Low Mileage Day

Another sunrise in Paradise. (LC)

Before I write the story of Saturday-Another-Day-In-Paradise, I need to reflect on what is happening at home. Not the weather, and not on the farm, but in the lives of some of my closest friends. After several months in hospital and rehab, our friend Seldon, 86, has suffered another setback and is back in the hospital. This worries me deeply. He was making progress, slow and not steady, but we could imagine a positive outcome. You can always imagine a positive outcome. But the more stress that he and his family experience, physical and emotional, the harder the climb. This is the only -- and I mean the only -- thing that makes me wish I were home. It is hard to be helpful from 5000 miles away and it makes my heart heavy. We are sending our thoughts and prayers to this family that means so much to us.

Meanwhile, we continue our carefree existence on this tiny island in the Pacific. We decided to stay close to home today, exploring our own neighborhood, so to speak. Laura walked to the farmers market in Kekaha, about ten minutes on flat ground, and discovered that the market had decreased drastically in scope since she was here ten years ago.

Low-key and friendly. (LC)

This is quite a bit more then we would do
in Loudoun but the idea is the same. (LC)

She collected up some fruits and vegetables and we picked her up and went to the town of Hanapepe to browse. After 3 minutes, Jon and I could see that this town was not our style, as cute as it is. It has art galleries and restaurants and local this and that and it all feels like a place that a cruise group would enjoy. Laura shopped for a bit but decided it had become too expensive and Georgetown-ish, even for her. But I did find the hanging bridge that crosses the wide stream and we walked across it. It is the kind of bridge Jon imagines building in Loudoun.

It was really hot and sunny. I don't like to be hot enough to sweat if it is not a necessary part of working or exercise, so I voted that we stop walking around in that heat and find another activity. We went to Waimea on the way home --  much less cutesy -- and bought some lunch. Laura and Jon had some interest in watching football games in the afternoon, so that gave us an excuse to go back inside for a while. After some football and some delicious island tacos, we set out for the beach. Life is so rough.

We were headed for the beach that is at the 9:00 end of the road. The guide book warned us strongly about driving on the sand and other possible troubles, but it didn't say anything about how absolutely bumpy and terrible the dirt road would be. At the end of the paved road, you turn left onto a wide unpaved road that says it is 4.9 miles long even though the guide book said it was 3.2. We have experienced these discrepancies before and they mystify us.Those numbers are so specific. Anyway, with our little rental car with the normal sized tires we could only go about 5 mph (on the way back out, we timed it and figured out it was 6 mph), which was arduous and bouncy and certainly made me question the wisdom of this jaunt. Eventually we got to the big monkey pod tree and turned left, which turned out to be smart. That was the 3.2 mile choice. The beach is a long, long stretch of white sand with long, long big waves -- and nobody in the water. Plenty of 4WD pickup trucks and guys with surfboards, but no one playing in the water.

A very pretty beach, but a little rough. (LC)

As I have said before, this is a sure sign that I am not going in. None of us did. We retreated to the beach that is just a brief walk from our house.

Laura and I selected the section of beach that had the most children in the water and we ventured in. I am a scaredy-cat so it was still nerve-wracking but we dove through the waves and stayed out there for a while until I had used up enough adrenaline. There were plenty of surfers and boogie boarders to watch.

Jon went to get Rebecca at the airport while Laura and I tried to watch a movie on Jon's computer. Neither one of us has ever actually learned to use a PC to get to a movie and we laughed so hard I almost peed -- we were texting Becca as she was taxiing in on the runway, asking how to do it, and Jon simultaneously.  Eventually we successfully got to watch Little Miss Sunshine, inspired by last night's movie.

Becca arrived and happily ate all the leftovers from dinner, even though it was a pretty weird concoction of vegetables, held together as a Thai curry. She said, sweet potatoes?! Beets?! 

In Which We See Other Tourists

After Jon and Laura came back from their morning beach walks, we packed up and headed out for the big day of going all the way to the end of the road. There is no road that goes all the way around the island as the part between about 9:00 and 11:00 (if you think of this as a clock) is not navigable. Our house is at about 8:00, using this construct, so we were going to travel counterclockwise to the top. The whole road is 65 miles long, about as long as the Capital Beltway. Most of it is two lanes but there are some pieces that are four lanes, briefly.

