Our polar bears heard that we were planning a trip to Maui, and now they want to go too.
For the IndieInk Photo Battle (#IIPhoto) this week, Sarah Cass challenged me with “Humor” and I challenged Flood Gondekowa with “hope.”
Ohana (Family)
For as long as I can remember, I have looked forward to visits to Hawaii.
When I was little, my mother and I would get on a plane to Honolulu almost every summer for family reunions. She and her four sisters grew up in Hawaii, and my grandfather still lived there, so we always had a place to stay. Sometimes all my aunts and cousins would show up at once, but most of the time, each family unit would have overlapping vacations so that there wasn’t too much chaos at my grandfather’s house.
Even then, I remember the sleeping arrangements becoming more and more creative, what with three generations sleeping under one roof: there were two guest bedrooms, a basement apartment (which always smelled like mildew), the living room, a two guest rooms down the road at the Friends Meeting House (available at reasonable rates for our family, as we were Friends), and a tent in the backyard. I remember my cousins (all boys) vying for tent privileges; sleeping outdoors in the middle of Hawaii is not a bad way to spend your vacation, let me tell you!
My grandfather (we all called him “Gung-Gung”) had an amazing garden, resplendent with as many fruit trees as he could get away with on the property. A plentiful harvest of bananas, starfruit, guavas, mangos, and even breadfruit graced the table every morning. He also had macadamia trees, the nuts of which he would harvest, peel, and roast all year long. Our Christmas packages always included a jar of his very own macadamia nuts.
The best part about vacationing in Hawaii with our family is that we knew all the local hangouts. We would forgo the tourist-laden beaches of Waikiki and instead hop in the truck to Ala Moana. If we wanted to snorkel, we’d go to Hanauma Bay (this was before it was well-known; I thought it was our own little secret).
Invariably, we would all take a day trip to go to the North Shore. We would always stop at Matsumoto’s for a shave ice on our way to the Haleiwa house. Gung-Gung had built this one-bedroom house all by himself, and from time to time he rented it out. At the time that he had purchased the land, everything around it had been owned by C&H, and I remember driving through a forest of sugarcane to get to a house on stilts proudly standing in the middle of a rectangular area of cleared land.
Gung-Gung was fearless. I remember one time we were driving down the highway, and he spotted some ripe coconuts on a palm tree near the road. He directed my uncle to pull over, and my cousins and I watched in disbelief as he shimmied up the tree to retrieve the coconuts. His legs were cut from the rough bark, but he had the biggest smile on his face as he held up his trophies.
Now Gung-Gung is gone; he passed away in 2003 from Alzheimer’s Disease. My mother had moved to Honolulu a few years earlier to help take care of him, and now she is the new resident local family member. She lives in the Haleiwa house that Gung-Gung built, and she always encourages us to come visit as much as possible!
When I got married in Hawaii, the trip ended up being a three-generation affair once more. My cousin’s daughter (named Sam after Gung-Gung) was one of my flower girls, and her grandmother (my aunt, who she calls “Po-Po”) was also there. Everybody stayed in neighboring bungalows on the beach, and that large extended-family comfortableness that I recalled from my childhood was back, just as I wanted.
I think there is something very magical about Hawaii, especially where my family is concerned. I know my husband loves Hawaii (“Everything moves at my pace,” he says), so the only discussion we have about vacation spots is where in Hawaii we want to visit next. If/when we ever have any children, there is no question we will be making family trips out there regularly so my kids can be infused with that same magic.
This week’s Indie Ink Writing Challenge came from Tara, who gave me this prompt:
A three-generation family vacation.
I challenged xtinabosco, who will answer her prompt by the end of the week here.
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Previously: Seahorses
And then began the long flight home.
As I was drafting this post, I considered writing another long diatribe about the airplane business and the state of flying these days. But I decided it would be redundant, since my description of the flight to Hawaii covered most of what I wanted to say.
We were packed in overbooked flight, and once again, got very little sleep — Ray less so than I, since he was feeling sick the entire flight back. We had a layover in Phoenix, where there were so many people waiting for their overbooked flights that we had to sit on the floor.
