Hawaii, pt. 2

So, our first order of business after checking in at the hotel in Kona was to drive to the black sand beaches we’d heard so much about. They’re only 65 miles away from Kona so, we thought, we’d pop right over to check them out. Wrong. That 65 miles took us a little over two hours to reach. No freeways here, kids. Just a two lane road with lots of switchbacks and numerous elevation shifts. On the upside, the scenery was more beautiful than you can imagine…lush fields of coffee trees buttressed by gnarly fluid rock frozen mid-pour.

When we finally arrived at the beach, we realized that the long drive was totally worth it. The short bit of black sand beach was bookended by more swells of lava flows. It was like being on another planet…you half expected the water to be purple and the people sunbathing to be little and green. It was amazing. Here's a picture that doesn't begin to do it justice.

The rest of the day was mostly the ride home, a quick dinner and an early bed time. Our hotel was right on the water and, with the giant sliding glass door open, the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below was almost deafening. We initially left the door open to let the swells put us to sleep but Brooke got up at some point that night to close the door since the crashing waves kept waking her up. That’s how loud they were. Me, I’ll sleep through anything…

Then this morning we were up at our typical “Island 5” a.m. Hawaii is six hours behind Boston and we just can’t seem to shake the jet lag. With any luck, we’ll get sorted just in time to leave. We decided to go catch some sun and do a little swimming so we drove down to a beach with a lot of Hs and vowels in its name. We’d been told that it was a nice beach to body surf and lay out. We were told correctly.

The beach was very small but there were probably twenty kids and adults in the water with body boards or funny hand-fins for body surfing. The waves were rarely above 4 feet but they were strong and there was a sand bar a little way out that caused them to curl and break nicely. After catching some sun, we decided to wade out a bit. The water was perfect and it was fun to hop up over the waves and generally get tossed about by the sea. Then I got stupid.

I decided to kick the tires on a little body surfing without any gear. Not really a big deal, just hard without fins to help you get in front of the wave before it starts to break. It also means you have to wait for a relatively big wave so you can get a good head start. Such a wave, I did find.

At first, I thought I was about to miss the break like all the others before but at the last second, I caught it (or it caught me, rather). I was propelled forward for, say, half a second and then got tumbled in the shallows. Caught off guard and under water, I immediately struggled to pop up for air. In doing so, I some how popped my right arm out of the socket at the shoulder. I could feel that it was out of socket as I stood up and, without even thinking, I just grabbed it with my left hand and shrugged it back into place. I’m unstoppable!

In actuality, it hurt like hell. It was a little sore right after it happened but the pain seemed to diminish after a couple of hours…now it just hurts when I make certain motions. I’m sure it’s fine, just a little internal bruising, but I hope it doesn’t ruin any of the other activities we have planned for the trip. Luckily, tonight we’re taking a tour to the top of Mauna Kea so no heavy lifting will be required…I’ll report back on that later.

Hawaii, pt. 1

So, it’s been a damn long time since I’ve left anything up here…funny how my postings seem to coincide with time off from school. With any luck, after the bar next year you’ll either read me a lot more regularly or not at all. All depends on where I end up working.

Anyway, a little back story: Brooke is a rock star at work and Uncle Well’s and Auntie Fargo take care of those nieces and nephews that rock. She was deemed worthy of a Golden Spoke Award and granted a free-ish pass to Maui for a week. Why free-ish and not free? Well, because WF only paid for Tuesday-Saturday…of a holiday week. So, those of us that saw the opportunity to make Memorial Day memorable, did…and left Saturday morning for what can only be described as self-guided, self-financed Paradisic pre-game to the freeness that will come Tuesday. You’ve been prefaced…let’s roll.

So, after 18 hours and three connections worth of travel, we arrived in Maui. My first thought was that it was more humid than I expected it to be. I, of course, based my pre-conceptions of Hawaii on the best resource any sibling could call upon: my older brother and his comment years ago that Hawaii was like Florida without the humidity. Not true, I’ve since discovered…It’s more like an ocean-side Scottsdale. Yes, it’s not as overbearingly muggy as Florida. But it’s still tropic. It’s just more temperate than awful awful FL.

Regardless of all that, I learned an invaluable lesson the day after our arrival: always pack underwear. You see, I didn’t. I packed every other thing you could imagine…I even asked Brooke where she had packed hers because I hadn’t seen it as I was loading my gear into our bag. Yet, I totally spaced it. My initial thought was to roll G.I. Joe for the week but I realized how impossible that was going to be (I have fancy-ish dinners to attend with Brooke and, though it’s not explicitly stated, underwear is clearly going to be required). So we hit up a CVS clone (Long’s Drug, for you California readers) and was delighted and aghast that they carry the make and mode of undies I wear…to the tune of $11 for a pair! So, you know, I bought a lifetime supply…

Also, today, we flew from Maui to Kona, on the Big Island. Even with a stop in Honolulu, it was still less that 2 hours from start to finish…the only highlight of this stint of the trip was the swarthy, heavy-set stewardess who did two things of note: first, she made herself bloody marys in the galley and, second, at the stop in Honolulu, she had a long discussion with a pilot from a different puddle-jumper about how she’d heard, that, like, you know, like, he was, like, something of a, like, player and not at all serious about the women he dated. Neither of these things were confidence inducing, of course, but we arrived safe and sound in Kona nonetheless.

Our first order of business was to collect the convertible that Brooke required for this portion of our trip. Even though she has always professed a hatred for drop-tops (something to do with messing up her hair), we had to have one for Kona. Unfortunately, when we went to pick it up, they could find our reservations. After much typing and wrinkling of brows, it was determined that our reservation had been made in Hilo, three hours away. Luckily, it was on the same island and not a problem to fix.

It’s important to note something about the culture at this point (and it’s something that many a tourism guide book has already noted): people here are damned friendly. Not just the people you give your money to in exchange for services (what I’ll call ‘resort friendly’), but everyone. It seems if you make eye contact with a perfect stranger on the street, you are required to smile and say hello or good day. Coming most recently from Boston, where you do your best not to make eye contact for fear of being solicited by ‘Chuggers’ it was a bit unnerving at first (big ups to my friend, Chris in the UK for introducing the term chuggers to me on my last visit – a chugger is a ‘charity mugger’). But I have to say that I’ve really taken to it. One of my biggest complaints about Beantown has been how rude and inconsiderate people can be there, native and tourist alike. Hawaii is a refreshing dose of politeness and consideration…

Ok, enough for one session. Stay tuned for tales of body surfing disasters, Mauna Kea sunsets and inappropriate conversations with midwesterners...