All of us have been to Kauai before so we have associations and memories of different hikes and beaches and food sources, but none of us can remember anything all that clearly, so it all feels interesting and familiar at the same time. Kind of like visiting points of interest in our childhoods.

We left the house at about 8:30 in the morning and got to the first farmers market that was listed in our little advertisement packet/map from the car rental company. This one was in a warehouse building and it wasn't really a farmers market, it was more of a sales gallery, with locally made artwork and clothing and baked goods and one table with one farmer-type setting up. But we bought a selection of papayas and avocados and baked things, and Laura got herself a cute dress while we were at it. Clearly this trip was going to take a while.

We toodled along, and the next time we stopped was in Hanalei, if you don't count all the post offices we stopped at to try to find postcard stamps for Laura. Post offices don't open very early here. Hanalei is relevant because that is where my Grandma Hiu was born and raised. Hanalei is a valley, there is a bay, a beach, and now a busy tourist industry where they used to be a tiny town, we assume. In the flat and very green valley are fields of taro and I don't know what else. We have a feeling for where my grandmother's house used to be because there is a tight hairpin curve right at a bridge that crosses over a stream and that is where her house was, 100 years ago. Grandma Hiu described the house as being over the stream, and she remembers feeding the fish below by throwing food scraps into the water (her offspring now feed birds and woodland creatures by throwing food off the back porch). She was the 5th of 12 children, if I remember this right, and she spent her childhood mostly playing with her brothers who were closest to her in age, living the idyllic tomboy life.

Hanalei Valley.

Hanalei is now a place to get smoothies and shave ice and coconut milk and everything you would ever need if you arrived empty-handed and wanted to play at the beach forever. We got some more poke for our picnic and headed on. When we got to the beach that we remember being our all-time favorite with our kids, we found the parking lot packed full. Jon could hardly recognize the beach, since when we came the last time we were the only ones here. This time the waves and the current were so strong that the lifeguard made repeated announcements, warning people to stay back from the water. We had our picnic, watched the waves for a while, and headed out again.  

Last trip this we ranked this beach the best in Hawaii. Now it is fine for a picnic.

The many one lane bridges at the top of the island have signs that say:  Local Courtesy 5-7 cars. This pleases Jon greatly, as he is always so frustrated at the local culture in Virginia which is one car at a time. 

The road curved along the coastline, with the cliffs on one side and the beaches on the other.

Laura on the Kalalau Trail.

The Na Pali coast from the trail. (LC)

When we got to the end of the road, it too looked completely different from the time we did the Kalalau Trail 35 years ago. The trail head looks the same, but there is now a parking lot and a bathhouse and a bazillion people. Laura and Jon hiked in about a half mile and then eventually came back out to the beginning and found the side trail they were really looking for, taking them to the ancient heiau (a Hawaiian sacred site, now just rocks where there used to be thatched roof buildings, centuries ago). I sat at a table and finished reading The Underground Railroad. It was disorienting to look up from my book and try to remember where I was. 

The trail head looks the same as in 1982.

From the heiau, a small plateau overlooking the Pacific. While the parking lot and trail were packed with people, this spot was off the beaten path, behind a Keep Out, Restricted Area sign -- a limitation that would never discourage Laura.

Laura paying respects at the heiau.

All over this island, in every view at any time, there are small colorful roosters and hens. It is like the cats in Israel and the dogs in Greece. The chickens here are a protected species because they are historic -- they arrived with the Polynesian explorers in their canoes, apparently. Anyway, there is a soundtrack on this island that goes about 20 hours a day, roosters in the distance, roosters outside the window, roosters everywhere. Jon and Laura can't even hear them anymore, but I notice when they settle down at dusk.

Rooster and consort.

We still hadn't found a beach to swim at, so as we headed back on our clockwise trip, we studied the beaches along the way. The waves were dramatic -- and no one was in the water at most beaches. Laura read from her irreverent guidebook which advised us to skip most of the beaches for one reason or another. Murky water, murky people. Beautiful view, bad swimming. So we kept going until about 4:30 (both in time and my island geography method) when we finally found a beach with people in the water. Waves and nice sand. Jon doesn't understand why I am so disinclined to go into water with waves and a strong current. I have strong memories of getting crashed around and banged on the sand and I have no interest in reliving that. I know that I can swim well enough to get in and out, but what's the point. So I dillydallied in the surf at the edge and they played in the water.

