999

Beyond Kula Lodge, Kafka, and the Cops

Beyond Kula Lodge is a long way from anything. It's on the way up to the crater, and a long drive to Makawao from which it is still a trek to the shore or to Kahului where the all-important Costco is. It's also up hill all the way home, so gas milage would not be good.

The house is from the 70's. It wouldn't be a bad college pad on the mainland, but it doesn't feel like Maui to me. Garrett* likes that you can see the waves (many miles away) on both the north and south shores from here. But it's not worth the expense ($1500/mo!) nor the drive. We make small talk, answer the obligatory questions; it's obvious the guy renting the place likes us, but we already know we're not going to take it so we excuse ourselves politely as soon as we can.

On the way down the hill, a cop cranks a U-turn and pulls us over. Turns out he'd noticed we didn't have plates on the front of the truck, and then after U-turning noticed we didn't have plates on the back either! Garrett* took them off for fear of what damage would be done to it if the local surfers saw California plates on it.

The cop was obscenely laid back and friendly, and just reminded us we have ten days to get the car registerred, thank you, have a nice day.

I met up with my realtor (and our previous host), Sera, at her office in Makawao. Garrett* came along for the ride ("Hmm, do I want to be driven around Maui by a cute blond in a convertable BMW? Let me think about that for a second.."). We looked at lots of houses that have no relationship to what I am looking for. I think this is a realty tactic -- get them discouraged from the start so they are primed for the "great deal" you're going to spring on them next time.

Come dusk, I'm sitting on the deck sofa, Garrett* is swinging in the hammock, and he asks "Will we loose our edge?". The first thought that comes to my mind is "Do we care?"; a dark laughter ensues.

After slurping up another yummy liliqo'i, I openned the trash door to toss a paper towel scrap and met another house pet: Kafka the roach. Most cochroaches scurry away at the first sign of light, but Kafka is large enough that you would think twice about trying to subdue him and he seems to know that. We actually wanted to name him after the main character in Metamorphosis, but neither of us could remember his name so we just named him Kafka. At some point he got outside the trash door so I shut it. But Kafka just wanderred around the side of the cabinet patiently waiting for me to open it again, so eventually I let him back in.

I received email from the mainland updating me on business goings-on. My flounderring company continues to be in stasis pending certain negotiations who's best possible result probably isn't worth all the time it is taking to get there. The whole project has become a study in Xeno's Paradox, and I still marvel at the fractile nature of it all. The closer I get to the end, the more detail I can see, and there is always just as much visible between here and the end as there ever was.

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Simon Funk / simonfunk@gmail.com