The Last Hurrah

Jon took Dena to the airport at 6 AM. Back to the small crew at the beginning of the trip -- just the two of us and Auntie Annette and Uncle Freddy. We are in a pattern of a slow starting morning, with blog writing and Jon doing some computer work and reading the newspaper (takes about 4 minutes) and sitting around talking and eating more starfruit.

Eventually it was time to take Fred to Babe's for exercise class, and then we figured out the rest of our adventures from there. Since we were so close, we drove up the winding road to Tantalus, high above the city. Such a lush jungle of bamboo and guava and ginger and thick vines and "paperbark trees" -- it's amazing to have so much green wilderness that close to the high rise buildings just a few miles down.

The vegetation is encroaching on the road.

Lots of branches and bamboo had clearly snapped in the high winds a few days ago and there had been clean-up crews making piles along the edge of the narrow road. We stopped at a trailhead (clearly labeled and mapped by Google) and headed up to see if there was a view. On the way up we saw a small group of hikers coming down: two young women and three toddlers plus one baby strapped to one of the moms. The kids were so small that the steps were higher than their waists and one of the moms was lifting them down each step. Everyone was muddy and cheerful. Clearly we should be able to make it up this hill if those little punkins could do it.

Hana's favorite kind of hike -- through a tunnel of growth.

We got to the lookout, maybe 1/4 mile in and stopped to take pictures and catch our breath. Hard to believe those short-legged people made that trek.  

Looking out over Honolulu.

Then back down through Makiki Heights and into town to the Kaimuki sandwich shop that Jon has been eyeing on his phone. We bought some fancy sandwiches and some small batch citrus and cucumber soda (that kind of place, like from Oregon) and went to have one last picnic at Ala Moana.

The last picnic.

Then we had time for one last shave ice stop and I got Charles' favorite: haupia shave ice with flan underneath and condensed milk on top. Gosh, that was sweet. Jon got Obama Rainbow with lilikoi topping. We texted Becca some pictures and she wrote back, "rude."

The last shave ice.

All of this was a lead-up to the real adventure of the day: going for an acupuncture treatment in Chinatown with Uncle Freddy.  It was supposed to be Becca's appointment but she had to go home before the first available time, so I decided I would be brave and do it. This would count as my first pro-active effort for my dumb knee, other than yoga and swimming and Aleve.  As it happened, I had neglected to take any Aleve for the last 24 hours so this would be a clean experiment. I would be able to tell if it worked, or if something was different. And I even did a little hike to really make my knee hurt.

The acupuncture office is a first floor storefront that opens right onto the corner of N. King and River Street. There are shelves of herbs and medicines in glass cases, a counter, and chairs for waiting patients.  The business is run by a husband and wife, licensed Chinese acupuncture doctors, with their daughter helping out between college semesters.  They are very kind and welcoming and it wasn't scary at all.  Dr. Lin took my blood pressure and she basically only asked for my phone number and birthday, and what I was interested in addressing.

She settled me on a narrow cot, arranging pillows so I would be comfortable, pushed my pants leg up over my knee and started pinging some tiny needles in. It didn't hurt, which was excellent.  I couldn't see anything over my belly, lying flat on my back, so I just had to imagine it all.  Then she wrapped some wires around the needles and asked me to tell her when I felt the electricity pulsing through. When I successfully reported feeling all the needles, she put a heat lamp over the whole thing and said she would be back in 20 minutes.  The pulsing was a little painful but certainly nothing to fuss about. I decided to take a nap.  After I was fully buzzed and heated, Mr. Dr. Lin came and did the rest, adding a new source of heat that looked like smoking giant crayons. Not sure how he got the heat into the needles but it felt quite good.  It seems to me that the inflammation is just about gone for now. I asked them how often I would need to go for acupuncture if this is how I wanted to treat my knee and they said about twice a week. It was spooky and cool and I would like to try that again. 

Jon picked us up (he had gone for a car nap) and we fought our way through the 4:00 traffic. Saw our first whole rainbow, where all the mist and fog was collected in the valley (sunny on the beach side). 

And now it is time to pack up and get ready to go. We will have one last dinner at Aina Haina Chop Suey, where the four of us had our first meal when we arrived 16 days ago. Many meals, many beaches, many car miles, many visits, saimin and shave ice, several adventures, a few hikes, and such nice warm weather every single day. What a glorious time. Tomorrow my mom and Michael L arrive to take over the cooking and the vacationing, so our relatives will not even miss us.