No swimming here. (LC)

We got stuck in traffic and it seemed ridiculous to spend time sitting in traffic at 6 PM so we found a review for the best local food on the island. It was in an industrial park in Lihue, but there were nice picnic tables. We watched the big rigs and pickup trucks go past as we ate our dinner, which was not extraordinary. The mochi was delicious and Laura went back for a second piece. If that is the best food on the island, then our own kitchen is by far the best restaurant.

It felt like the middle of the night by the time we got home. An 11 hour trip, covering 100 miles. (The Internet tells us that the record for running that distance is 11 hours and 28 minutes. Less than seven minute miles on foot.) We were tired after our day in the car. We settled down on the couch and watched the New Zealand movie that Alissa and Becca had shown us at Thanksgiving -- we knew Laura would like it too. Hunt for the Wilderpeople. 

Poking Around

Laura went for a walk on the beach and then we had some of this pile of tropical fruit for breakfast, plus some scrambled duck eggs.

The sunrise to start the day. (LC)

We did not rush out of the house and by the time we were ready to go, it was hot and sunny. We are on the dry side of the island so it will probably never rain here, which feels so unusual. We headed up to Waimea Canyon, stopped at the lookouts, continued up to the Kalalau Lookout.

Waimea Caynon. The "Grand Canyon of the Pacific," but not a quote from Mark Twain. (LC)

We got lucky -- it was clear for a moment (in the middle of the day it is usually all socked in with clouds, at that elevation of about 5000 feet and so close to the wettest spot on the planet) and the view was spectacular.

Of course looking down over that remote beach reminded us of our big hike over 30 years ago, back when we could carry a pack and do one of the most famous and challenging hikes on this island. At the time I probably didn't understand what we were taking on, which is good, but we made it and it was the hike of a lifetime. Most memorable was how wet it was (rained all the time), how our boots were wet the whole time because the trails had running water rushing down them and how mangled the bushes and trees were because we came in right after a historic hurricane that closed everything down for a month. But we were young and strong and probably foolish. It was a romantic thing to accomplish: I just read that it was a total of 5000 feet of elevation that we climbed and it was about a 24 mile round trip. When we camped, we tried to dry everything out but as I remember that didn't really happen. The ocean views were memorable, and the waterfalls and giant ferns in the valleys were just as dramatic. Now we just have to drive to lookouts and look out. Ah well.

Kalalau valley and beach, the end point of the Kalalau trail. (LC)

Laura and Jon did one small hike on the way back down from the lookouts -- I walked in with them for about 5 minutes so I could see what I was missing and then I went back to get the car so I could meet them at the other end. The other end of the trail was unmarked so I had to drive back and forth, trying to guess where they might emerge from the bushes. No cell service, but we did have a backup plan if necessary. No worries. When we met up again, Jon had a shirt full of tiny guavas. Laura said she had already eaten 50 of them.

A banana poka blossom. (LC)

We came back down off the ridge (Jon remembered the mountain roads we were on a year ago in Spain, the switchbacks and valleys were similar but the scenery was entirely different) and went to a little open air crafts market and bought trinkets. Laura buys something small everywhere we go.

Lunch on the Salt Pond Beach, advertised to be safe and calm. It was safe -- has a breakwater like Ala Moana -- but lots more choppy surf. Not the sort of water you just float in. We played in the water and then we just lounged on the beach forever since it wasn't sunny.

Picnic in a pavilion on the beach.

Safe but choppy water. (LC)

 We had a Kauai sourced dinner: the pasture-raised beef became hamburgers on the grill, a great salad from the farmers market vegetables, and roasted beets and carrots and Japanese sweet potatoes (from Molokai, oh well). We even ate the beet greens, like dutiful CSA customers. We ate dinner outside on our little lanai and watched the full moon come up.

I mean, really.

The sunset to end the day. (LC)

It wasn't really a day worth reporting, but since those two are taking pictures I needed to provide them with a little background chatter. I think I am finally in this time zone because I read my book until 11 PM without falling off my chair.

Off to Kauai

After the morning rituals that have started every day so far, we packed up and said goodbye, leaving my aunt and uncle some peace for a week. We went to the Bishop Museum, the State Museum of Cultural and Natural History. All of us have been there multiple times before but it keeps changing and it is just the sort of museum we like. We didn't leave ourselves much time there and we ended up spending most of it on a tour led by a short Hawaiian guy that reminded me of Uncle Norman. He had plenty to say about anything that came into his mind. As Jon said, he assumed we had much more context than we did, so he just rattled off historical names and political opinions while showing us a model of a house of sacrifice or a statue to one of the 3000 gods.

