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“You probably will. It’s the same guy doing both.”
“You interested in getting inked?”
“Not really. I almost got one a few years ago, but the urge passed.”
“This is a completely different experience. You don’t have any say in what you’ll get. The tattooing priest chooses for you.”
“So you could end up with Tweety Bird on your ass?”
“No. He chooses according to what the ancestors are telling him your journey is.”
“My ancestors are telling me to not get a tattoo. There’s Oscar’s Jeep.”
As soon as we come to a stop, the door to the little bungalow opens and Oscar comes out, followed by his friend I am assuming is the tattoo artist slash muralist. It is an easy guess because his face and body are covered in ink.
“Is it me, or does Oscar look stoned?” Alek says chuckling. “Just what you want, a high tattoo artist.”
“He doesn’t look high. Think it’s just your chef.”
We exit the car and I see right away, my conclusion is correct. There’s an ‘I am trying to have a normal expression’ look on his face. But it morphs to an extremely relaxed vibe. As if he will sit at any moment.
“It’s the Kava, brother,” the man says, pitching a thumb to Oscar.
“That explains it. I’m Alek and this is Leilani.”
“I’m Big Lucky.”
When Alek extends a hand, Big Lucky takes it and stares into his eyes, sizing him up.
“Come inside. You can look through my book. Hey! Want to do some Kava?”
“No, thanks anyway. Some other time.”
“What about you? Man, you are a pretty one.
“Thank you. But no, I’m not interested today. Maybe next time though. I’ll think about it.”
Walking into the house is like entering someone’s dreamscape. The man can paint. Every inch of wall and ceiling is covered with murals. It isn’t disjointed though. It is a garden inhabited by both real and mythical animals.
“Wow! This is beautiful, Lucky!”
“How long did it take you to do this?”
Alek is as stunned as I am.
“I’m still doing it. Started in two thousand twelve, when I got the place. It will never be finished.”
He motions to the couch.
“Sit. Look at the book. I saw a few things you might like, Alek.”
Oscar holds up a finger like a kid in class who wants to talk.
“I told him Nani’s story.”
We leaf through the pages, and there are very few I wouldn’t choose if it was me. Alek is studying the figures and keeps going back to two.
“You recognize the symbols?”