A group of college girls were seated on the floor next to us, talking to some classmates of theirs who had been on our plane. They had gone to Vegas for Spring Break and now were having a hard time getting home because of overbooked flights. They had been stuck in Phoenix for a day and a half and had even been sent onto a plane going back to Vegas. I breathed a sigh of relief that we weren’t in their shoes, and I started wondering about the fact that we turned down the airline’s offer to give us free tickets to give up our seats on the plane.
They announced on the P.A. system that they were looking for passengers to give up their tickets back to Philadelphia in exchange for a free roundtrip domestic ticket (within the contiguous states, of course). Well, we’d already given up our free Hawaiian tickets…why take a domestic ticket?
Sigh. We got on the plane and returned to Philadelphia as scheduled, just in time for me to go to my Philadelphia Singers rehearsal.
And thus endeth my tale of Hawaiian adventures. For now.
Seahorses
Previously: On Top of the World (Part 2)
At last, it was our last day on the Big Island. Our flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until 10:59 PM that night, though, so we still had a full day ahead of us. Unfortunately, we needed to check out of the hut in the morning, since there was another group of people coming in to stay there, so we packed up the car and headed out to explore the island some more.
We didn’t have much of a plan of action. We considered driving all the way around the island one more time (after all, we did have the time to do that), but I wasn’t really in the mood to sit in the car for 8 hours. I did express some interest in seeing a waterfall on the east side of the island, and we were told we had to go to to Tex Drive-In for their famous malasadas, which was in that direction, so we drove east for some breakfast.
We had gotten a fairly early start, so by the time we had driven through Waimea to Honokaa on the northeastern shore, it was only 10:00 or so. The Drive-In did have a drive-thru window, but we wanted to sit down and eat, so we parked and went in the front door. The guy behind the counter had an uncanny resemblance to Judge Rheinhold’s character in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, both in his mannerisms and a little bit in looks.
The malasadas were good, but they were not spectacular. I suppose it was one of those experiences one “must” have while in Hawaii, much like having a beignet in at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans: they are both fried concoctions made of sugar and flour, little more than donuts without the hole, but if you don’t do it, you somehow are missing out on the local experience.
After breakfast, Ray started to not feel so well. We decided a long drive halfway around the island would not be so good, so we nixed the waterfall idea and made our way through the middle of the island (for once, we were not driving along the coast!) to Kailua-Kona.
We ended up at the only Seahorse Farm in the U.S., and signed up for a tour that would start at 1:00. The “farm” was located in an industrial park called NELHA (National Energy Laboratory of Hawaii Authority). We were interested in touring the energy labs, too (I had heard about some interesting alternative energy systems they were developing there), but apparently there was only one tour per day, and that had been at 10:30 in the morning.
The tour of the seahorse farm had all the makings of a Busch Gardens/Seaworld presentation, complete with wireless microphones and portable amps. All that was missing was a bunch of 20-somethings singing and dancing on a stage (I would have offered my services, only I’m not 20-something anymore and I was on vacation).
Although the tour itself was ostensibly to raise awareness about reef conservation and environmental stewardship, the money from these tours were being used to raise funds for research on these bizarre little creatures. It was a good cause, so I didn’t feel so bad about the overpriced tickets; I just chafed a little bit at the sterile show/presentation.
Oh, and there were children there. Lots of hot, cranky, pushy children. And I love kids, but their parents were just as hot and cranky, and they didn’t really police the kids when they pushed to the front of the line or knocked people out of the way.
Even so, I did enjoy myself. Seahorses are fascinating creatures, and this was the closest I had ever been to one, not to mention thousands! At the end of the tour, they let people hold the seahorses…okay, actually, they have you put your hands in the water, and then they get a seahorse to wrap its tail around your finger.
I was stuck behind a horde of whiny kids, so by the time it came for my turn, the seahorse in question would have none of me. Unfazed, the biologist plucked up another seahorse and coaxed it around my finger.
