Wahoo Honolulu
Trying to enjoy time away from it all, and finally free from the oppressive sameness of everything everywhere, Honolulu was opening up like a dream gone true. This was the place where some kind of new life was available, in the form of luxury hotels. Honolulu would become a favorite in time, but it would take a little time to become accustomed. There are things about this particular hereness that was seeming so far away of any other hereness. Maybe it was the lack of uniformity, although there certainly were some places here and there where it would rear its welcome head again.
Perhaps it came from the incessant rhythm of the sea. Always shifting, always moving, it began to feel always the seem, and I wanted to eat something familiar. Not that spam isn’t fantastic, and apparently so much more versatile than my mother would have ever guessed. But familiar. And this is where I would have to recommend trying to arrange things with the local gods so that you wander entirely by chance into the local Wahoo’s . This can turn an afternoon that is plagued by the unfamiliar into something absolutely perfect, calm and soothing.
Eating seafood so close to the ocean has always freaked me out, being one of those activities that must be part of some chain of curses that come out of the belly of the earth in earlier times. So it was difficult to eat anything here that seemed like a good idea at the time of ordering. But the fish tacos here talked me out of any kind of spooky imaginary curse, and I could finally let go of my fear of turning into something I did not recognize. This is why I travel, I thought, looking at a place that could be any number of places I had just lived formerly. I travel so that I can find reasons to come home.