Wheels on Lava: A Journey Through the Real Hawaii

She is called Pele the volcano goddess, the one who created the Hawaiian islands with her ferocity of liquid fire.

In recent months, Pele has been making a name for herself, and I had the immense good fortune to be able to attend one of her nightly performances.

To be present at such natural pyrotechnics is simply incredible.

In the darkness of the night, a red light and a deep crackling show me the way, until the scene of a fiery city dominated by a flaming fountain unconditionally spitting its power into the sky opens up below me.

When the goddess Pele is angry, not only does she erupt fire, but her “hair” breaks into invisible shards of lava glass that, carried by the wind god Pakaa, can creep into our eyes and lungs creating real health problems.

Pele, once again, is manifesting itself in all its magnificence, reminding us of how small and powerless we are against her.

I have to admit that before arriving in Hawaii I was a “victim,” like so many others for that matter, of the media idealization of it.

It's presented as an earthly paradise, with its long white beaches, surfers surfing big waves, and the iconic image of the Hula dancer in floral skirts to greet you.

In reality, this is only a small part of the truth.

Particularly if we're talking about Big Island, ringed by lava cliffs and fewer beaches.

My experience in the lava hostel proceeds quietly, I immerse myself deeply in this way of life.

I meet different people, including many of whom have chosen to go and live on this lava desert, without running water or electricity, trying to live, each in their own way, independent of the social system.

I haven’t met yet a true native Hawaiian, though.

Everyone is originally from other countries.

But maybe I'll be luckier on my trip to the island of Oahu.

A Silent Colonization

I watch around me as banana palms mingle with famous fast-food chains and large stores.

The word “Aloha” stands out at the entrance to each establishment. A saleswoman dismisses me with a “Mahalo.” Yet no one really speaks Hawaiian.

Homeless people scurry along the side of the road, and tourists in designer clothes, scented with wellness, glide past them looking the other way.

Almost all of Oahu's West Coast is completely occupied by tent cities of homeless people, while in front, modest houses are separated from each other by open dumps.

On this trip, I am discovering the various nuances and contradictions of these people who are famous for their hospitality but at the same time laden with resentment against the average tourist who has desecrated their land by exploiting the sacred word "Aloha."

Aloha does not just mean “hello,” it has multiple meanings untranslatable literally into English, the concept being that of sharing the same breath of love.

Ironic to think of this seeing tent cities on the beach, as a child (no older than eight) darts past me on a motorcycle.

I think: “This is the United States.”

With their silent (but not too much either) colonialism, they arrive to a place, suck its resources like ticks, rape its land, and those who can't, for various reasons they don't care about, stay within their system, are automatically ghettoized and left alone.

And while the native culture is being progressively annihilated, hula dancers perform under the eyes of hungry tourist consumers of mellifluous experiences.

However, I do not want to give in to my prejudices against the upper classes.

In the end, they are human too.

A Different Kind of Paradise

The landscapes of Hawaii's Big Island unfold before my eyes, varying from black lava desert to the crystalline glow of waterfalls surrounded by tropical forests, to barren mustard-colored mountains. The highest of which, Mauna Kea, an old inactive volcano, with its 4207 meters even hosts snow on its summit.

The ocean, ruled by the great god Kanaloa, crashes overbearingly against the dark crumbling cliffs of lava almost defying the patience of the volcano goddess Pele, in a striking panorama at times of an extraterrestrial appearance.

The last great lava flow that occurred in 2018, where many people had to evacuate their homes, came all the way to the coast settling into ocean waters to create new future land.

It is fascinating to see how nature is reclaiming its space today.

You have to be careful while walking on the lava, the cracks are sharp as glass. From one of them I see, small but tenacious, a young green plant fearlessly defying that black armor.

Varied birds, small and svelte mongooses, and black boars are Hawaii's main terrestrial inhabitants. So-called dangerous animals do not exist here; in fact, it's very common to come across free-range chickens on the streets.

All this effectively makes Hawaii something very close to an Eden.