Shelter, Food, Sex: A Writer’s Hawaiian Sojourn by A.J. Llewellyn
Many years ago, in my incessant penchant for collecting Hawaiiana, I happened across a small paperback called Hawaii: Shelter, Food, Sex. At the time I thought this was a very naughty and utterly thrilling title and bought the book for the princely sum of fifty-nine cents. I’d like to be risqué and say it was sixty-nine cents but alas, it isn’t true.
I was reminded of this title when I flew into Honolulu eight days ago with my friend and fellow author Serena Yates. Our first order of business once we arrived was making sure we got to our shelter okay since we’d booked it online and well…I’ve read too many horror stories about online scams to be complacent. Our two bedroom cottage in the rainforest of Makiki, bordering the old Paradise Park was as remote (read: dark and scary) as the landlady promised.
She was kind and frankly, a bit drunk but I emphasize kind because we were exhausted and hungry and she’d provided milk, coffee, fruit, juice, soup and cereal…even English muffins. They were a welcome reward and helped blunt the true nature of our rustic surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, we wanted the authentic, local Hawaiian experience but I hadn’t expected roosters that crow all day long or cats that fight all night. Right outside my window.
Our cottage is home to a host of bugs; gigantic roaches, fearless ants and adorable geckos. The baby one I found in the shower was so cute until I scared it and it committed suicide by jumping down the drain. Our landlady assured me that the shower water here goes into some kind of reservoir and therefore the gecko would come right back up. I haven’t felt quite clean ever since that conversation.
I am an animal lover and have fretted about the rather large gecko that lives in our kitchen and warms itself on the coffee pot and investigates any food left on the counter.
As I headed to Kailua Library today and its fantastic book sale, Serena stayed home to write. I’d Googled what geckos like to eat and we are fresh out of live crickets and meal worms (I hope) so we both thought I should definitely stop by the pet store and pick up gecko food. Seriously. Gecko food. It exists.
But try telling the pet stores here that. They all wanted to send me back to Paradise Park with meal worms and/or live crickets. I once fed a friend’s iguana live crickets. They escaped the plastic bag because they were too big for the iguana. They flew off and multiplied. When I came back to try again, there were millions of them. I still have nightmares about that. Not to mention the freakin’ noise.
The info I found online told me to be careful feeding a cricket to a gecko because crickets bite and the gecko might become injured. Yeah. Just what I need!
I’ve decided this little guy found his way to shelter. He’s clearly having loads of sex judging by his many offspring…and he doesn’t seem to be hungry. He can deal!
Being erotic romance writers, sex is never far from my mind, or Serena’s. We eat, we drive, we play, we write. Yesterday we drove to the leeward side of the island, where few tourists go. It is dry and hot and there isn’t much to see at Ewa Beach, our first port of call. Over one thousand thousand homeless families living there were evicted in January and have relocated to places like Malii Beach Park in Waianae, once dubbed the place of kings.
We passed the snazzy new golf course and the Disney Resort hidden from view from plebs like us. I don’t care how ritzy these places are, I bet they get geckos and ants, just like we do.
Serena and I have an obsession with Zippy’s and eat there a lot but we decided to upgrade our source of food and dined at Haleiwa Joe’s for lunch yesterday. The food was fantastic but we could not get away from sex. No, sir, we just couldn’t. There we were at one of the best restaurants on the island when a fight broke out and a female duck was almost raped.
I’ve never seen ducks bonking before, but had no idea the males of the species could be so sadistic. The wait staff at Haleiwa Joe’s kept running out of the restaurant and onto the lawn stopping a poor, tiny female duck from being pummeled. At first I thought they were trying to kill her. It sure didn’t look terribly…sexy.
These big, bossy ducks wanted to gang rape her and they just wouldn’t stop.
Some ducks just need to learn that no means no.
Last night, we took a ghost tour and I have some pretty spiffy photos on my cell phone. I plan to ask my three-year old niece how to retrieve them. What I learned is that ghosts are not much different from geckos, ants…or horny ducks.
They want what they want. What they want is to inhabit you (shelter). They obviously miss eating and being Hawaiian ghosts you can bet your bippy they miss Zippy’s. So if they er…take over your body, they hit the trifecta. Food, sex (if you have any) and a place to call home.
I had a few scary moments with the dead last night, and so did Serena. But I’ll let her tell you that story. I’ll close by saying this. I have been scratching my head trying to figure out what the odd, clacking sound has been in the house. Apparently it’s the gecko’s mating call.
We have seen at least three geckos in here so he’s a womanizing, colonizing, coffee-loving gecko. Well! And to think I felt sorry for him!
But back to sex. I have to keep writing it and will take advantage of my rainforest shelter for as long as I have it. Shelter. Food. Sex. Yep, I found it all on my side of the island…in this action-packed sojourn.
Serena says she heard dogs barking, but I did not. I did see a man in an awful Statue of Liberty costume near the freeway trying to hawk condos. I almost stopped and asked him how the wildlife situation is there but he was a little entangled with his headdress the last time I saw him.
Ah, Hawaii…I will miss you much…