Log 53: Sanguine Paradise
Today is a turnover day at the hostel. Not only are Carl and Agnes leaving (two people who arrived at Hakuna Matata the same day as me), but a number of other guests are also on their way out. Among them are a group of three Swiss grad students who have been feeding me for the duration of their stay. The evening they arrived, I met them coming home from work at Ululani’s. I staggered in the front door, exhausted from eight hours of serving an endless line of spring breakers, and proclaimed to Carl, who was working in the kitchen, “I have no idea what I'm gonna eat for dinner, all I have in the fridge is spam musubi and I've already had two of those today.”
“We're making pasta! Would you like some?” I turned around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. The three girls were holding out the fixings for some penne pesto. I didn't need any time to contemplate my response, and asked them how I could help.
Now, if you've ever cooked anything with me, you know that I'm not really head chef material, so before I step in the kitchen, I always explain to people that I'm more of a sous chef. Truthfully, I don't think I'm qualified for that position either. At first, I focused diligently on chopping up a couple cloves of garlic for the pesto. A few minutes after that, I was no longer cooking, but instead curating a pasta-making playlist to keep everyone motivated. A short while after that, I got entirely distracted and ended up wandering outside and chatting with Nora. As we discussed our plans for Carl and Agnes’s going away party a few nights away, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was one of the Swiss girls. I was about to apologize for shirking my duties in the kitchen, when she said with a smile, “Dinner is served!” I followed her back into the kitchen to find the table set and my plate already prepared. A similar scene unfolded the following afternoon, when they prepared an everything bagel sandwich for me. I made sure to inform the girls of the meal I would be making for Carl and Agnes’s final evening at Hakuna Matata and insisted they attend so I could repay them for keeping me fed. I also made sure to inform every other guest at the hostel of the event, and impress upon them that while attendance wasn’t mandatory, it was highly recommended.
I’d say that our celebratory meal was a success. Around 6:30pm, Nora, Carl, myself, and a few other volunteers met in the kitchen to get to work. Carl and Nora were on team sangria, I tasked myself with making the main course (rigatoni in a creamy tomato sauce), and a couple of new girls floated around offering help where it was needed. By 7:30pm, we had prepared the pasta and sangria, along with two side salads and several bowls of chips. When it was time to eat, we had to pull chairs from all over the hostel to fit everyone. We all took turns regaling the group with stories of how each of us ended up at Hakuna Matata. Then we toasted Carl and Agnes’s time with us, and played a round of BS with the deck of cards I bought about a week prior. When I suggested the game, one of the girls said “Go grab the hostel’s deck, it's in the kitchen!” Carl looked at me knowingly, about to tell her that the deck of cards belonged to me, but I quietly put a finger to my lips to stop him.
It's sad to see Carl and Agnes go. It's hard to see everyone go, really. The other day, I tried to write down all the names of the people I've met so far at the hostel. People that I wished had spent more than a few days in Maui. People that I was grateful didn't plan a longer trip. People whose numbers were put into my phone as a formality, and people who I'm sure I’ll be in contact with for years to come. People who I spoke to one time, one night, for one hour. I couldn’t remember them all.
Highlight: Although I didn't tell anyone to bring anything to my little dinner party, Nora showed up with three bags of chips, a girl named Angelica brought a grocery store tray of brownies, Agnes brought cupcakes, and Terry - who checked in just hours before the dinner commenced, brought a takeout box of fried ravioli.
