First impressions

I stepped off the last plane at ten o'clock at night, into a strange, quiet terminal with big wooden beams and open courtyards bursting with crazy jungle plants. After everyone else had left, we caught the last taxi driver, who tossed our bags in his minivan and naturally assumed we were tourists.
"Oh, right, ya, that's up in the rich section of town," he said when we told him the address. "You goin' to a bed & breakfast up there?"
A misty rain drizzled down, conspiring with the dark to add confusion to the ride. It rains a lot in Hilo, especially in January, but even the rain takes its time. Outside the minivan, the streetlights cast a strange orange light which reveals objects without making them any brighter. "The streetlights are amber for the observatory on Mauna Kea," says the driver, "they don't interfere with the telescopes as much."
In a jet lag haze, Sandy and I stumbled down into our new home (until April): a basement studio apartment in a $2-million house. That last part, about the price, makes it sound much better than it is. We grumbled at each other briefly about the size and lack of privacy, pushed our beds into opposite corners, and fell asleep.

Morning brought some consolations. The cost of this apartment isn't for the size or convenience so much as it is for the location. The view from our back porch (which is actually underneath the main porch for the house) opens on an apparent jungle valley with, you know, 70 foot palm trees, a couple pools and several waterfalls.
It's nice and all, but I'd rather be paying $200 less in rent every month. Or at least have a couple bedrooms and a full kitchen.
The pond is pretty nice to swim in, and I put up my hammock under the teahouse (the red building in the upper right). I have plenty of things to be stressed out about right now, but this is a pretty relaxing place to come home to. Well, after the half-mile uphill bike ride, anyway. Our neighbors seem pretty nice, too. They're an engaged couple, nurses from Wisconsin, with a small yapping dog.

Hilo, where we live, is an interesting little town. None of the buildings downtown looks less than 30 years old, and the local people seem to prefer the anachronistic state of things here. The only place in town that suburbanites would recognize as traditionally American is the south end of town, where "the mall" is a living monument to the shopping experience of 1989. The dominant gas station around seems to be Union 76, still with the rotating ball signs, and I think the most common grocery store is KTA. I've seen one Starbucks and 2 Subways, and about 30 little family restaurants, mostly featuring Thai, Mexican, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, or Filipino food. We still don't have a TV or radio, so I feel like I'm missing out on some of the important stuff.

It'll take some time to get used to Hilo and Hawaii, I'm sure. But for now, at least, I'm in no rush. Things are working out just fine so far.