Some last pictures:

 

Dena's Last Day in Hawaii

It stopped raining and blowing in the morning, although there were still wind gusts, so Dena and Jon packed for all possibilities and set out to go hiking or snorkeling. I stayed home and made chicken soup and finished reading my novel. They say that the parking lot was not very full at Hanauma Bay, early-ish on a blustery Sunday morning, so they watched the mandatory introductory movie about protecting coral etc. and walked down the hill to the beach. Snorkeling was good, as always. I can imagine it well -- lots of colorful fish zipping and meandering in and out of the coral, paying no attention to the many people floating around on the surface staring down at them. The water was rough enough that swimmers weren't allowed to go about beyond the first reef, but there are plenty of fish in the closer reef anyway. Dena said that most of the people at the beach were Japanese tourists, which seems to be true all over the island.

The mandatory picture of Hanauma Bay, with the mandatory Japanese tourists.

Then they did the hike up to the ridge overlooking the bay, the same one Jon did two weeks ago with Auntie Annette (she says it is her favorite) and it was very windy up there on the exposed outside edge of the crater. 

Very windy on the ridge above Hanauma Bay.

When they got home, they found me and Annette and Fred sitting down for a civilized lunch of chicken soup (I had taken out all the funky stuff but Auntie Annette put it right back in because it is good food not to be wasted) and leftover shakshouka.  

The sun was shining enough that I wanted to go to the beach myself, so we packed up our suits and made a plan to stop and visit Auntie Evelyne on the way to town. Dena took a nap in the car while Jon and I went to say hello. We have not seen her in 20 years or more, I am guessing, and at 80 she is just as feisty and opinionated as ever. She is one of the most appreciative recipients of the annual holiday letter, and she always writes back, so it seemed like it was really time to stop by. We had an animated conversation about Trump (we are all in agreement), how children treat their aging parents (we have diverse opinions), Jewish customs (she can't imagine having a female rabbi and when Jon told her I had been president of our temple she responded with a shocked "but you can't!" She has not been keeping up with the times, in terms of progressive Judaism). It was a good visit, much better than I anticipated.

I was the only one of us who went into the water at Ala Moana. It was a little brisk out (windy enough that people's pop-up tents were blowing away) but once I got into the water it felt great. It was hard to swim in a straight line since the current kept blowing me sideways but it is impossible to get into trouble at that beach. Uncle Babe would have got seasick floating in that water for sure.

One more dinner with the five of us -- pineapple and pomelo and choi sum and leftovers and too many chocolate desserts (these people can't help buying from the bargain basket at Foodland). They have become quite comfortable with having live-in guests who cook dinner and since they are so appreciative of whatever we cook, it is a fine arrangement. If I bring a cup of hot water to Auntie Annette, she seems so surprised and happy it makes me want to do that all the time.

The older Hius are captivated by Facebook.

Wind and Rain and Shave Ice

After two big days, we had a small day. We finally had a rainy day, and it was windy and wet enough to keep us from attempting anything outdoors. In Hawaii, it can be pouring one minute and sunny the next, and it was one of those days. Lots of rain up in the mountains, the wind brought sheets of showers down the valleys, the sun poked out to bring moments of hope, followed by more wind and rain. We didn't even see any rainbows.

By the time we got ourselves into the car it was already about 10:30. Checked the map and discovered that the highway was bright red with traffic all the way into town. Rebecca used Google to help us wend our way through whatever side streets there were (and her phone helpfully told her that the farmers market would be closed by the time we arrived, without even being asked). We got to the KCC market at 11:00, just as the closing horn was sounded. Walked around while they were wrestling their tarps and tents down and bought some snacks and pineapple. That was a good enough taste of the market. We know exactly what it is like to sell in windy weather, and we could completely empathize with their readiness to pack up and go.

Toured around the semi-deserted areas near Waikiki and found our way to Wailoa Shave Ice.  CLOSED because no power. Drat -- this was Rebecca's most important goal for the day, in addition to eating at Zippy's. So we braved the traffic to the Zippy's in Kaimuki. This is a fast food restaurant with a local menu. Becca wanted spam musubi and loco moco. We had a fine lunch, sitting in a semi-protected area. Said hello to a couple of ladies who were wearing T-shirts from today's Women's March in Honolulu (should have gone but didn't know anything about it and didn't even imagine there would be one here) and thanked them for marching.

