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Anne and I are rolling Chinese pancakes for the night’s service. Out on the street, San Francisco’s Chinatown passes us by. “Why would you ever leave Hawaii, Evan? Isn’t it, basically, paradise? I mean I got married there; what a dreamy place.” From across the table, I can see the dreams of sand, palm trees and resort service wash over her face. “Oh you know, there’s a lot more opportunity outside of Hawaii. It’s hard to find good jobs or open a business.” I reply, smiling. I don’t tell her that home, doesn’t feel like home. I don’t have Hawaiian blood. In that state, it’s the only thing that makes someone Hawaiian. I left to find home. Melbourne’s got penguins! And parties! And work visas! The Australians at a cooking job refer to me as “the Hawaiian.” I only try to correct them once. Chengdu food lights me up like a firework racing heat from my mouth to the toilet. Empty apartment buildings wearing neon and hair salons lean over sidewalks cradling this tender behind in cheap plastic stools and feeding me Oolong, Panda cigarettes, hotpot and a night as long as I want to make it. Oakland is more fearsome, loving and resilient than I believe. The Ohlone people gathered abalone and shrimp from the shores where 2003 Toyota Camry’s burn rubber into donuts. Black Panther cubs roam under the guise of artists, teachers, lawyers and real estate agents. You can work in Michelin starred restaurants, grow legal cannabis and chase American dreams or poverty. Nothing feels right. It’s somewhere in between the flights, working visas, shared flats, torn luggage tickets, smoldering cigarette butts and smoldering taxi drivers. It’s somewhere in between the bar adventures in San Francisco, harvesting oysters from the shores outside of Auckland and scratching thoughts into a notebook. It’s somewhere in between, I find a video. A man in a Hawaiian shirt addresses a crowd of elderly people in a highschool gymnasium. His name is Dr. Willy Kauai. Over an hour and a half, Dr. Kauai details an event he calls “The De-Nationalization of Hawaii.” Whereas, Hawaii formed a contemporary to nation states such as Britain, France and Italy and established treaties with it’s peers. Whereas, Hawaii formed a democracy with a national identity, universal suffrage and affordable university education. Whereas, a small group of businessmen and the US federal administration committed an act of war, annexed a country without a treaty and outlawed the language effectively erasing the identity of a nation by reducing “Hawaiian” to the amount of genes transferred, a blood quantum. I close the laptop. I run my small business. I tour Vancouver, the city is clean and as prosperous as the Orcas breaching the sound. Back to San Francisco. The holiday’s pass, so little looks like me. I visit Hawaii, I close the business, and I start a new relationship and lose it. I think about leaving the country. I think about leaving the country. I forget to ask questions. I go broke. If you’re born on the soil of a foreign sate, does it make you a citizen? Depending on the rules of the country, it can. Hawaiian law says it does. That makes me.. at home, always. In the fine sands of Makalawena, the snow of Mauna Kea, or the desert of Ka’u, I am home. In the streets of Auckland, the cafes of Hong Kong, or the rivers of Thailand, I am home. Nowadays, when people ask the “why did you leave Hawaii?” question, I smile, content in explaining the search for opportunity. I never tell them I’m visiting tonight, no matter where I am.