Oahu Again

Out of the mists of autumn comes a jagged silhouette, enrobed in green: Oahu. After five hours of flying against the jet stream on a steady course, the islands’ appearance is just as unlikely today as it was the first time I ever flew here, the vastness of a shimmering ocean stretching on and on for untold miles in every direction. It’s an impressive and amazing thing to find a tiny string of beautiful islands in the middle of a big blue nowhere after five hours’ flight at 500 miles an hour. Out here in the Pacific Ocean, the biggest ocean in the universe, I am a speck taking refuge on a collection of old volcanic rock islands. I can’t imagine it even as I am here writing and breathing. I admire the nerve of ocean-going explorers who had a knowledge of navigation using celestial bodies and wave patterns. They had that, but they had no real idea how darned big the ocean really is. 

We land safely, if not with a jarring thump as the tradewinds let the jet down off their shoulders, having borne it willingly and steadily, looping in from the east around Diamond Head, skirting the shore above the city. Bam! It's a jolt that smacks us all into alertness. Nobody applauds the pilot this time, but I feel relieved the bird has landed safely. We disembark, we modern well-fed and pampered travelers, and disperse, embraced by the islands, all in our separate directions. 

The fall and winter here feels like summer on the coast of California, about 65-70 degrees. It's pretty in bits and pieces in Honolulu, but the city roars with traffic and stinks with exhaust, especially in Waikiki. We go through the usual baggage claim/shuttle to rent a car/drive to the hotel and check-in routine and get ourselves untangled from our traveling equipment and orientation to our living space. The soft warm air wraps itself around me; I am delighted at the absence of the damp chill and fog of my home town.  This is the way Hawaii works its charm, claims my heart. It is a gentle persuasion. 

Waikiki envelops me and my husband with the glare of business signs and absence of much that seems local and charming, but in total that is its charm. I haven’t found the water yet. I know the ocean changes everything, defining the island in almost every way, beautiful, dangerous and unimaginably complex. I will spend as much time as possible in it, near it and looking at it. Once I’m back in the water, I’ll really feel I’ve returned to Hawaii once again.  

Hapa Helps Me Celebrate

I think I'm going to take a day off from writing and celebrate.  (Wait, wait, wait, why am I writing? hmmm...)

I had a final swim clinic workout today and got some positive feedback on my breaststroke work from that wacky swim coach putting us all through various paces.  That would be Monsieur Temple, here from the hockey-loving nation to our north.  Lucky us.  For a change, I put a few lengths together to the point that he noticed an improvement.  That was pretty gratifying.  Too bad it was on the very last day, and I'll have to go back to my usual swim time to continue fitness improvement.  But, I'll take the compliment; they don't come that often.

Age-group swimmers (adolescents) were zooming back and forth in the first four lanes and we oldsters in the other four.  Then, those groups were subdivided by ability (fitness and coordination) or by stroke.  Most of the oldsters are freestylers, but a couple of us were working on "strokes."  I do breaststroke better than the other strokes.  Of course, I had to kick with the bucket and then pull with various other implements of evil (paddles, tubes, pull buoy).  There are all sorts of things that have been dreamed up by diabolical demons (coaches) to emphasize the areas of the stroke that need special focus.  For me, it's timing and strength.  When is it ever NOT timing and strength, right?  (swimmers are all rolling their eyes and nodding heads yes).

Two other things:  First, I bought a new CD by Hapa called Surf Madness, after having been on Kauai in December and hearing a cut from it that I liked a lot.  The song sounds grand and celebratory to me.  The other is that I am sitting here looking out at gathering clouds and feel the air cooling down.  Rain is possible tomorrow, but so what, right?  Here's why I don't care:  I'm playing Hawaiian slack key music and getting in a Hawaiian groove, and I'm happy I put in the time to get fit again and do some bucket drills in the predawn hours since that's what it takes sometimes.  Check out Hapa, the cut called He'eia, and channel some ancient Hawaiian power.  Pretty cool.  (I saw this group play ten years ago and have been keeping an eye on their music, always feel it has a special energy and reach.  Hapa, by the way, means half in in Hawaiian.  One guy's haole and the other is Hawaiian, both talented and worth a listen.)

