The Price of Paradise

Nobody tells you about the dark side of paradise.

What, do you ask, is the dark side? I mean, really…palm trees, wonderfully consistent perfect weather, being surrounded by ocean, amazing beaches, all that aloha – there is a reason people call this place paradise. There is a reason the vacationers come in droves, even if the droves are smaller during a recession. There is a reason I post photos on Facebook. Hawaii is awesome.

Oh of course Hawaii has its problems. Poverty, homelessness, rampant drug abuse, unemployment – paradise is not immune to these afflictions and some of these are especially prevalent here. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the consequences of living in a year-round warm climate where windows often stay open so those lovely tropical breezes can bring the scent of plumeria right into your living room.

No, no. I’m talking about the bugs. And I don’t care that this is not the correct entomological term. I’m calling them all bugs. And they come in all shapes and sizes. There are the tiny larval leaf miners that killed my poor, innocent tomato, basil, and cilantro plants. There are the termites and their well-known destruction. There are some kinda silvery gray flying things that don’t seem to really hurt anyone but love to fly onto my computer screen while I type and collect, dead, at the base of the table lamp in the living room.

And then there are the roaches. Now I know Hawaii is not the only place that has these things. Floridians go so far as to use the euphemism “Palmetto Bugs”. And I don’t mean the city roaches. Not even the well-fed city roaches that congregate in city restaurant kitchens. I mean the 3-4” suckers. The ones that are large enough to make a noise as they ambulate along my ceiling. The ones that try to eat me in my sleep.

No, there is no warning. Then one day you’re minding your own business, watching your favorite prime-time show 5 hours after your east coast friends have seen it and written Facebook statuses that give it all away, and an absolutely disgusting creature as long as your index finger lands on the couch RIGHT NEXT TO YOUR HEAD. It’s the unspoken way you know you’ve really arrived. If you mention these awful creatures to other residents of this great state, they have the same reaction – a knowing nod with a side of disgust. Responses I’ve received include, “Ha! Welcome to Hawaii!” and “That’s the price of paradise.” The tourists don’t see these. I guess the Waikiki Cockroach Contingent keeps hidden in the hotel kitchens. But if you are lucky enough to get to live here, your first one will likely show up sometime between one and two weeks after your arrival, as you’re settling into your home thinking, “Wow I am so lucky to live in Hawaii.” You’re just starting to become relaxed, the Spirit of Aloha having crept in a bit more each day, and you find yourself thinking that there is no better place on earth to live. And there it is. One giant, ugly, black, egg-laying reminder that nothing in life is perfect. Sometimes the proverbial roach is small and susceptible to the traps you’ve set out. Sometimes it’s huge and the only way to get rid of it is to use the “cup trick” and return the thing to its natural habitat so you can pretend it never existed. Sometimes you have to call in the big guns so they can put a tent over your house and fill the whole thing with noxious chemicals until even the fiberboard cabinets aren’t quite themselves. But they always show up JUST when you get to thinking that life is just…about…right.

Now, in all fairness, I have spent time in the mainland tropics. There are places in South America (and don’t even get me started on Africa) that have bugs that can kill you in five minutes or less. In these places, you can never put your hand down without looking first to check whether a creepy crawly is already occupying the space. There are many more vectors of parasites in other places. We have nothing I’m aware of that will make your skin necrose, and we certainly don’t have anything that will turn your arm into a Target ad. I have yet to require any type of insect repellent, and I moved here in June, which is the peak of bug season in some places. So, considering our tropical climate, we actually do NOT have the short end of the entomological stick. Knowing I will never find a five-minute spider nest in the foot pocket of my snorkeling fins is kind of rad. I like not having to watch for bullet ants. And when we talk about the real impact on my life of most of the bugs here – I don’t need to garden. Clorox wipes make short work of the random dead bugs that met a fierce end at the hand of my compact fluorescent bulbs. The lovely people at Raid even make an ant spray now that doesn’t leave an entirely repulsive odor in the house for days. Hey, life is not that bad.

But seriously, those roaches need to go.