Still raining so we headed to the original Waiola Shave Ice and found it open and not busy. Room on the bench outside for us to sit and eat our yummy new flavors.

Charles will be so jealous.

Bought T-shirts for Charles and Ella (because we sent him a photo of ourselves and he said he needed a new shirt. Perfect.) from the grumpy old proprietor. Again, customer service doesn't have to be stellar when you have a business that has such momentum that the product is what people want, and the grouchy worker is just a part of the experience (memories of Attman's Deli in Baltimore from my youth). Very few businesses have that luxury. Also, it is not okay if the grumpy service person is young. That is just insulting. It has to be an elder who has earned the right to be a bit of a curmudgeon. In fact, there has to be someone there who is in contrast to the grumpy one in order for it to be okay. That's my theory.

We decided that we would rather be at home, so we took a breath and headed back into the traffic. The problem was that there was a water main break at the east end of the freeway and the whole road was closed. The entire southeastern quandrant of the island was affected by this road closure. All roads red, including the coast roads. We wiggled our way home, thanks to Google. Most everyone else just sat still in traffic, from what we saw.  

The wind gusts got more powerful and loud, rushing through the house all afternoon and evening. One huge gust blew one of the shoji doors apart, leaving a big gap in the living room wall (Jon spent part of the evening replacing it with another door from Annette's bedroom. It did not fit perfectly but it was better than a big hole.). Gusts were reported to be 50 - 60 mph.

After lying around in the living room for a while, I called Berta and tried to lure her over here. She had just spent hours getting home, and her husband had been stuck for three hours, so they were not much interested in going out again. But we were downstream of the blockage so Berta eventually agreed to come, since Rebecca was making dinner and she didn't have to bring anything. Berta and Jon and I spent a little while following a paper trail in Auntie Annette's files, and completed that minor administrative task. Berta and her sisters have been organizing their mom's papers for months and they are getting much closer to the finish line. Before they got in there, Annette's office looked remarkably similar to my mom's office. Sigh. I think both sisters are excellent filers, they just don't want to throw away stuff. 

Rebecca made a big pot of shakshouka (Benjamin's favorite Israeli dish with tomatoes and onions and red peppers, soupy enough to soft cook eggs on top). It was a hit.

As always, there is a wide variety of choices to eat. Fred, Berta, Rebecca.

We were waiting and waiting for my cousin Scott to arrive, but he was super stuck in that traffic and eventually, without telling us, he must have turned around and done something else. He eventually said he would be there by 9. Meanwhile, Becca had to leave for the airport and Berta went home, giving up on Scott.

But Scott did show up at 9, with his son Jett, and we had a rollicking conversation while they had some late night snacks. It was so much fun to see those two together -- Jett is 16 and is so much like his father, it's amazing. They laugh and laugh. It only took me about 5 minutes to talk Jett into coming to the farm this summer, but he doesn't have any better summer plans anyway. We watched the PVF movie from the website, which gave him a sense of what it all looks like.

Jett and Scott, helping to make a dent in the leftover desserts.

North Shore and New Years

I woke up at just a few minutes before 7 and asked Jon to figure out if the TV in our bedroom worked. I wanted to watch the inauguration. I just wanted to form my own opinions about the event -- as it happened, it only took about three seconds to reinforce my views but we watched the whole thing. As the TV came on, Chief Justice Roberts was beginning to recite the oath, and it went downhill from there. The speech was terrible, from beginning to end, in terms of content, presentation, vocabulary and tone.

And now I have spent the last hour or so watching the Women's Marches that are happening all over the country, and most especially in DC. This is what Facebook is for: real time updates. Lots of pictures of friends and their daughters and sons crowded together on the Mall, smiling and proud in their pink hats.