I barely felt anything at all: it was very light and smooth, and the seahorse delicately held onto my finger until the biologist decided it was time for the next person to go. He gently coaxed it off my finger onto his, and I went to dry my hands.
After the seahorse farm, we wandered back to the main part of Kailua-Kona, for one last trip to Kona Bay Books. I traded all my books (which I had finished in the previous day and a half) for enough books to last me the plane trip and then some. It turned out to be an even trade, and I didn’t have to spend any money, which was a bonus.
Apparently, there was an “international market” somewhere close to the book store, so we wandered over to where it was marked on the map. We expected something more akin to what we had experienced in Waikiki on Oahu on previous trips: dozens of small stalls selling t-shirts and tikis and silly Hawaiian collectibles for bargain prices (most of which were negotiable). This marketplace was more of an outdoor mall. They still sold kitsch, but not for bargain prices, and it didn’t really seem like anything was negotiable.
We ate dinner at the Kona Brewing Company again, and we got there right before the dinner rush. Ray still wasn’t feeling very well, and although he had napped a little bit in the car while we were at the marketplace, he ate dinner listlessly. I was hoping that whatever he had would pass before we got on the plane. The skies started to threaten rain (which would have been very bad for us, since we were eating outside), but luckily, the clouds passed by without comment.
Finally, it was time to return the rental car and check in to our flight at the airport. But as we got up to the check-in counter, the woman told us that our flight was overbooked, and would we like to stay here in Hawaii a few days longer? They would put us up in a hotel and give us a free flight back to Hawaii. The only catch: they couldn’t get us on another flight until Thursday.
I looked at Ray. We were both exhausted, and not thinking right. I had rehearsal on Tuesday evening and another one on Thursday, and Ray had to go back to work on Thursday. Could we really afford to stay longer? Probably not. I told her thanks but no thanks.
Stupidest thing I’d done the whole trip. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
Next: Leaving on a Jet Plane
On Top of the World (Part 2)
Previously: On Top of the World (Part 1)
Once we piled back into the vans, they drove up an even steeper road, zig-zagging up the mountain. Now the landscape was barren, looking more like a moonscape than earth. In fact, our tour guide said, the Mars rovers were tested on this rocky land, since it was similar to the makeup of the ground on Mars.
We kept driving, and soon we saw snow. Then more snow, then hills with ski-marks on it: our guide told us that people who work here (scientists and tour guides alike) sometimes bring their skis or snowboards, drive to the summit, and ski to the bottom of the snow.
The snow looked pretty icy, though…I can’t imagine that the skiing was actually very good.
We also learned that there is archeological evidence that ancient Hawaiians used to live up this far up, even though there is no underground water source. Apparently this is where priests and royalty went to commune with the gods, and there was a small community of people, completely dependent on food and water from the outside world, who lived their lives on the summit as gatekeepers to the gods.
We knew we were getting closer to the summit when we started to see the observatories, more modern gatekeepers of the heavens. We stopped at the Caltech submillimeter observatory and walked around it, and I got an idea of how incredibly enormous it was.
There was snow on the ground, and I was bundled in my parka, but Ray still hadn’t given into the cold. He was wearing a light jacket and still sported his flip-flops even though I had brought some socks and an extra pair of shoes for him.
The van then took us to the summit just in time for a glorious sunset. Two crazy people (not on our tour) took off their clothes and jumped around in the snow in their bathing suits. Ray just took off his flip-flops.
It’s difficult for me to come up with words to describe how I felt standing on the top of the world at an altitude of 13,796 feet, looking at the sun setting into the horizon. I felt an incredible sense of euphoria of being in such a magical place, and I could understand why the Hawaiians felt like they were communing with the gods up here. And maybe it was the lack of oxygen making me think this way, but maybe, just maybe, there really was something mystical about the summit.
After the sun set, we all crowded back into the van to drive back to the visitors’ center. Across the road, they set up two 9-millimeter telescopes and gave us a stargazing presentation as we sipped hot chocolate. We all got to look into the telescopes and see several different star formations, ending with a finale of a fantastic view of Saturn and its rings. Some of the people had gotten tired and cold about halfway through the presentation and had gone back to the van, but I was riveted.