This Isn't Hawaii Anymore, Koko

I am not in Hawaii anymore.  The memories are strong, but my body is telling me:  It is cold and you need to put on something besides a bathing suit.  I keep looking through my pictures and reliving the warm pleasure we experienced on Kauai.  

There's nothing you can do about the weather where you live, but you can go somewhere where the weather is better.  "Better" is a relative term.  Friends of mine are sinking into depression when they realize rain has melted a good bit of the snowpack in the Sierra Nevada mountains.  Skiing is everything to them but not to me.  When storms slide slowly over the west, skiiers get giddy with excitement.  Me?  I'm thinking about sand, beach towels and a snorkel.  Snow is not "better" weather except when it beomes stored snowpack to feed streams and rivers in spring and summer.

Rustling palms, plumeria blossoms scenting the air and naturally ripened pineapple?  Now we're talking.

No, I'm not in Hawaii anymore, and I have to turn up the heater and put on my bulky winter clothes every day.  It's the sad fact of life in Monterey.  I know even that is very mild compared to you readers in Canada and Russia.  Hats off to you, you rugged northerners.  I'm a wimp in comparison.

My plan this Christmas is to make a gingerbread Hawaii scene, so when I make it, I'll post a photo here.  Palm trees, sandy beach, outrigger canoe, all with dried fruits and nuts for decorations on the icing.  Not bad.

Hawaii Travel Supply Checklist

Things to bring to Hawaii:

The obvious:

Bikini or swimsuit
flip flops
waterproof sunscreen
loose-fitting lightweight clothing such as shorts, t-shirts, sleeveless dresses, yoga pants, pareau
hat with a chin strap or one that fits your head very well - gusting tradewinds may carry a loose hat away
sunglasses
small portable digital camera

Not so obvious:

Binoculars
inexpensive beach bag
reusable carry sack
hiking sandals or very light boots with tread
insect repellent
rash guard
board shorts
fingernail clippers and emery board
waterproof wallet
windbreaker with hood (Gore-tex if you can afford it)
reef shoes
SPF lip balm and/or SPF lipstick

Hotels will have:

Boogie boards
towels for beach
bamboo mats for beach
fins, mask, snorkel, beach toys

Definitely try local "grinds," aka local favorite foods sold from food trucks or in hole-in-the-wall food joints.  Favorites include huli-huli chicken plate lunches at weekend barbecue set-ups (nonprofits and charity groups make money by selling plate lunches); kahlua pulled pork, macaroni salad, potato salad, lomi salmon, lau-lau (slow-cooked pork rolled up in ti and taro leaves), kim-chee, sticky rice, teriyaki beef, and a few others.

If you see a red flag on  the beach and no locals in the water, stay out; there's a bad current and/or shorebreak (waves breaking right smack on the beach) and you will be risking the wrath of the lifeguard as well as your life if you ignore it.  Lots of people are swept out to sea every year.  It's not a joke.

Use sunscreen on the upper part of your feet.  Sunburn is painful anytime, but burn your feet and that's it for you for awhile - it hurts.  In Hawaii, tropical sun is more intense.  White skin can't be rushed into suntan as much as you would like to think so.  Darker folks still can burn if you're not used to the tropical intensity.  Pace yourself and sit in the shade a lot; you'll be much happier than if you burn.

Leave your aggression, impatience and bad attitude at home.  Locals in Hawaii drive more slowly, things get done eventually, but there's no rush, especially if you have a negative pushy attitude.  If you feel your blood pressure rising because things are moving too slowly, go get in the ocean and swim for a while.  You'll feel like you're back in your mother's arms again.

More and more food items are produced in Hawaii, and the quality is great.  Pineapple and papaya as well as other island-grown fruit taste fantastic.  Support the local farmers and small-business owners; it's good karma and more fun.  Check the paper for farmer's markets and craft markets.  You'll be able to meet the locals face to face and find out all kinds of good information.  We found one jeweler who grew up in Monterey but who has lived in the islands for 30 years.