This is just my thought, and I don't think I have ever taken an anthropology class so it is deeply unsophisticated, certainly. But this society that developed out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, all alone with no outside influences for centuries (?) was a unique example of humans coming up with their own theology, social strata, responses to human problems, music, language. It must tell us something about human nature, although not every isolated group would come up with the same culture due to a myriad of factors including climate, geography and ancestry. They had limited resources (whatever was here: trees, rocks, birds, coconuts, not so very much) and their tools and buildings and art all came out of those materials. They were a warrior people, they had royalty and a middle class and a lowest class (if I remember that right, that could be wrong, but they certainly had royalty). They sacrificed humans to the gods. According to the guide, the royalty was responsive to requests and complaints, so it wasn't a dictatorship. The rules of religion were strict and it was easy to get killed for doing things wrong. All of this is actually more interesting to me than the incredible amount of work and care they put into making the robes for the king (they caught special birds and pulled special feathers out, rubbed oil on the birds and let them go, since they were sacred) out of millions and millions of feathers, tied on with super resilient rope made from trees. 

The end of the story is sad and inevitable, as people arrived from other places, bringing disease and other theologies and raw materials. It only took less than one lifetime for the population to go from around 800,000 to 140,000 -- and this was without any intentional killing of people, just attrition through disease, mostly. Hawaii had no immunity. The same is true for all these endemic plants and animals. If they are unique, they don't have the resistance to survive outside influences. Jon's reasoned observation is that societies and cultures that have met and merged (start with ancient history and explorers/marauders) have ended up stronger and more resilient, with better ideas. While isolation creates a unique set of responses it doesn't create resilience.

This is what happens when you give us just a tiny bit of knowledge. Or when we go to museums of culture around the world and try to remember what we learned but can't remember the specifics.

According to the story boards in the room with all the stuff about kings since King Kamehameha, the Hawaiian people decided at the end of the last queen's reign that they didn't want a monarchy anymore. And there is no person or family that is designated as the next royal person, even if somehow they changed their minds. But according to the guide there is still a sentiment amongst some Hawaiians, wishing for the return of Hawaiian sovereignty. It would not be the same in any way, as there are so few of them left.  

We then returned to the world of travel rigmarole: returned our car, got on a little plane, took half an hour in the air to get to Kauai. As we were departing, the ground crew lined up to wave and smile at us and as we landed, the next crew (of one) stood outside and waved and smiled.  The airport in Kauai has all the trappings of a real airport but it is just so cute and small scale. Looks like a strip mall. 

First stop was an afternoon farmers market in Poipu where we found almost everything we needed: organic beets and arugula and bok choi, duck eggs since they were out of chicken eggs, pomelo, apple bananas, papayas, even organic beef. The market was set up in a tourist mall and all the farmers had small tables under the same kind of red umbrella.  It was a real market, very busy.  We didn't talk to anyone but all the produce was beautiful. Prices were amazingly familiar, and sometimes lower than ours.

Second stop was at an independent supermarket in Waimea that Laura remembered from her last trip here. We bought poke (raw, marinated tuna) and tons of other stuff, assuming (correctly) that there was nothing in the kitchen of our rental house. Jon bought ingredients to start the process of learning to make the new salad dressing (but we forgot sugar so it ended up being rather tart).

Our abode is within 2 minutes walk of a beach with real sand and real waves. Our house is tucked behind another larger house that is right on the main road (two lanes, no lines) so we can't hear the traffic but we can hear the waves. This beach looks great for sunsets but I am not planning to swim in that surf -- too much sand in those waves. Just a little further north we can see a wider beach with swimmers and a lifeguard.

If Laura had not brought some of that chocolate from Auntie Annette's collection, our dinner would have been the healthiest meal in months. Rice and vegetables and fish and fruit. Rescued by chocolate.

Dim Sum

This time Laura went walking with Auntie Annette and I lounged around. We were waiting for my cousin Scott who had called the night before. He has been in Hawaii for a couple of months and has been meaning to visit, so this was a good excuse to finally stop by. Every time I think of Scott, I smile. He was a big friendly open-hearted doofus as a kid. When he walked in the door, we could see right away that he was still the same person as a grown man. Sweet, sometimes unlucky, but basically a glass-full guy, which is the opposite of his youngest brother.