Meanwhile, back on Oahu, the vacation travelers maintained their focus. As usual, we started slow, eating breakfast and diddling around. By the time we got to the entrance to Hanauma Bay, it was already filled up and closed, alas. So we made an alternate plan to go around the island to the North Shore. Navigation did not go entirely smoothly, but it is hard to get lost on an island of this size, and we began our coastal trek in Kaneohe, heading counterclockwise. All but Dena had been on this tour many times but it is still fun to see the beaches and the scenery and to find out what has changed -- so many more food trucks and places to stop and eat than before. And much more traffic than in the past (Auntie Arlene reported earlier that Hawaii has been flooded with visitors for the last few years because it feels like a safe place.). We did stop at a familiar shrimp place, where the shrimp farms are.  Service was extremely slow but the shrimp was good.

The goal was to see surfing on one of those famous beaches. We stopped at Sunset Beach where there were tons of spectators watching a competition. The waves were good but not outrageous, maybe 12 - 14 feet. The surfers were between 12 and 17 years old and when they got out of the water they had to endure being interviewed on camera. We were lying close enough on the beach to hear the questions and answers and it was as entertaining as watching the surfers: the questions were not hard and the answers were youthful. The winner of one heat, representing South Africa (from Mexico, and he botched the answer of where he was from), said he didn't care about winning, he just liked the experience of this water. There were heats for girls too, and they were just as fearless on their boards as the boys. We wondered why some people took two boards out and we learned that some boards had already broken and they were delivering replacements to the surfers.

The announcer pointed out humpback whales when they breached, and Jon actually got to see them this time.

Things to look for: surfers' heads bobbing between the waves above Hana's head and the splash of a whale at the horizon above Dena' head.

Our next destination was shave ice, but the lines were just too long and we didn't have time to wait so we continued on to the next source of sweet, cold treats: Dole Plantation. On her last trip to Oahu, Rebecca had developed a fondness for soft serve pineapple ice cream. It was extraordinary, she was right. Then we had to get back home because we had family obligations.

We had expected to find Uncle Freddy here waiting for us to pick him up, but Annette was here too, so we quickly got ready and all went together in one car, which was a better plan anyway. Jon dropped us off in Chinatown and went to find parking (streets were closed for New Years celebrations). We were going to a New Years party at Tsung Tsin, a private club for Hakka folks. My Grandpa Hiu was Hakka, one of the subgroups from southern China with a personality and identity of its own, and his portrait is up on the wall with all the other former presidents of this club.

Completely different from what you might expect of a club on the East Coast -- not at all fancy, it was just a big room with a tiny kitchen at one end and a bathroom. The room has tables and chairs and artifacts and documents. It is their common house.  

We were welcomed warmly and Rebecca was immediately cornered by an elder gentleman from Hong Kong. He wanted her to understand why it was important to remember the history of the Hakka, and their role in the revolution in China. It was not completely comprehensible to us, but he was clear that Chinese people from Hawaii had been influential in the revolution. They were educated people (going to schools here and on the mainland) and they used Pig Latin (!!!) to communicate when they didn't want to be understood by others. This seemed incredible to us, but he was completely serious and said that he couldn't speak Pig Latin himself, as English is not this first language.

There was a roast pig, sitting in a cardboard box, staring at us during the opening ceremony.  A gentleman in a red jacket said some words about honesty and hard work and other shared values, he lit incense, he poured tea, he performed a ritual that was both familiar and alien. Certainly we have some of those ritual elements in our religion too (not the pig).  

All the elements of the ritual are present: pomelo, candy, tea, incense, can of fish, pig.

I asked Rebecca's informant how many other people in this room knew how to do that ceremony and he said none. I wasn't surprised. Dinner was potluck. These people take potluck very seriously and there was enough food for twice as many people. Dena said it was the one of the best meals she had ever had (reminding us fondly of Michael L). Almost all Chinese dishes, with a few exceptions, and plenty of variety. Cantonese food, not spicy, plenty of meat and noodles and sauce. The eggplant dish that Uncle Freddy brought from Aina Haina Chop Suey was the first to empty, so even if we didn't cook anything, he contributed honorably.

Then for about two hours there were lion/dragon dancers in the street below. We leaned out the windows and watched the lion/dragon (two people with a big heavy mask head on the front and a wildly colorful body -- the back person was much smaller, sometimes just a little kid, and the front person was strong and tall enough to lift and lower the heavy head). There were different clubs, each with drummers and dancers and it seemed like each club had two lions. The drummers could be as young as about 8 years old, but there were also adults switching in and out. The lions would collect dollar bills from the crowd -- people stuck the bill into the mouth and the lion would dance and bow. Strings of Chinese firecrackers popping and cracking made the lion dance and stomp all around the explosions. Each club had a couple of men managing, telling the kids when to switch out under the costume (it was really sweaty work, dancing all bent over underneath that heavy blanket), and swatting the costume if it ever had a firecracker burning on it. The Yeung Dak Lion and Dragon Club seemed to have staked out our part of the street, perhaps by tradition, and those lions danced up the stairs to us and bowed before the altar, honoring ancestors, and then moved through the room collecting dollars.