The only guide book we ever use now is the "Revealed" series (Oahu Revealed, Kauai Revealed, Hawaii Revealed, etc.) by Wizard Publications.  Lots of good local info, especially about places you'd never known existed otherwise.

Aloha!

From the Oahu Coast Back to The Groove

The Manoa Valley was stormy and windy, with rain coming down in pattering showers all night and a cool 67 degrees.  I set off for Honolulu early in the morning to explore for a little while before turning my car in and then going to the airport.

First of all, I had to have my cuppa Joe, so I tried out Great Harvest Bakery in the financial district, right across the street from the Hawaii Electric Company along a narrow lane.  The bakery is a cheery place that gives out large samples of their loaves, sells scones, sweet rolls and other delectables as well as coffee to go or eat in.  There are only four stools that line the window, and the counter is decorated with painted tin pots stuffed with bright pink cosmos daisies.  Baked goods were voted "Best Bread" in 2008 by the Honolulu Advertiser readers.  I think I agree, although Manoa's bakery around behind the Safeway store is running a close race with them.  Both require determined searching.

The air was filled with whisping, backlighted drizzles and rainbows arched across the sky.  Clouds were scudding overhead and sheets of gray rain in the distance over by Diamond Head looked dark, cold, wintry.  Scooting along the Ala Moana Boulevard, I decided to explore the large park that goes by the same name.  Its right across from gigantic Ala Moana Shopping Center, the country's largest outdoor mall.

The park is very large and part of it juts out beyond the boat harbor.  Joggers and walkers were out in number, as were a few locals fishing off the rocks and bantering in pidgin.  I needed to walk after my scone and cappucino, so I joined in the flow of energetic people getting their morning constitutional.  The city was to my right and Waikiki was way off to my left, as was the again-approaching storm.  No one looked to be deterred by the oncoming shower and the air temperature was warming actually.  Shirtsleeves and sandals were fine.  I think the looping course that took me along the perimeter of the main part of the park was about a mile around, maybe a bit less, all flat.  The views of the city were really nice; I appreciated the new vantage point.

I found the local swimmin' hole, a much better place than Queen's Beach for serious swimmers; Ala Moana is much more protected, much bigger and is lined by a very mildly sloping beach.  Next trip, I'll be in there.  Surprisingly, I never got in the water once the whole week, save a little ankle-sloshing walk once or twice.

My walk finished just before the shower hit.  I drove back to town and said a fond farewell to the cute little Mini Cooper that had been a zippy conveyance for my explorations.  The convertible top was useful on warmer, slower days.  I rented it from Little Hawaii car rentals, by the way.

It was very difficult to say good-bye to Oahu and its people.  I really hated to go for many reasons.  I'll go back; I'll return many times.  The ocean is so big there and so alluring.  The island seems simply to be a hopscotch point for those of us who are so often in a water-sport-loving groove.  Now I'm back in Pacific Grove and curious to see what comes next.  I'll let you know.

North Shore and Waimea Bay

Another day, another big cappucino in paradise.  I'm hooked.

I pointed the Mini Cooper's nose north today and let her have some rein, so off she zoomed to Haleiwa, a dinky and charming little town north of the pineapple plantations and east of the Waianae Mountians, the oldest range of extinct volcano remnants that make up Oahu.  I returned to the Haliewa Cafe where I'd enjoyed some pretty puffy pancakes in the past.  It's the only place I've been where you can see huge prints of north shore surf as you eat good grub, all in a funky local's-love-it setting.  This time I ordered a breakfast burrito and packed it off to see if I could find any decent-looking surf, for which this coast is so famous.

The prettiest beach along the north shore is Waimea Bay, a half-moon-shaped stretch of white sand hemmed in by tall mountains, a river that flows out into the bay from a canyon sacred to the original Hawaiians, and a tall art deco tower to the east.  I got there about 10 AM and found the parking lot half full, a good omen.  I sat on the beach, munching my burrito and watched locals dashing into the green-blue waves, one after another, to play in the surf.  No stress left in my bones, no sirree.

