spiritual fasting

When we first arrived in Honolulu we were given small packets of information regarding businesses/stores in the waikiki area. Grocery stores, drug stores, pharmacies, etc.

At our orientation they went over the list again and made special note of a mall three blocks away. Big mall. They excitedly told us it has a Macy’s and a Sunglass shack! A Body Shop and a Crabtree and Evelyn! Maybe this excited the Japanese (with their generous exchange rate and penchant for fashion) but it made me cringe. I have nothing against shopping, but who wants to go to the mall in Hawaii? I want to buy coral necklaces and sarongs from street vendors. I don’t want to go to the Gap. I sat there appalled. I would have been less offended if asked to demonstrate camel pose nude than I was at the suggestion I go to the mall. I had no idea what the next nine weeks held in store for me, and I was open to just about anything, but I was absolutely certain I would not be going to the mall.

I just got back from the mall.

I’m having one small, but huge, issue here at teacher training. I basically didn’t eat all week. We finish each night upwards of 11:00 pm, everything is closed, I have no kitchen, and finding food is a gigantic and irritating hassle. I have lots of cereal and nuts and fruit in my room—but after eating those things for breakfast and lunch, I do not want them again for dinner. I am not a bird. I am a grown woman finishing four hours of yoga and I want a legitimate meal. I managed to purchase a lone, expired lean cuisine from the quick mart across the street one night, only to get back and realize it was a diet-meal. It was 225 calories. I would burn more calories walking down the hall to the microwave than the meal even contained. I started crying, threw it away, and went to bed hungry. A separate night I bought a sandwich in the hotel’s “gerenal store”. The general store sells Drakkar Noir cologne, condoms, and tacky beach towels. I hoped, but doubted, the food would be edible. When I saw the woman pull out the deli turkey, I knew I’d once again go to sleep with my stomach eating its own lining. The meat was pale grey. The cheese had a texture not found anywhere in nature. I took one bite, tossed it in the garbage, and sat on the floor of my hotel room rocking back and forth like a crazy person. I managed to eat one full dinner last week and that’s only because someone pitied me and cooked me a meal in their kitchen. The only words Bikram Choudhury spoke to me, personally, since i've been here were “are you eating?” I am not making this up.

The hunger induced insanity has snowballed by the day. I woke this morning, my one true day off, with an epiphany that felt borderline spiritual…..FOOD COURT….every mall has a food court! I wanted to drop to my knees and thank God, but that would have cut into my precious eating time so I headed out in the clothes I’d slept in and speed walked in the direction of the mall. By noon I ‘d eaten three slices of Sbarro’s pizza and a waffle cone full of Ben and Jerry’s. I got some Chinese food from Wok around the Clock to stash in my bag and eat once I got back to the Ilikai. I also purchased three giant Mrs. Field’s cookies and a roll from Cinnabon. It would be a little bit chewy and dry by dinner time, but that was fine by me.

I once read an article about some of the Sudanese “lost boys” who’d been adopted by these wonderful American couples and how difficult the initial transition had been for everyone involved. For instance, they boys had taken to stealing food from the kitchen and hiding it under their beds. Which, had it only been, say, a bag of chips…well, okay…but they’d also take raw meat and eggs. It always seemed so extreme to me. Why would anyone be so desperate they’d want meat rotting under their bed?

I totally get it now.

I went to the market last night with two friends I’ve made here. They have a full kitchen with a giant refridgerator. They are wonderful, kind girls. I am welcome to leave food at their place now. After returning from the store, laden with bags of groceries, we started unloading them into the freezer. Once out into the hall and on the way back to my room, I had a panic attack. I didn’t want to leave my food.
What if they ate some of it? What if they ate some of MY food?

I started to hyperventilate and shake. I considered going back to their room and taking all my food with me. I’d just put it under my bed. Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’d do. I'd just hide it under my bed....maybe it would rot, but maybe it wouldn’t. And even if it rotted, at least I wouldn’t starve…

I took a deep breath and got a hold of myself.
I don’t want to be a paranoid freak.
Having said that, I have two remaining giant cookies wrapped in toilet paper and stashed above a lighting fixture. Getting them down requires standing on a chair.
I had to do it. I don’t want my roommate eating my food.

(photo attached is my first sunburn. aaawwwww, so cute......)