The dance troop in front of the Tsung Tsin Club. There were, maybe, 12 different troops on the streets of Chinatown.

The percussion section of the troop. 

Hana, feeling a little squeamish, feeding the lion.

There was a long quiet gap while we waited for the Chinatown Narcissus Queen and her court to pay us a call. Many people went home as it got later and later, but we stayed because we had never seen this before and because Auntie Annette seemed to be there for the long haul. Eventually at about 9:15 there were shouts, announcing the arrival of the Queen and her court, as well as the business-attired Chamber of Commerce. The whole thing was a bit comical but also completely straight up. The girls in their crowns and gowns climbed the stairs, smiling and waving, sat at the table that was cleared and waiting for them, drank water out of plastic cups (Chinese people are so not fancy), and had their pictures taken with members of the Tsung Tsin club. The Chamber of Commerce people stood around and smiled. Such good local theater.

The queen, and some of her court.

I was pleased to be able to identify myself as the granddaughter of one of the presidents in the portrait gallery. Rebecca said immediately that Grandpa Hiu looked like a white guy, which is interesting because I think he looked so Chinese. It made me feel like one of the group in the room, even though I have so little Chinese identity most of the time. There are enough hapa haole (mixed) people here that I look like I could live here. 

Kayaking Adventure

At last, it was the day for adventure. We packed lightly, not being preparedness experts (like Laura is) and headed for the other side of the island. Went back up the Pali Highway since Dena had never been there and Rebecca has only been there about five times.

Kaneohe Bay, where we soon would be, from the Pali overlook.

Still a gorgeous view. Then down to Kaneohe Bay and Heeia State Park. When we walked into the big lodge, there was a staff meeting going on (this pleased Becca, to see real life activity in the same space the public visits) so we waited a bit for some attention. There is a small nonprofit that runs a rental business and some sort of educational program for kids -- they get a 5 on google and a 4.9 on Yelp. That's all we knew when we got there. It was a simple, inexpensive process to get two kayaks and some gear and a (somewhat useful) map.

Kaneohe Bay is quite shallow and rocky on the coast side, then there is a deep part with dark blue water and more choppiness and then there is a wide sandbar about a mile off the shore. We headed for the sandbar.

The yellowish line near the horizon is the sand bar we paddled out to and snorkeled at.

Out there you can get out of the boats and stand up and the water is about knee high.  We saw a big sea turtle immediately, paddling past us. We hung around on the sandbar and did some snorkeling (lots of sea cucumbers on the bottom and some fish, but nothing dramatic). It was fun to be in water that didn't swamp the snorkeling tube with waves. Lots more turtles but no manta rays (that was okay with me).  

It was a mild adventure, but it counted. We had to paddle against the current, we had to navigate our way back (funny how different it looks coming from the ocean direction -- Jon and Dena didn't realize we were almost back at the beginning until they were 100 yards away, but Becca and I knew where we were going so we wouldn't have let them go too far past), and we had to paddle together, not necessarily a native skill of ours.

We didn't take our cameras while paddling so this picture is at the end.

Some of us didn't have dry clothes, but we figured that if we wore them wet they would dry out pretty soon. We regretted not bringing at least one extra shirt (Dena did, of course, but the rest of us travel a little too light). Good Vietnamese lunch in Kaneohe and then Becca and I napped in the back seat while Jon drove us home the long way, stopping at scenic overlooks.

Looking back up the coast towards Kaneohe and Kailua. The hill in the distance behind Dena is the MCBH (Marine Corps Base Hawaii) which was convenient when President Obama stayed at his home in Kailua.

Shave ice in Hawaii Kai (which Becca agreed was pretty good, so we have two approved sources now) and home to get another leftovers meal on the table. It is a constant battle, keeping the fridge from overflowing, and rotating the stock.

