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This column was submitted as an entry in Civil Beat’s Emerging Writer’s contest.

I was born and raised on Oahu, and around the age of 15 I started to get “island fever.” All of us have probably experienced this particular form of restlessness at one time or another, but back then I thought my suffering was unique.  I thought I’d seen everything Hawaii had to “offer” — as if owed me anything.  I couldn’t wait to leave.

But when the time came to actually get on that plane to the mainland, I started to change my tune.  Suddenly the lush green Koolau mountains and the slate gray Pacific on rainy Waimanalo mornings started to look beautiful again.  More than that, they seemed essential.

As I struggled through one bitter Ohio winter after another, I started to slip into that over-simplistic mainland mindset of thinking of Hawaii as a perfect paradise. If I was home, I thought as I shivered through the snow, all my problems would disappear.

Of course, both those perspectives were deeply lacking. When I felt limited back home, the only limited thing was my mind. When I longed for an idealized home from my distant place on the mainland, I was romanticizing a very real, complex place.

I should have known better.

Only recently have I begun to strike the right balance. I still live on the mainland, but I visit home at least once a year and plan on moving back by time I’m 30. During my last visit I explored Chinatown with some friends, visiting places I’d never known about before. Galleries, restaurants, and independent bookstores had been there all along if only I’d been proactive enough to look.

I also came to better appreciate the arts and culture I’d known of already. The Hawaii Shakespeare Festival is as innovative and entertaining as I remember, and First Friday is more fun than ever now that I’m over 21.  I can spend hours at the Honolulu Museum of Art and at Bishop Museum, sketching, writing, and taking in the arts and history both places offer.

More traditional cultural practices abound, too.  Chinese New Year, Bon dances, Makahiki, May Day — there’s no place I’d rather be than home to celebrate these holidays.

And then there are the islands themselves.  I used to resent Oahu’s small size, but now this 20-by-30 mile island seems full of possibility and adventure.  Last time I was home, my friends and I hiked to a waterfall and dove into its swimming hole via a rope swing.  I walked the trails of Tantalus with a friend I’ve known since birth; we had a picnic sitting near a swing her sister had hung deep in the jungle, stayed out too late and ended up hiking home through perfect darkness.  I went to the beach with my family and ran with our dogs up and down the sand, which quickly left me exhausted but also deeply content.  Even now, when I am unhappy, I can soothe myself by closing my eyes and imagining I’m among the calming natural surroundings of Foster Botanical Garden, Hoomaluhia, or just my parent’s back porch in Waimanalo.  There are few places in the world as beautiful as these.

Despite all this, I’m not quite ready to move home yet.  I enjoy the challenge of the East Coast, and the fact that I can actually drive to another state if I want to.  I like the independence I have here too.  Not to mention I couldn’t afford to move home quite yet, even if I wanted to.

That said, I am always counting down the days until my next visit home; and when I’m not home I make an effort to stay connected despite the distance.  Whether hanging out with high school friends in D.C., attending the hula festival at the National Museum of the American Indian, or forcing all my Thanksgiving guests to enjoy spam musubi with me, I find little ways to stay close to home.  I’ve even started volunteering for the Honolulu Biennial Foundation (HBF), which is working to bring a biennial art festival to Oahu starting in March of 2017.

HBF wants to celebrate and promote the arts in Hawaii, and challenge the misconception (popular on the Mainland, but one I fell into myself too) that Hawaii is “just a beach,” a simple paradise that exists only for the pleasure of tourists. It’s so exciting to work with an organization so determined to honor and foster the unique culture(s) of Hawaii and its underrated arts scene. I am happy to work with people clear-eyed enough to see the value of the arts that already exist in Hawaii, and proactive enough to foster that artistic culture and bring it the international respect and recognition that Hawaii so richly deserves.

It took me far too long to see and appreciate that Hawaii, with its unique mix of cultures and unmatched beauty, has as much (or more) art and adventure as anywhere in the world.  I love working with HBF to help others see this truth too — and I look forward to moving home one day to enjoy it all in person, right there on that little 20-by-30 mile island.