Back in September, when I was freaking out about the ominous trip in front of us, I never really thought we would make it to Hawaii. I thought I would be committed long before then. But here we are, RV’ers in paradise. (Please sing this to the tune of Jimmy Buffet’s, “Cheese Burger in Paradise/Heaven on earth with an onion slice…” but substitute “heaven on earth with a room that’s nice” for the onion bit since I neither like onions nor the size of our RV bedroom)
The Big Pig is taking a vacation in Tempe, AZ parked in the lot of the Days Inn. While I thought there might be a magic button (a la Ms. Frizzle of The Magic School Bus fame) that would transform the Winnebago Itasca Impulse into a flying contraption – or at least a 29 foot raft – the secret button turned out to be a cross-over switch you push in case you run down the engine battery and need to jump it off the house battery. (Note: I actually know what that means)
So here we are in Punalu’u – actually Nehelu’u - on the Big Island of Hawaii. this truly is a paradise. And as if it needs underlining - Simon found a coconut and we spent a good four hours as a family figuring out how to open it up. Kudos to Josh who finally smashed the bugger with a well placed lava rock. A lava rock. Doesn't everyone have one hanging around on their lanai?
What I am wearing: My favorite Laura Ashley summer nightgown with the blue and green flowers my Mom got me a few years ago. 100% soft brushed cotton. Modestly (but not particularly stylishly) covered up with a light weight pink bathrobe I picked up in Holland this past spring. I have worn the bathrobe only three times in the past seven months. I finally feel justified that I brought it because I am wearing it. And my Wal*Mart (God forbid I don’t mention Wal*Mart in a blog) reading glasses.
Where I am sitting: On our lanai. You know you are in an exotic locale when people use the word lanai like it was a normal word. If you call your patio a lanai I think you get a better resale value, or the moniker of pretentious. But it is ok to call a lanai a lanai when you are close to the equator.
We have a 1 bedroom condo on a golf course right next to the only black sand beach on the island of Hawaii. There is a little framed tile hanging on the outside of the lanai next to the sliding glass door that reads, “Mahalo for removing your slippers”. Mahalo is the Hawaiian word for thank you. Slippers are the accepted word for flip flops. Flip flops are the Shoe Wear Formerly Known as Thongs. But now Thongs have an entirely new meaning.
People say the word “Mahalo” a lot to tourists in Waikiki on the Island of Oahu where 80% of the population lives, and most of the tourists visit. I think they are trying to make you feel like you are in the know because you are using a non-English word. They are letting you in on a secret.
But I have noticed now that we are on the Island of Hawaii that nobody but white people use the word.
What I am drinking: Vanilla macadamia nut coffee out of a coffee cup with the picture of a hibiscus on it.
What I am looking at: Coconut trees, palm trees, bougainvilleas shaped into bushes that separate our little yard from the gold course. The Pacific Ocean is beyond that and the sun keeps popping out from behind the clouds as I type.
What I hear: So many trilling birds that I don’t know the name of. Red capped sparrows, bright yellow/green parakeets, small mourning doves. And the crashing of the waves.
Where are the boys: Asleep.
What I am thinking: Why the hell can’t I relax? Why can’t I be one of those people who smiles when they talk and is content to savor the smell of the coffee and the warmth of the sun on her face. Sun on my face! Oh God! I haven’t put on sunscreen yet. Skin cancer here I come.
Simon has a cold. Should we really go snorkeling when he has a cold? Kayak out to Captain Cook’s Monument – a mile long kayak? Sun stroke. Sharks. Mean waves. We will flip over and be trapped underneath and drown.
I stayed up until 1 AM finishing the book Day after Night by Anita Diamant, the author of The Red Tent. Yes, another WWII historical fiction book about women and their plights that I tend to be drawn towards. Then I tossed and turned for another hour wondering why is it I am so drawn to books about WWII. Is it because I married a Jew and I want to feel closer to the tribe? Because I have had such an incredible life and I feel guilty that anyone should have such luck and this is the least I can do?
Now I am back to the Do It Yourself Lobotomy Kit idea. If I just had a small lobotomy I could turn off the constant chatter…oh never mind. I am in Hawai’i. Embrace it already. It is a beautiful day. The four of us are together and we are healthy and our biggest decision is do we teach school for a couple of hours before or after we go kayaking.
If I ever have a tile made to hang up on my lanai I want it to read: “It is better to have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.”
Mahalo for reading this.
Here I am blogging from the lanai:
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