Magnolia Gardens and Plantation: From Slavery to Freedom | Photo Blog

The South (United States) has always drawn me. Outside of Hawai'i, I can't imagine living anywhere else but The South. The laid back vibe and the history of slavery draws me to this area. I have always felt, in some way, connected to the struggle associated with oppressed cultures. Every culture on the planet can identify with being oppressed in some shape or form but I am particularly captivated by the history of slavery in North America as well as the Native American struggle against European colonization. My own Pacific Island heritage continues to struggle against European colonization so I am no stranger to the struggle to overcome White privilege. 

My visit to Magnolia Gardens and Plantation in Charleston, South Carolina, included an eight dollar tour called From Slavery to Freedom. A young Caucasian man conducted the tour. I would say he is in his mid-20's.We boarded a small tram and headed toward a clearing with four white structures and it was surrounded by foliage and oak trees. We exited the tram and sat at picnic tables while the young tour guide did a 20 to 25 minute presentation, which in my opinion was very flat. It was full of information but void of real emotion. I will charge that to his age and lack of life experience but it is probably more about his disconnection to the practice of slavery. He was not disrespectful but his sympathy was a little manufactured but at least it was civil.   

In contrast, I can't help but think of my father who conducted tours for 25 years. The amount of insight and his deep connection to the content of his tours is unparalleled. He used humor, knowledge, emotion, and his God-given charm to regale his audience. I also think of a tour I took of St. John's Co-Cathedral in Valletta, Malta. Our tour guide was an older gentleman dressed in a three-piece, gray suit. He was small in stature with dark gray hair. His face was lightly wrinkled and wore a set of very thick glasses. Atop his head was a red cap; not a baseball cap or a fedora but almost like a skull cap and he walked with a cane. He had a deep, gentle voice. It was very soft. When we came across the Caravaggio painting called, The Beheading of St John the Baptist, it was like I was transformed by his monologue. I can't even recall all the details of what he said except that I knew he loved every word that came out of his mouth; that he was proud of his Maltese roots and that he was so excited to share the story of the painting and its importance to Malta. Ahhhh... If only every tour guide could have that depth and emotion.

There were some very interesting facts that the young man shared about the Magnolia Plantation. Specifically, the plantation was primarily a rice farm. The Drayton family that owned, continues to own the plantation attempted all sorts of crops but none were successful until they came across rice farming. And the rice farming was imported with the slave labor from West Africa. The tour guide shared that the West African slaves were very skilled at every aspect of rice cropping and it was their success that allowed the plantation to flourish.

The entire property is so beautiful. It's quiet and peaceful. In some areas you can hear the gurgling of a nearby brook or the wind in the trees. The birds are chirping and the peacocks cawing. The heat and humidity was nearly stifling but the gentle breeze gave some relief to the heat. The open fields surrounded by centuries-old Oak trees with Spanish Moss hanging from its limbs transported me to another time. The skies were so blue. It was a beautiful day spent there. 

The tour of the current mansion was very informative. Leslie was the tour guide and she was very knowledgable about the Drayton family. I was disappointed that the mansion was so modern. The home is not a centuries-old southern mansion at all. It is nothing that you would think of from the antebellum era. I was really hoping that it would be. I skipped posting a picture because it's just not a grand mansion. There was one piece of tapestry in one of the bedrooms that I really liked however we were not allowed to snap photos. Previous Drayton mansions on the property had burned to the ground during the Civil War. According to Leslie, that mansion was over 22,000 square feet because it included a grand ballroom on the 2nd floor. How festive. That is the type of mansion I was hoping I would be able to tour. Enjoy the photos. 

Magnolia Plantation and Gardens

LOCATION: Magnolia Plantation and Gardens

ADMISSION: Adults $20 | Kids $10 | Additional tours are available at $8 per tour | HINT: Groupon has discounted admission. Check there first.

I am happy to have visited Magnolia Plantation and Gardens recently. It is located in Charleston, South Carolina. 

The Sea Calls Me | Photo Blog : Myrtle Beach Edition

LOCATION: Myrtle Beach State Park

COST TO ENTER THE PARK: $5 for 16 and above | $3.25 for 65 and older | $3 per child ages 6-15

I went to Myrtle Beach State Park on May 9th. This is typically NOT tourist season so the beach and the pier was nice and empty. There were a few people along the beach and a few people fishing from the pier but nothing like you'd expect during tourist season (June through August). 