The ride back was very quiet, and I’m sure many people fell asleep. Our tour guide dropped us off at the junction where he picked us up, and we got back into our rental car.
As soon as the van pulled away, Ray turned to me and said, “Okay, that was the best thing we’ve done this whole trip.” I heartily agreed.
Next: Seahorses
On Top of the World (Part 1)
Previously: Tourist Trap
One of the things Ray wanted to do on our trip was go to the top of one of the mountains on the Big Island. We had heard rumors that there was snow in Hawaii, and we wanted to be able to see it for ourselves to believe it. So we booked a tour on Mauna Kea Summit Adventures, which not only seemed to be a pretty comprehensive tour (complete with dinner, a parka for the cold, and stargazing), but also did a pretty good job of advertising in every single tourist magazine we had.
We headed into Waimea/Kamuela for lunch at the Paniolo Country Inn and had a much better experience than our last sojourn into Waimea for food. Although this place was still akin to diner fare, there was no wait, and we were treated much better by the waitstaff. We ate our lunch without much fanfare and tried to find the spot where the tour van was going to pick us up.
When I had made our reservations for the tour a few days before, the woman on the phone asked me what resort we were staying in. Since we weren’t at any of the resorts, she told us the van would pick us up at the junction of Highway 190 and 200, which has no distinguishing landmarks other than the junction itself and a dirt turnoff by the side of the road.
We had given ourselves plenty of time in case John Cleese didn’t know where we were going, but we found the place pretty easily (it’s not like there’s anything else for miles!), so we pulled over and hung out until the van came to pick us up. I did get a chance to take a few pictures of the countryside while we were waiting.
At last, our van arrived, and it was already pretty crowded, this being the last pickup point before entering the dreaded Saddle Road (many car rental companies actually prohibit driving on the road because it’s so narrow and windy and locals drive very fast, especially at night). Apparently Saddle Road used to have spots that weren’t paved, but that has changed, and in fact, the state is working on widening and fixing the road so that it’s a safer, faster, more viable direct route from Kailua-Kona to Hilo.
Ray took the shotgun seat, since he has trouble with motion sickness when he’s not driving, and I made my way all the way to the back corner, where I sat next to a really cool gal from Colorado. As he drove up the mountain, our tour guide made comments on the countryside and the history of the area.
The road wound through ranches, sheep farms, a military camp, and finally arrived at the Mauna Kea Summit Road, where the grade got much steeper. We were going so high we were looking down on the clouds.
We arrived at the Mauna Kea Visitors’ Center (altitude: 9,000 ft.) just in time for dinner. We all piled of the van, and our tour guide distributed warm parkas and hot dinners (okay, mine wasn’t hot, but only because I got the vegetarian option, which was a cold veggie wrap with tofu). We were encouraged to wander around (i.e., use the bathroom!) for a little bit, but we needed to be back in the van in 30 minutes so that we could make it to the summit in time for the sunset.
After seeing this sign, though, I came to the conclusion that the real reason our tour guides wanted us to be back in the vans before too long is that they didn’t want us to be attacked by ninja cows.
Next: On Top of the World (Part 2)
Lazy Bums
Previously:
Now that we were in the final days of our vacation, Ray was determined to spend as little time doing anything as possible. We lounged around the hut, and I started on the new books I had purchased at Kona Bay Books while we were in Kailua-Kona on Friday.
It’s not as easy for me to laze around for an entire day, though, so after a while, I decided to walk down to the water (a half mile) and take the path down the coast to find a heiau (temple) that was supposedly not far away.
I walked for a while past some boarded up coast guard barracks as the wind whipped past me and made the coconut palms wave like anemones. The sun was beating down on me quite a bit, too, and after I rounded the second curve a mile or so down the path, I saw nothing but wilderness for another mile.
I decided to give up on my quest to see a heiau, and instead I climbed up a large rock formation and watched whales breaching in the ocean. I still couldn’t get pictures of them, but it was still a magical experience, just watching with the naked eye.