Back at home, people are preparing to descend on the many guest rooms in our community, getting ready for the Women's March. I hope somebody writes a good report, since we will still be seeking adventure far away from the political realities that are unfolding.

In Lieu of Adventure

Even though Rebecca is on a quest for at least one adventure, we decided to hold off for one more day, doing less exciting things before Dena joins us.  We decided food and beach would keep us entertained enough (Rebecca is being very patient with her elders). First, Rebecca spent 15 minutes energetically emptying the fridge of all dubious leftovers, filling a garbage bag -- her favorite source of nutrients is leftovers, and those were not up to her standard.  We needed room to start fresh.

We dropped Fred off at Uncle Babe's for exercise class and headed to Char Hung Sut -- partly to see if it is still there after all these years. This is a Chinese bakery in Chinatown, run by the family of some Au Hoy cousins (same generation as my mother). It has been there since the beginning of time, and it always looks the same to me. Rebecca says it feels like we are going in the back, but that is because there is no front presentation at all, just a small door in a cinderblock wall. You walk straight into what seems to be a part of the production area and there is a counter to place your order, but not much of an explanation of what is available.  In other words, you have to know how to shop there, much like coming to PVF.  People are often baffled by our style at the stand (even though we feel that we are making it easy) -- I see a family resemblance: longevity in business despite a philosophy that is not entirely customer based. It looks like they make huge quantities for restaurants, so maybe their retail business is not their focus.  Anyway, we ordered a mixed box of dumplings and Manapua, thinking we would have that for lunch. It was 11:00 or so.  My cousin (whoever he is, I recognized him but did not stop to identify myself since we didn't have Mom with us) tied up the box with twine, just like at Modern Pastry in Boston (says Becca).

By the time we were about three blocks away, we had figured out how to wrestle that twine off the box and within about 20 minutes we had tested, then eaten, all of it.  So much for a picnic.  But then we were ready to walk around the swap meet in the heat of the day.  As I have said already, I don't like to get hot and sweaty on vacation -- then it feels like I am at work.  So walking around in the sun was not ideal, from my perspective. We walked in and out of the tents, looking at fruit, tacky souvenir things (can't spell tchotchke), shirts, identical print dresses and bathing suits, phone cases, ukuleles. It was pretty much the same as always, and I always look for my particular dresses.  The best ones weren't there.

We were still pondering the adventure possibilities and we headed back toward town to check out the scuba options.  Then Rebecca remembered that she had not brought her contact lenses, and neither had Jon, so the whole idea went by the wayside. What's the point if you can't see anything?  We opted for shave ice instead -- something you can't do in Delaware.  On the way there, I got a call from Nancy, getting me caught up on the status of things with Seldon (it was very nice to hear her voice, even if some of the news is complicated and hard) and Jon and Becca went into Waiola's and here is Becca's review, in her own words:

The guide book in Kauai, while charmingly written, was entirely untrustworthy by my account because it made such a big deal over such a lousy shave ice place (JoJo's something something). The difference in quality of shave ice isn't at all about the flavor, it's about the texture of the ice shavings. When "the best shave ice in Kauai" is a pile of flavored ice chips, it worries me that my memories of shave ice might be a case of absence making the heart grow fonder. Maybe all shave ice is like this, and I've concocted an elaborate fantasy in my head about what is, in fact, my favorite dessert in the entire world. This seemed to be corroborated by the grain of the ice at another shave ice place in Kauai, Uncle's something something. Garbage! Crap!

This is all necessary backstory leading up to Dad and I entering the Waiola's. Dad was carefully tempering my expectations ("You know what's going to happen, right? You're going to go in here and taste the shave ice and say, 'No no, this isn't the real original Waiola's, the stuff at that location is better.") We got lilikoi milk ice, whatever that means, and haupia and melona shave ice, and I, with bated breath, finally tasted it.

And I was right! It is the best! Dude from the Kauai guide book needs to up his game.

Then we went back to Ala Moana Beach and played in that clear aqua water. It was a little cloudy so it was too chilly to float forever, but plenty warm for naps on the beach.  The ever-present Japanese brides were getting photographed, with the wind in their hair and the sand on their beach gowns.

At Costco we admired all the local items (poi from Hanalei, aisles and aisles of macadamia nuts, poke, Hawaiian sweet bread) in vast quantities.  Unlike other places on the island, Costco prices are entirely comparable to mainland prices.  We bought roasted chickens for dinner for $5 each, which seems criminal.