I was born and raised in Hawai'i so I have a very high expectation of what a beach should look like. I have to say that Myrtle Beach was everything I needed to see and feel and be a part of in the moment. It is not similar to the Hawai'i beaches that I grew up on but it is still beautiful nonetheless. I will always have a love affair with the ocean and Myrtle Beach did not disappoint. Perhaps I will move closer to the shore soon. I have missed the ocean so much. I look forward to when I will be able to be in it again.

******

I cannot remember the first time I went into the ocean and yet I cannot remember my childhood without mentioning the ocean. I would bet that my folks took me into the Pacific waters before I could even roll over on my own because we have always lived by the shore. All of my summers were spent at the beach, in the water. My folks never slathered sunscreen on my melanin-rich skin so my skin would turn purple under the steady glare of the sun. 

Hot summer days, when the ocean was glassy, my father would go skin diving with a simple pole spear and a T-Bar to hold his catch. The pole spear was always yellow and it was made of fiberglass. One end was equipped with three steel prongs and the other end was a rubber loop that allowed the holder to use the spear as a sling shot. He used goggles and a snorkel and donned tabis and fins. Tabis? What are those? Well a google search returns a wikipedia entry that states it is a Japanese sock, ankle high with a separation between the big toe and the other toes. He would put his swim fins over the tabis. 

When he entered the ocean, I never once thought that he would not return. I always knew that he was safe in the ocean and so was I. Even now, when I set foot into the sea, any sea, I am fluid and become a part of the great wide expanse of water. There is no fear; only joy, which is larger than happiness. I will always feel this way, I'm sure, even beyond this life. The freedom and weightlessness of being in the ocean and the gentle rocking of the tide is the most transcendent feeling. In sadness, the ocean masks my tears. When I am joyous, it amplifies my laughter. And when I submerge my ears just under the surface of the water, with my face toward the sun, and I am floating in bliss, the Goddess within speaks and I hear her. 

After hours at sea, my father would walk out of the ocean. I cannot recall a time when he arrived empty-handed. Dried Octopus was my favorite gift from the sea when I was little. When my father emerged from the ocean, there would be several octopus writhing along his T-Bar and maybe some fish, usually manini (convict tang) and sometimes kala (unicornfish). I was always terrified of the tentacles along the legs of the octopus. I feared that it would suction my father to sickness or maybe even me. After rinsing the octopus, my father would pound it in a pot for several minutes. This tenderized the meat. After he completed that step, he would spread the octopus out on a line, attach it to the line with clothespins where it would hang in the sun to dry. The octopus would turn a deep purple color and the interior was a grayish white. I could eat this all day. The meat was chewy and was flavored by the natural salt of the ocean. I think back on those days with great fondness and realize how blessed I am because of my father's skills and because I grew up along the ocean shore. The ocean gives and we gratefully receive. 

I never realized the magic of my father's "water-eyes" until I was learning to find the octopuses and their hiding places on my own. I was a teenager when my father would allow me to accompany him on his day dives. I had no desire to go night diving with him. The darkness of the ocean was far too mysterious for me and he would only go when the moon was hidden. But the day dives were magnificent. The way the light of the sun would shimmer in the water and cast its light on the sand still makes me smile to think of it. I always stayed within fifteen feet of my father. I know he swam slow just so that I could keep up. The excitement inside me was palpable when I would see him spot an octopus. Octopus' are very stealth. They can camouflage themselves anywhere. I would never see the octopus. My father would place the spear in a hole in the rocks and the legs of the octopus would wrap itself around the spear and that is how I would spot them. I never did get good at spotting the octopus. He said it's the way the rocks look that gives away where the octopus could be hiding. I understand the concept, I just never got really good at seeing it. My "water-eyes" are not as magical as my dads. 

