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. 

PhotoBlog | Playing Tourist in South Carolina

My lil-cousin-bestie made her way to visit me in South Carolina. I am so tickled that she came out. We played tourist while she was here She set my mind right and kicked me in the arse to make sure I do the things I said I would do. She gave me a timeline and everything. I love that about her. She is such a task master!

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)

Poke Bros | Columbia, SC | Fresh Fish NOT-Hawaiian Style

Imagine a girl from Hawai'i (ME) in South Carolina. I'm craving yummy raw fish. (In Hawai'i we call it poke - pronounced po-kay). I'm walking up to the theatre to go watch a movie and to the right of the entrance is a restaurant called Poke Bros. "Fresh Fish Hawaiian Style". Of course, I'm going in there! Of course I want a taste of home whenever possible.

I made a rookie mistake and did not grab a menu pamphlet when it was offered to me. It would have been nice to look at it now that I'm out of the store and ready to "review" the menu. Also it would have been nice to take a closer look at how they're marketing this "Fresh Fish Hawaiian Style". I am positive that whatever was on their pamphlet can be found on their website. Which, by the way, is well developed and to my surprise there are four restaurants that are already open here in South Carolina. Two stores that are within thirty minutes of me. And they are opening five more locations in this state. I didn't know that the interest in raw fish was so high here in South Carolina to warrant a total of nine stores in this state. Wow!

In my opinion, this operation is a very cookie-cutter, assembly-line style restaurant that was conceived for the sole purpose of franchising. On the one hand, it's a great business model for the owner but on the other hand, the food suffers because there's just NO SOUL in this food. I suppose that sums up my review for Poke Bros - the bowl I ordered had NO SOUL in it. I have to compare it with the fish counters at home.

My #1 Favorite Poke spot in Hawai'i: FRESH CATCH | Kaneohe, O'ahu.

What you find at Fresh Catch that you will not find at Poke Bros are variations of poke from all types of ocean animals. I say animals because fish is not the only thing that is served poke-style in Hawai'i.

There's tako poke. Tako is the Japanese word for octopus. The Hawaiian word for octopus is he'e, pronounced "hay-a". Octopus can be caught fairly close to shore in Hawai'i. As a teenager I often went with my father on his diving expeditions. When he didn't need to go quickly, he would allow me to swim along. We would stay in the water for hours. The only reason we would return to shore was because we were thirsty and hungry. I remember one specific time being out in the water for eight hours straight. Me and my dad! When he was out diving, his main search was for octopus and it was usually for someone's luau. I remember my father coming out of the ocean with loads of octopus still writing along his t-bar. He would tenderize it by beating it and pounding it in the sink or in a pot. Then he would hang it to dry in the sun. The he'e would turn a deep purple and white. Though there are some recipes for raw he'e, most times it is served after being dried or smoked and tossed with a poke sauce and green onions.

There are two types of tuna that are most commonly served poke style. Aku, pronounced "ah-koo," is a skipjack tuna and was my most favorite fish when I was a child. I especially liked it dried. It is sort of like jerky. The high blood content is probably why I like the flavor so much. After it is caught, the blood rushes into the flesh and will turn black quickly. For most people that is not appetizing but me, I love it! The other tuna is the yellowfin tuna or better known as ahi.

There's scallop poke - the scallop is cooked and tossed with a poke sauce.

There's mussel poke - also cooked before tossing with a poke sauce.

There's crab poke - raw and cooked variations.

I feel like I'm rambling like on Forrest Gump when he talks about all the different ways of cooking shrimp. Because there's opihi poke, smoked meat poke, pipikaula poke. Seriously, the list can get extensive.

The Hawaiian yellowtail or amberjack, known by it's Japanese name in Hawai'i -hamachi- is another great fish to use in raw preparations. The fat content is high in this particular fish, which makes it melt like butter when you eat it. So delicious!