Scott, Laura, Annette, Hana

We had planned to go to Punchbowl (the National Cemetery of the Pacific, analogous to Arlington Cemetery) in the morning, so we said goodbye to Scotty and set off. On our way there, he called me and said he was going that way to pick up a ladder in Manoa anyway, and could he come with us. Of course! My slow brain had completely forgotten that we were going to visit this father's grave. Auntie Annette knew where the graves were, so we went directly first to Aquim (our cousin who died when he was 17) and then to Vern and Sue (Scott's parents). Punchbowl is a beautiful memorial park inside of a crater, with a view of Honolulu and a fascinating memorial made up of a series of mosaic panels that tell the story of the battles of the Pacific. Jon and I go there just about every time we come to Hawaii. Many years ago we attended the funeral of my great-uncle Raymond there and saw a 21 gun salute for the first time. (It is 7 guns fired absolutely simultaneously, three times. Does everyone else know that already?)

The headstones are all flat to the ground which preserves the contours of the crater. (Laura Cooper)

The first (of, maybe 16) mosaic gives an overview of the whole WW II Pacific campaign, with the rest giving an detail of important battles of both WW II and Korea. (LC)

Next stop, the appointment that the entire day was built around, was Dim Sum lunch in Chinatown with Babe and Arlene. We arrived right on time, found Babe sitting at a big round table in the corner with Uncle Freddy and two old friends. He kept telling the servers that we would wait until Auntie Arlene came (she was shopping) and when she arrived, it was obvious that there was no other way. She made choices and declined offers without a moment's hesitation, filling the table with an array of dumplings that she thought we would like. When my mother comes in a few weeks, the table will be filled with far more adventurous choices. Jon was very happy to learn about another way to make an Asian salad dressing that was on their favorite cucumber dish. Future potlucks will benefit. We ate everything, eventually. So delicious. We bemoaned the loss of good Chinese restaurants in our area -- Arlene said this is Hong Kong style and it takes a population of Hong Kong Chinese to support restaurants like this.

Hana, Babe, Annette, Ralph. (LC)

Freddie, Arlene, server, Juju. (LC)

After lunch, Annette came with Laura and Jon and me on our afternoon drive around a part of the island. We went up the Pali Highway and stopped at the overlook (another of my favorites, looking down over the windward side, Kaneohe Bay) and read the signs again about how Kamehameha united the islands under one ruler with the battle that happened on this cliff. I finally, finally understood that the defending army was pushed over the cliff from the top side. For years I had been imagining warriors climbing up that sheer mountainside with spears in their teeth, being pummeled by cannon balls. This makes much more sense now. We also speculated about how President Obama spends his time on the island and how disruptive it might be to this traffic-clogged place, and we decided he must spend most of the time golfing right near the base, away from the tourist centers.

It is a short trip down the mountain to the windward coast and we quickly were in Waimanalo, which is still considered "the country" -- horse ranches, banana plantations, farmland tucked up against the mountain. And the beach has white sand, nice small waves and not many people. This was our kids' favorite beach because it has both sand and waves and nothing icky under the surface of the water. 

Waimanalo Beach. This is Hawaii. (LC)

Those who haven't been to Hawaii might not have experienced the easy access to beaches that exists here. Beaches have bathrooms, changing rooms and showers all open to the public. They are concrete structures, open air. It is so civilized. You don't have to live anywhere near the beach to "go beach." You don't have to spend the day in your swim suit. The showers are outside, four heads, very simple plumbing (often just a pipe without a shower head) on a piece of concrete. And there are picnic tables! Again, I am spoiled for life. A beach without those amenities is not much of a beach to me.

We played in the waves and then we went for shave ice. We go to Kennecke's out of loyalty but not because that's the best. It's got some serious longevity, that place, even though it is right on the road and there are always flies. I do hate flies.

Lychee. (LC)

Shave Ice can be a picnic. (LC)

Jon really likes big waves so we went back to Sandy Beach to watch people and watch the guys boogie boarding. I took a nap in the car while the others sat on the beach and studied the surfing techniques. Like everything else, that takes hours and hours of practice. Plus no fear. My days of playing in those waves are over, but Jon is determined to go back in the water. I didn't let him go in when we had little kids but now I don't have that leverage any more. He and Laura decided, after a half an hour of watching closely, that they could imagine playing in those waves. Not the ones by the rocks but the ones closer to shore.