Of all the places I could be in the world at this very moment, I find myself living in a city that is land locked. The ocean is a two-and-a-half hour drive to Myrtle Beach. And of all the things I have given up to move to this city, it is the ocean that ever calls to me. Truly, I have risen from the ocean with my mother being from Samoa and my father being of Hawaiian decent. Their lives and those that came before them rose from the ocean as well. It is the ocean that binds me to them and to all of my ancestors all through my familial lines. Even the Swedish blood that runs through my veins required an ancestor to board an ocean liner that eventually landed him in Samoa in the South Pacific. And my pure Chinese great-grandfather also had to board a ship to make his way for new fortune and new experiences in the tiny Kingdom of Hawai'i in the middle of the Pacific. And even if I'm in this wide world, seemingly, making my way all alone, I know that my mother and those who have birthed into their next life watch over me. They guide and protect me and I will always find their spirits when I am joyously drifting upon the ocean water.

I've been staring at the edge of the water

'Long as I can remember, never really knowing why

I wish I could be the perfect daughter

But I come back to the water, no matter how hard I try

Every turn I take, every trail I track

Every path I make, every road leads back

To the place I know, where I can not go, where I long to be

See the line where the sky meets the sea?

It calls me

And no one knows, how far it goes

If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me

One day I'll know

If I go there's just no telling how far I'll go

-Performed by Auli'i Cravalho (How Far I'll Go)

Kahuku High School 25th Reunion - Class of 93

On my social media accounts, I have been mentioning that I am going to Las Vegas soon. It's my 25th High School Class Reunion. I went to Kahuku High School, a little school on the north shore of O'ahu. I love my hood and my classmates. We really are a tight bunch. Seeing everyone on Facebook, I'd say that we all pretty much look the same - just a little older and a little wiser. When did we get so old? I am just ready to chill and DO NOTHING or EVERYTHING. Hang out. Turn up. Shop. Sleep in. Stay up late. Gamble. Spa pampering. Catch a few shows. Sip margaritas by the pool.

I don't know the last time I went to Vegas without a "chaperone". Meaning -- no parents, no husband, no boyfriend. It's just me and my bestie and all the classmates that will be there. I don't expect to go to all of the planned activities but I will try to make the ones I can. I suppose this is my Girl's Trip for this year.

Last year I went to San Jose, California where a bunch of us girls converged and partied and hung out. We were actually there for a wedding. We partied until it was time to get on the plane. Whewww... Dancing til 2'ish then breakfast at Matrix Casino to end the night had me almost missing my flight. Thankfully, I did make it just by the skin of my teeth. I expect to have the same adventures this time around.

I feel like I had my core group of friends in high school but that I was friendly with everyone. I hate the idea of cliques. I was a nerd meaning I attended the GT classes in intermediate and then AP classes when I got to high school. No one would have guessed that of me, I bet. I was an athlete. I played volleyball my freshman year in high school then moved to a private league for the rest of high school. I was on the Track & Field team and went to States all three years. My senior year, I was the State shot-put champion. So funny to think of it now. I so did not want to be at that track meet in Maui because our May Day program was happening at the same time back on O'ahu and I was missing it. For some strange reason, I was a football statistician for the Varsity squad, my senior year. I guess that's why I'm still so comfortable being on the football field on game nights. I was involved in everything. Student government, student activities, yearbook co-editor, blah blah blah... and I cherished my years at Kahuku High School. I don't know how many people can say that about high school. And I know there were some people that did not have a good experience and I can only hope that I did not contribute to their bad experiences. Some of my closest friends I have known since we were in diapers and I am still in touch and close with my friends from high school.

And even though many of us (my classmates) did not hang out regularly in high school, I bet we have so much more in common now. 25 years of life experiences is a whole lot of learning and growing and hopefully finding peace and love in our hearts. I know I have been through so many changes and the one thing that I am so certain of today is that I love people, unconditionally and without judgement -- at least I try to. And I know that it's possible to love humanity unconditionally because I love myself unconditionally. I don't need anyone to approve of who I am or who I am becoming because I accept myself in my totality, flaws and all.

So my wish for my classmates, as we converge on Sin City, is that we remain healthy and full of love. That our trials will turn to triumphs all the time! That our hearts will be soft in a world that wants us to be hard. That we remember our friendships from the past and create new bonds for the future. Hugs and sunshine kisses everyone!!!

Photo Blog: New Zion, South Carolina

One can rarely appreciate the beauty that is all around us. On my country drives through South Carolina, I absolutely love that I can drive for miles and not see one single vehicle on the road. It allows me to slow down and look at the scenery around me.