All poke preparations in Hawai'i boast a variety of ingredients:
Seaweed - Hawaiian word is limu
Hawaiian salt - typically red alaea, unrefined sea salt
Furikake
Green Onion
Sweet Onion
Round Onion
Ginger
Cilantro
Chili pepper flakes
Mayonnaise (Best Foods or Kewpie)
Sriracha
Tobiko and/or Masago - fish roe
Fried Garlic - my fave
Inamona - dried and preserved kukui nut (another fave)
Shoyu - everyone has their favorite brand, mine is a toss up between Kikkoman and Aloha Shoyu
Oyster Sauce
Sesame Oil
Wasabi
The list of ingredients could go on and on.

Considering all of those ingredients and the variety of seafood at a typical poke counter in Hawai'i, Poke Bros is not a place I would consider a leader in "Fresh Fish Hawaiian Style." Sorry - it just isn't! I am almost offended that they even reference Hawai'i in their advertisements. It is what it is - clever marketing, exploiting Hawai'i's unique flavors.

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.

Humility and Tender Mercy

A dear friend of mine sent a song to me over the web. I don't know if it's because I had posted on Facebook that I visited my mom's grave that he decided to send me the song. For whatever reason he did, I am grateful for the message I received from hearing it. It has been on repeat all day. Well Done by Deitrick Haddon is the song. The lyrics are quite simple and the music is beautiful but the pleading in Deitrick's voice is so compelling. I embedded the video at the bottom of the post. Maybe you can let it play as you read this post.

These past few months have been difficult for me. The divorce from my husband of thirteen years really did a number on me. An unexpected event like this has really humbled me and brought me to my knees. I find myself so hungry for spiritual enlightenment; to feel the spirit of the Creator around me. I hunger for it above any search for love and companionship. I don't quite know how it all works but a few experiences in recent months have forced me to recognize God's tender mercies in my life and I am grateful.

Both my mother and father are staunch Christians. Though I was raised with such a strong foundation, I find that my curiosity for other spiritual practices is so much stronger than my Christian background. And yet, I have a soft spot for the teachings I was raised to believe. Above all, Love is paramount. Compassion. Forgiveness. Service.

The first couple of weeks after my ex said he wanted a divorce were extremely difficult. Extremely! I found myself crying myself to sleep all throughout the day and all through the night. Part of me was so upset and disappointed with my husband's decision to walk away from our relationship. I thought of how I would now be alone in the world and that I would grow old without a companion to journey through life with. I thought of my parents who were married to each other until my mother passed. That's forty-plus years of commitment. Coming up, I didn't know very many marriages that ended in divorce. My parent's generation was true ride-or-die relationships, so to see my second marriage come to an end just about tore me apart. My loyalty is so fierce and so powerful. Why wouldn't a man want that kind of woman in his corner? I know my value and I cannot understand why a man would trade me in.

In those first days, I leaned heavy upon my popps and my older brother for comfort. I am fiercely independent and rarely ever ask anyone for help. But the pain of this broken heart could not be soothed without help from above. My popps and my older brother laid their hands upon my head and put a blessing on me so strong and so powerful that I was sobbing.  I have never seen my father cry, in all of my 41 years, not even at my mother's funeral service. But that day, as he prayed over me, he choked up and I could hear him cry and felt his tears drop on me. We felt so strongly the spirit of my mother all around us. I felt her holding me up, and drying my tears, and telling me that everything would be fine. God's tender mercy was upon me that day because I rarely feel my mother's presence. That day, in those moments with my father and older brother, we felt her all around us and I knew that I would be just fine. I knew that I was not alone.

On a recent trip to "the South." I was driving on a lonely road. It was late at night and most of the roads in Georgia and South Carolina are not equipped with street lights. My drive from Atlanta through Georgia and South Carolina was a great time for me to clear my head. The long monotonous drive gave me plenty of time to be alone with my thoughts. My life since splitting from my ex-husband has been a roller coaster ride of ups and downs, of decisions and indecision, and full of so much change. I really needed that distance from all things familiar to think through the pressing issue of where I want to take my life.

