It has been more than twenty years since I greeted a new year in Hawaii, but I slid back easily into the rituals that are a unique part of Hawaii’s culture. A few days before New Year’s I darted into Long’s drug store, my mom’s list in hand, to pick up fireworks—three strings of firecrackers each 12 feet long. My parents told me that this would be the last year that Hawaii residents would be able to honor the Chinese tradition without getting a special permit. I can remember during my elementary school days, the streets of Kapahulu (maybe most of Hawaii) buried under red paper when I woke up on January 1 from all the firecrackers popping the night before.
On New Year’s Eve, I was the runner in our mission to gather all the special foods necessary to ensure a good start to 2011. Our first stop was at a tiny restaurant in Kaneohe that I’d never been to. My assignment was to get a pound of Roast Pork and a pound of Char Siu. I almost failed.
When we first pulled up, it was closed. My parents dropped me off to find parking. I noticed that the restaurant was dark inside, but the door was unlocked, so I went in. A man popped his head out of the kitchen and told me to come back in a half hour.
I met my parents and explained. We drove around for awhile and then returned. My mother was puzzled that they’d open “so late” (10:00am) on New Year’s Eve. At 9:50 I went back and made the embarrassing discovery that I’d gone into the wrong restaurant. I was supposed to go into the Chinese restaurant Kin Sun, but I went into the Korean restaurant, Yoonyson, I knew there was a “Sun” somewhere in the name. Kin Sun’s business was hopping. They had opened at 9:00. We had a good laugh about that.
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| Korean restaurant on the left. Kin Sun, the correct restaurant on the right. |
Then we drove to the other side of Oahu to Chinatown. While Dad and Mom circled the block for a parking space, I stood in line on the Pauahi street sidewalk outside of Char Hung Sut waiting for the treasured Dim Sum treats. After the earlier mixup, I double checked to make sure I was in line for the right place.
I had my list written down: 6 manapua (steamed Char Siu Bao—white balls of dough with a nugget of sweet red pork in the center), 8 pork hash (Siu Mai—little money bags of pork), 8 pepeiau (that's the Hawaiian word for ear, which is what this dim sum is shaped like), 8 half moons (half circles of meat wrapped in a noodle casing). (Warning: don’t try to order these treats by the first names I Iisted unless you’re in Hawaii, because those are the Hawaiian names.) A disappointed groan went up from the line when the owner came out, and announced that there might not be enough manapua . I turned to the gal in back of me, “Kinda makes me want to get a dozen when they make more instead of the six I came to get.”
She laughed, “Yeah, I know, I was going to get a dozen, maybe I’ll get two dozen.” That supply/demand economic thing can suddenly turn a reasonable person into a greedy one. I resisted though, and stuck with my original order to leave some for the ones behind me.
After a half hour wait, spent celebrating when I made it to the door, then when I made it down the step into the tiny room with the counter, then when they took my order, I finally stepped back out onto the sidewalk triumphant. I held the cardboard bakery style box stamped with the red Char Hung Sut logo by the string wrapped around it. It was warm and heavy with the prized food.
As the new year ticked closer, mom called our favorite Chinese neighborhood restaurant to order noodles. The tradition is to eat long noodles right after midnight, so that you will have a long life. She was stunned when the lady on the phone told her they’d be ready in an hour. She double checked whether she’d heard that right. Yep, one hour. Usually the answer is, “Ten minute.”
I was the runner again. There were no parking spaces open. One look at the faces of the people when I walked through the pick up door, told me this wasn’t going to be as simple as I thought. Apparently, the woman who’s usually in charge wasn’t there on their busiest night of the year. The young girls trying to hold down the fort were crumbling under the glare of annoyed customers whose orders weren’t ready. I managed to get out of there with my noodles, glad that I didn’t work there.
At home Dad rounded up some punks (smoldering wooden sticks, not juvenile delinquents) from former years to light the fireworks with since I forgot to get any when I got the fireworks. My sister, Cynthia, and her husband, Bruce came over to celebrate with us.
I called home at 9:30 Hawaii time, 11:30 Washington time to double check on how Johnny was doing cooking the Chow Funn. Before I’d left, I’d shown John where to get the ingredients in Fred Meyer’s grocery store. Johnny and I had made Chow Funn for his Life Issues class (sort of like Home Economics) in junior high school, and he’d watched me cook it over the years. Sarah had taken over my usual new year’s eve cleaning frenzy, and vacuumed the house. They had the fireworks we’d bought and reserved after the 4th of July ready to go, and they knew how to go around the yard banging on a pot like I usually did. They assured me that they were ready to go. At midnight Washington time, I called to wish them all a happy new year.
Here in Hawaii, Dad gave Bruce instructions on where to set up the strings of firecrackers—one by the front door, one on the side of the carport, one strung from the clothesline by the back door. I was glad that my mom didn’t have her hearing aids in. I didn’t want her heart getting startled by the loud explosions. I was jumping every time they boomed, but she was fine.
When midnight struck, Bruce and I went around the house and lit the strings of hissing, popping, smoking red firecrackers. I banged and clanged my pot around my parents’ house in Kailua. A fog of smoke hung over Hawaii for a few hours while we ate our Chinese food for good luck. When the trade winds eventually cleared the smoke out, hopefully they also carried away any bad luck. Have a Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous 2011!
Laura Keolanui Stark is helping her mom and dad in Hawaii while her mom recovers from open heart surgery. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.
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