It was a 4- to 6-foot shorebreak, meaning I could hear the swish of the surfboards on the waves all the way up until they quit the wave in about 2 feet of water.  The acoustics in the bay are pretty remarkable; you can hear that kind of detail from about 100 feet away from the water's edge or farther.  They say that on big-wave days when the liquid mountains reach 30-40 feet, the sound they make is like guns going off up the valley.

After I'd had it up to here with handsome, muscular bronzed surfers dashing about in the sparkling surf, I drove the little Mini across the street and up a long beautiful drive to the Waimea Falls Park, a preserve and botanical garden run by the Audubon Society.   The walk was much easier than yesterday's walk, and the setting is much more parklike; they offer nature walks and talks every couple of hours.  There were a modest number of other visitors there, but most of the time I felt like I had the place to myself.  You walk on a gently uphill slope that curves and meanders past large plantings of tropical plants, arranged by geographic region.  The walk culminates at a 50-foot waterfall where a pool entices hot and foot-sore walkers.  There's even a lifeguard who can provide a life vest for a fee.

That was it for me.  Back to the car I walked, taking pictures of the exotic plants and enjoying the twittering invisible birds in the canopy overhead.  I saw one tree whose leaves were as large and round as serving platters.  Another had flowers that bloom white and gradually turn red.

All of Hawaii is suffering from its version of a drought, even though everything looks green and lush.  The riverbed running through the park is dry as can be.  The falls were running today, but after not too long the stream drops underground through the porous lava stones.

I'll be flying away home tomorrow, back to the Grove and all the rain they've been having.  My island adventure was too short but very good.  Lots of traffic on Oahu in every direction all day long.  Everyone and their dog has a car.  If you go to Oahu, buy Oahu Revealed (bright blue cover with a satellite view of the island) and look for things off the beaten path; you'll save money and find the relaxed beautiful island that you dream of.

Not in the Groove

I realized a couple of days ago that I was in Hawaii. Hmm, I said, this is not my usual groove, but I like it. Writing has been interrupted, thoughts misappropriated and my pace altered lately, but at least it's not the swine flu.

While I've been away, I saw Berkeley through the music of Van Morrison, who levitated on the Greek Theater stage for two and a half hours and then disappeared in a long white limo from stage left while his band was still playing. I don't know if he has ever visited the Grove where I live, but he might like it. The golf links may remind him of Ireland. Certainly, the cold ocean would do that. He wears a hat all the time and dark glasses and he makes sudden swatting motions toward band members as he sings, but you can't tell if he's doing some sort of musical direction or if he just needs to express himself wildly. Probably both. No telling though. Anyway, he played a song at the end and taught us all how to spell Gloria really well. The audience seemed thrilled to have learned how. They all stood up and clapped like mad. Also, his drummer fell over backward, but he's okay, during the changeover from one song to another, but I don't think Van noticed.

Then, I went to brunch with an exuberant Swiss man, Leander, and his beautiful wife, Kress. Gary joined in and we talked about airports and management and sailing in the Bahamas, which is where the Swiss and his Mrs are now. Sailing a 40-foot boat for 10 days in order to relax. They've been close to the Grove before and survived it pretty well. They like Monterey better, as do most people, because it's warmer and has a few dozen picturesque adobes built by early Californios. At some point along the line, we transitioned from being Californios to Californians, but I don't think it was during brunch that day. Probably earlier on in our history. So, after brunch, which by the way was at the Lafayette Park Hotel, we went home through miles of lush, flowering landscape. Spring has been unusually abundant with flowers, and I am renewing my pride in being a Californian, even if many other residents are throwing cigarette butts all over the place. The only thing I approve being discarded willy nilly is glass, but it must be thrown into the ocean so it can become sea glass.

No sooner had I arrived home than I went to a cardiology conference on Cannery Row, which has not one cannery on it anymore. There's a new gigantic hotel on the Row called Intercontinental The Clement or some odd contortion of words. It's very modern, the staff is very good, very well trained and they hand out warm cookies during breaks at conferences like mine, but I think that was because doctors were in attendance. You notice quite a bit of difference between conferences that doctors attend and those that humans attend. Doctors are lavished with delicious coffee, gourmet offerings of all sorts and many accoutrements too numerous to list. Nursing conferences give out stale bagels and Folgers. Nurses may be too tired to notice for the most part. They work hard and like to dream about what they would do if they won the lottery. They probably would not be attending conferences with doctors.