Yesterday's early morning drive had me witness this beautiful scene. Enjoy.

Spontaneous South Carolina Adventure

The house was silent and empty last night. The dark of evening falls upon the land at about 5:15pm. Before I could second-guess myself, I decided on a spontaneous adventure. The adventure led me south east of my current location, about 140 miles away. The ride along i20-East was quite uneventful. Interstates are the best way to travel if you're in a hurry somewhere. Me? I like the scenic route - the route that's laden with a hint of danger like.... deer dashing across the road way and wrecking my car type danger.

After about forty miles of interstate (I20), I switch up to traveling on the single lane in each direction, county highway. There are no street lamps here in South Carolina. The road is only lit up by the headlights of vehicles and the occasional home. I am not sure how true this is but in the small towns, if you want a lamp pole on your street or in front of your house you have to pay to run the electrical lines, pay for the pole itself, and maintain the electricity. Thus, no street lights. I think it's fabulous for several reasons, the main one being that one can look up in the sky and see the true brightness of the stars without the interruption of manufactured light. The second reason, it must mean less taxation on citizens even though general excise tax here is at 8% and I'm mad about it.


I love driving on the mainland. For the most part, especially what I've experienced here in South Carolina, there is rarely any traffic on the country roads. The interstates are a different story and when you're in the city, it gets a little congested but nothing like I experience in Hawai'i.

I made my way south east of Columbia, SC. The darkness of the highway, the emptiness of the roads, and the silence was very relaxing for me. About half way to my destination, the fog appeared. It one particular section of highway, it rested just a couple of feet above my vehicle for several miles. It was mesmerizing to see the car lights reflecting off the moisture in the stark white of the fog. It moved and danced just above my car and was very distracting because of its beauty. The further south I drove, the thicker the mist became and I was not afraid -- only intrigued.

I arrived at my destination just after 730p. Why I found myself so far away from home is a story for another time. That's not what this post is about. When I woke in the early a.m. it was still chilly and the fog had not lifted at all. As I made my way back north, I was able to capture some of these beautiful images along my drive. I really feel grateful to experience this. The way the fog blankets the landscape is so beautiful in the early morning; the way it hugs the fields and the trees. My mind always seems to revert back to how people experienced this beauty before cars and modern roads. I think of the slave era. My fascination with American greed/slavery has been an obsession since I was a little girl. I cannot explain why I identify with it but I do.

I was thinking that maybe this weekend, I will find another adventure to get caught up in. If Hilton Head wasn't so far away, I would make my way there. I was reading up about things to do there and there are things that I have NEVER experienced that I have always been interested in. Back in the late 90's I read a book called Mama Day by Gloria Naylor. This book is set on a fictional island off the coast of Georgia and South Carolina. It mentions the Gullah people and some of their traditions. Thus, my interest in visiting Hilton Head  and Gullah culture has a lot to do with having read that book.

What might be simpler to do is to head back to Charleston. I visited there the weekend before Thanksgiving. It's less than a two hour drive and probably even shorter because the majority of the drive is on the interstate meaning I can "step on it." There were things that I wanted to do that I wasn't able to get to, places that I wanted to eat at, and pictures I wanted to take. Well, I think this weekend just might be my opportunity to go back and explore. On the other hand, it might be a chill weekend of lounging and writing and cooking and eating my favorite foods. If I were at home and it was a weekend like this, I would invite everyone to come over and eat. I'm in one of those moods. The holidays always tend to bring it on.

Happy Weekend everyone.

SIDE NOTE that I always feel compelled to talk about:
I am so fortunate to have so many people around me wanting whatever I want for myself. Everyday I wake up in extreme gratitude for the people in my life. Nobody really knows how difficult this past year has been for me. I do put on a facade very often so that others are comfortable around me. Very rarely do I let down my facade and have a good cry in front of people. My agony has been experienced privately and with my closest family and friends. Even when my mother passed away, I only cried with my now ex-husband. It would be in the dark while we were lying in bed. He wouldn't say a word to me. He would wrap his arms around me, let me cry, and wait for me to fall asleep. Ironic now that he is the source of my pain.
SIDE NOTE END.