Sandy Beach. Next time we'll go in.

We had leftovers for dinner because the refrigerator is overflowing. I don't think they usually do it the way Laura and I set it up (took everything out and put it on the table for easy selection) -- Auntie Annette looked a little taken aback by the amount of food on the table. Most of it had accumulated since we arrived...

It was a Dim Sum day, picking and choosing from an array of excellent options. The weather was perfect. We had family time, delicious food, visits to areas of regional interest, shave ice and two beaches. A little bit greedy but so good.

Beach Hopping

I went with Auntie Annette on her every morning walk -- it was cloudy and seemed cool, but it was so humid that by the time we got back I was all sweaty (anyone who has worked with me will not be the slightest bit surprised). She was cool as a cucumber. This time we added one more loop to the walk and ended up crossing between two roads by walking through someone else's property (anyone who has ever walked with me has done this many times), a route that Annette knows well but hasn't tried lately. It was overgrown and bushy and felt like we were in the jungle, when we were only at the top of the road in the suburbs. Tiny adventure moment.

Jon and I dropped Uncle Freddy off at Babe and Arlene's so he could go to his exercise class with 23 other vets (aged 75 - 90 something). He says the other guys in the class are inspirational, especially the 92 year old. They do Tai Chi and weightlifting and other things that sound hard.

Meanwhile, we went to Ala Moana, the beach of my childhood -- and my mom's childhood. It is right downtown, protected by a breakwater so there are no waves. Clear and smooth and beautiful. The water in Hawaii is so blue that I am spoiled for life. The Atlantic beaches lack color. Tourists don't go to Ala Moana (they go to Waikiki a little further down toward Diamond Head, a scenic beach with rocks on the bottom and yucky algae stuff) but this is one of my favorite beaches of all time. It is not sexy. It is for the locals. Old people go there, people with little kids, and yesterday we saw multiple sets of Japanese brides having extended photo sessions. While I was out in the water I counted five different brides and grooms posing on the sand in their fancy clothes. I hope those weren't their real wedding gowns because they were getting all sandy. In the water there are people swimming long laps (the beach is about a half mile long, I am guessing), people on surfboards doing that stand-up paddling, and even water walkers. I felt like the character in Owen Meany who has been practicing and practicing The Shot -- I have been swimming and walking in a swimming pool for six weeks, in preparation for this moment at this beach.  HEAVEN.

Our picnic was at a beach diner place. Nothing special, but still a picnic. It counts.

Picnic at Ala Moana Beach.

After a brief tour through the warehouse and dock section of Honolulu, in search of car parts for Uncle Freddy's truck, we seamlessly picked up Laura Cooper at the airport and whisked her to a beach, since she had just come from Seattle and everyone should go straight to the beach from Seattle in winter. We lay on the sand at Queen's Beach, the next one down from Waikiki, and talked and talked. The water was nice but the rocks underneath the surface were no fun so mostly we stayed on the beach. Those tourists don't know what they are missing, just about a mile away.

Hana and Laura in silhouette at Queen's Beach.

After a stop at Whole Foods (astronomical prices), we came home and Jon made clam sauce for dinner. The old folks did not remember ever having that before, and it was a success.  

Day One: Revisiting Favorites

My day started very early since I am still on East Coast time, but everyone else had no trouble sleeping until the day normally starts here.

First thing, Auntie Annette is ready to go out for her morning walk around the valley at 7:30 and she asks if I am coming with her. I try to get out of it -- I have a bad knee, I limp -- she isn't interested in excuses and she waits for me to get dressed.  We go out and patrol the valley. It's a lovely morning and I remember how cool it is to be able to see the ocean from the top of the street.  She stops to throw people's newspapers closer to their houses so they won't have to walk so far, and to pull some of the many munching caterpillars off what appears to be year-round milkweed as an intentional landscape feature. I wonder if those are monarchs, but I sort of doubt it, and since I don't know I just watch her collect these big striped worms in her hand and throw them in the street while we walk. She reminds me of Grandma Hiu, in addition to the obvious similarities with my mother. It turns out that my knee is not such a hindrance to walking with my 84 year old aunt who multitasks while she walks, and she tells me I am walking too fast anyway. Maybe I should find new walking partners when I get home. I just walk with people who are too focused and way too young.