The conference was good, mostly because it had good food, but also because cardiologists talked about ablation, ST segment elevations and algorithms to determine candidates for surgical procedures. It made me appreciate the fact that they are up to their eyeballs in that material all the time and I am not, so I am very happy. But I am happy mostly because I am not at that conference but lived through it and consider it a miracle.

Next, I took a look around Specific Groove and could tell summer was getting closer again, just like it had a year ago. It's the worst time to spend time in town because it literally has the coldest average daily temperatures. So, I decided to follow through on plans to head off for Hawaii, which is when I noticed I was already in Hawaii. Jet lag you know.

Hawaii is more than that island. On this trip, it has been Oahu, too. I noticed I got taller in Hawaii right after I noticed I was actually here. Many people here are very short. They also like to be known as diminutive, but that word is not short - it has four syllables - so I prefer to call them short. Not only are they short, but they are Asian. I have resigned myself to being very visible by virtue of the fact that I can see the tops of so many heads wherever I go. I am sensitive to the fact that I need to use plenty of Kleenex when I am surrounded by seas of short people. The food servings are smaller because Asians seem not to embrace the concepts of hefty, gross, avoirdupois, or ginormous. Asians, more often Japanese in Hawaii than other nationalities, think in non-temporal terms. You, me eating. No past, no future, only now. It's very different than the Arabs who trust all in Allah at every moment. I wondered about that when I was surrounded by shuffling crowds on Kalakaua Avenue. One car entered an intersection hesitantly and then stopped. The driver looked up at the signal light, to the right, to the left, up again. Someone in the car unfolded a map. Another car zoomed crazily toward the same intersection and that driver seemed to be glowering darkly. He was dark and swarthy. I imagined he was on his way to midday prayers at the temple. He invented his own lane, did not bother with his brakes.

Hawaii is being overrun by English sparrows, who scream loudly for attention beginning at 5 AM, hoping for crumbs from tourists at cafes and park benches. If every English sparrow would just turn into a Hawaiian dove and coo sweetly instead, the world would be a much better place. I think W's entire cabinet will be reincarnated as English sparrows. Either that or cowbirds. More likely it will be cowbirds because they lay their eggs in host birds' nests, sneaking them in like CIA operatives. Then the hatchlings hog all the food that the adult birds bring home, eventually shoving the weaker nestmates out and grow up to be large, ugly and pigheaded.

We left Oahu and all its screaming invasive species as well as a pretty hefty amount of cash and went off to the Big Island. Paradise (aka Hawaii) is very relaxing until you realize how much money you are spending very rapidly. Then you wake up suddenly from one of those falling dreams, consider screaming for help and realize Specific Groove really has its merits. I shopped at Ala Moana all afternoon on Mothers Day as a sort of re-enactment of mother-child interdependence. It is also the mother of all malls (at least of those I have been to), which made it especially appropos. It has all of the exact same very expensive stores Kalakaua Avenue does except they are all right next to each other in one exorbitantly rich concentration. The Avenue is very long and there are various other business concerns interspersed along it that dilute the impact of buying $500 scarves and $1,200 purses. Ala Moana in comparison has 240 stores to tempt you. I resisted all but about three. Then I left the island.

I floated and bobbed and frolicked at Hapuna Beach until I could feel my sunblock falling back for reinforcements. I noticed a man who, if he had been dressed well in an elegant city like Paris or Milan, would have looked perfectly normal. But, he was overdone, just like a piece of beef jerky wearing running shorts.

I thought of tsunamis and earthquakes, lava flows and Pele demanding chickens be tossed into her calderas. Hawaii is a big new island compared to Oahu. I'm not sure where to get the chickens yet because we just got here, but I'll let you know. Maybe she'll accept English sparrows.