Before leaving for Kauai, I had asked Scott what night he could come for dinner and he suggested Wednesday.  So a whole family meal grew out of that brief, noncommittal conversation.  As it happened, Scott couldn't come but we had a crowd of 11: Berta, Alan and Sandra and Micah, Babe and Arlene and the five of us from this house.  The table filled up with all the contributions: sushi and salad and wide noodles and Costco chicken and so much more.  I sat at the small table with Alan and family and we got caught up on the last 6 years of news -- plus I spent some time trying to convince Micah, 12, that is time for him to come to the farm for his stint. He looked dubious but his parents were enthusiastic. 

Fred, Berta, Rebecca, Annette, Arlene, Alan, Babe, Micah, Hana, Sondra.

Jon went to the airport to pick up Dena while the rest of us tried to fit all the leftovers into the fridge. Now we have a full house, with Becca and Dena on couches and all the beds filled. 

Slow News Day

Today's mission was to move ourselves back to Oahu and to get Laura back to Seattle.

First we had to try to eat all the leftovers. Breakfast had diverse menu options, from the daily tropical fruit and granola to poke (raw tuna), hamburgers, pickled ginger, rice. Then we had to pack in the way that meets the needs of Island Air: for some reason they think it makes sense to limit one carry-on item to 16 pounds and pay no attention to the weight of the personal bag. Since we are all getting on the plane with our various luggage items, or wearing whatever doesn't fit, it makes no logical sense in terms of total weight on the plane, but whatever. There were only about 15 of us on the flight so the whole weight limit policy was irrelevant, in this instance.

We made one more beach stop at the kind of beach that I like best -- with waves on the outside of a breakwater, and a calm little harbor for floating and swimming. Lots of kids and hairless beach apes (Sherman's Lagoon reference) standing in the water, chatting. We remember bringing our kids here when they were little, and seeing a hula show and playing on the huge playground structure. This time our picnic was a big plate of leftover salad that we couldn't eat for breakfast, and we fed the rice to the chickens.

Hana's kind of calm water.

Lani would approve.

The trip back was uneventful, but when we got on the road to Honolulu the traffic was terrible.  It took us an hour to get through town. We stopped at a restaurant that Auntie Arlene had mentioned as one of her favorites and we had a random assortment of dishes that seemed interesting:

pig cheek, garlic chili chicken wings, brisket and tendon soup (those were all Becca and Jon), loco moco and choi sum (me) and we finished it off with a massive dish of green tea snow ice. Not very sweet but worth trying.

As soon as we got home, Becca went outside and picked a pomelo and peeled it expertly. She has been waiting a long time for one of Auntie Annette's pomelos.

Coffee and Saimin

We built our day around an uncertain plan -- we knew we had to be in Lihue to meet up with Roger and Gail (our hunter friend from Virginia and his partner) sometime in the afternoon. So we headed toward the only part of the island we haven't toodled around in yet -- where the resorts and tourists are bunched up.

We stopped at the Kauai Coffee Company, the biggest coffee plantation in the US. It doesn't say anywhere that it is the best coffee in the US (Kona gets that distinction) but it is a 3100 acre operation, transitioned 30 years ago from sugar cane and rice. There is a tourist-friendly visitors center with lots of samples, a movie, a self-guided walking tour with amusing signs. We learned about current day coffee growing technology (so much irrigation, so much harvesting -- 28 million gallons of water a day, four million trees -- their figures, but is it possible that they put 7 gallons on each tree each day?) and how they decide what is premium and what is just every day coffee.

Coffee Harvester straddles the whole tree and yields one pound of processed coffee per tree. (LC)

Then to our daily beach stop (Becca is dismayed that we are not doing anything that we couldn't do in Delaware -- we just keep going to the beach and eating...she wants adventure).  As always, the setting was gorgeous, with white sand and palm trees and flowers and all the usual beach stuff.  The most crowded of all our beaches so far, due to its proximity to the hotels.  But I was disappointed to find that  under the water was all rocks.  No way to walk around in the water. Why did this beach become such a focal point, just like Waikiki?  These are substandard!  But apparently there was good snorkeling in that little spot because there were dozens of snorkelers floating around together.