Soon enough, my stomach started telling me it was time for lunch, so I walked back to the hut, where we ate some leftovers from dinner the night before.
Then it was back to reading, until we realized it was time for dinner. Since we didn’t have any food left in the kitchenette, we drove to the town next to Hawi, which is Kapaau, to a restaurant recommended to us by our host: Sammy D’s.
We were one of the only customers when we arrived, and we ordered our meal through a window into the kitchen before we sat down to wait for our dinner. We ate our sandwiches inside, watching as a big rainstorm pelted the highway. But by the time we were done eating, the worst of the storm had gone, so we quickly got back in the car and returned to the hut for more reading and lazing around.
Next: On Top of the World (Part 1)
Tourist Trap
Previously: Nutty Day
We woke up in the morning to whales having sex outside our hut. Well…okay, not exactly, but when we were both up and moving around, there was a lot of whale-jumping activity in the ocean, and I grabbed my camera in the hopes of catching one of them on film.
Our hosts were in the garden, too, and they told us that the synchronized activity we saw meant that the whales were trying to mate (it’s not so easy getting Tab A into Slot B when you’re swimming around in the ocean!). This got me more determined to get a good shot of the whales, but my little digital camera is no match for a telephoto lens with manual shutter.
In other words, every time I saw a whale jumping, by the time I pressed down on the button and the camera took the picture, all I captured was the splash. I don’t know why they wouldn’t just pose. Sheesh.
After I got tired of snapping pictures, we got in the car and headed back down to Kailua-Kona for a day of tourism.
Because I didn’t get a chance to go snorkeling with my mom (and Ray won’t actually go in the water, so it’s not like I had a snorkel buddy on this trip), we booked a trip on a glass-bottom boat so I could have a chance to see the reef creatures.
We got to Kailua-Kona with an hour to spare before our tour started, which was just enough time for us to grab some lunch and meander down to the dock. We weren’t sure where to go once we were at the dock, since there seemed to be several tour kiosks per slip.
But it wasn’t too difficult to find the sign that said “Glass Bottom Boat – 1 hour tour” (thank goodness it wasn’t going to be a 3-hour tour, because we all know what happens with those!), so we stood next to the sign as our boat, Marian, pulled up to the moorings with its previous tour group.
The tour itself was fun. The boat wasn’t crowded, and Ray and I got a whole window into the bottom of the boat all to ourselves. And I got a bunch of good pictures, and we also got a nice explanation of the sea creatures, as well as some fun anecdotes about the bizarre sexual lives of parrotfish (a female can change gender if the dominant male dies or is removed from the area).
It still wasn’t the same as snorkeling, though. Next time we go to Hawaii, I’m going to make sure I have a chance to go snorkeling, really snorkeling, and I’m going to have my waterproof camera case with me, too.
Once we were back on land, we took the rest of the afternoon to wander the tourist trap beachfront road, Alii Drive. There was a farmer’s market, and we picked up a bunch of shirts and a gorgeous necklace & earring set with beads made out of weleweka, which is a beautiful, rare, small, fuzzy seed. I wore the jewelry for my Aaron Copland solo two weeks later, to give me peace and strength.
Since we were already in tourist mode, we gave in and ate dinner at Bubba Gump Shrimp Co., which is a chain, and really nothing more than a marketing machine, but the food is really not bad at all, and at least there isn’t one near where we live. And they had a lot of local fish on the menu, which was a plus.
Next: On Top of the World (Part 1)
Nutty Day
Previously: Points South (Part 2)
After such a long day driving to South Point and back, we decided to take this day to stay “local” in our travels (i.e., within a 20-mile radius of the hut). We went back to Luke’s Place for lunch and talked about the things left to do on the island. I had picked up a brochure for the Hamakua Macadamia Nut factory, which was not too far away. We both love macadamia nuts, so the plan was set.
Of course John Cleese had no idea where to go. I was now becoming used to this and would find the point on the map or useful cross streets and just have him direct us to the point closest to our destination instead, continually trying to update the GPS map with each new stop.