My drive that evening should have happened much earlier than it had, meaning I should have been driving while it was still daylight. My arrival in Atlanta was four hours delayed. I should have made it to my destination by 7p but with the delay, it was now estimated to be 11p. As I made my way along the roads, I was just about 70 miles from the coast. That's where I wanted to be - the Coast. I wanted to look out on a different ocean than the beautiful Pacific. Perhaps, I could make a life along the banks of a new body of water; far away from the Pacific. I love the Pacific but I feel a wave of change surging inside of me and I am going to ride it to wherever it takes me.

The GPS had taken me along a very lonely road. I had not seen a car for miles. I felt like I was in an episode of Scooby Doo. Every town I had ventured through was dark and void of life. Spooky. Creepy. I felt like I had stepped back in time and I felt very alone, like the whole world had turned their back on me. I almost shed tears thinking I had made a big mistake for getting on the road all alone, in a place that was completely unfamiliar to me. I approached a fork in the road and went right instead of left. I had to back track, turn around and go back to the fork and take the left. I distinctly remember uttering out loud, "God, please watch over me. Please get me where I need to be safely." Inside, I was slightly terrified and feeling like I had made so many mistakes in my life and it was manifesting on this road trip. The delay with the airplane, the long and lonely drive through the darkness, taking the wrong road; these were all little events that were heavy on my mind as I made my way toward the coast.

Imagine pitch blackness, not a single street light, just the stars to light my way and the solitary light beams from my rental car. From the right side of my periphery, I see a deer shoot out into the lonely road. The animal was taller than my car and it's antlers were large and well-developed. The excitement of nearly reaching my destination had suddenly turned to panic as the large animal collided with my vehicle. It happened so quickly. As I think through the collision and slow it down in my mind, I am humbled and in awe of my experience and the tender mercy of God's hand in those moments.

Upon impact, all of the airbags in the vehicle deploy and there is a strong burning odor. I was so stunned and in a state of shock that I don't realize that I may have been in danger by remaining in the middle of the road or that possibly the burning odor could mean that the car was on fire. I was just in utter disbelief. I have heard horror stories of people getting knocked out and bruised by the airbags. Every single airbag had been spent. There was one at my feet, one that came out of the steering wheel and a curtain alongside the sides of the car and from the top of the windshield. I have also heard stories about the severe bruising that comes from the seat belt holding you in place. I had not lost consciousness but I was definitely dazed.

God's tender mercy was upon me because I did not have a single scratch on my body. I was not bruised. I did not suffer any whiplash. My back was fine. When Highway Patrol arrived, the Officer told me that the deer was back several yards away and was indeed dead. I felt a tinge of guilt for having taken the life of the deer without doing something useful with it's sacrifice, like maybe feeding a family. And yet, all I could feel was gratitude for being fully alive and not a single scratch on my body. I was definitely shaken up but feeling nothing but God's love upon me for watching over me so closely even when it seemed as if I did not deserve his/her watchful care.

Both events, feeling my mother around me in late September on up to the trip that found me on the side of a lonely road with a wrecked car in January, were eye-openers to how closely I am loved and cared about from on high. Even in my most sinful pursuits and dark behavior, my mother is reaching out to me from beyond the grave and God is watching me, ever caring for my safety and well-being. Thank you dear friend for sending me this song. It prompted this post. The song had me reflecting on God's hand in my life. I kneel in humility and am strengthened by the thought of seeing my mother again.


I just wanna make it to heaven
I just wanna make it in
I just wanna cross that river
I wanna be free from sin
Ooh I just want my name written (Oh Lord)
Written in the lamb's Book of Life
When this life is over

Photo Blog: TEXAS San Antonio

You can click on the first pic and arrow through the pictures. 

San Antonio was unusually cold during my visit. It went as low as the 30's and as high as the 50's. Enjoy the pictures. I had a great time cruising the waterways of River Walk. It is a beautiful location for anything romantic.