Even the most crowded beach on the island is beautiful.

We got a text from Gail, letting us know their tour bus was coming back from Waimea Canyon and they would be back at the ship in half an hour. We bustled into town, identified a lunch spot, dropped off Laura and Becca since we only have four seats in the car and went down to Nawiliwili Harbor to find our tourist friends.  It would have been absolutely impossible to miss that ship. It filled the whole space, vertically and horizontally.  Fourteen decks high, a Princess Cruise ship: I have never seen one before and it is a sight to behold. (I now have a much clearer appreciation of the work that Laura's husband Stuart does. He is a pilot who gets those cruise ships and tankers through Puget Sound. Yikes.) Roger and Gail, sunburned and happy, were sitting on a bench at the security gate, waiting for us.  We whisked them away and went to lunch at a local saimin shop. Lunch counter service, small menu, truly a neighborhood establishment. Perfect.  We all got saimin and then we got a whole lilikoi chiffon pie.  HEAVEN. We gave the two leftover pieces to some local customers who came and sat at our table as we were leaving, and they were bowled over with joy.

Saimin for all. Roger, Gail, Hana, Laura, Rebecca.

Gail wanted to put her toes in the Pacific, since she had been cruising about 150 feet above the surface for a week, admiring it from afar.  Laura and Becca walked to a local museum and Jon and I drove our friends to a nearby beach.  Considering we didn't have a plan at all, this all worked out perfectly.

Gail and Roger finally feel the sand between their toes.

The rest of the day was normal:  shave ice, a brief stop at our own personal beach (I saw one more whale and Jon and Laura went in the water one last time), a delicious dinner on the lanai, and hours of storytelling after dinner. Luckily Laura doesn't know all our stories yet, and we don't know hers.

Daily shave ice stop. Note that bench is made from a pick-up truck tailgate.

Sunset at the beach within walking distance of our apartment.

Two Go Hiking, Two Stay Home

Jon and Laura left early, heading back up the Waimea Canyon road to the last lookout so they could do the hike through the highest swamp in the world. Rebecca and I stayed home and lounged. She went for a walk around the area, getting her bearings while I stayed home and typed. After a few lazy hours, we slathered her with sunscreen and headed out to our beach. It is utterly luxurious to have a gorgeous beach just across the road -- we just took our hats, mats, books and went to read and lie in the sun. When we got hot we walked into the ocean just enough to get cooled off.

Meanwhile, the hikers were doing a really hard hike, as it turned out. Lots of climbing over roots and rocks, going up and down steep hills, walking on ridges. They were lucky and they got a good view of Hanalei Bay at the end -- they met another hiker who had done the hike a total of 7 times and had never seen the bay because it was always too foggy or voggy (volcanic fog). The hike was 7.5 miles round trip, which is the longest hike Jon has done in 8 years. When they got back at around 2:15, Laura said she was hobbling and she went right to the hammock for a few hours of recuperation.

Much of the trail is on boardwalk -- here through
a low forest. (LC)

Some of the slopes had steps built for convenience.

Again, the path goes through the forest.

Some of the trail was through low scrub. Here, the
boardwalk has been replaced by Trex.

A steep downhill with large ruts
and many roots.

The older boardwalk has disintegrated in
places. (LC)

A panorama shot from the overlook at the end of the trail. (LC)

A close-up of Hanalei Bay from the overlook, looking north. (LC)

After a football watching break, Rebecca and Jon headed out to shop for our next meal. Then we had a discussion about whether it was worth going out to have our daily picnic, since it would be so much easier just to stay home for dinner (Becca was against the logistics necessary for this picnic, Jon was for it on principle). We headed out to the beach and had a lovely picnic at a picnic table and we got to see whales! Multiple whales, multiple times -- spy hopping (that means coming straight out of the water, vertically), spouting, flapping their fins. (Alas, no pictures.) Laura got in the water and said it was the nicest yet -- no current, friendly waves. The red sun went below the horizon in a hurry, sparking a discussion about whether the sun moves at the same pace as it crosses the sky (we know it is not the sun moving) and why it appears to speed up when it gets close to the horizon.

Another picnic at the beach,

At the end of the day, Rebecca only had a sunburn on her shin and the top of her feet, where the sand and the water rubbed off her goopy sunscreen. We had haupia and pomelo for dessert. Mm mm.