Our tour guide took us down the hall, pointed at some pictures of macadamia trees, and explained the growth and harvesting cycle, as we looked through 8-foot tall windows at the factory floor. She then pointed at some of the machines through the window and explained what they did. Nobody was working, though; I guess there weren’t any macadamia nuts to roast right at that point or they all were on break or something. A lot of the machines also seemed to be loaded for making flavored popcorn, which seemed a little odd, but I guess they’ve got to make something when there aren’t any macadamias to roast, right?
So that was the tour: go down the hall, turn the corner, have the tourists crack some nuts, and send them back into the gift shop. I did get to crack some macadamias (which was fun, even though I knew it was totally silly) and then partook of the free coffee and nut samples.
Hey, at least they were straightforward. And the women who worked in the “nut house,” as they liked to call it, were fun to talk to; they were the real reason why our fellow tourists bought so much after the tour. We bought some macadamia nuts, too: 4 pounds of macadamias, which should last us until our next trip back to Hawaii (if you factor in the fact that my mom always send macadamias to us for Christmas.
After the tour, we went back to our hut for more reading and relaxation. I cooked spaghetti in our kitchenette again, and by the time the evening was over, I was almost finished with the books I had gotten from Kona Bay Books the day before.
I told you I was a voracious reader.
Next: Tourist Trap
Points South (Part 2)
Previously: Points South (Part 1)
I was sufficiently caffeinated for the rest of the drive down the coast to South Point, the southernmost point in the United States. Once again, John Cleese had no idea where South Point was, so I simply instructed him to take us to a point on the map that was as close to South Point as I could get.
The exit from Highway 11 was clearly marked, but soon after the turn-off, the road turned from well-paved to bumpy to “are you sure this isn’t off-roading?” Down we went towards the ocean, past cows, giant windmills, more cows, driving along a one-lane road and barely seeing a single soul. John Cleese’s map showed a bunch of roads by the shore circling around each other as if in a housing development complex, so we kept our hopes up.
But there was no housing development. We stopped at the one man-made structure in the middle of the wilderness: a plaque in the middle of the grass marking the location of the “South Point Complex.” Either someone had planned on building something here (a lot of the structures — or pieces of structures, rather — looked somewhat military), or something had been built and then torn down. Either way, nobody was living here now.
According to the GPS, though, this plaque was not at the southernmost point, and we could tell with our own eyes, because we weren’t at the ocean yet. We decided to drive until we ran out of road…which happened fairly quickly, so we parked the car and started to walk to the water.
Using the GPS as a guide (John Cleese may not know where the streets and buildings are in Hawaii, but he does know where the land mass is), we walked along the cliffs to the southernmost point of the land, which was a rather unassuming beach…not really good for sunbathing, but with plenty of black lava and white coral for lava grafitti.
We left our own lava graffiti on the beach, of course, which I’m sure will wash away as soon as the tide comes in, but it made us feel good.
Since there really wasn’t much else to see, we made our way back to the car and drove 60 miles back to Kailua-Kona to find some dinner. We didn’t really know where to eat, so while we were driving, I leafed through my tourist brochures and pamphlets and suggested places to eat based on the price rating (which is completely useless in these pamphlets because they lump meals of $20 in the same category with meals of $50), location (how easy was it for John Cleese to find?), and name (did it sound like a good place to eat?).
We finally decided to eat at Bongo Ben’s. Located on Alii Drive in Kailua-Kona, it’s a part of the tourist area by the beach, but it seemed like a pretty informal place to eat, and our other comparable choices in the area were chains like Outback. We can go to Outback in NJ, so I didn’t see the point in going there in Hawaii.
They seated us in the back of the restaurant at our request, away from the highly amplified band, and I ordered my second fruity alcoholic beverage of the trip, although this one had barely any alcohol in it (I guess that’s what you get for ordering a drink in the tourist area). The food was decent — nothing exciting, but the atmosphere was fun and kitchy (a pretty girl wandered from table to table selling overpriced leis for under-romanticized couples) and we had a good time.
After dinner, we wandered around a little bit, doing a little window shopping and actual shopping until we got bored and took the long drive back to our hut in the north.
Next: Nutty Day