Jon allowed himself to be drafted to go on a real hike with my aunt at 10:00.  A friend from the mainland had called her, he is in town and wanted a hiking partner.  So the three of them went on the Hanauma Bay hike and got to see those amazing views from the top of the ridge.  Hiking in Hawaii is rewarding after you get about 40 feet up because the views are just gorgeous from then on.  

Hanauma Bay from the top of the ridge.

Meanwhile, down at street level, I called Auntie Pat and asked if I could come for a visit. Years ago, my mother and I did a Winter Term project together, collecting stories from my mother's aunts and uncles when they were in their 80s and 90s. Now all those people are gone, but I have my own aunts and uncles and I am well trained not to be afraid to call and visit, thanks to mom. This generation has its own interesting sagas, but since we don't live here we can just visit people without feeling like we are taking sides of any kind. And we often serve as an easy way for people to see each other after a long time, even though they live on the same small island.

So I drove over to the next valley, about 10 minutes from home base in Niu Valley, and went to see my aunt. She told me what she knew about my cousin John who is always in transition, confronting challenges, and not feeling successful in general. We also learned that John's older brother Scott has moved back to Hawaii, so we will hope to see him after about 20 years. Pat is my late Uncle Vern's second wife and she helped to raise my three cousins: Scott, Matthew, John -- she is always my main hope of finding those boys. I was delighted to find that she now has a housemate who helps her take care of herself, the house, the gardens. This makes me very happy as Pat has lived alone for a long time, taking good care of herself but always in a wheelchair for her whole life. This caregiver is also a fellow quilter, and they have been friends for 40 years. While I was there, Jon and Auntie Annette came back from the hike and stopped in to say hello (all part of the plan, of course).  

My theme for this trip is picnics, daily intentional picnics. I think I love picnics because of the Hawaii trips of our youth and because we were poor so picnics were a regular feature of travel, anywhere we went. In the old days, we always packed food and took it to the beach. Now I don't need home-packed food and I don't even need the beach, I just want to sit at a picnic table or somewhere outside. Even on our cross country driving trips in the winter, we seek out picnic tables. Regular followers of this travel monologue have seen many references to picnic tables...

Our Day One picnic did not have high standards. We went to Zippy's and got saimin and a mahi mahi sandwich and a Teri burger (and lilikoi juice just the way I like it, weak) and we found a parking place at the perennially crowded Sandy Beach and we ate and had naps. HEAVEN.

Picnic at Sandy Beach.

Then we went for shave ice at a place that looked authentic because it was crowded with locals. I got my standards:  lilikoi, coconut and some other fruit that is less easy to identify (doesn't matter what). Jon wanted to go back in and read the menu so we would be more prepared for next time, but it was too crowded so we will have to wing it.

While Auntie Annette went out on her third walk of the day, her Sunday walk with a friend, Jon made hot and sour soup and I made fried rice (ironic to be cooking Chinese food for our Chinese relatives, but that's what we eat at home, so oh well). Uncle Babe and Auntie Arlene arrived with their yummy contributions to dinner and we had a nice meal. Uncle Freddy called Jon's soup "sexy" and Uncle Babe said it was like something from "downtown." People at home use different words for Jon's cooking, so that amused me.

Donna and her boys dropped by to say hello and by that time I was so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open so everyone else had to do the talking. I just about fell out of my chair. They were talking about food and I was full anyway, so I couldn't really follow the conversation. I felt like Grandma Hiu, dozing at the table while everyone else kept going. Jon, of course, was somewhere else on the couch with his phone.  

Coming back here reminds me of why I am/we are the way we are, in so many ways. My father tends to get a lot of credit/blame for our upbringing, but when we are here I see all the ways that we are like Mom. Clutter comes from both sides of my family. Organized and in areas that make some sense, but  so much stuff on surfaces and edges. Just like our house. And the way we eat has much more to do with my mother and Jon than with anything to do with the Newcomb side. And the discipline we keep (at least my siblings and I) comes from Mom, not from Dad. This "discipline" topic has been coming up for me a lot in recent weeks as I think about aging and what it takes to age successfully, without too much pain and anguish. I am grateful to my mother for whatever discipline I might have.

An excellent first day in paradise.